What ever happened to connecting with each other?

For the past several months I have been going through something that I like to call a "soul-growth-spurt". Which is really just my fancy way of saying that I have been in the funk of all funks and my anxiety is at an all-time high. Sure, I have better days than others and therapy is something that has helped me tremendously since the start of this year, but I'm not exactly "healed" yet. My soul is still growing, learning, changing, and truth be told---driving me up a freaking wall.

Now, all of that is completely separate from my getting married in a little over two months, but the fact that I am also planning a wedding and having to deal with the personalities of 110+ people is not all that helpful in the anxiety department.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think all of us get at least somewhat offended when we wave at someone across the street and they don't wave back. Especially when we're young. That kind of thing haunts the shit out of us. Why doesn't that person like me? Did I do something wrong? Did I offend them? Well, with texting and the Internet and social media---that same concept has been amplified in today's society to an upmost extreme. And it sucks. And it isn't "okay".

If you text someone a "Hey, how are ya?" and they don't respond, that's one thing. If you ask them something that is pretty important, that's another. And if suddenly you find yourself texting/calling/messaging several people about several different things--all of which having a different level of "importance"--and none of those people respond to you, or worse---they are short and dismissive... You end up like me. Anxious. A little pissed off. And writing about it.

I get that we live in a world where we are both incredibly busy and glued to our phones at exactly the same time. Brushing our teeth and checking our Facebook accounts have become just as important as the other. Why then, I beg of you, is updating your Snapchat more important than responding to a friend or family member who has reached out to you? When did we start prioritizing what we ate for breakfast being on our Instagram Story before calling back a loved one who maybe just wants to say hello, or maybe has something important to talk about?

How the hell do you know? You didn't call back.

When someone reaches out to me, whether it be a matter big or small, I respond as quickly as I can. Because I was raised to believe that ignoring people completely is not all that polite. So when did ignoring people become the new norm in our world? What button got pushed in people's brains that now says, "I don't feel like responding to that person, so I'm just not going to..."?

Now, I'm sure there will be people reading this who say, "But I'm just bad at texting." Or, "I'm really busy all the time." Or, "Well, I respond in my head a lot and forget to actually text back." Or, "I meant to call that person back, but I forgot." I get those things. I do. They happen. But this goes a hell of a lot deeper than that.

What ever happened to connecting with each other?

Not to get too preachy or rant-y (which I probably already have), but I still believe in the value of connecting with the other human beings on this planet. Regardless of the situation, I value respecting other people and reaching back when they reach out. I could never even stomach not responding to someone in the way that so many I care about have begun on this path of not responding to me.

And it's not just me! I've heard this same complaint from very few others, so I know at least I am not alone in this sea of wasteful dismissiveness.

I'm going to try to not contradict myself by emphasizing the importance of putting our phones down from time to time to connect with the world around us... (Believe me, I'm guilty of being glued to my phone, too.) But there's a difference between mindlessly checking Twitter and actually connecting with the people who have reached out to you on your phone.

If you're reading this and thinking that I'm overreacting, you're part of the problem. You see, I don't overreact if this happens every once in a while. But when it's constant and in a row, it sparks a reaction that the writer inside of me cannot simply keep ignoring. 

We are on one slippery slope if we genuinely think that out-right ignoring and/or blowing off our fellow man is an okay thing to do.  

If someone waves at you, wave back. 

If someone texts you, text them back.

If someone calls you, answer. 

If someone is reaching out to you, reach back.

It's fine to be busy. It's great to put your phone down and enjoy the world around you, connecting with the people in front of you. But this habit of ignoring and dismissing each other completely has got to stop. It's hurtful, regardless of intention. And it's downright lazy.

Besides having ourselves and the Big Man upstairs... 

connection, at the end of the day, is all we have. 

And it's time we stop taking it for granted. 

Whether it's hello or something far more important... it matters. It deserves your attention. It deserves your time. It deserves to be acknowledged. Because people matter. And what they say, matters. 

So if someone waves at you, wave back. 

Wave back.

HOLY GUACAMOLE, LOSING MY EVER-LOVING SHIT.

So, you guys are used to me writing when I'm sad... am I right? I think all writers take advantage of sadness in that way. It's easy to write when you're sad (and also not) because, well, you have a lot to say when you're sad.

Today, however, is a rarity. Today I am writing because I'm happy. (The fact that I'm writing because I'm happy is the rare thing, not being happy itself... just so we're clear.) In fact, I am so happy that I can't quite even calm down enough to write this. My hands move frantically over the keyboard nearly uncontrollably and thank the Lord right now for spell check.

Today, I found out two very unexpected and exciting things... that have led me to be way too excited about life in general...

First, I am getting a piano. It's barely going to fit in our already too-small apartment, but I don't care. We'll move someday. And this is a free piano. (Those don't come around often. Or, like, ever.) And I've always wanted my own piano. So this is a groundbreaking thing for me.

Second, I also found out that I am going to Cancun, Mexico with my ENTIRE family in December. We've gone about 6 or 7 times (How bougie do I sound? Not keeping track of how many times I've been to Cancun. So sorry.) with my family's timeshare and this year is the last year we have the timeshare. So everyone's going. Including me. And Jason. And I thought we couldn't. And now we can. Best graduation gift EVER. (Or best family ever.)

So.... because I can't quite believe it myself.... let's spell this out:

August: Jason's birthday, 4 year anniversary, Vegas Bachelor/Bachelorette Party, turning 25.

September: GETTING MARRIED, going to the BAHAMAS for my HONEYMOON.
(Yes, these required caps. Because I'm screaming them. I'm screaming them at the top of my freaking lungs, I'm so excited.)

December: Finishing my last semester of college EVER, going to CANCUN, and then GRADUATING. (In that order. Crap. So excited I just broke a key off my lap top.)

Life has been so hard. If you're frequent to this blog, I think you know that by now. And in the last few weeks (even before all of this amazing-ness coming up occurred to me/became a thing that was for sure happening) I have been feeling so overwhelming thankful for all of the good in my life---true family and true friends. I say true because, well, not everybody is. But the people who are, are so damn good at it, it just about knocks me clean off my feet.

It's so easy to focus on what we don't have. I know this is cliché, but it's true. It's so easy to forget about all of the good in our life when the bad starts to drown us. And that's okay. It's okay to let it drown us every once in a while because we're only human. But it's also important to consciously remember the good as often as we possibly can because no matter where you are in life, there is so much good to be thankful for. (Easy for me to say, right? Well, you'd be surprised.)

