The bitch that is "WHAT IF?"

My life has been based heavily on a serious of choices made from a carefully created pool of options.

Right, we are all living lives based off of choices we've made that put us where we're at, but most people (people I'm now realizing who may be much smarter than I) stay away from busying themselves with endless options and choose between the things that are readily available. Oh the heartache I would have saved my Father had I done that. Wait, the heartache I would've saved myself?

I've never been intimidated by the world. I like a nice challenge. The feeling of triumph, of conquering. So, when I was 17 the thought that I'd simply apply to a school and spend the next four years of my life, in one building, working towards one goal, for an inevitable end result- wasn't even an option on my fancy, handwritten list of dreams "worthy" of crossing off.

Unlike some, I think if I'm given an opportunity I will rise above expectations. My only fear was that others free will to choose otherwise, would be the road block between me and my idea of success.

For the past four years, I have hopped from coast to coast, I've had many jobs, many apartments, many friendships that ended prematurely and I've racked up a shit ton of miles. L.A. didn't burn me enough, I'm a masochist intrigued by the idea of enduring relentless pain, conquering loneliness and turning my skin to steel so rejection wouldn't phase me. So, I fled and returned. More than once.

New York seemed like a good choice. I had started to enjoy eating much more than my L.A. days and I still had yet to overcome my anxiety over subways. Why not try that?! More than once.

Either I am quite dense or my life lessons involve ways to perfect making travel arrangements, and finding bargain apartment listings on Craigslist.

So, as I sit here catching up on Food Network shows and irritatingly romantic indie flicks (which, mind you, remind me that I'd like someone I love to just touch my face....that would feel amazing...) only weeks away from fleeing again momentarily to Europe, I'm wondering.....

....what if I would've just chosen what was there? Right in front of me? Why do I always have to run off and use my imagination, that then takes me off the map, single, technically homeless, and still.... with a long, long list of unrealized dreams.

What if I would've stayed? What if I would've just taken him when I had him? Taken him and allowed him to love me the way that I yearn from him to now. He said I didn't "have to go", is he right? Am I any better off...

What if I would've gone to Berklee, graduated and maybe started a band instead of committing only a year long program at Musicians Institute in Hollywood and then getting back to the grind, putting singing aside completely so I could barely survive on peanut butter.

What if, I would have just gone to CU, lived like most people in their early twenties, spending weekends playing volleyball with strangers on a lawn and then drinking beer with them since they're your new friends. Then, instead of throwing away thousands of hard earned money I could've started having some financial stability and gotten a nice home that's rent didn't induce massive ulcers.

Would I be happier? Would I be loved?

If I would have said "yes" to the things that were right in front of me, instead of getting carried away on ridiculous "pie in the sky" intentions, would I be on track. Would I even be me at all? Would I the better version of me that's floating around inside trying to find her way out.....

It isn't like me to open the Pandora's Box of regrets, in fact, I mostly don't believe in regrets at all. But, when I'm on Mom and Dad's couch in between homes- still trying to decide where to "nest" after the big trip, when I'm feeling a bit heartsick and then toying with the idea of making French toast at midnight and crying myself to sleep, alone....it's difficult not to question.



What is your big "WHAT IF..........?" Did you make the right decision, or do you have yet to find out??

Eyes Wide Open

"What should I say?"

"Well, text messages are really tricky....I think it's best if your respond. But don't put the period. Just OK, no A Y. Ok sounds tough and neutral. It isn't angry, it isn't happy. It's a nice tone of gray."

"What about, 'Ok. I understand.' or fuck, 'Okay? I understand. No, what about saying, 'Okie Dokie.'"

"Do you understand?"

"No, I don't fucking understand. But if I say I understand I sound diplomatic....and nice."

"You don't want to sound diplomatic and nice....'I understand' makes you sound weak and forgiving. If anything you should be responding with, 'I'm hiding under your car and I'm going to cut your Achilles. Or, I want to wax your shaft and watch you grimace from the inconceivable amount of pain you're going to experience.' Yeah, you should definitely say that."

See everyone, this is what friends are for. They are there to get you drunk on cheap Bud Light and help censor your all too truthful text messaging to a fallen love. Texting while inebriated or emotionally fragile is a lethal combination. Had I not had my two loyal steads to harness my overly emotive, EFFUSIVE, beast of a wounded Misery Monster, I would have left the doors of communication open and swinging on their hinges, Old Western style.

When did matters of the heart become such a trite subject deserving of a stoic, entirely unfeeling, text message.

Not only does it minimize the situation but it leaves too much room for analyzing. Any ellipsis, yes over yeah, sorry over 'so sorry', makes you question everything said and everything unsaid. The intention behind the excessive use of punctuation or lack thereof is grounds for serious dissection.

The worst part, is that sometimes all that's said, is all that they meant.

