In short; trains, wine, and toilet paper.

Hey there, readers.

It's been quite a while since my last post. As you can imagine, adjusting to my new routine has been quite the, well, adjustment. It has taken time and a little bit of tears. (Okay, a lot a bit.) Regardless, I have slowly but surely gained a foothold in this East Coast way of life. Not to mention, I'm still working on gaining my foothold in this University way of life. It is much more difficult than community college ever was. Which is to be expected, I suppose. But I think the whole riding the train to the light rail to finding your way around a fast-paced city thing (especially doing all of these things for the first time) adds a certain layer of "difficult" to the already "more difficult".

Nonetheless, I am adjusting. However, I miss home more since school has started than I ever did in those first 7 months of living here. Which seems strange- right? Shouldn't my unbelievable ache for home happen during the time when I have nothing but time to think about how unbelieveably much I miss home? Now, I'm so busy I have to hold my breath because there's no time for irrelevant things like breathing and I miss home even more than I did before. 

It's the worst when I'm on the train. Sometimes I look out the window, listen to music, and pretend to live out my very own music video fantasy. Mostly, though, I just think about my mom's warming ways, my family's lilting laughter, and my beautiful bestie. All of whom I miss something fierce. Everytime I say or think this lately, I feel like such a broken record that I annoy myself. Like, okay, I get it. I miss home. Blah...blah...blah... But I did choose this, remember? Do you remember that part of it, self?

I chose to uproot my entire life and move across the country. Therefore, no matter how badly I miss home, I have to keep moving. I have to keep riding the train and avoiding the bums. (At least the ones who rudely get in your face when you tell them you don't have any cash on you... HELLO! I'm not lying! I'm a college student. If it weren't for FAFSA, I'd be on that curb with ya, Pal.) I have to keep paying attention in class and doing all of my assignments. I have to keep trying to appear as though I've got it all together, even though this couldn't be further from the truth. At least, most of the time. Sometimes I do have it together. Like when I'm shoulders-deep in a hot, candlelit bubble bath with a mason jar full of wine. That would be an occasion when I would say, yeah, I've got my shit together. Sure.

When I'm running to catch my train or walking in to my Management Skills class with toilet paper stuck to my shoe... Not so much.

Until I'm bursting with inspiration and too much to say...

Xx,
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

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.

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

So, like, what do you do all day?

Okay, I've gotten asked this question enough as of late to inspire yet another new post this week. Friends, family, acquaintances, etc... hear about my new life and eventually they ask the same question. "So, like, what do you do all day?"

Well, you see, I sit in my pajamas eating pints of ice cream, drooling, and staring at the walls for hours on end waiting for them to bleed. What else would I do?

No, in all seriousness, I know that those who ask aren't trying to insult me, but it sure does end up doing so. I am an only child, therefore, I have always been really good at entertaining myself and finding productive things to do to preoccupy my free time. Since I've been waiting for Fall semester and had zero luck at finding a job until it starts, I have had nothing but free time and apparently people are curious about how I spend it. So here goes.

For starters, as some of you may know, I am interning for an online fashion magazine and write articles for it weekly. Of course, this only takes up so much of my time.

I make myself wake up at about 8 AM, even though in reality I could sleep in every day if I wanted to. If I sleep too long, however, I get really grumpy. It's important to wake up at a decent hour and kick start your day. Waking up earlier, even when you don't have to, allows your brain to be more active and productive throughout the day. (Or so I have found.)

Sometimes, I start my day with a little bit of yoga to stretch out any sore muscles I have from going to the gym so often. Then, I turn on that beautiful Keurig and while waiting for my coffee to brew, I make myself a healthy breakfast. (Sometimes breakfast is the only healthy meal I eat all day, so I make a habit out of it.)

While I eat, I usually surf the web or watch something on Netflix. I'm really into the show Young and Hungry right now. (HI-larious.)

Then, I check my e-mail and do whatever I may need to in the way of paying bills, checking on school, etc...

It's around this time that my mom calls me. We talk every day, sometimes for only ten minutes or so, sometimes over an hour. But it's so important I hear her voice at least once a day.

After that, I get myself ready and go to the gym for about two hours. I go back and forth between intense workouts and easier workouts because I go so often, my body gets pretty worn out. I end my workout with the sauna.

If I need to do any errands, after the gym is my go-to time to do that.

Once I return home, I have some lunch and write for a few hours. I'm currently working on my novel and I'm about halfway through it. Even though it gets hard and lonely sometimes having so much time to myself, I'm doing everything I can to just make the most of it. I know it won't last forever and come Fall when I'm drowning in 19 units of classes, I know I'll miss it. (Well, maybe.) I feel really grateful that I'm finally at a place in my life where I not only have time to write a novel like I've always wanted to do, but that I have the story for it as well.

At the end of the day I shower or take a relaxing bath, crawl into my PJs, and start dinner or do any other around the house chores that need to get done until my handsome future hubby comes home. We have dinner together and make a point to simply hang out and talk every single night instead of just constantly zoning out on the TV or something. One of my favorite parts of our relationship is that we have the ability to talk about everything and not only that, but the fact that we laugh constantly. We have fun together. Even if it's just a random Tuesday evening. And I'm reminded, every day, of how lucky I am to have found someone to share my life with, someone who makes life fun, even at such an idle time as this.

So, like, there ya go. That's, like, what I do all day. ;)