Coming Home

At the crest of the hill, a clump of scraggly firs sit illumined by a Prince Edward Island sky painted in chambray blue and burnt reds. This scene is most often the place I go when I need refuge. My "happy place," if you will. I have a couple place such as this and one of them is this blog. I come here when I need an outlet for my thoughts and, let's be honest, my feelings. Blogging is such a funny bird, but I have only experienced good things from this space and the people I have met through it. Such beautiful, warm people. I love the creative expression that comes from blogging. People curate such lovely online spaces.  It is so inspiring. I do sometimes find myself comparing myself to others, which is so dangerous. But lately, I am trying to be happy for others in their lives and also to delight in my own blessings. We'll see how it goes...

I said that I wouldn't blog until my life was in a better place but here I am in a raw, uncertain, vulnerable place looking once again for a bit of refuge in this small plot of online property. So, here I am again and we'll see how long I stay for this chapter. Each chapter is truly something for which I am grateful.

Grateful

I am full this day. Full of gratitude. Full of love. I have known such love in the past few days and I wish for everyone to know this feeling because THIS feeling is what life is all about. Grateful and humbled, indeed, am I.

Identity

Well, my heavens, has it been a long time since I have visited this space! To be honest, I wasn't sure that I should continue blogging - I felt so detached from here. I feel that I am best in this space when I am pontificating about big ideas. Life ideas.

My life has EXPLODED in all the best possible ways over the past 6 months. I have truly experienced an embarrassment of riches. A course in life and entry into grad school. A new love. Loads of wonderful friends. The unceasing love and support of my incredible family, who helped me move from DC to Boston for school. I am truly the sum of the wondrous people in my life.

Which brings me to the notion of identity. I feel that in the course of the past 6 months I have negotiated and renegotiated a newer sense of self. It has been dizzying to say the least. For so long, I was very much the same with natural developments here and there.

And then I finally found a true professional course. And I was admitted in graduate school (someone else believed that I could do this too - someone besides my awesome mother). And I finally met someone who fit into my life the way no man had before. Who showed me such kindness, love, trust, intelligence, and humor. Who allowed me to express the love that I had so longed to give someone. I was made better by these things. These gifts. But I was also made different.

And now I am back in Boston and at school. Learning in an academic environment for the first time in 5 years. And it's all at once strange, hard, and wonderful. And we are constantly discussing our identities - our racial, ethnic, and cultural backgrounds. I am here in this new/old place, closer to my family but farther from my love, and trying to navigate the next stages of my life (because I am not a true woman if I am not in super planning mode) and wondering how it will all play out.

There's the old Emily - so close to her awesome family and friends but perpetually single and looking for the one man who could be a kindred spirit. How can I mesh her with the new Emily - not only empowered by friends and family but also now career validations and an incredibly kind and loving man? It seems to be the ultimate decision that many of us face in this fast-paced, populated, multi-option, geographically diverse world. Hah, I am tired just typing this out, let alone making a decision. And the good thing is that I don't need to make one now. But it is coming down the pike. And I am not quite sure how it will all play out. How can I be the person I want to be and be with everyone I want to be? How can I have it all? The ultimate question of the modern woman. Of the modern human.

Update:  A very kind and wise friend read this post and wrote me the loveliest email about life. It meant a great deal but one of her best lines was that "we are all a work in progress." And that's the beautiful part. Thanks, C!

Photo credit: Emily Bowen

Finding My Altruism

Pretty posies at the U.S. Botanical Gardens

David Brooks' column from a few weeks ago discusses (developed, often Western world) service in the developing world. Nothing he says is something I haven't heard before. But he describes his view of "useful" foreign aid succinctly and accurately and with poignant, relevant examples of young people serving humbly without any expectations. I don't always agree with Brooks but every so often, he puts into words exactly what I feel about things. His view seems very grounded in reality.

I think about service every day. The premise of my alma mater, Boston College, was "men and women for others." I shaped much of my undergraduate experience around this premise. I focused my coursework towards international studies, wanting to inform my worldview.  My years since have been peppered with volunteering - mentoring, tutoring, Habitat for Humanity. I don't feel like I am truly living unless I am serving others in some context outside of the realm of my for-profit professional activities (in other words, my job).