This year has put me through the ringer and it has taken me several therapy sessions to get to the point that I'm at right now---which isn't anywhere near "there", mind you, but it's a hell of lot better than "back there".

Come January when all of this excitement turns into a memory, and I'm faced with having to get a big girl job and put my big girl pants on... I'll read this post. I'll relish in its straightforward simplistic enthusiasm. I'll grimace at how it didn't all go exactly according to plan (because nothing ever does) and hopefully... I'll feel just as unbelievably thankful for my life as I do in this very moment.

Oh, and one more thing...

Thank you, God. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

I need to write like I need to breathe.

I need to write. I need to write like I need to breathe. Suddenly, vividly--the severity of writing overcomes my being and there is no greater need on the planet--no thirst, no hunger--greater than my need to say the words crashing around in my mind.

So much has happened. So much has happened in such a short period of time and my soul soars as much as it aches. My heart beats as much as it breaks. My mind races as hard as it sleeps. And I just don't know whether to laugh or cry. To run screaming or pour a glass of champagne. To write that paper due in my business class or write this blog entry that hardly anyone will read.

Life is quickly changing all around me. The people close to me, and not so close to me; are getting engaged, getting married, getting pregnant. Suddenly I am no longer sixteen playing Taylor Swift songs on my guitar on a Friday night. Suddenly I'm a senior in college, making no money at all, and planning a beautiful wedding to the man I love. Suddenly my friends are no longer talking about the boys they have a crush on and are instead showing off the ring those boys used to propose. Instead showing pictures of the sonograms of the human being they created with those boys. The human being that will grow to be sixteen and two seconds later, twenty-five.

When did I blink? Why, when I know this isn't true, do I feel like I woke up this morning and my world went from black and white to bright, vivid color? A color that both fascinates and nauseates me. A color that enriches and cripples me. A color that instills both passion and fear inside of me. A color that I'm swimming in, dancing in, crying in, laughing in, drinking in.

It's never enough and all too much at exactly the same time. With a life this exciting, how do we ever feel pain? With a life this painful, how do we ever feel joy?

In the past 6 months I've had some of my highest highs, and my lowest lows. My lows haven't stemmed from my relationship with my fiancé, but you would love to think that, wouldn't you? Whoever you are. No. They have stemmed from a life of forming a habit of letting my mind tell my heart it isn't good enough. They've stemmed from a sudden waking up and seeing color. They've stemmed from the belief that I am fucking good enough and I won't let anyone tell me any different and people don't like that.

They don't like that at all.

I'm tired and I'm wide-awake. The black and white I was used to is fading and I'm finally seeing in color. I'm so fucking happy and so very heart-sad all at once. I could say I don't know why, but I do. And so do you, don't you?

And I need to write. I need to write like I need to breathe.

Why I'm Not "Too Young To Get Married"

Recently, someone in my life told me that I am "too young to get married". They did so half-jokingly, and I'm sure their intention wasn't to hurt my feelings, and they didn't.

It just got me to thinking that this person is probably one of many who is or has thought the same thing. And these people are totally entitled to their opinion...

But here's why they're wrong.

First of all, I'm almost 25 years old. My fiancé, almost 28. So, there's that.  

Second, my fiancé and I have wanted to be married for 4-5 years before we start our family and trying to have children. We feel it's really important for us that we have a few "selfish years" in our marriage. And here's what I mean by that...

Marriage is a big deal. That fact is not lost on me. Being the child of not one, but two divorces--- I know exactly how big a deal it is. Marriage between two people is also based solely in the two people who are married. Crazy, I know! It doesn't revolve around the two people's parents, or family members, or co-workers, or friends... It revolves around the two people who are married. 

My fiancé and I want to establish ourselves as husband and wife, as a team and a partnership, before we have kids. We want to have our feet firmly planted on the ground as husband and wife. Not only that, but we want to use that partnership to enrich each other, not only as a team, but as individuals. We want to travel. A LOT. We want to see the world and go on adventures. We want to make mistakes and learn from them. We want to go out and go dancing on the weekends. We want to have careers that instill confidence within ourselves and allow us to do the things we love. We want to stay up late on Saturday nights and sleep in late on Sunday mornings. We want to watch movies with curse words in them and go on spontaneous weekend trips. 

We want to be selfish. 

And we want to be married while we are.

All of this isn't to say that once we have kids, we won't be able to do these things. But once we have kids, they will be our world. We will no longer be selfish because we won't want to be. 

So often in life we do something so that we can get to the next thing.We go to high school so we can go to college. We go to college so we can get a good job and get promoted and make more money. We want to meet someone so we can get married and have a wedding and buy a house and have kids... 

So often in life we forget to actually live while we're doing these things. We're all guilty of that, myself included.

But when it comes to my marriage, something that I take more seriously than almost anyone I've ever met, I don't want to just get to the next part. I want to live in my marriage. I want to relish in the moments--good and bad--of being married. I want some time to learn how to be a good wife before I have to start learning how to be a good mom.

And for the record--- as excited as I am about my wedding day, and as many butterflies as I get when I practice my vows in my head before I go to sleep at night, my wedding day is not why I'm getting married. 

The thing that I daydream about even more than that one day... is all the days that will follow. The days when I will get to say, "Hey, this is my husband!" And hear him say, "Have you met my wife?" The days when I will get to sign my name "Taylor Paris". The days when we go out to eat and I'll get butterflies as I sit across the table staring at the ring on his left finger. The day when we find out we're going to have a family of our own. The days when I will wake up on a Sunday morning with my own little family running around, jumping on the bed. The days when I'll think to myself how thankful I am to be in love with my best friend, and how wonderful it is that we created something so beautiful, so full of love, and so ours.

While it may not be "the norm", I've been preparing for my marriage since I was a little kid. I used to think to myself that most of my friends couldn't even quite appreciate just yet how blessed they were to have two parents under one roof. 

And just to be clear, I'm not knocking my parents or my childhood in the least. My mom is one of the best there is and raised me with grace in the face of all she went through as a single parent. I am who I am today because of my parent's constant love and encouragement. I treasure marriage in the way that I do because of what I saw them go through. Not in spite of it.

Marriage is a beautiful bond between two people. It's getting to choose your family. It's having someone next to you throughout all the ups and downs of life. It's growing and changing and learning with someone who is doing the same. It's saying "Goodnight, I love you" before bed, and sleeping soundly because you can feel their warmth next to you. 

