Songbird

Once when I was in middle school my dad gave me a CD for my birthday. It was Eva Cassidy's album "Songbird" and it had a photo of Eva on it where the sun sort of hits the side of her face and she's looking at you smiling. At the time I thought, "Never heard of her...probably gonna love this and and probably gonna get made fun of for loving it...perfect." I was in 6th or 7th grade at the time. I thought, "Why doesn't he just get me a t-shirt that says I'm a dork on it and call it a day. Could he not find the Madonna section????" but.... he looked at me and said, "You'll love it. Trust me." And I always did, and I always have trusted him...especially when it comes to music... but you know it's funny....sometimes dad's have a sixth sense when it comes to their daughters... in a way only dad's can. So fast forward to over a decade later when the other night, I was home alone watching "Love Actually" and I realized that in one of my favorite scenes they play "Songbird" in the background. It's the scene where Laura Linney's character is about to get it on with the man she's been secretly crushing on for 5 years...and it's all happening and it is one of the most touching scenes in the movie...because it illustrates new love beautifully and somehow seems to capture all the little nuances and insecurities that come out when two people are intimate for the first time. It's sort of the way I felt the first time I walked into Barneys New York. Overwhelmed, intimidated, but so filled with emotion I wanted to scream and shout and run around touching everything... Oh Barneys...how I miss you!

Bridget Jones and Trampolines

Have you ever been so happy that you just want to run around in your underwear and jump up and down and just scream and dance and fist pump? Yeah... me neither...I hate people who do that. So childish. It's like...grow up :) In all honesty though I've had a really difficult time sleeping. I am seriously thinking about investing in a trampoline just to get this energy out of my system. I will weight the pros and cons and get back to you on a final decision. Till then...not even my iced coffee in the morning makes me this giddy and I've already asked about 10 people to slap me. No one will... I don't know what's happened to me. All I know is that last night I listened to Songbird by Eva Cassidy on repeat about 500 times and okay fine... yes... I watched Love Actually while eating Dove dark chocolate in bed while simultaneously drinking diet coke. I'm like an American Bridget Jones only with better clothes and I don't write as consistently as she did... I am so annoying.

Home Is Where the Stripes Are

I live in what most Americans would probably describe as a box. A studio apartment. One room with a separate kitchen, vanity and bathroom. I pay an exorbitant amount for rent (compared to most people's standards), and I lack a lot of the modern day amenities most of my peers wouldn't even consider living without. It is, to me, the quintessential single girl in the city lifestyle and when you get right down to it, it's pretty amazing.* (Need more convincing? Check bottom of post). 

But being single in the city has it's challenges and one of them is the fact that I am rarely actually in my apartment. Sure I sleep there, and shower there and my clothes are there but most of the time... I'm not. To remedy this situation my best friend finally convinced me it was time to paint the accent wall I had been talking about since I moved in. I agreed. So this weekend, I finally buckled down and painted. Above is the final outcome and I am thrilled about it. The funny thing about the wall is that it changed the entire look of my apartment. It made it seem bigger. It broke it up. It added a bit of glam to the place and most importantly, it made it so that my apartment finally feels like home to me. 

*Let's think about this....I can skip the commuting. My walk to work consists of 5 blocks, and in 2 inch heels takes about 15 minutes (including a trip to Starbucks). In 3 inch heels...maybe 20. I have coffee shops, restaurants, bars, clubs, and shopping all within walking distance of my place. I rarely have to spend money on gas, and I live right by the polo grounds, so if I want to walk by the reflecting pond, or see the WWII memorial, or do a run downtown, I can. I am between 3 of the most trendy and uptown neighborhoods in DC. Dupont Circle, Georgetown, and Chinatown and I live within 2 blocks of the blue line and 4 or 5 blocks of the red line. Obama and I share a zip code, and I can walk down to the White House anytime I want.  I have hardwood floors, decently tall ceilings, and 3 walk-in closets. I have a Queen sized bed, a 40 inch TV, a cafe table, a dresser and a console table and still my apartment feels large. I never have to worry about the metro closing, and I never need a designated driver. I am also within walking distance of all of my doctors. I have a 24 Hour CVS at the end of my block, and a police station and fire house 2 blocks away. 