Several of my friends have accomplished full-time service experiences - Peace Corps, Americorps, and other non-governmental programs. I think about doing the same every day.  I have come so close to so many different service experiences over the years.  And the fact that I haven't really does weigh on me. I have a completed Peace Corps application just sitting there, waiting (I finished it the day I got the call regarding my current job in Washington).  An offer to teach with the New York Teaching Fellows came last year after I want through the entire interview process (it was the exact opposite of the placement I wanted, so I refused on the basis that it would not be fair to the students or me to take this assignment).

In really thinking about why I haven't actually taken the plunge to do the service abroad or just a full-on service experience, I realize that perhaps I am not completely built for the experiences I have encountered thus far. I don't think I have the chops to be totally isolated in a foreign land for an extended period of time, to be parted from my family, friends, and culture for over 2 years. I really don't. But oh, how I wish I did.

I think perhaps I am better serving here in the U.S., where there is a great need. I think we often forget this fact, being so focused (and rightly so) on the developing world across the oceans. There's a lot of need here - our country is kind of in trouble in terms of slipping standards of living and education statistics.  I have had rich service experiences here. Lately I have been thinking about being a teacher (following in the footsteps of my incomparable, ever-talented mother). Because I cannot sit at desk and computer for 8 hours a day for the rest of my life. I just cannot. I need people. I need connection. The best experience was working as a literacy aide in the Boston Public Schools during college.  I need to feel like I am working toward something positive. I just have not felt that in any of my jobs thus far. I know this possible career choice means less glamour and a smaller paycheck, but that's not a bad thing. For I think, in the end, I value the preservation of my spirit over the thickness of my pocketbook.

Miss Bowen Goes to Washington!

This gold briefcase was part of the magic ensemble that finally procured me that Washington, DC job! My blog silence over the past week has been a result of flying to DC for interviews, looking for an apartment, finishing a freelance project, and finally, contracting a head cold!

I am thrilled beyond belief that all this is happening! For so long, I had been contemplating so many different paths and now it seems that one has opened up for me to proceed towards one of my dreams: living and working in DC.

This dream could not have been possible without the unfailing support of my family and friends! I am so thankful for the people I have known in my life (including many of the kindred spirits I have gained from blogging!)!

Get ready for many DC-inspired posts as I explore my new neighborhood!

Bleak House + Halloween

I wish that time didn't scare me so much these days. Lately, I feel myself caught in a zero gravity field. No forward motion despite my anxious kicking. Try as I may, I have not found that good position I had hoped to procure. I knew it would be tough in this economy, but I have had several leads (made through networking) that have all sort of halted just shy of coming through.  I cannot help but retain glimmers of hope because that's who my eternally optimistic mother raised me to be. But it still feels Bleak House right now.  Not unlike the overcast scene above, which is a salt marsh about a five minute bike ride from my parent's house.  On this particular late October day, I find the scene to be emblematic of my mood - cool, deep hues of dark colors that bespeak a certain wonder at the fate of it all.

However, doom and gloom is not all that we have on the menu today. Thank goodness for that ghoulish holiday, Halloween, where I allowed myself a respite from my woes to dress up in costume, bake up a storm in the form of these delicious chocolate carmel apples, and delight in the warm glow of orange lights amidst bronze leaves. Hope that you and yours enjoyed this delightful autumn holiday!

Social

It's funny, this social media business. It preaches about getting us all "more connected" and I think there is this illusion that this connection is real. I mean, I sit on gchat all day, watching the red and green orbs of my friends blink on and off as they come and go. I can talk to my friends and family anytime, all day. I can "skype" with one of my best friends in Cambodia, talking with her like we are kicking back in the same room. Social media pervades our lives and our verbs. I google things. I facebook people. I skype with friends. It is surely an ubiquitous force.

And yet, I think I feel less connected and more alone than I have ever felt in my entire life.

Certainly, this feeling could indeed be perpetuated by a number of other factors. But, I find it interesting that social media tools do not really ease the burden of loneliness for me. In typing words to a friend and receiving their response, I find myself missing something: tone. Tone and that organic, human-y sense of feeling the presence of the person. Even if you can't be with that person, say you receive a handwritten letter from them - seeing the curvature of their hand and the bit of their morning tea spilled on the page - you see traces of them and somehow it seems more real.

The lack of tone really gets us in trouble. People are slighted even when the sender of the message did not intend a slight. I feel as though I have to fill my typed messages with exclamation points so as to assure the other person of my elevated mood. The exclamation point never had it so good.