I'm not too young to get married 

because I'm an eighty year old woman in a 24 year old body.

I'm not too young to get married 

because I value, so whole-heartedly, just what marriage is.

I'm not too young to get married 

because I fall even more head-over-heels in love with my other half every single day.

I'm not too young to get married 

because I've been praying to God since I was a little girl to send me my soul mate,
and now I pray to thank Him for it.

I'm not too young to get married 

because I love my fiancé so much that my heart aches in my chest if I think about it for too long.

I'm not too young to get married 

because love doesn't put into little boxes just when what should happen over the course of our lives.

And honestly... who are we to argue with love?

"Do no harm."

As a Business major, and as someone who just doesn't exactly like the whole mathematical-black and white-scientific way of thinking, from time to time I find myself taking pieces of information said in class that relate to business and relating them to other things instead. Like, the English major that I was going to be originally. (Just not as lucrative, ya know?)

In my Management Information Systems class the other day, my Professor brought up the motto and policy of Google. He said that it's very simple and incredibly universal-- "Do no harm."

(Upon further research, I see that it is also stated as "Don't be evil." But, you know, same thing. "Do no harm" has a better ring.)

"Do no harm."

So straight-forward. So simple. Yet, so applicable to not only running a company, but also an excellent motto to run your whole life on---- "Do no harm."

I haven't been able to get it out of my head and it has made me reflect upon my own life and the way that I lead it. With the exception of needing to recycle a little more and the fact that I probably yell at Jason for leaving his socks on the floor too much, for the most part, I don't do harm to the world around me. (I might do a little harm to my body, but hey-- pizza is delicious and wine has grapes in it and okay, whatever, it's part of my New Year's resolution to treat my body better. I'm workin' on it.)

It's so important to stay focused on your path and to be kind to those around you along the way. It's also really important, and also, in my humble opinion-- really overlooked, to be kind to yourself as well. As soon as you start doing harm-- to yourself, to your friends or family, to the stranger on the road who cut you off and you cursed out-- it impacts your life in a negative way. It causes you to feel just slightly more introverted, just slightly more resentful, just slightly more self-centered.

"Do no harm."

Live with grace. Take the high road, no matter how much it sucks sometimes. Read a book before bed instead of watching TV every once in a while. Go on a hike. Breathe. Smile. Listen to some music.

Life is hard, you know. Sometimes you're walking around, happy as a clam, dancing to that new Bruno Mars song and BAM--- life smacks you dead in the face. It hurts. You're stunned for a moment, knowing you're about to feel the sting, but not quite able to process what just happened. And then it comes. The sting.

Life stings, sometimes.

Life has stung for me since about midnight on New Year's Eve. On the Eve of the year that I am going to finish college. On the Eve of the year that I am going to get married. And life was all like, BAM--- no more dancing for you. Nope. You're going to spend midnight on the floor of your bathroom having a panic attack and breaking out in hives.

I'm nearly 25 years old and I'm realizing that as much as I've learned in my life, there's always going to be certain things that I just don't understand. There's always going to be obstacles. There's always going to be something there making you stronger, no matter how many times you tell that something that you're as strong as you want to be, dammit. This past week, I've been dealing with one of the hardest stings of my life. And I'm still dealing with it. I'm still anxious. Still unsure. Still lathering myself in lavender oil every night before bed, praying for some sleep. Still not quite standing strong on my own two feet.

And then I go to class and my Professor tells us this motto.

"Do no harm."

There's things happening in my life right now that I just can't possibly control. I won't ever be able to. There's things that make me anxious, make me cringe every time my phone goes off... but there's one thing I can do.

I can do no harm.

Christmas reflecting and Resolutions.

Christmas is over and I am supposed to be cleaning my apartment right now to prepare for the New Year's Eve party that we are supposed to have in two days. Having a week between Christmas and New Years is kind of nice, when you think about it. Usually, if you're like me, you have a little break and a little time to yourself to slowly say goodbye to your favorite time of year.

Christmas always comes so fast, but it comes just a little bit faster the older I get. Seriously-- Christmas got here in what seemed like only a month or two after it had just passed. Isn't that strange how that happens?

It's always just a little bit different, too. The people around you are a little different, the decorations in the boxes you've always had seem a little bit different, and you- yourself- are usually a little bit different, too.

I miss New York. (I don't miss New Jersey.) But I miss New York. I miss the hustle and bustle of people. The sharp cold on my cheeks. The feeling of Jason beside me as we wander down 5th Avenue. But I am so grateful for that time. In fact, it still feels like a dream. And I know that what I had with my city is a big part of the reason why I am who I am today-- this Christmas.

And next Christmas-- boy, oh boy! I am going to be MARRIED. Married, I tell you! I am going to be Taylor Christine Paris, and wife to the love of my life. If I thought Christmas felt different this year, I can only imagine what it will feel like then... And oh, how I love to imagine it.

I am so excited about the wedding. My family and friends are, too, and we're getting to that sweet spot in the planning process where just about 80% of all conversations revolve around the wedding. However, I'm surprising myself by how much more I think about what is going to come after the wedding. And no, I don't just mean the Honeymoon. I'm surprising myself because even though my thoughts drift to the wedding day and my dress and so on, quite often... They drift even more to what will come afterwards. The marriage. I am so excited to be married to my best friend. To get to say, "Oh, hi! Hello! This is my husband, Jason." To hear him say, "Have you met my wife?"

I'm so excited to get a house, and make it our own. To travel to Europe together, hopefully quite often. To get a dog, hopefully a Golden. And to start a family of our own. Growing old doesn't even seem so bad, knowing that Jason will be getting just as old right along side me.

Now, among all of this reflecting on both the present and the past-- I've, of course, been also planning my New Year's Resolutions. And here they are...

1. Get toned and stay slim for the wedding.

Because, cliché. I hadn't even realized how much weight I gained on the East Coast until I moved home and lost it, and then lost some more. I am more comfortable in my body than I maybe ever have been, and here's hoping I can keep it that way. It would also be nice to have some sexy, toned arms because I'm planning on a strapless, sweetheart wedding dress and ya girl wants to look goooood.

2. Read more.

When we lived in Jersey, I read CONSTANTLY. At one point I read seven books in one week. Seven. It was fantastic. I've always been an avid reader, but I had reached an all-time high at that point. Since we moved home, however, I haven't been making the time. Reading is so important. Getting lost in a good book is such a wonderful gift. No more taking that for granted.