He didn't forget to tell you that he actually adores you, he didn't lose reception when he meant to say "I still want you in my life, I just need to take it slower." He said exactly what he meant. Nothing more, nothing less. It didn't skip is mind that if he wanted to be with you he would, he just doesn't. He doesn't have someone beating his hand every time he thinks about picking up the phone to call, he just isn't calling. If he cared, he would be caring.

In love the only person who fools us is usually ourselves. It's easier to make an excuse for someone with your squeezed tightly shut, to really convince yourself that your excuse has a glimmer of truth. In the beginning it may feel safer to dive head first with your eye closed so you don't know the exact depth of the pool. So that the truth of how consumed you could actually get doesn't scare you before you give it a chance.

This time though, diving and all, I didn't miss a beat. I saw everything. I didn't convince myself that everything he didn't say was waiting in the curtains for the "right time." I didn't over simplify or justify anything that would just send me into an even sadder version of a never ending sequel starring him and I.

You can go on wanting what you can't have, cursing divine timing or plotting ways to get him back....or you can accept it. Respond neutrally with an OK....(A Y optional) and soon enough, Ok is exactly what you'll be.

If I were an OLYMPIC Correspondent.......

.....some of you may have some unanswered questions about the Olympics, I know I do.

Anytime I watch the interviews I remain completely unfulfilled, if only they had hired me.....you'd all know the answers to these questions:

Michael Phelps: "When you travel at such high speeds, is it possible that your schlong or maybe a ball could just, slip out? If so, does this footage exist anywhere, possibly YouTube? Also, I'll be your eating partner, then after, we can procreate....just say the word."

"What planet are you from?"....

"Do you think your ears double as fins?"

One more thing before you go, "Can I touch your manspace?"

The American Olympic Gymnastics team: "Do you have to grow a crazy long bush before the the Olympics in order to get a flawless waxing and maintain such an impeccably smooth bikini line? Or is that shit lasered off?"

Chinese Gymnasts: "Wow, you had an incredible performance out there. Now, did they let you bring in a sippi-cup?"

-"So, how are you celebrating all your gold medals, group trip to Build-A-Bear??!"

-"Hannah Montana called, she says 'thanks for all the fan mail."

Libby Trickett the Australian swimmer: "Tell me the truth, are you a mermaid?"

All Gymnasts: "What's the deal with the Scrunchie? Have you all missed the Sex and the City episode in regards to the scrunchie.....oh! Did you forget to take it off when you washed your face?!"

-"Do you ever think about quitting cause the chalk just feels so strange? That's what I did.....when I was seven, I couldn't handle it, ya know?"

Jamaican runners: " Would you mind chasing me? I'm in dire need of a good cardio work out and you bitches are scary."

Nastia Liukin: "What's it like to get robbed by a 12 year old, if she weren't twelve would you trip her when no one was looking or just teach her lesson in honesty?"

Bela Karolyi: "Can I hire you to be my personal cheerleader? Ya know, to fight for my cause...and argue why I'm always the best, always. Oh and to throw in when I don't "win", that it was a "reep offff."

Pole Vaulting women: "Do you double as models for Self Magazine? Please say yes....I'll feel so much skinnier and normal, since I'm not an Olympian."

Olympic baseball teams: "Are you as excited as I am that they're dropping baseball? It's just not the same without the hot dogs."

All around questions, " Which Olympians are bangin' the boots in the Olympic Village after their events?"

-"Since McDonald's is the official restaurant of the Olympics, do you get unlimited Big Macs and Mcflurrys?"

-"What's it like to have "sponsers?" Will you be my sponser, we can just share....direct deposit works just fine for me."

WHAT WOULD YOU ASK THE OLYMPIANS???

I'll touch the fire twice

Pressure, this white page is just PRESSURE. Pressure to create something good, something worth reading, something interesting enough for people procrastinating work and surfing the web to want to read for more than a minute.

When I was younger I was obsessed with the movie Amadeus. I found it fascinating that someone could be so talented with such ease, effortlessly brilliant. Like we should all be little prodigy's in our own right, we should be able to unlock our own brilliance and it would pour from us like a flood.

I thought, I should be able to create art that easily....in my head it all made sense that if you're given an extraordinary amount of talent, you will also be given the outlet to use it. You are a vessel and your talent is simply passing through for other people to enjoy.....

EFFORTLESS was what I had thought it would be. Or as a I thought it should be. Thus far, that's proven to be a foolish assumption. The universe knows that when you love something, you will fight for it. Hard, with kicking and screaming if need be.

It's incredible the amount of pain and disappointment one is willing to put themselves through in hopes of; doing what they love, having the person that they love, or filling up that missing piece. Like a moth to a flame, I throw myself in the fire every time....knowing that we are resilient creatures.

Though we may be fragile in form, our souls are made with the ingredients of unprecedented strength and fortitude.

Even at our weakest moments, we were made to endure.