I remember a time when work and life felt simple and less complicated. I wasn't tied to my computer and iPhone as I admit to being now. The age of multitasking. The age of interruption and not feeling truly accomplished because I have too many tabs in my browser. This "hyper connectivity" raises the expectation for gratification around connectedness. Twitter and Facebook tells us we are more connected than ever, so we want that feeling. Oh, we want it so badly. And, at least for me, it doesn't ever quite arrives.

I recently read this New Yorker article written by that intellectual zealot Malcolm Gladwell. His thesis seems to be along the same lines as mine - Twitter and Facebook are not making us deeper (he more pointedly says that we mistake certain types of activism . In fact, they are making us weaker. Things are easier and faster without any of the attributed meaning. Social media tools are making us more superficial. During the Iranian riots, people (including the US government) touted Twitter as the mouthpiece of revolution. But Gladwell argues that journalists merely scanned through tweets tagged in English but um, don't you think that most Iranians would tweet in Farsi? Baleh (Yes).

In fact, I think social media is the worst thing for journalism. Gladwell cites journalists who retrieved "facts" for their stories on the Iranian protests via tweets. And mostly English language tweets. Um. Fact checking anyone?  A recent article linked to CNN, the author merely reads blog posts from Dooce and constructs an entire narrative against mothers blogging about their children. Um, did the author even think to pick up the phone and get Heather Hamilton's actual opinion or perspectives from other mommy bloggers? No, because the "information" was right there. But was it really there? Not in a form that was immediately ready for repurpose in an article published by a trusted news source.

I could go on and on about the strangeness of social media. I'm sure I am not alone with this ups and downs feeling. And it's not all bad. It's enabled more people to flex their creative muscle (i.e. blogging) and stay in touch. My concern is the quality of that staying in touch. Despite my hesitation, I do feel that through this blog and through reading other blogs, I have encountered some true kindred spirits.  But part of me feels something missing - I have never having actually met any of these wonderful people. Perhaps someday. Then maybe, it will all feel more real to me and I won't feeling this small gap in the space of our connection.

And for now, I live quietly at what feels like shore of this vast, bizarre, pretty world of all things social.

My City

Indeed another New York City post for I have returned once more to what is increasingly becoming my favorite city. The apple of my eye. This visit was for my new job. In between all the new ropes to learn and content to absorb, I found spare bits of time to explore the city even further and on my own. This independence became my true friending of this vast metropolis. The view from my hotel window showed an ethereal gold hand from Madame Tussuad's (see here in a tilt shift-style photo), a strangely comforting object to see amidst the vast linear architecture of Times Square.

{A room with a view of Times Square}

Though I was based in Times Square for the three days, I tried to move beyond the "center of the civilized world." In the late evening, I wandered the streets as a means to understand the city 'scape. I passed by the Palace Theater, currently the home of my beloved West Side Story. While tempted to see an encore of the show (after my thrilling autumnal experience), I was unable to steal away from my work duties to make an 8 o'clock show. In the early evening, I walked up East 42nd street to Grand Central Station where I procured a small cappuccino at a delicious, albeit pricey cafe. I leaned against a wall in the vast main room of the station, pretending I was meeting someone, a dashing young man perhaps, when really I was observing the streams of people whose busy paths intersected eamlessly and sometimes clumsily, as they journeyed to their destinations.

{Snazzy cars zip by the marquis of Broadway}

I strolled down West 44th street for an evening work event at the Harvard Club (very "shay-shay," my term for upper-crusty and possibly pretentious) and after, stole away to the Algonquin Hotel bar where I sat in a corner booth and enjoyed my favorite cocktail, a gin and tonic. Here I sensed the witty, bitting presence of Dorthy Parker and the Algonquin Round Table. I surveyed the scene: a pair of businessman discussing stocks and new hires over oysters and martinis. Two young British men, in slim, dark jeans and matching striped cashmere sweaters nibbled bar nuts and drank thick, dark drafts of stout. Never before had I sat by myself at a bar and this classy, historic venue was just the ticket for this new experience. I felt a kinship with the scene and a sudden comfort in the city.