3. Write more.

Yes, on this blog of course, but in general as well. I started my second novel in Jersey and I want to finish it. If only to see what happens because it's getting pretty good.

4. Grow my YouTube channel.

This is a hard one for me to even type, because to be frank-- it just makes me feel lame. In fact, I go back and forth between feeling completely lame and totally awesome every time I post a video. But I love the YouTube community and I love that people can make a living doing what they love. I want to be one of those people. Making videos is fun, no matter how many times that little voice in my head tells me it's stupid.

5. Do one (or more) spontaneous and romantic thing with Jason every single month.

When we lived in Jersey, it was just us two. We struggled with it from time to time, we got lonely. We missed our friends and going out with people or having them come over. But we also did really well on our own. We became closer than ever and bonded in a way that I've never bonded with anyone. It was truly a blessing. Now that we're back, we've lost that a little bit and we both miss it. We want to please everyone and never want to say "no" when we're asked to do something with someone because we spent so much time away. But it's important we make time for ourselves, too. The connection we share is too precious to be overlooked.

So that's it! I think these are reasonable resolutions and I look forward to checking them in what will feel like 5 minutes from now to see if I achieved them.

Happy Holidays and many blessings to you and yours in the New Year!

With love always,

City Girl from Cali

Beautiful chaos.

So... it's been awhile. 4 months with no posting is simply unacceptable and I apologize. But, in my defense, it's been a wild 4 months.

Last you heard from me, I was still an inhabitant of New Jersey and somewhat bitterly, with a sprinkle of cleverness (maybe?), attempted to make light of the twist and turns that consumed my life whilst living there. Well, let's catch up.

Jason and I now live in California again. We found a cute apartment, unpacked our things and our cat, and have been settling in here. I'm not going to lie; I miss our old apartment sometimes. I think mostly just because it was our first home together and so many memories were made there-- good and bad. But now, as is life, we have entered a new chapter and it took a few months, but we are finally getting into our new groove.

We've seen all of our family and friends numerous times and have seemingly scooted ourselves back in to our old lives, but in a new way. (If that makes sense.)

The wedding planning is full-fledged now. We have a venue, food, alcohol, a DJ, and a photographer. All of which happened within the same week. Not stressful at all. Just a few more grey hairs. It's fine.

No, but seriously... it makes the fact that we're getting married feel so much more real. I realized that when we got engaged last May, we were so far from everyone that by the time we saw them in person-- it was as if it was "old news" for them and not all that exciting. I mean, I wasn't expecting anyone to jump and down over it (or maybe I was), but a little bit more enthusiasm would have been nice.

Now, here we are, over a year later and we have a date. We know exactly when and where we're going to say our vows. (September 17th, 2017 at 4 pm, OMG.) We know who is going to play the music and who is going to take the pictures. And suddenly this idea of getting married has become a shocking and beautiful reality and I get butterflies in my stomach every time I think about it.

There is so many unknowns in the air right. Including, but not limited to, the fact that we were screwed over by a selfish and immoral woman at the bank making it much more difficult for us to figure out how we're going to pay for this humongous, life-altering event.

When we were in Jersey, all we had to worry about was ourselves, which was admittedly lonely at times-- but it had its perks. It was easier than trying to juggle the personalities of everyone you know and love on a day-to-day basis.

I am officially a senior in college and loving every second of my time at my new school. The professors, the trees in the quad, and the fact that it's a simple 20 minute drive away versus a 2 hour train ride. But that doesn't mean that school is easy, either. It's a LOT of work.

And still, in the face of all of this, Jason and I are happier than ever.

My grandpa told Jason, warming my heart as he put his arm around him and I watched two of the most important men in my life share a moment together, "This is a beautiful time in your life, you guys. Soak in every second of it."

And soak, we will.

Good enough.

Well, hello again. And let me begin this post by saying that I have absolutely no idea what I want to write about, I just know that I need to write.

Yesterday I applied to another scholarship and one of the questions I had to write an essay for asked who my role model is. It wanted me to detail why that person is my role model and how they will contribute to my future success. This is what I wrote:

I have many role models in my life: my mother, my grandfather, and my best friend. However, upon reading this question, the first person that came to mind is the one that I will get to call my husband in exactly one year. My fiancé Jason inspires me every single day and has done so since we began our journey together three years ago. He, like so many others, has endured far too much tragedy in his life. His father was in a serious accident that many said he would not walk away from when Jason was only a toddler and the man is a walking miracle to this day. Jason then lost his mother at the mere age of twelve years old. He could have let this break him. He could have let it consume him, as so many in his shoes would have. But he didn't. He was living on his own, working every day until midnight, playing on a championship hockey team, and going to high school at only seventeen. From there, he went on to college and spent the money left to him by his mother in a way that would better his future. He took eighteen units every semester, worked internships full-time every summer, and graduated in four years with his Bachelors in Engineering. He already had a job before graduation and has gotten two promotions in four years at one of the top manufacturing plastics companies in the country. In the face of all that he had been through, he didn't use it as an excuse to give up on life, but rather-- he used it fuel his success. I watch him get to do what he loves every single day and it's an inspiration. He is the most hard-working and determined person that I know, going into work early every day and leaving late every night. When I begin my career upon graduating, whatever that career may be, I hope to embody the same amount of hard work and determination that he always has and continues to.

When I read it to Jason last night, he thanked me, shook his head, and told me how strange it is to hear someone talk about him like that. He also said how much he loves the way that I write.

He said something else, though. He said something that made me realize not only is this man determined when it comes to his career, but he's also determined in that he's insistent upon finding ways to better ourselves. He sees things that I don't always see myself. He said that I write a lot differently than the way that I sometimes portray myself in my day-to-day life. "How so?" I asked, taken aback. He said, "You're very strong and sure of yourself when you write... (But you allow life to intimidate you at times.)" I was about to show him just how sure of myself I am with a snappy comeback when he continued, "You're going to do great things, babe," he said. "Really great things." 

It got me thinking... I was about to let his comment offend me when I realized that he's kind of right. Sure, I have my moments when I'm just as strong and sure of myself in my real life as I am in my writing, but I also have my moments when I fall short of that. It made me ask myself... Why? Why is it that when I sit down to write I seem to have all of my shit together, but when it comes to making my way through life I tend to second-guess myself?

Then I got to thinking that maybe we all are that way... We all have something about us that we're good at, something that makes us feel strong and sure of ourselves and confident. Writing, and even music, are two of those things for me. So then how do I take that feeling and transfer it into my every day life? How do I harbor the instincts I feel when I sit down to write something and use them for everything? 