When things get difficult, when we feel lost or useless. When our work feels thankless or we feel hopeless, no matter how many times we are burned or disappointed, defeated or scarred....we remain vikings in spirit. Why? Why do we touch the fire twice, four times, ten times? Because at the end of it all, when wounds are healed and lightness overcomes the dark, when the disappointment is now just a story.....it is ALWAYS worth it.

When you finally get your "yes," or when you can curl into the nook of someones arms, when you can say "I've done that," or "I've made it." When all of your passion is finally channeled into the perfect spot....it is ALWAYS worth it. It is worth it, even when it hurts.

Effortless would be nice, but would the reward be as sweet? When I'm tucking myself into bed, sore and battle scarred I gently kiss my inner bruises and have to remind myself that we were given the ability to get up and try again, love again and create again, our strength is part of our gift.

PATIENCE IS NO VIRTUE

I'm in the "waiting room" phase.

You know, the phase where you have all of these new things on the horizon but you have to wait for them to come around, and until then everything else just seems.....eh. Its a really unproductive room to be in, let me tell ya.

If one more person tells me to be patient, I am going to cause a massive scene in public, by giving them a sharp kick to the cranium. Because while I've been "waiting" I've allowed some pent up aggression to build up and I'm like a wound up ninja doll.

Europe is almost at my doorstep and so is The Musician, if I could meld the two I'd be one happy camper.

......now, forgive me, but I'm going to say something that I personally find extremely irritating .......I was very excited about Europe, WAS, oh yes, here we go: until it dawned on me, or more like glared upon me like a heinous light fixture in a movie theater bathroom; I don't want to be a traveling' Gypsy with her home on her back and friends scattered about the country, deepening their bonds and connections while I'm in Morocco drinking tea, by myself.

I want adventure, but I can't figure out if its worth it if I still feel alone.

This is why I haven't been writing. It aids to my denial, like, "If I don't write about it, it doesn't exist." When I write about it I make myself a vulnerable little fish in a bowl, swimming back and forth while pulling out private organs and throwing them around the water for people to gawk at and analyze...."hm interesting lacerations on the right gill...."

I'm a little sick of being independant. I'd like to have someone to cook dinner for, I'd like to know that my friends would be knocking on my door at sometime throughout the day to go "play" and get frozen yogurt. I miss the comfort of my relationships in Los Angeles.

You know what makes this shit worse, fucking Facebook. Is it just me or does everyone's life seem way more cool than yours on Facebook??? Facebook is like that "cool kid" and you're just on the outside waiting for your invitation "in." It's fucked up.

So, right now when I should be in your face excited, throwing fits of joy, I actually just feel like curling up in bed with a warm body after a BBQ with 30 of my closest friends which would result in, kick ass Facebook pictures.

Patience can fuck off.

CONSTANT AND STEADY

The smell of fresh pine, the sound of the fire crackling and the steadiness of the lake always brings me back to my center. The perfection of nature, of everything growing and changing, untainted and miraculous and pure. It brings me to the truth of matter. When you realize the importance of non-resistance, non-attachment and non-judgement. The importance allowing flow in your own life and seeing perfection in what is.

When self induced stress becomes apparently clear that it was just that; self induced. Thoughts, which are just illusions we make up in our minds to create madness and keep ourselves occupied or "prepared" for premeditated battle.

There is something about the constant flow of the stream outside, the river that still runs, constant and softly, swiftly past boulders and bare feet, always; as we go about our lives, we worry about paying bills, and two years from now, the color we want to paint our living rooms and whose birthday party we need to attend. When I create tragedy in my head before it happens and imagine the strength of armor I may need before diving in, the river is still running...constant and steady.

While we're swimming in others sorrows on our rafts of compassion and empathy, and when we go home at night only to drown in our own, the river stays, constant and steady. When we're caught up in celebrity gossip or the newest season of Real World, as we write new resumes and rekindle old flames. When we tap our feet against desks wearing shiny shoes and shake clammy, powerful hands.....the stream, still flows, constant. Steady.

As I map out my next three months and journey onto foreign soil, ingest strange new flavors and scents. Brush past shoulders of strangers and make eye contact with with people whose thoughts speak in a different voice than my own...the river runs its course, the same way, constant and steady.

When I'm lost and need directions, when I'm lonely and need a body to hold and a warm neck to kiss, when I'm screaming with triumph at the top of a mountain miles above the sea and when I wrap my arms around new friends whose names I'll forget when I hop onto the next train....the river is still there. Flowing, never changing, constant and steady.

That's my place. The place I go to in my head when I'm caught up. When I need to imagine peace. When I need to be brought back down to Earth, humbled and reminded that life is fleeting but there are certain things that are always steady...the beauty of nature that is really the beauty of us as people; it's what we come from and what we're made of. Everything.....is in its place. Constant, flowing, and steady. Magical in its purest form.

The river does not effort to flow, it just does.

Constant and steady....