{Pricey drinks at the Algonquin Hotel}

This interlude energized me to stroll around the area and I soon found myself at Bryant Park where a skating rink and outdoor cafe had been erected. The cafe's translucent white tents and the brilliant white spot lights created an ethereal effect amidst the dark city night. This city breathes such possibility into me. It seems to fit me like that pair of black suede Dansko boots I magically found in a thrift store. Nothing ever fit so well. Boston-bound for now, who knows what may come in the months ahead!

{Bryant Park Skating Rink}

Ignite

Friends, it's been quite a week. One where my mind traveled to other places besides my beloved Marginalian. This week - full of meetings, kind, smart people, life decisions, and a crescendo-ing of the holidays. Coming out on the other side, I find myself weary and feeling older in a good way. Older not just because of the busyness, but perhaps as a passage into a new part of my life. All good things come to an end. New things, new perspectives begin. I am trying to steer my life towards as many positives as possible, to embrace the gifts I am given daily. I want the next part of my life to ignited with an energy and a hope for better living. This is a promise to myself.

Sorry for the somewhat cryptic nature of this post. You'll know more soon! Until then, I wish you all, dear friends, many of whom I have never met but who, I feel, are kindred spirits, a peaceful and joyous weekend!

A Special Time

Pretty lamps at Upstairs on the Square, a delicious and stylish restaurant in the heart of Harvard Square. My birthday lunch with two wonderful parents. Salad Niçoise. Zebra cake with a long, thin sparkly candle. Delightful!
Birthday flowers from my mom. Yellow mimosas. Red and white reniculas. Purchased with such love. A girl should always have flowers on her birthday.
The family birthday cake. Yellow cake with yummy frosting. The last of its kind. I'm really "growed" up.
Birthday car (well, a birthday ZIPcar). Snazzy red luxury. Carrier of good friends to brunch at my favorite place and around the city on a brilliantly sunny Sunday.
Peeking outside my window on my birthday morning. If you can see it, there are a pair of interlocking hearts drawn in that patch of snow. A loving sign, and perhaps, a wish for my coming year.

Stalling

I am stalling. Procrastinating. Dragging my heels. Pretending that everything is fine. Yes, the usual routine.

It feels like everyone around me is moving forward. Life is working for them. And I am just lying in the leaves, starring up at the sky. Not thinking much. Just reposing in the eye of the storm, it's kind of beautiful here. Ethereal. Possibly lethal if I stay too long.

Earlier this year, I thought I had it all figured out. I would do this to do well on this. At the same time, I would get this for a few months, which would help me be accepted into this. Then I would move to this place and do this. However, none of the this's really happened. And now I have a choice. I can do more of the first this to try again to do well on the second this. But essentially, I feel as though I am at square one and the road is feeling long. This here mountain of "this's" looks quite steep. I feel old (the quarter life crisis rears its head once more) and a waster of precious "youth time," that special time when you are young and free and only in charge of the nation of your body...and trying to spread goodwill to others, of course.

I am looking for some drive, some pep, some inspiration. Something to wash away this period of indolence and, frankly, weakness. A spiritual astringent for the monotonous aura that is currently taking residence with me.

Image found here. Via Sabino

24 Hours (or so)

A weekend, more of a maelstrom - events, people, places, emotions. Life felt fast and full. It was a good weekend, to be sure, but a harder one than I expected. Throughout the weekend, I had to deal with a very bad chest cough. A loud cough that would rear its loquacious head whenever I would sit for long periods of time in dry air (aka, any sort of theater venue... basically the two highlights of the weekend). However, I mustered all of the open-mindedness that my personality could buy to prevent this minor issue from affecting my enjoyment.

The magic commenced on Friday evening. I ended work around five o'clock and quickly ran into the bathroom to change into my "premiere outfit:" skinny jeans, a blush pink chiffon ruffle top (I just love the blush) with sparkles, a black military blazer, and my red satin flats. My hair was still straight and pretty from my recent hair cut and I felt glamorous for the screening of Brief Interviews With Hideous Men. Everyone deserves this feeling, at least once in a while.

I dashed out of work and met up with Ingrid and her coworker friends (one of whom is a Brown University alum like John Krasinski and procured us these tickets). We had a delectable dinner at The Friendly Toast in Kendall Square and then walked over to the Kendall Square Theater, which was aflutter with people waiting to see the movie (and the man of the moment). As we entered the theater, I thought I saw John Krasinski waiting in line for refreshments. The man before me looked like him - tall and cute. However, it turned out to be one of his brothers as the actor's clan had turned out for the event.