For example, over the past couple of weeks I've been struggling a little bit with some personal things. No where near the kind of struggling I did going in and out of the city everyday for the past year; this struggling has been done from the comfort of my own home. However, through all of my struggling, I haven't felt inspired enough to sit down and write about it. Which is always, ironically, the thing that helps me through it the most.

I may be rambling at this point, so if you're still reading this... I applaud you. I guess I'm just learning more and more about myself lately than I have ever. 

The ebb and flow of life has gotten me down. Something happened that I can't stop thinking about and then I feel guilty for thinking about it and then I start thinking about it again and then I feel like I should be happier than I am because I'm so, so blessed and then I feel guilty about that and it's become this vicious cycle I'm trying so desperately to break...

And then I drink a glass of wine and the voices cease for a bit. (Okay, I'm kidding. Sort of.) 

But, seriously... why are we so hard on ourselves? As human beings, we tend to overthink every situation turning on ourselves with that ever-persistant inner voice that chides, "YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH." We do this instead of embracing the parts of ourselves that make us strong and sure and confident. 

I think it's time I focus on the parts of me that I love. The parts that make me feel good about myself. It's easy to blame hard things that we go through on others, but in reality-- we are our own worst enemy. That's the scary truth. A truth that needs to be told and retold and retold again every single day, no matter how hard it may be to hear it. 

So every time I hear that voice, I'm going to remember one thing... One very important thing.

I am good enough. And so are you.

Xoxo,

City Girl from Cali

Whirlwind that is my life.

It's been two months since my last post. Two. Whole. Months. Of. Hell. Hence, the no-post situation.

From my previous posts, I think you can start to see a very distinct pattern of misery, but it was certainly not full-fledged misery just yet. The misery was only just getting started. My already difficult semester went from bad to worse very, very quickly.

I lost myself. Unless you consider the weight I started gaining, "gaining" myself, but I don't. I got so depressed and so homesick in these last couple of months. My professors didn't care about the classes they were teaching and my fellow classmates cared even less. I, on the other hand, seemed to be doing all of the caring for everybody and was studying more and harder than ever... Only to be rewarded by the worse grades I've ever gotten in my life. C's and D's... and even (gasp) an F.

I was off my game.

In addition to that, however, so was everything and everyone else around me, which was definitely a contributing factor in the mess that had become my life. I was missing trains, exhausted, and so undeniably spent.

There was sweat, blood, AND plenty of tears... but I made it through. I made it through with straight B's. Not the best grades I've ever gotten, but certainly could have been worse given the circumstances.

Now, despite this unusually gloomy weather we've been having for the past month or so, I feel like I'm on the world's best vacation in comparison. The first week of my summer vacation is complete and I couldn't be happier. I got into the school I applied to in California and my only job this summer is to apply for scholarships, set up my schedule, and take care of my mind, body, and spirit while I wait for the next chapter to start.

Jason and I move back to California on August 1st. 4 days before the 1 year mark until our wedding day. 6 days before our three-year anniversary. 7 days before Jason's 26th birthday. And 24 days before my 24th birthday.

Wow.

What a whirlwind my life has been since I started this blog nearly a year and 4 months ago already.

I've learned and grown so much more than I even know how to put into words at this point... Words that I know will come the more time that I get to spend recuperating from all that I've been through.

I like to think that I've always tried to be the best that I can be at all times. Even when I fell short of what was right, or let my naivety get the best of me, I still truly believe I've always strove for my best self. This year was no different, but I was tested in ways that I never had been before and just like in anything else in life-- when we're tested, we grow. When we grow, it hurts. If it hurts, you're doing something right. You're living.

And that's all we can ever really ask for.

Love and light...

xx,
City Girl from Cali

You DO got this.

It's Monday again. The alarm clock goes off loudly, vibrating mockingly, next to my head. Groggily I hit "snooze" and can already feel that my eyes are swollen again. Why is it that I hit the ripe old age of 23 and suddenly I have skin issues, baggy eyes, and a grey hair that won't leave me alone no matter how many times I rip it from my scalp? When did I get so old?

Jason rolls over and pulls me into him. We both sigh. Then we spend the next ten minutes as we spend the first ten minutes of all our days-- trying to pretend that we don't, in fact, have responsibilities and can stay laying like this all day long. When the alarm goes off again, we both groan in annoyance, give each other a quick kiss, and pull ourselves out from the delicousness of the crisp, white sheets to feed the cat, turn on the coffee maker, and start our day. 

After washing my face and pulling myself together, I give myself my daily pep-talk. "Alright, Taylor. You can do this. You got this." Then that little voice... But I'm tired. I miss home. It's so cold here. "I know, I know. But you'll be home soon enough. Try and appreciate this time while it's still here because deep down you know that a small part of you will miss your big adventure. Now, baby steps... Pour yourself some coffee. Moisturize. Make some oatmeal. Curl your hair. Put a little make-up on. Choose something cute to wear. And smile... Today is going to be a good day."

I have this similar pep-talk with myself every single morning. Sometimes, it works. Others, it doesn't. Sometimes, I stay positive even when the snow rips parts of my car from itself, the train runs on a different schedule for whatever reason and causes me to be late to my first class, or even when I didn't check whether or not it was going to rain, forgot my umbrella, and didn't wear enough layers. Sometimes, I can even stay positive when the abrasive girl who always sits next to me in MIS (because she likes to copy my work) says something rude, demands I let her take a picture of my notes, and drops my notepad without saying "sorry" or attempting to pick it up. Sometimes, I can stay positive when my Econ professor gives me 0 on a homework assignment, a grade I clearly had not deserved, I try to talk to him about it, but because he's from New Jersey and no one here is allowed to be wrong or humbled, only gives me a mere 3 points for fear of completely losing his dignity. Sometimes, I can stay positive through all of that. 

Sometimes I can't.

Sometimes it hits me that moving across the country and going on this gigantic adventure has been a series of severe highs and severe lows. And sometimes when I ask myself if it's all worth it, I say no. But sometimes I say yes.

So... Then... What? 

So... Then... I keep moving. I work through the lows in the hopes that another high is lurking just around the corner. No, I don't mean a drug-induced high. I mean a life-induced high. Because that's what living is all about. This experience may not be everything that I had hoped. In fact, most of the time it's far from it. But sometimes... Every once in a while... It's so much more. It's more because I'm living. Maybe for the first time in my life.

