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

A lazy, quiet, Saturday.

It is a bright and beautiful summer day here in New Jersey. Living on the top floor of our two-apartment house, we leave all of the blinds open during the day. It allows the sunshine to dance on the hard wood floors and every time you look outside, all you see is trees. Sometimes I pretend we live in a tree house. It's so sunny and warm that it makes it hard to believe just 3 and half short months ago there was still snow on the ground. It also makes it hard for this California girl to believe that in just about 4 months, there will be snow on the ground again.

My handsome fiancé and myself were supposed to pack up the ice chest full of snacks, beer, and excellent decisions and head to the beach today. I'm trying to get as many trips in as I can before school (aka: the mayhem) begins. But after working a 70 hour week, a machine called "The Wheel" decided to break (again) and he had to go into work on a SATURDAY to fix it. It's just criminal, I tell you. But he took it like a champ, got out of there by 11, and took me to do one of my favorite things in the world- shop for more school supplies. I say more because I've already gone once this week. Now I have two stylish binders complete with brand new pens and pencils and little dividers and folders for each of my classes. Nothing can cheer me up quite like the stationary aisle at Target can. We plan on trying for the beach again early tomorrow morning. Early (sigh) because we want to get a good spot.

It is nearing 2 in the afternoon now and Jason is napping. Not surprising after working more than 70 hours in only 5 and a half days. I, on the other hand, decided to distract myself with my favorite pastime- writing- because however exhausting it may be to work 70 hours in one week, I would suffice it to say that it is almost as exhausting to be completely alone for 70 hours in one week.

Well, that's not fair. I'm not alone anymore. I now have my kitty cat Augustus who keeps me wonderful company, if I do say so myself. He yells (meows) at me when I'm doing something wrong, cuddles me when he's waking up from yet another nap, and has no problem letting me know when he wants to play fetch no matter what important show I'm watching or book I'm reading. Yes, my cat plays fetch. He admittedly plays fetch better than any dog I've ever played fetch with, in fact. He stays very focused. He only stops going to get the ball after over 20 times of bringing it back to me because he is suddenly oh so exhausted and falls wherever he is standing to take, you guessed it, another nap.

I love him.

Yeah, life is pretty good. I miss home, sure. Especially on long days like the ones I had this week where the waiting never seemed to end... Waiting for Jason to get home, waiting for the weekend, waiting for my birthday in New York, waiting for school and my life to start... A lot of waiting. I feel as though I've spent the past 7 months of my life waiting. Which draws quite an excellent parallel to our lives, I suppose. Aren't we always waiting for something?

Voltaire said, "We never live; we are always in the expectation of living."

However, on the 2 week home stretch of this 7-month excursion of which I have found myself, I am declaring, right here and right now, to live. I will finish the book I'm writing. I will go to the beach. I will read and nap and enjoy the downtime I have left. Because I have a feeling 17 units of classes will quickly make me miss all of this expectation of living.

Until next time.

-City Girl from Cali

City Girl from Cali, actually in Cali.

Hello everyone! It's been awhile...

So, yes, I am actually in California as I write this. I have been home for about 11 days with 3 more to go for one last trip before school starts. (Holy crap, school starts in almost exactly one month. Which will mean Jason and I moved away 7 months ago. Where did the time go?!)

For those of you who read my last post about coming home (and never really being able to come home again), you know that I was skeptical about the whole thing and hoped that the going back and forth would get easier. Well, it really hasn't. In fact, when I had to leave Jason once more on the curb at the Departures terminal of the airport, I thought I was going to have a panic attack. This is the longest he and I have ever been apart since we started dating and I wasn't looking forward to it.

I did, however, know that it was important for me to go spend some time with my friends and family before the craziness of 17 units starts, most likely not seeing them again until Christmas.

The truth of the matter is that my mom is the one who really pushed (and I mean 3 nagging phone calls a day for a month pushed) for this trip. I didn't even want to spend two whole weeks here, I tried to get her to agree to just one like last time. I thought it would make it even harder to leave Jason and harder to leave here when I had to go back. But I guess it's just equally hard no matter what you do. It's all hard... being here without him, being there without my family.

However, this trip truly was a blessing in disguise for me because it has allowed me to really appreciate the decision I made to move across the country. I think when any human being makes a huge decision like that, they find themselves questioning it from time to time. It's only normal. I have of course wondered what it would be like to move back home and pretend none of it ever happened, because I have of course gotten that homesick at times. This trip has shown me though that that would not be the right decision.