The girls and I headed into the theater, which was almost full (we arrived fashionably late as anyone of importance might). We found some seats on the side, three rows up from the front. This location turned out to be perfect for almost as soon as we sat down, a theater employee walked to front of the room and introduced John (yes, I call him John - this is not The New York Times with its Mr. Krasinski nonsense), who came running down the aisle to introduce the film. Basically from that point on I did nothing but grin. I mean, John Krasinski was like TEN FEET AWAY (maybe a little more, but not much)!! He looked just like Jim with a white button-up shirt, a black tie, khaki pants, and that adorable hair and goofy, knee-buckling grin.

He was just as nice and funny and smart in person as he is on the screen, which made me admire him all the more. He introduced the film with a quick speech about how David Foster Wallace's book had influenced him when he first read it in college and then he ran towards the back of the theater to watch the film with his family. During this first part, I wanted to take a picture but didn't want to be THAT girl at the same time, so this photo was taken without flash (the quality is a bit surreal, which is how it felt to be there at the screening):

The film is short (around an hour and half), but it is thought-provoking and at times, so engrossing and poignant that I forgot myself in the plot's current. The vignette style of the story was handled seamlessly and the casting was superb. In particular, the last scene and monologue wrenches the viewers in the quiet horror of its content. And it was performed by John, who stepped in when the actor who had been cast dropped out. A moving performance by an actor most commonly cast in comedic roles.

After the credits rolled, the lights went up and John once again bounded down the aisle to the front of theater to take questions. I would have asked a question but I could barely speak without coughing and my voice had taken on a very masculine tone from said cough. So, I just sat there and marveled over the fact that I was here, listening to him.

People asked John how he liked directing over acting, how David Foster Wallace felt about the film (a tad awkward since the author committed suicide in 2008, but apparently, before his death, blessed the making of the film via a phone conversation with John), and what were his favorite scenes on The Office. John was intelligent and kind in his answers. I knew I wanted a better picture with a flash, so I waited until the Q&A ended and people were applauding (to be less distracting), which resulted in this one just before he exited the theater:

How cute is he?!?! Swoon...

We exited the theater and I saw him walk through the parking lot with his family, looking so dashing in a blazer and scarf. Though I didn't meet him, the whole thing was really thrilling. I mean, I can say that I saw a movie with John Krasinski...and about two hundred other people (minor detail). So...

...on to the next adventure!

Saturday was an early day (I awoke at 5 AM). My Bolt Bus to New York City left at 7 AM (ouch)! I slept most of the way and awoke to a brilliantly sunny day that charged my spirit. We arrived in the city in no time at all. I scrambled off the bus, so enthused to be back in THE CITY (not that lame MTV show). I have grown to deeply admire NYC over the years - a city that is so many things and so wholeheartedly itself. Boston is a town-city, good if you crave the best of both worlds. But with New York, you come here because you want a CITY in the full meaning of the word.

My dear friend Stefanie picked me up on 34th street and after many hugs, we strode over to the West Side to walk along the High Line Park, a gorgeous landscaped walkway that is constructed on an old 1930s freight train track 30 feet in the air (elevated to protect the public from the dangerous freight trains). In lieu of demolishing the tracks, the Friends of the High Line and the City of New York sponsored the creation of the park. On this glorious day, it was just lovely to explore.

{Several New Yorkers enjoy the High Line}

{A quick shot of some kindred spirits!}

{Some snazzy High Line landscaping}

{Purple clouds}

{A view of the trendy Meatpacking District}

{Fire escapes - I couldn't help myself}

We strolled through the Meatpacking District and into Greenwich Village where we had a late brunch of divine Oeufs Benedict at the charming Cafe Jacqueline. A long meal, full of good conversation (my favorite). We walked through Washington Square Park, where I spotted the cutest white Scottie dog, who was making an unreal amount of noise (he gave me a dirty look after I snapped his photo...hehe).

{A very boisterous white Scottie at Washington Square Park}

We took the subway back to Stef's apartment, where we dressed for our evening out on the town. Our other college friend, Jen, who lives in Brooklyn, joined us to dine on a delectable meal of chicken, oven-roasted vegetables, fresh salad as well as a mozzarella and tomato salad (all lovingly prepared by Stef who is in a master's program for nutrition at NYU). Stef is such a gracious hostess who always shows me the best parts of the city whenever I visit - I am truly blessed to have her friendship!