And then, every once in a while, snow doesn't rip anything off of my car and it's a full 20 degrees warmer than yesterday. I surprise myself when 45 degrees feels "warm". I look in the mirror and see a girl who is brave, strong, and let her hair grow (finally). And it looks good long. Why did I never let it grow before? Sometimes I come across a rare happy, smililing, face on the train who takes my ticket and says, "Thank ya, darlin'!" And sometimes, on a really clear morning, I'll be sitting on the light rail and look to my left to find that glorious Empire State Building, standing as tall as ever, winking at me in the rising sun as if to say, "You DO got this, Taylor. You DO got this."

All for now... As always, thanks for reading.

Xoxo, 

City Girl from Cali

Just another Wednesday.

It's another Wednesday in the late afternoon where I have found myself in the train station's Track 5 waiting room, waiting for my train home. I know you love hearing about the strange things that go on around me so here goes--- woman just walked by carrying a backpack on her back that was literally bigger than she was and she looked like Harry Potter. I found it both impressive and a little bit terrifying. Especially since she sort of shoved the door open by doing a complete and total lunge. And now I want to have a Harry Potter marathon.

Today, I am in a good mood. I know, it's shocking. First of all, there was sushi left in the cafe at lunch today. Win. It wasn't spicy tuna, but I'll take what I can get and be grateful. Then, my professor ended class early allowing me to run and catch the 2:20 bus and, in turn, the 3:00 train home. Instead of having to sit at the station until 4:11 like I usually do after that class. Double win. And lastly, and most importantly, I learned last night that I'll be moving back to California in August.

Bomb. Dropped. Boom.

I know, you weren't expecting that. The thing is, it's only 3 months earlier than when Jason and I had originally planned on moving back, and it will allow me to get started on finishing school in a place that will be both better for my mental health and a hell of a lot cheaper. Triple win. I am Charlie Sheen. (Winning.)

A part of me, a very small part, is heart-sad because I feel like it won't be right of me to keep the tag name "City Girl from Cali" once I'm back in Cali. But we'll see. Maybe I'll keep rocking it anyway. Another part is sad that my favorite city in the world won't be a train ride away anymore. So Jason and I have already decided to take as many adventures as humanly possible in the next 6 months so I can really get my NY fix before we go back. 

It's strange. Living here has been the biggest part of my life for the past year now. I have changed and grown so much that I can't help but wonder what it will feel like when we move back home. I won't miss scraping ice off of my car or shivering at 7 AM on a train station platform, that's for sure. I also won't miss the people much. I won't miss them at all.

I think the lady sitting next to me is eavesdropping (eaves-reading?) on my post and it's really awkward so I'm gonna go ahead and end this here. 

Until next time,

City Girl from Cali

Fifteen minutes in the life.

I pull my newly purchased bag of chocolate covered pretzels, ones that I finally worked up the courage to buy, from my bag. You would think that it wouldn't be, like, a big deal to buy a bag of chocolate covered pretzels. I wanted the pretzels. I thought about them for two days, debating the calories and the extra minutes it would take me on the treadmill to work them off and whether or not I would actually enjoy them enough for those calories to be worth it, before going ahead and buying the damn pretzels. I wonder to myself why I am so weird as I try to open these pretzels. They won't open. I tug and tug, the loud crinkle of the plastic bag echoing off the bare walls of the train station waiting room. The people to the right and left of me, sitting down towards the ends of the long, wooden bench, look subtly in my direction. Nearly 60 seconds later, I am still attempting to open this bag of chocolate covered pretzels, cursing myself for having the audacity to finally buy them in the first place. When nearly two minutes go by, it starts to get embarrassing and my face begins to flush. 

A man walks up the stairs to the waiting room and asks the woman sitting 3 feet to the left of me if it's okay for him to sit down next to her, then proceeds to sit down next to me. All of this room on this bench and he sits within 12 inches of me. Not to mention he's closer to me than the woman he had asked to sit down next to. I marvel at the oddities that are my life and continue to try and open the bag of chocolate covered pretzels. 

A few minutes later the man asks no one in particular if this is the track with the train that leads to Trenton, New Jersey. 

"No," a girl sitting down the bench to the right of me tells him, "that's Track 4. It's on the other side of this track and-" she points out the window to the train making it's exit from the station, "it just left."

"Dammit!" He cries, bringing his hands to his head. He then gets up and runs back down the stairs to the station.

I bring my attention back to the bag of chocolate covered pretzels and my arms begin to shake with exertion. I dig my nail into the top of the bag, trying to poke a hole in it so I could then rip the bag open from there. Science. It doesn't work, and my nail starts to hurt.

An African-American man in his fifties sitting farther down the bench than the lady to left of me begins to rap aloud the lyrics to the song he's listening to on his iPod. Everyone in the waiting room stiffens in an awkward manner as we all try to pretend that this is totally appropriate. I mean, why wouldn't we want to listen to his rendition of from what I can tell are a string of mumbles and obscenities?

I pull my keys out of my bag in an attempt to poke a hole like before, only with something stronger and more durable than a nail, but can't quite get my grip right and by now, the girl to my right is just outright staring at me. I have become her train-waiting entertainment. 

I decide to take a break and read my book for awhile. I pull my book out of my bag and read about a paragraph when my stomach starts to grumble. Going for the sneak-attack approach, I pick up the bag again and pull on its sides really, really fast. As if somehow I've gotten stronger and the bag weaker within the thirty second time frame of me setting it down. It doesn't budge.

The woman to my left starts making strange moaning noises that make me incredibly uncomfortable. I look around to see that everyone else is pretty uncomfortable about it, too. Her eyes are closed and she's just sitting there, moaning. I shake my head. 

I check the time. 2:48. The train will be here in 13 minutes. I begin to read my book again. The man continues his rap. The woman, her moan. I check the time again. 2:50. Fuck.

I pick up the bag of chocolate covered pretzels and stare at it. Just stare at it. Okay... I tell it. In my mind, of course. I'm not a crazy person. We are going to try this one more time, my friend. And this time, you will open up so that I can enjoy the chocolatey, salty goodness I damn well paid for. Got it?

I muster up the strength and courage of a mighty warrior as I once again place my hands along the sides of the plastic bag of chocolate covered pretzels. In seemingly slow motion, I tug and the bag gives way, revealing to me a sea of tiny chocolate covered pretzels.

"YES!" I exclaim, fist in the air. A mighty warrior who's battle has been completed. My chest swells with pride as I look around only to find an empty train station waiting room. No one there to witness my defeat.

