Monday, October 31, 2011

Making Space, Doing Cartwheels, Skipping beats. What a Vague Title.

Now is the time to make space.

Space- internally, behind the doors, stuffed in the back of the drawers and underneath the layers of camouflaged emotion. Rummage through the spaces you reserved specifically for all the "junk," where you kept it "in case" you needed to use it as ammo in a moment of calamity, knowing it would be there to comfort you like an old friend. That stuff, that has to go now.
There's a curbside waiting for it's arrival and there's other visitors at your door.....ready to come in and start making a home. Infiltrating you with new words and new landscapes, new rhythms and exchanges. New whirling fantasies and pretty charm.

....they'll keep you on your toes, remind you of who you are and hint at who you're becoming.... be mindful to like this person, that they hint at. Warmly embrace them. Welcome the subtle transformations like you do the changing of the leaves or the growth of your hair.
One day it wasn't and the next day is just was. Steady metamorphosis.

Choose these people, these things, these surroundings- gingerly, with curiosity and optimistic hesitation. These are the characters that will hang their hats and kick up their feet, atop all of your treasures, the ones we see and the ones we don't...they'll complicate your plans and make appearances in your day-to-day thought patterns.... they'll consume parts of you, even if you are careful. Let the pieces they consume be some of your favorites, roll with it.

Rearrange some things, tilt your head and furrow your brows- mull it over. Dance about in the emptiness. Do leaps and somersaults and salutations in every direction, to every Moon and Sun and stars.

Let the openness of this new space scare you a bit...because being afraid is exhilarating, sweaty palms and racing hearts, navigating and mastering, speaking up and skipping beats-- it's just your heart reminding you that you are ALIVE. See that? Skip, skip.

I have so much space, cleared out- cleansed, if you will, and out of familiarity a part of me wants to complicate it, fill it up with things, write on the walls and OCCUPY it. DO ALL THE THINGS, BE ALL THE THINGS, KNOW ALL THE PEOPLE, HAVE ALL THE THINGS RIGHT NOW- and I think, the beat I'm following happens to be just the right rhythm. Must just let it be, Chels. Add one new piece at a time, surveying all the parts before they become a permanent fixture.

I like this, even the awkward, sometimes-blue-and-wistful-all-at-the-same-time parts. This space-y, skippy, 'fraidy-cat, cartwheeling me. Just one piece at a time little chick.......

How much SPACE do you have in your heart and your life?

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Gypsy Girls. All the Love & My New Gig.... HUZZAH!

For most people, change usually goes something like this; something major happens and the moments to follow are greeted with a steady routine of processing first, adjusting second, adapting and continuing, third. That's for most people.

For people like me, change is usually followed up with a plane ticket. Most of the time, the plane ticket is one direction only….. A few weeks ago, I packed a carry-on bag, for my one way trip to LA Livin' on a prayer really, hoping that something would "work out." I'd been looking for job opportunities in the city since May and NOTHING. WAS. HAPPENING. I started to think I was being Sixth Sensed. Dead and didn't know it yet. Or something equally fucked up where the world just doesn't respond to your desperate pleas for change.

.....the instant I got to LA, with my seven outfits and my Non-Plan Plan, I realized why nothing had worked beforehand. I hadn't made the statement yet that I was ready for it to.

When I got here, after two weeks of an whiplash inducing, stomach churning, emotional rollercoaster rides, sans cotton candy and over-stuffed prizes--- Saying Goodbye to one life and Hello to a new one, holding onto the ledge still with one hand and reaching for New with the other, I let go. No net.....and like they always say it does, one appeared.

The day before I was about to go back home to get the remainder of my things and come back, (still with no job, a few freelance clients, a mangled soul, dwindling money and nowhere to live) OR stay in my room for the rest of eternity feeling sorry for myself, I got a phone call. About a job. A really. fucking. fantastic. job. After a few back and forth interviews, I was offered a dream position that I didn't think existed. I've taken a position for a small company that (in simple terms) assists high-profile clients, celebrities and their brands across all digital/social platforms. i.e. I get to work with amazing creative, inspiring people strategizing how to translate their awesomeness offline, online. And everyone knows what a Pop Tart I am, so working with some of my favorite celebrities on a daily basis is BASICALLY THE BEST THING EVER.

After the job was a go, the apartment fell into place, the dream neighborhood, the great furniture, the move butter. Smooth, easy, delicious. Not that I'm calling Butter slutty or anything.

Ironically, I live across the street from this lovely bird, who's an old friend (and fantastic blogger) and a few of my best friends in the entire world live in town, which means a lot of hair braiding and couch cuddling and all the drinking. The support system is incredible. Openly, unabashedly…. just, starry eyed, you-are-totally-fucking-stellar sort of adore these people.

My Ex-Love and I parted maturely, packing up my U-Haul together, moving pieces and making room like Tetris with our lives and our heart. Fitting. I miss him, everyday, I send love and light (I cry a little, or a lot) and then I continue. One foot in front of the other. Embracing all that's in front of me and sending smiles to all that is behind me and living, still, inside of me.

Gypsy Girl is used to describe the general way in which I approach life; freely, with optimism, story worthy characters, a little absinthe and a eagerness for adventure. She's back, my friends.

...sure... maybe she's running away, but she is running towards something. Even if that "something" is just a new perspective, inspired by looking at the same situation from a different angle. I like who I am when I'm moving. When I'm active, when there's demands on me and expectations that that I may not be able to live up to (but I will, boom.) Imposed pressure turns me on. So here we go.

Back to the Gypsy that I was....

Here's to all the uncomfortable, awkward, perfectly ripe and eager NEWNESS that is upon us.