{Chef Stef cooking up a storm}

After a delicious meal, we prettied ourselves a bit more and headed for Times Square and the blazing marquees of Broadway (couldn't help but hum a few bars of "Give My Regards To Broadway") to see the revival of West Side Story.

{My first Broadway show!}

We met up with another friend, Susie, at the Palace Theater, which was fairly bursting with theater-goers (buffs and dilettantes galore). We had balcony seats that were quite good but I remembered to bring some small binoculars to see all the action up close (okay, to see the very handsome Matt Cavenaugh up close). The show was simply stunning!

Without getting too schmaltzy, the story, music, and movement of West Side Story resonates with a deep part of my creative and dramatic spirit. To see it live on Broadway was humbling, checking off a line on my List. The singing was as gorgeous as the soundtrack recording (although Matt did not hit the high B flat in "Maria," which I missed), but it was the dancing that made this show a true spectacle to behold. I was so happy to be sitting there (despite desperately trying not to cough) experiencing something I had loved for so long. A true gift, this feeling. The show is over three hours in length, an opus of emotions that leaves you trying to catch your breath and your heart. Such fervency of love and then in a matter of hours, all is snuffed by some knife stabs and a gunshot.

As we exited the theater, I saw Matt Cavenaugh selling show memorabilia for charity. He was still covered in the faux dirt and blood from the performance, his blue shirt torn from his toil with the Sharks. So handsome and perfectly in character. I thought of going over to tell him how much I enjoyed his performance, but again, I didn't want to be THAT girl. So, I walked by him, ever the cool pretend New Yorker leaving for a post-theater drink in the Village.

However, walking down Broadway with my friends, I felt a weight of a sudden sadness befall me. Strange, I know, because this was an incredible weekend. But I like to attribute meaning to my story. I constantly try to explain why things happen. The whole of this beautiful weekend overwhelmed me - seeing two men whom I idealize in person in the matter of 24 hours. It sort of felt like a sign but also a big slap in the face by the universe.

To be blunt, it's been a long time since I've had a meaningful relationship and to temper the sting of my singleness sometimes, I daydream about fictional characters like Jim Halpert or Tony. I see qualities in them that embody the type of man with whom I hope to one day be. Seeing these two men in person somehow made that type of man seem unreachable and I felt lonelier with this loss of mystery. A sharp pang of reality. Maybe all this makes me a sad person or maybe it's something that everyone experiences. I'm not sure because I have never really talked about it openly before. But this weekend really brought everything to a head and now I feel a little bit lighter somehow. Better, maybe. I suppose it's all in the perspective you choose.

Alas, this post is quite epic but these 24 hours were epic in activities, travel, the people, and the meaning attributed to the entirety of my pastimes. Thanks for reading (if I didn't lose you a few paragraphs ago!)!

It Could Be

We live in such an introspective time. It seems that never before have we had the luxury to spend so much time thinking [about ourselves, mostly]. Not just the amount of time we have but the number of people - a whole society - that have this opportunity to "soul-search" or "enter the path towards self-actualization." Some days, I feel like that is all I have: time. And yet, the world shows me how quickly it all goes and how precious each seemingly monotonous moment can be. I, like many of my gender, am an overthinker. So much so, that I think my perpetual exhaustion as of late is due to my overthinking. This week I have felt completely immobile on what direction to take my life (yes, Zach, perhaps this is my quarter-life crisis rearing its cruel, pugnacious head). Sometimes I feel as though my life is the movie Sideways with my current life and then the one I could have were I to make different choices (I know, I could drive myself mad thinking this way).

There are moments where I feel like I am standing on the sidelines or on a hill, watching people go by me. This must be normal, but it still feels strange and worrying. I hope it passes soon. I know it will, but for now, it feels like Great Aunt Agatha who came for a week-long visit and ended up staying six months.

Image found here.

Spinning

I'm always spinning -- twirling until I find my mark or rather, that place where I am supposed to be. Where I want to be. If I spin, the world will move faster and I will be where I am supposed to be sooner. I know what they say: life will be over before you know it so you should appreciate your time now. But I want my time to change, I want to be a better than I am now. I know I can. My skirt billows about me -- green polka dots rippling -- and I think if I just keep this motion, something will give.