Who Wears the Pants

This morning I woke up at 6 am. I brushed my teeth, washed my hair, did my makeup and stood infront of my closet for about 2 minutes just staring. I couldn't help but gaze at my pant section. How sad they all looked, drooped over their assigned hangars, pushed into the far corners of my crowded but not too unmanageable closet. I felt a tinge of guilt. There they were – the sartorial symbols of women's lib pushed aside like yesterdays news only to be overshadowed by my dress collection. Which only begs the question, when did I stop wearing the pants?

The reality is that I've always been surrounded by smart, intelligent, successful and beautiful women. Women, that may not have always known what they wanted to do in life, but were able to commit to advancing themselves and always pushing forward. Women that have refused to be defined by men, and who have made choices based on what was best for them and not someone else. Women that have found happiness on their own. Now I'm not saying all of these women were single, but I am saying they all found happiness independently and it's the one thing I've admired the most about them. Their strength. Selfish? Maybe. But if there is anything I've learned from them,... it's this. No one can love you the way you can love yourself when you really give yourself a chance because in the end, if you aren't happy with yourself, you'll never really know how to be happy.

So here I am... I chose navy skinny cords, and you know what? I am truly excited to finally start wearing the pants in my own life... it really is about time.

Don't Know Which is Worse...Asthma or the Waiting Room.... (probably the waiting room)

Have you ever sat in a waiting room, looked around and felt like maybe you were in the wrong place? Like maybe your doctor moved to a different floor without notifying you? This is how I felt yesterday as I took a seat in my pulomonologist's office. For a spilt second I wondered if I had walked into central casting for the Biggest Loser. It was beyond depressing. It was worse than the DMV. I pulled out my iPhone just to prevent myself from staring until this woman who looked like she could kick my ass, came at me with her gas tank. She wanted my seat despite the fact that there were several others available (and facing the TV,... which was her main concern). Well, I was going to give her my seat until she started talking shit and at that point, well...I just lost all sympathy. In reality, the way that actually manifested itself was that I sat there pretending like I didn't speak English. Now I would never typically do this because I for one, hate perpetuating stereotypes but this lady was seriously in a grey sweatsuit, lugging around a gas tank that was about the size of a German Shepard. So I felt it best to play the language barrier card instead of really getting into it.

Finally I was called into my appointment. I was told to sit in a glass box and basically inhale varying amount of chemicals that would ultimately simulate an asthma attack. This went on for an hour. It was so much fun. Actually I lied. It sucked. I was on this miniature swivel chair spinning around to try to keep myself awake. I kept thinking...so this is what having narcolepsy is like. Awesome. I think I probably looked insane. I kept moving around I just couldn't sit still for fear of falling asleep and having to start over.

Side Note: I barely slept last night. I tossed and turned and coughed a light annoying cough that comes and goes as it pleases. My chest feels like a family of midgets is sitting on it and I'm struggling to focus right now so I apologize if this post comes off a little disjointed. 


Anyway, the whole episode was exhausting and now I wait for the results. Till then, I'm just going to try to take it one breath at a time.*


*shutup...I'm tired and it's like the only thing I could think of to tie up this post

Chivalry Not Dead, But My Hair Is

Every morning since I've been at my now-not-so-new apartment, I wake up and put on the pop music channel on my TV. It actually helps me get out of bed. If it's a good song, then I'm up like a jack-in-the-box. This morning, it was a really good song (too good actually to mention on my blog...no... I'm not embarrassed...why would you think that? It's cause I just don't think you all can handle it..)

Anyway, I needed said amazing song, because as usual I did not stick to last nights plan of catching up on sleep. It's not because I didn't want to, it's because I just couldn't! That and I was catching up on what all my girlfriends tell me I desperately need to be watching,... "Real Housewives of Beverly Hills."

So this morning, my alarm went off...yes...I counted the snoozes... 17 times I snoozed. Unbelievable. Can you imagine what I'd be like on meds? Comatose. I even had an outfit that I had pulled together last night in an attempt to make my life easier this morning, but alas I changed my mind at the very last minute because to be honest, I simply didn't feel...sexy enough. You might think this is a slightly unbalanced way of coping, and to an extent, I duno...maybe it is. But this morning I really felt divine intervention lent a hand in my decision to change outfits.