Home is not the same for me, maybe, because it's not where I belong anymore. I belong out there, in this gigantic world; making memories, making mistakes, growing, living, and remembering to love every second of it. Home feels small to me, maybe, because my soul has gotten bigger. It has more room to explore now.

Which isn't to say that home will always be home. I will always love my home. It's just that I made a commitment, to Jason and myself, to go on this adventure and see it through no matter how hard it gets. And it's gotten pretty hard. If I just keep dwelling on the negatives, however, it gives those negatives more power. It's like that old Native American fable goes, "You have two wolves fighting inside of you. One is vengeful, resentful, and angry. And the other is understanding, kind, and optimistic. Which wolf lives? The one you feed."

This story resonated with me so much the first time I heard it and when Jason heard it for the first time, he felt the same way. Sometimes we get in a habit of feeding the wrong wolf and I think in the cloudy haze of all that was hard and going wrong in my new life on the East Coast, I started feeding that wolf. That wolf wasn't the one that made the brave decision to move over there, but he certainly took over once I did.

Feed the right wolf.

I can see now how amazing it is that I'm living out my New York daydreams every single month. I check one more thing off my New York Bucketlist each time we go there. (Last time, I got to check off "See a play on Broadway.") Only, I always pictured myself in New York alone. Not because I wanted to be single and "not needing no man" when I got there, but because I never thought in a million years that an amazing man like the one I'm going to get to marry even existed. But he does. And every time I have to pinch myself as I wander around that city, I'm holding his hand as I do it.

It's time I slap myself somewhat silly and say, "Hey! You wanted this, you moron!" And then, you know, forgive myself for the moron comment. It's time I get excited about starting school, taking the train there, living out a new adventure and old dream. It's time I start feeding the right wolf.

But for now, I'm going to enjoy these last few days with my family and my puppies (and secretly daydream about the moment I get to run into Jason's arms at the Arrivals terminal in 3 days.)

As always, thanks for reading! Until next time.

Xx,
City Girl from Cali

The Hills of Pennsylvania.

I found myself in the hills of Pennsylvania, with nothing but the greenery and the quiet, calming sound of nature around me. Birds chirping, bees buzzing, wind blowing through the trees... you know, all of that cliché nature shit. I call it the Hills of Pennsylvania because my s/o once wrote a song with that title that he plays from time to time and whenever we venture in to his old stomping ground, I can never get that song out of my head. I also call it that because Philadelphia (very much city) and northern PA (very much not city) are two very different places, so calling it the hills of Pennsylvania with it's numerous green, rolling hills just seems appropriate. 

I have some family that is from PA and, apparently, I had been there once when I was very little, although I don't remember it. Visiting Jason there for a week two Christmases ago when it was covered in snow was quite the experience. Now that we live a mere hour away, however, I have found myself in various parts of PA almost every weekend getting to know it in every season on a much more personal level; my s/o in the driver's seat pointing out old memories through the window.

I have come to like it much more than I like New Jersey. (No offense, Jewwwsey.) While New Jersey is beautiful and incredibly close to the (New York) city that holds my heart, Pennsylvania is something else entirely. And while the people are still East Coasters, at least they don't scowl at you as if they're plotting your death when you politely smile making eye contact with them in the grocery store. I just want some laundry detergent, I don't want to murder you.

We ventured down to Norristown, PA two weekends ago to visit Jason's two aunts and get ready for a huge soiree they were having. It's true what they say about East Coast summers- they're humid, they're sticky, and they're absolutely beautiful. With all of this green it's as if I am living in another world entirely and while California is still the best place on the planet, I can definitely see the East Coast's appeal.

The party was for Jason's visiting aunt from California, his little cousin's birthday, and an array of other celebrations all thrown into one. As a turn of events, about halfway through the party, Jason's uncle showed up with bottles of champagne, presents, and a speech congratulating Jason and I on our engagement. Everyone yelled and cheered and Jason (of course) sprayed the champagne on us all. It was great.

We partied through the night.

I couldn't stop smelling the air and even though I consider myself a writer, I hate to admit that I don't think I could ever describe it enough to do it justice. You'll just have to visit someday during the summer and smell it for yourself.