***

I found this image at JacqleenBleu's Etsy shop, which offers a myriad of mesmerizing and artistic photographic prints. They really are exquisite. Check it out!

Image found here.

OMG! My Future!

Thanks to Emily at wide open spaces, I found a M*A*S*H game on the web site for the new movie, Paper Heart starring Michael Cera and Charlyne Yi. For all the times I played this as a kid, I didn't have nearly as much fun as I had playing the digital version!

I am thrilled to see that I will be a writer living in San Francisco, driving a Cerulean Austin Healey (custom-made, I imagine), and married to Zachary Levi (yay, Chuck!) and we will have two kids (just enough in my mind)!

Brunch Style: Metropolis Cafe

Brunch has become one of the quintessential experiences of my twenty-something life. There are scores of delicious brunch places around the city of Boston, and last weekend, I discovered one that I think tops them all: The Metropolis Cafe on Tremont Street in Boston's historic South End. We were looking for a place with a relaxed, vintage atmosphere in the South End, and we found it at the Metropolis. It was around two o'clock in the afternoon - not the best time for brunch - but we were welcomed into the place by Max, our young waiter, dressed head to toe in black save for his arms, which bore a myriad of tattoos. He was a vibrant character, vocal, and voracious for information about our lives as he served us (by the end of the meal, he wanted to hold the title of "chattiest waiter" in our experience). The small restaurant is diner meets French Bistro, an intriguing combination that totally works here.

The brunch menu was eclectic and tasty-looking and had a great price point for what you ordered. I had a delicious Chive and Boursin Scrambled Eggs with homefries and homemade whole wheat toast. It was AMAZING! I love when your mood and taste met their match in a meal - just like this brunch! Their dinner menu also piqued my interest for it's variety and style as well as the reasonable prices. I will definitely be frequenting this place more often!

Image can be found here.

Bring On the Happy

{Kindred spirits by the Duck Pond in Boston}

Having soul-inspiring people in your life is one of the most important gifts you can receive. This past weekend, one of my very best friends, Jenn, visited from Washington D.C. Jenn is one of the kindest, most soulful and intelligent people that I have the privilege to know. Some people bring out the brightest, happiest sides of me and Jenn is at the very top of that list!

Her Boston visit saw a sultry couple of days in the city, but we had a grand time strolling around, checking out the Fanueil Hall area, the Boston Commons, the South End, and also, many of the area universities including Boston College (my Alma Mater), Boston University, and Harvard University. Jenn works in higher education and is looking all over the eastern seaboard for possible job opportunities after she graduates from her masters' program. We also saw 500 Days of Summer, which I highly recommend if you like indie romantic comedies along the lines of Juno or Away We Go. It was a relief to sit in the cool air conditioning and watch a simple, yet provocative mediation on love, relationships, and reading the signs of both. Joseph Gordon-Levitt is so cute and I adore Zooey Deschannel's outfits in this film!

On Monday, I rented a ZipCar (a Volvo S40 - a fun, fuel-efficient car that is one of the smoothest rides I've ever experienced) and we drove out to the little village of Concord, MA, which is one of my favorite places to visit! It was home to philosophers, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau, as well as authors, Nathaniel Hawthorne (The Scarlet Letter) and Louisa May Alcott (author of Little Women). We got some delicious pastries at Sally Ann's Bakery and then walked around the village area, looking at the pretty historic homes and enjoying the nice sunshine.

We grabbed lunch to go at the yummy Main Street Cafe and then drove to Walden Pond to enjoy a nice picnic while dipping our toes in the warm lake water. After lunch, we decided that we couldn't visit Walden Pond without taking a dip, so we did! It was so refreshing and peaceful to swim in the same pond on which Henry David Thoreau contemplated his greatest treatise and where the fictional character, Josephine March, once skated with her bosom friend, Laurie. It was a perfect summer moment, allowing my body to gently float along as a fresh summer breeze brushed over me. I had a wonderful long weekend full of good friendship, fun activities, and inspiring conversations. I feel blessed to have such amazing friends!

{Dipping toes in Walden Pond}

Reason Free From Passion

There are times in life when you have to let things go. Then there are times in life when you have to stand up for yourself and what's right. Knowing when to do each of these things is key talent to acquire in life. Encounter a problematic situation, I will first vent about the issue, often ascending my proverbial soapbox to decry the injustice and demand improvement. Then, I want to take action swiftly to fix/change the problem so that I can move on with my life. However, what I have learned through some experiences (which I unfortunately cannot divulge on this blog) lately is that it's not always the best policy to directly and dramatically demand change.

