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?

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

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

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)

 

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

Augustus.

When Jason and I decided to move here, we brought up the idea of getting a pet and then, overwhelmed by so much as it was, quickly dismissed this idea. We decided then and there that it was not going to happen. Too much expense, too much work, blah, blah, etc. "We're going to get in and get out," he told me, as if we were going off to war or planning a one night stand. No attachments.

Well... about five and a half months later, we now have an Augustus. A half pound, striped, grey ball of love. I've never been a cat person; I've always had dogs so I've always considered myself a dog person. (Augustus is staring at me now as if he knows what I'm typing and is quite offended by it.) But, I can safely say that I am now, also, a cat person because I have fallen head over heels in love with this cat.

Talk of changing our mind about the "in and out with no attachments" plan began around the time when Jason came home every night to a fiancé who had spent most of her day balled up on the couch in tears with a case of the most pathetic and lonely homesickness you've ever seen in your life. "I need a dog," I told him, eyes swollen, as if I was pleading for my life. "I can't do this anymore without a dog."

To me, having a dog would not only give me work to distract me from how much I miss home, but it would dull the ache of how much I'm alone here. I would have a companion. Someone I could talk to, allowing me to feel slightly less insane than when I talk to myself. It was like a beam of light at the end of the tunnel, a beacon of hope, if you will.

Jason immediately understood, however, (being a cat person), also immediately began trying to convince me to get a cat instead. Telling me that they are less work, less expensive, and just as awesome. I was skeptical, but decided to let the fates decide. (i.e.: our landlord.) Our lease was unclear on our even being able to get an animal, so we e-mailed her to ask about it. After saying she needed a week to think it over, she responded by saying she would be okay with us getting a cat. Jason showed me her email, smug and triumphant. It was settled. No puppy for me.

In the couple of weeks to follow, I found myself looking at pictures of kittens and trying to get myself excited. I just hadn't had much experience with cats and the ones that I'd met over my years always seemed so indifferent about, well, just about everything. 

I was also incredibly nervous on the way to the animal shelter. I felt almost as if I was on my way to a first date, or something. 

When we entered the room labeled "Kittens", I had no idea how in the hell we were supposed to pick one. You know that old saying, "When you know, you know." I looked at the black and whites, the orange tabbies, and even the gorgeous all white ones... but then I saw Augustus. His big, green eyes staring right at me from the front of his cage. Without anyone even saying a word, the lady opened the cage and handed him to me. And I knew.

There was about an hour's worth of paperwork and adoption applications to go through, during which time I spent panicking that something might go wrong and I would have to leave without this 9 week old kitten melting into my chest and falling asleep there. I was literally sweating.

When everything was finalized and they said they would get us a carrier to bring him home in, relief and joy flooded my being. I finally had a little buddy of my own. Even when he gets kitty litter all over the bathroom floor or whines at me, meowing/yelling, until I pick him up and give him a snuggle; I'm still grateful. Even as I've been trying to writing this, he has bit the shit out of my hand for using it to type instead of pet him; I'm still grateful. Because I can tell that he already loves me just as much as I love him and I didn't even know how much I needed that.

My "I'm-In-Love-Rant".

You may be confused by the obnoxious title of this post. To be honest, I am a little bit, too. But hopefully I can make myself clear to you and myself very soon here...

As of late, I have been pondering the idea of "feminism". (No, I am not putting that in quotes to show sarcasm. I am simply enunciating the word.) While I totally agree that a woman should have the same rights and wages as a man in the workforce, especially if they are doing the same job, and while I totally agree that women and men should be treated equally in life, just as should all ethnicities of the human race- I think something gets misconstrued when it comes to women who have fallen in love with a man.

The sad thing about what gets misconstrued is that (usually) the people pointing fingers at such women who are in love are also women.

Now, it's no surprise that women can be downright disgusting to one another and it's true that we don't really get dressed up to impress men, it's usually to impress ourselves and other women. It's an ongoing competition, struggle, and unspoken way of life. I personally have only had one true best girl friend my entire life and I consider that in and of itself rare and, let's face it, awesome. That just doesn't happen anymore. Women are spiteful and deceitful beings at times. It makes it hard to find true friends in all of that mess. The bottom line is that women are not (always) good to one another.

An example of this that I have experienced first hand in the time since I began dating my now very serious boyfriend, is that people (but again, mostly women) look at me differently. Not all people, mind you, because there are many who look at us with love and adoration. There are those who are truly happy for what we have found in one another and genuinely wish us the best.

Then there are those who, well... don't. Even if they say they do. You know what I mean? Whether you want to call it jealousy or spite or whatever- there are so many people in this world who will not only look down on a relationship as a whole, but look down on [the woman] in said relationship for "succumbing to domestication".

I am a prime example of this because I have moved across the country with my boyfriend. "You aren't even married!" I know, I'm such a slut. And I could go on and on to explain to those people that I know my boyfriend is the one for me, blah, blah, blah... but, really? I know it's a waste of time. I couldn't explain the depths of our relationship to anyone and get them to understand if I talked until I was blue in the face. They won't get it. It's not their relationship to "get". I'm not worried about that.

What I am worried about is this- the people who look at me as if I'm less simply because I am in love.

I see it in their faces and in their eyes when they speak to me about my relationship. Regardless if they are wishing us well or telling us that we're going to hell; I see it. It's hard to explain how I can determine what I'm seeing as "looking down on" versus "jealousy", but there's a definite difference and I guess you'll just have to take my word for that.

When I hear about stories of women mocking other women for doing their significant other's laundry, it makes me sick to my stomach. If she doesn't mind doing his laundry and he isn't physically forcing her to do so, what is the problem with her washing his clothes? I realize that there was a time when a woman was told she had to stay home and take care of the kids, do the housework, and hold down the fort. I realize that there was a time when women weren't free to go after their own goals and ambitions because that was "the man's job". But that time has passed. Who is to say that both a man and a woman can't live out their passions in the world and then come home to each other and work as a team to accomplish the household chores? I'm not saying household responsibilities should lie solely on the woman while the man gets home and cracks open another beer. But as hard working women who have experienced both love for a man and inner passion for success, should we really be pointing fingers at and belittling each other for throwing some dirty underwear and soap in a washing machine?

Women have come a long way since the early 1900's and, yes, we still have a long way to go. But when it gets right down to it, if we want to change the way the world looks at us, shouldn't we start by changing the way we look at each other?

Let her wash his dirty underwear if she wants to because the truth of the matter is, she'll probably make him do the dishes after dinner.

Let's lift each other up, ladies. And never feel ashamed for being in love.

Food for thought. 'Til next time.

Xxx

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