When Jason pulled out my guitar and handed it to me, I was peer-pressured in to singing for everyone even though I disclaimed repeatedly that I had had a cold for the last week and a half. 

I sang the song I wrote for Jason entitled Pennsylvania. I figured it was appropriate. One verse in and I already had his aunt in tears. Throughout the evening I would hear, "Taylor, play it again!" and so I did. Probably about 17 more times, in fact. 

It was a weekend for the books. We went to PA again the weekend after that and Saturday morning we're heading back to Philly. I didn't realize moving to New Jersey would allow me so much time in Pennsylvania, but... I'm glad it is.

Random ramblings and not sleeping in the city.

I don't even know where to begin as I sit here to write this post. I just know that I've been dying to write, feeling a burning, constant need for it, in fact, but I have not a clue as to what to write about.

Life, as of late, has been a series of lows and highs. I suppose life is always that way, but I've just happened to take more notice of it in particular over the past week or so. Since visiting home and then returning to New York and Jersey, my time here feels incredibly different. I figured that I would go home, it would be refreshing, and then I would come back, picking up where I had left off. But, that hasn't really been the case.

Home, as I wrote about in a previous post, was not what I thought it would be. So naturally coming back here hasn't been what I thought, either. It feels more foreign to me now than it did before. I don't mean that in a negative way or in a way that would imply I'm having second thoughts about my decision to move here. I simply mean that since returning to life on the East Coast after only one week of my old life, this new life feels even more outrageous than it did before.

On some levels, this is a good thing. It's a good kind of outrageous. On other levels, aka the days that I feel terrified and miss home, those feelings are amplified in to a bad kind of outrageous.

I've talked about this before, and I'm sure this won't be the last time I write about it either, but I knew that this was going to be hard. I knew that moving across the country was going to be obviously difficult. I knew I was going to miss home. What I didn't know was just how hard it was going to be. I couldn't have known.

Maybe I'm starting to sound like a broken record to whomever is keeping up with these blogs. I know I certainly am to myself. I just need to address how I'm feeling and let it in, so that I can then let it go.

This really is the adventure of a lifetime. Yes, I am very idle for most of the week. It is in these quiet moments of solitude, with nothing but the sound of the air conditioner around me, that I yearn to be near the people I love the most. Because it really is the people in our lives that make our lives WHAT they are. I've learned this more than I thought possible over the past few months. But that doesn't give me an excuse to feel sorry for myself.

School will be rescuing me in less than 3 months. That means I've made it through more than half of the toughest part of my time here. And if quiet moments of solitude with an aching heart that's reaching for home is what it takes to experience the loud moments of life I have every time I go in to New York City or feel the rush of driving around in a place that's brand new... then maybe those moments are worth it. 

I've been watching the seasons change, I've dove into a river near a waterfall after a long hike through a green forest, I've gotten engaged in Central Park (for crying out loud), and just last weekend I pulled an all nighter in the city that quite literally never sleeps. 

My handsome fiancé and myself ventured into the city at (Oh my Goodness) 9 PM to check out a supposed "awesome new club", meeting up with a couple friends of ours later in the night. Well, being the unbelievably cool people that we are, we were the first to arrive at the club. Literally. The only ones there.

After we checked in and the bitch at security took away my scented hand sanitizer (Like, really? What do you think I'm gonna do, snort it?), we took a look around at the empty place and naturally found the nearest bar. The cleavage-clad bartender took our orders and we sipped our overpriced cocktails, eventually giving up on trying to talk over the obnoxiously loud music. (Clearly, I'm such a party animal.)

We did, however, have fun. We danced like the nerds that we are and showed embarrassing amounts of PDA, interchangeably groping each other and making out against a wall. Not even a little bit ashamed.

We also missed the last train home and were forced to stay in the city until 7 AM when the first train out would be arriving. Make-up smeared and feet throbbing from my heels, I would have totally felt like a hooker doing the walk of shame if it hadn't been for my s/o, who was doing said walk of shame with me. And who did we sleep with? The City, that's who. Only there was no sleeping.

I mean... this is it. This is what I've been waiting for and working toward for what feels like my entire life. And I'll be damned if I let myself, or any sort of quiet moment, get in the way of that.

Yeah, I really did need to write. I apologize for the random rambling. I apologize if I sound repetitive. But I really did need to write.

Til next time...

Xx

Taylor

The best day.