Tact and strategy are sometimes more important and more likely to lead to success than a mere "bull in a china closet" approach (when I was little, my mom used to call me '"a bull in a china closet" due to my notorious rambunctiousness and less-than-graceful mannerisms). In becoming an adult I have learned the importance of taking the emotion and drama out of the situation and apply more reason (not always successful from my end).

As Aristotle and Elle Woods point out, "law is reason free from passion." In a legal setting, one accepts and follows a set of rules that, hopefully, will see justice served. In my own life, I want to try to apply this rational line of thought used to obtain more positive results with my problem-solving. I don't want to completely suppress my emotion, but if I think more critically with certain interactions, I may be able to solve them more quickly and with less emotional stress. How people reaction to problems intrigues me, which I think can depend on the nature and degree of the problem. How do you react when faced with a tough situation?

Image found here.

Mondays Are For Strength

This picture made me think of the lovely gardens my parents have designed in the backyard of their house in Maine. They are such excellent gardeners and sadly, I did not really inherit that green thumb. Green turns to brown in my care. Perhaps someday, when I have my own home and yard, I will be pleasantly surprised with a new found talent for green things. For now, I deal in plastic potted plants from Ikea. I can still enjoy the lushness of the real thing, which I did this past weekend at home. I recuperated and enjoyed the company of my family, which always puts my mind at ease.

However, now it is Monday. Oh, the strength Monday mornings requires in order for one to muster through. You come off the sweet bouquet of a weekend, where you spent time with the ones you love, doing all the activities that define who you really are -- things that sync with your soul. And then Monday's here and you have to get up early, get dressed promptly, commute, and arrive at work where the mundane existence and the insufferable office politics slam into your body. Negative Nancy, I know.

I wish that I didn't always fall so far from the high of the weekend. I recently read this article, the tale of a woman experiencing a troubled marriage. Instead of giving in to her husband's request for divorce, she stands up to him, calling his situation for what it is: a selfish mid-life crisis. She wants him to go do his thing and then come back when he's finished. She shows such strength and a pragmatic view of her situation, it almost seems that she has transcended her humanity. I read this article and thought: no human could go into a situation that level-headed. For me, it's so easy to be brought down by a negative environment.

This article reminded me of something that I already knew deep down inside: the only thing we really have control over is our reaction, our happiness. We control ourselves. That's it. It's common sense and yet, I so often forget this fact and blame my surroundings for my unhappiness. Granted, I am not dealing with a husband who's trying to leave me. Her woes are far beyond my daily experience. But the article prompted me to think about finding the happiness within myself. I am so inspired by her example. I am reminded of the quote: be the change you want to see in the world. There are no truer words for me right now.

Image can be found here.

There's No Place Like Family

{Euna Lee. left, embraces her daughter, Hana, and her husband,
Michael, while Laura Ling hugs her husband, Ian}

Tears brim continually in my eyes as I read the deluge of articles, chronicling the return home of two American journalists, Euna Lee and Laura Ling, who were imprisoned in North Korea and sentenced to twelve years hard labor. I admire these women for their courage and strength. They are citadels for women, and in particular, women in journalism. The incredibly dramatic images like the one featured above yanked at my heart strings and unleashed emotions that I had sequestered as of late. These emotions remind me of my humanity. They make me feel more real - like I am actually living my life. It makes me think of how much I love my family and close friends - how much I value having them in life. They sustain me in times of trial and lift me up in moments of joy.

In my life, I have learned that human connection is the most important thing. It should always come first. Take care of yourself if need be, but do so that you can take care of your family and let them take care of you. These days, being connected to others is top of mind. Perhaps it's this whole post-college-living-on-your-own experience, which has been harder than I imagined it to be. I think everyone experiences it differently, but once you are out in the world living your own life, there is a whole new wave of feelings that you never dreamed possible (and they are not always good). Your life becomes a set of scales that tip from thrilling to terrifying, depending on the day or even the hour. I've always loved the quote, "Life is a great adventure, or nothing at all," and these two women have definitely had an adventure, albeit a horrific one. But at the end of the day, the most important feeling was not the passion for their careers, but the love for their families.

Image can be found here.