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.

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

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

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

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