I went to Starbucks this morning like I normally do. It was humid out and I debated on wether or not to take my umbrella, but decided against it because I had taken it every day this week and never needed it. Plus it's a big umbrella and I already have a huge purse, and on top of that, was carrying my laptop and struggling to keep it on my shoulder because of my f-ing cute blazer,...(the shoulders are sculpted...making using a shoulder bag a huge pain in the ass).

Anyway, So of course I get to Starbucks. I'm putting my 3 Splenda in my iced coffee and boom. Just like that it starts to pour down sheets...no....torrents of rain drops the size of Chicklets. Perfect. Luckily I was wearing my black BCBG cropped blazer so I took that off and held it over my head as I ran through the rain. As I was waiting for the light to change, all of sudden the rain stopped. I glanced over and saw out of the corner of my eye an umbrella and some really nice brown mens shoes. Yup. It was a man and he was offering to walk me to my office under his umbrella. Now...I know this doesn't sound like a big deal...but it kind of is to me because in the last few days I was really beginning to think the world was full of douche bags. The guy didn't ask for my number, he wasn't creepy, he was just...being nice. And I really appreciated it. Unlike the GW brats who practically slam the door in your face just as your approaching the building carrying 50 pounds of shit in boxes... I swear. What the hell are parents teaching their kids? Manners are important!

Anyway, I digress....So it's rainy and gloomy out but I just had a coworker say to me, "Oh wow you totally look like KK today. Sucha  cute outfit!" I must have looked confused because she immediately followed up with "Kim Kardashian. So cute!" Sometimes you just gotta love your girlfriends :)

Just Shoot Me

Funny story. 
A friend was at a conference and the speaker had a powerpoint slide that read in big, black, bold letters: PERCEPTION IS REALITY. Two seconds later I got a photo of it sent to me on my smartphone. "Fantastic." I replied sarcastically. "Did you tell said speaker your perception of his presentation? And how it only reinforces the idea that in your mind he's now officially the biggest tool ever?" Friends response, "Just shoot me." 

Not going to lie. I got a little sad today. You know the lump in your throat kind of sad? That's what I got. And there are really only two people in this world that know how to comfort me when that happens, my mom and my ex. They have been my mac and cheese substitute... comforting me in a low calorie way for years, and I have always appreciated that, but now I'm on my own and learning to cope is definitely like navigating the beltway...you want to get off because you're just not sure where the hell you're going but at the same time, you know you're on it for a reason...or at least Googlemaps says you are.

Ever since I was 17 years old, "grownups" used to always tell me to "fake it till you make it." I wonder if that works or if that's one of those sayings that was invented to make you think there is actually a way to get over pain or sadness. Truth? He de-friended me on Facebook. I know, I know... I want to slap myself too but lets not forget that I'm a woman, so I am biologically predisposed to read WAY too much into this. Regardless, it still stings.

At the same time my mother did tell me I was looking great the other day. She hasn't seen me in a month. (The rents have been off traveling in Turkey for the last 30 days or so. *sigh) And the ladies at Starbucks who have taken a liking to me...or okay fine...my wardrobe, said the same thing. Actually this morning, while paying for my iced coffee, one of them literally announced to the entire morning crowd that I was single. You never think it's going to be that mortifying...until it is.

Later on this afternoon, I had a coworker come into my office to tell me I looked happy. Strangest thing. I am not appearing the way I feel. In part this is completely by design. I can not tell a lie. I carefully choose my outfit every morning as a form of rebellion against my own feelings. After all I am an Art Director by trade so it shouldn't be that shocking,...me...trying to control other people's perceptions.... but I am sad. I am torn up about everything. I am scared shitless. And everyone thinks I'm happy. So maybe it is working. Maybe there is something to faking it till you make it. Either way, I'm going to get up every morning, do my hair and makeup and put on a fabulous outfit on the off chance that one day perception just happens to turn into reality. In the meantime,...just shoot me.