I look out the window to see my train has arrived, stuff my chocolate covered pretzels in my bag, and run to join the others on the train.

Snow day.

Everyone, and I do mean everyone, talked about this blizzard for the past two weeks. Claiming it would break records (and it did!) and it would certainly prevent East Coasters from venturing outside of their homes for the entire weekend.

I was skeptical... Today marks the day exactly one year ago that Jason and I finally drove across the country and arrived on the East Coast. On that day, there was another so-called "record-breaking snow storm", but we only ended up getting about 6 inches and it wasn't really record-breaking at all. Jonas 2016, however, lived up to it's heightened dramatics.

Looking out the window every few minutes, because I just couldn't bring myself to believe my own eyes, all I could see was a blur of white. Quarter-sized snowflakes falling frantically from the sky and then being whipped this way and that by mighty gusts of wind. Within hours, my car sat in the driveway completely covered by the snow.

"Would you like another Hot Toddy?" Jason would ask me, getting up to make his way to the kitchen.

Why, yes, handsome future hubby of mine, yes I would.

Buried in blankets and snuggled up with my purring, cuddly cat, Jason and I watched movie after movie as the snow made it's wild descent and engulfed our little corner of the world in sheets of white.

Later in the afternoon, I wrapped myself up in my warmest jacket, threw some boots on over my pajamas, and bounded out the door to play in the snow. Jason followed me, laughing, and once nearly waste-deep in the fluffy white snow, I found myself in a fit of giggles. Finally getting to know how it felt growing up in a place where snow like this came every year. Feeling like a little kid experiencing the wonder of snow for the first time. Marveling at how beautiful my street looks covered in white.

Living here is hard sometimes. Usually in those quiet moments when I'm on the train, sitting by myself, and my mom calls me as if she can feel that I need to hear her voice, hear some familiarity, and minutes later some ass hole comes up to me saying I need to get off my phone. It's also at those times when I all I want to do is go out and have some wine with my best friend and talk about all of the girly things I have to now make Jason endure listening through. Or when I'm walking by myself through a big, crowded city, making my way to my next class, and wishing the people here were easier to make friends with.

However, as hard as those times get, and as much as I won't miss them once back in California, it's on days like today when all of my classes are canceled at the last minute on account of SNOW, that I revel in living here. My first official snow day... Honestly, I never thought I'd have one of those.

I was nearly ready to walk out the door when Jason called me from the car on his way to work.

"Hey!" he said, as I silently panicked because I thought his car broke down or something. "Stop getting ready! Go back to bed! Your school got 28 inches of snow and canceled classes! Check your e-mail!"

Excitedly, I did just that.

My first official snow day... I think I'll build a snowman.

Xx,
City Girl from Cali

New year, same me.

I'm a very nostalgic person. Jason tells me this often, and he's right, but just as he tells me and just as I know myself- being a nostalgic person is not a bad thing. When I was in high school, and even after I graduated, I thought it was just teenage adolescence. That I was being a dramatic teenager who had had her heart broken one too many times and found solace in becoming a tortured artist. Maybe that was part of it, but as I have grown out of my teenage years and slowly but surely into adulthood, I've realized that it wasn't teenage dramatics at all. I'm simply just a nostalgic person. And, okay, a little bit of a tortured artist.

I say all of this to talk about the fact that as I have been on a break for the last couple of weeks, patiently waiting for school to start back up again, I have been heavily reflecting on my life thus far. I have taken notice of how much I've learned, how much I've grown, and realized that I will never really stop growing. So many different chapters in my book already written, and so many blank pages to go... It can be overwhelming. But in the greatest way.

Sometimes, though, in my reflecting... I feel inadequate. As if me going to school full time in order to (hopefully) graduate before I'm, like, oh I don't know, FORTY, somehow makes me a lesser person. I just feel like I should be working and contributing, but I know that as long as I attend school here, there's just not enough hours in the week for me to even think about getting a job. Maybe when we move back to California while I finish up my last semester or so...

Nonetheless, I also panic about my future career sometimes. It's intimidating being engaged to someone who already has his shit together. He knew what he wanted to do since high school, graduated, went to college, and did it. Why can't I be more like that? If I was, I could be in my own career right this very moment. Which brings me back to my nostalgia- my tortured artist soul.

I love so many different things. And not really any one of them more than the other. Which makes it hard to decide which of those things I'm going to choose, run with, and make a career out of. So much pressure, I feel like a tea kettle about to blow sometimes.

The thing is, though, that I put the pressure upon myself. No one else is pressuring me to figure out my career path right this very second or telling me I'm not good enough because I don't have a part-time job at the local Dunkin Donuts or something... I'M telling me that. Which means I'm already going against my very first New Year's Resolution.

1. Be happy with exactly where I am.

I want to appreciate the time that we have left living here, and not worry so damn much. I miss home, I will for as long as we live here, but we'll be back home soon enough. And I sure as hell don't want to look back on our time here and wish that I'd been more present. I don't think it's very "present" of me to be so hard on myself.

2. Do more of what I love.

I got this amazing camera for Christmas. (Thank you, dad!) And I have not put it down since. I have always loved photography and taking pictures and now I know I can take it to the next level with this camera. I love being behind the frame and hearing the satisfying click of the shutter. I love it more than I knew I would.

I want to finish my book this year and TRY to get it published. The manuscript is nearly done, but do you know how scared I am to put my story out into the world? It's so personal... I've of course changed the names and embellished for dramatic effect, but it's still my story. It's my heart. How do authors do what they do? They're heroes of their own kind.

3. Lose weight.

Ha. Just kidding.

So I'm a nostalgic person. Hence, the book I'm writing on mine and Jason's entire love story. I'm a tortured artist who loves too many things to know what to do with. I'm a bit of weirdo, a little crazy, and a little scared. But it's a new year, and even though I'm not going to pretend like so many others that the sheer changing of the clock over to a new year on New Year's Eve makes me an entirely new person, I do believe in clean slates and starting fresh. So I'm going to take the person that I am, continue to grow, continue to do what I love, and see what the hell happens.

Who's with me?!

Thanks for reading, as always.

Xoxo,
City Girl from Cali

Reflecting amongst the stars.

Finals are officially over. Which means that I have successfully completed my first semester at a real-life University. Red, cobble-stone walkways and all. Well, somewhat successfully. I don't really consider getting a B+ in English successful for me, but I digress. I'm still waiting to know how I did in Economics and, sadly, hoping I passed with a C. That professor was a real piece of work with his impossible-to-decipher accent and ridiculously worded tests. Economics is hard enough to understand, now I have to learn whatever language you're speaking and trying to pass off as English, as well?