May 3rd, 2015 at 4:06 PM was the single greatest moment in the single greatest day of my entire life.

I was in Central Park, New York City- my favorite place in the world. It was a beautiful spring Sunday afternoon with not a cloud in the sky. The breeze was blowing through the fully bloomed trees, and grass, flowers, and greenery all around me. 

I was standing near a pond and next to what is now my favorite bridge in the park, watching the ducks swim, with the love of my life. 

I was calm, content, and grateful for such a beautiful day.

Then, suddenly, my best friend, my soul mate... He turned to face me and slowly got down on one knee. Before my heart could catch up with my head to figure out what was going on, he pulled out of his pocket a small, black box.

My hands flew to my mouth as my jaw dropped in shock and I couldn't breathe.

"Taylor Worthey," he said, tears filling his big, brown eyes, "Will you marry me?"

The whole world had gone quiet and all that was real was me and him.

Tears filled my eyes and I believe my exact words in response were, "Yes! Oh my God! Yes! Yes!"

I pulled the ring from the box and shoved it on my finger without even looking at it. 

I grabbed my fiancé's face and he stood up, wrapping his arms around me and smiling. We kissed, and laughed, and cried, and kissed some more.

He scolded me for not even looking at the ring and when I finally did I realized it was perfect. Exactly what I had always imagined it would be. Just as was this monumental moment.

The best person I know, the best thing that has ever happened to me... And he asked me to be his, forever.

We lied in the grass together in Central Park for nearly an hour, soaking in our engagement and daydreaming about all that is now to come.

All I can do now is smile, and thank God, and stare- incessantly- at my left hand.

Focusing on the good.

When I started this blog I told myself that I didn't want to ever post anything negative. Two blogs in and I, of course, realized that was unrealistic. Life is full of ups and it's full of downs and, therefore, any writing that you do about your life will reflect that. My last post described how much I miss home and how moving here has been much harder for me than I thought it was going to be. Well, I suppose that's still true. However, I'm learning to love it here more and more every day.

My best friend in the whole world, someone who might as well be my sister because we've been attached at the hip since we were five, came to visit this past weekend. 11 weeks we went without seeing each other, which for the record is the longest we've gone without one another since we were five. I'm pretty sure we never stopped laughing the entire time she was here. Not for a single solitary second. Seeing her in that airport was one of my favorite moments since arriving here. We talked for a solid hour about make-up before stopping and shouting at the same time, "I missed talking about this stuff with someone who actually cares!" Our boyfriends oblige us, but let's face it- they don't care about contouring or blending brushes.

We ate too much, drank too much, and shopped too much. It was exactly what I needed. But then she had to go home and this morning when I woke up to a boyfriend at work and a best friend back in California, I felt even more alone than before. It was even quieter than usual. It's a sting that I can't even accurately describe. All I can say is that it was a sting that took two cups of coffee, an intense work out session, a Target splurge, AND dark chocolate to shake off. Once I did, I had a little pep talk with myself. Something I've become quite good at since moving here since, most of the time, I'm the only one around to cheer myself up.

I realized that I need to be grateful for the memories I made with my best friend this weekend and look forward to the ones to come next time she visits. I realized that I truly am living out a life-long dream here, even on the days when I feel emotionally drained and my soul is tired. I'm still here. I'm still breathing. I'm still doing this. I realized that this won't last forever, nothing ever does, and there will come a time in my life when I look back and miss this place and this time. I'll miss seeing the seasons change and feeling the excitement of not knowing what each outing is going to bring. I'll miss spending time in the city. I'll miss this little apartment and the way all of our cute little things look in it. I'll miss this.

The grass is always greener on the other side. But maybe it's about time I start watering where I'm standing. 

People are going to disappoint you. They are going to make mistakes and so are you. Sometimes it's hard to forgive, sometimes you can't do it right away, but give yourself time. Since moving here, many of my relationships have been hindered. I have to work every day to not let it get me down and to not allow myself to feel isolated. Maybe some relationships will get so broken that they never truly heal. It will hurt, sure, but you can focus on them or you can focus on the good. I'm trying to focus on the good and I ask that you, whomever you are, would try with me. And if you're lucky, maybe you'll find yourself in love with your soul mate in the greatest city in the world with a beautiful best friend who comes to visit and share it with you from time to time. At least I did.

Here's to the good in our lives and raising a brave middle finger to the bad.

'Til next time.

Xo