Other than that- all A's. I even got a 99% on my math final. MATH. If you would have told me that I would do better in math than English this semester, I would have said you were insane. 

Now, finally, I am sitting on the plane next to my sweetheart and we are on our way to California. Where the weather is warm and so are the people. My people. People I've missed so terribly for the past year. I've dreamed of running into their arms and laughing amidst their laughter for months now, and the time has finally come. 

What a year. Can you believe that it's almost been a year that I've lived with those that dwell on the East? I can't. I mean, don't get me wrong, some days felt like years in and of themselves. But all in all, this year has flown by and I've learned and grown so much. So I thought that I would take the time I have now on this flight, flying amongst the stars and looking down at the perfectly tidy and lit up world below me, to talk about what I've learned and how I've grown.

I learned about snow this year and we ended up having a love/hate relationship. I had to put layers upon layers just to take out the trash and scrape ice off of my car's windshield. But let's face it, snow coats the entire world and makes it absolutely beautiful for a little while, allowing you to forget about all of the crap that lies beneath it, and that's pretty awesome. I learned how important it is to step outside of your comfort zone. Because moving across the country was not the end of stepping out of my comfort zone, it was merely the beginning. Then I had to grow accustomed to a new house, new streets, new grocery stores, new Chinese food. I had to learn how to take the train and NOT hyperventilate. It took a few months, but I'm proud to say that I can now ride the train without feeling like I'm going to throw up. I found my way around the train station. I found my way around New York City and actually look like (almost) not a tourist when I go there. I learned that you can't take anyone personally here. Literally, not a single person. They have there own way of looking at the world and it doesn't coincide with my way of looking at things, but that's okay. I had to learn how to live with them anyway.

I got engaged this year. Like, holy crap. Not only did I get engaged, but I got engaged to the love of my entire life. The person who makes me melt and still gives me butterflies. The person who can frustrate me beyond belief and then minutes later make me laugh until my stomach hurts. Someone who just gets more and more handsome every day and always holds my hand. Someone who got down on one knee in Central Park and asked me to be his forever. That really happened, believe it or not. (Sometimes I can't quite believe it myself.) And it happened this year.

I learned how important it is to follow your dreams.Yes, this year has been terrifying. It has scared the absolute shit out of me (sometimes literally... kidding. horrible visual. moving on.) on more than one occasion. My heart ached more than I knew it ever could this year with this horrible thing called homesickness. But if I'd have allowed myself to be ruled by fear one year ago, I wouldn't have any of the memories I made this year. I wouldn't have New York. I wouldn't have had a proposal in my favorite place in the world. I wouldn't have had any of it. I was braver than I was scared and that made all the difference. 

More than anything, though, I learned one thing. The most important thing that maybe I've ever learned. I learned how important family is. Love and laughter and being around people who make you feel good and happy and alive- that's what's most important. Everything else is temporary. Family is infinite. It's everything. My grandparents, my parents, my aunts, uncles, cousins, my best friend, my fiancé, my dogs, my cat... All are my family. I also learned that I am so excited to have a family of my own someday.

Christmas has always been my most favorite time of year. And I know that people say that from time to time, only half meaning it. Well, I mean it wholly. I think, though, that this particular Christmas is going to be my best one yet. I've grown. I've learned. I've thrived in a new place with new people doing things I've never done before. I'm different, I can feel that. And I'm excited for my family to see that. I'm excited to be where I am within myself right now with all of the people who mean the most to me in the world. I can't wait to smell that familiar smell of lasagna on Christmas Eve and sing drunken Christmas carols at the piano with my cousins. I can't wait to drive the streets of my hometown, knowing that I've been driving streets of my own for an entire year. I'm excited to appreciate everything. Really appreciate everything.

So Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and much love to you and yours.

Thanks for reading.

XOXO,

City Girl from Cali (on her way to Cali)

An engagement shoot to FALL for.

After my mom left to go back home to California, I immediately started counting down the days until it was time for me to go back myself for Christmas. (Down to 43 now.) I had an embarrassingly hard time after she left, as you can clearly see from my last Blog post, but in the days that ensued I began to glue myself back together.

It's true what they say about difficulties making you stronger as a person. I definitely have started feeling like The Hulk himself lately. And I'm thankful for the strength that comes just when you think you can't take it anymore. Turns out I can take it. Turns out I'm stronger than I thought.

Up and down went the roller coaster...

After picking myself up, dusting myself off, and realizing that life isn't as hard as my hormone-infused mind was trying to lead me to believe, Jason and I got our engagement photos taken. Even writing those words I kind of look at the screen like, what? That really happened?

It really happened.

Sometimes I think that I wished for this love so hard that on some level maybe I convinced myself I wanted it too much. Maybe I convinced myself that that kind of fairytale just wasn't in the cards for me. A love so big your eyes can't even stretch wide enough to see it all. That's the kind of love I have.

I don't want to come off brag-y. I never want that. I want to rejoice and show thanks for the beautiful things in my life, but I don't want to talk about them with that ever-present "neener-neener-neener" mentality. I just love him. I didn't know he existed. I didn't know a journey like the one I'm on would ever be real for me. And I have to just keep pinching myself.

I was in love before. Or so I thought. What I'm coming to wonder is that maybe I did love the person, but I was in love with the idea of that person more than the person himself. I drove myself (and probably him, too) crazy with this desire. And when I finally began to let him go, I focused on me. I focused on what I love - music, fashion, writing, reading, Netflix binging. Then I went to a party and Jason was there and we played guitar together until 2 AM and the rest, as they say, is history.

He's my best friend. AND my soul mate. I don't say that nonchalantly because I have another best friend/soul mate who is really more of my sister and I've known her since I was 5. She's also going to be my Maid of Honor. Jason is my best friend in the way that I always wanted my future husband to be. Someone who I can make laugh and someone who makes me laugh. Someone who I can fight with and make up with. Someone I can talk to and cry to and who talks and cries to me. Someone who puts up with my mood swings, going back and forth between our moving here being the best and worst decision I've ever made. (But mostly the best.) Someone who looks at me in a way that still gives me butterflies. Someone who makes me feel safe and at home and completely complete.

Someone I am going to be proud to call my husband in exactly 634 days.

'Til next time.

Xoxo,

Gossip Girl

(just kidding)