Tuesday, June 9, 2015

the third decade

My friend and I are on either side of 30, close enough to appreciate each other's perspective.  We had a talk the other day about how 20-30 was so easy, at least for us. We knew what we had to do. We studied. We applied to law school. We went, we graduated, we passed the bar, and we began to practice. Easy. The second decade was easy. By 30, we had our careers. That was the goal. The mark has been ticked.

Looking ahead to the third decade, we asked ourselves what we hoped to accomplished. For women who are outside of the mating game (at least I would like to think that it's secondary) what is there? Is this the decade where we find our partners, set down roots, and send our genes into the next generation? She doesn't want kids. I do, but not with the wrong person, not with just anyone in my desperation to procreate. So the decade stretches ahead, completely blank. I ask myself what I want to have accomplished by the time I reach 40- savings goals, career goals, life goals and the answers are complicated; it's harder because the script has ended.

"I just don't want to look back when I'm 40 and think, what do I have to show for it? Or man, I really blew it."
"Yeah me too."

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

one year later

I post photos and little updates here and there. I exchange hundreds of short messages a day, things that run through my mind, but I haven't been throwing my voice out to the wind in a long, long time. I suppose this is where I express some aspiration to blog more or write more, but only time will tell if I actually keep up. What I'm really hoping is that I will write about one topic at a time and then my life will become clearer to whoever cares to read.

In the spirit of Valentine's Day, the topic is love. 

My last love ended. Three years, nine months, some odd days that I am sure I can calculate if I really care to. It ended in a parking lot. It ended in tears, and in the months that followed, it seemed like it ended a long time ago. The reasons were many. I picked a couple, simple reasons to articulate to new friends and dates. I've never articulated them in public, well online public, and it's simultaneously hard and simple to explain: we weren't compatible. Isn't that how all love stories end? That moment that builds on a hundred moments when the fissures become clear, and the separation is inevitable. We tried our hardest. We loved each other. For that, I will always be grateful.

Sometimes, I get someone who says "You couldn't tell? You didn't know? It took you four years to figure out you weren't compatible with someone?" This question assumes that I knew myself. And maybe it took me four years to figure myself out. 

I have no bitterness. No regrets. Valentine's Day wasn't a big red letter day this year, but it prompted me to read that Steinbeck letter on love again. (Steinbeck on Love).  

"There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you -- of kindness and consideration and respect -- not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn't know you had."

The first time I read the letter, the quote that stuck out was to be patient and nothing good gets away. At this particular juncture in my life (this has nothing to do with the last boyfriend), that quote ^ really gets to me. I have been single for almost a year now, and as I open the door back up to love, I understand that some people will use love for self-importance and that I might fall in that trap too if I'm not cognizant of the difference. 

Moving forward with hope.

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Valentine's Day

Ever since I got my new phone, I've been obsessed with posting everything on Instagram and checking in everywhere. Tonight, I took no less than 10 shots of my dinner, trying to get the angle and lighting right. Then I had to select the right filter. When I didn't have a great camera on my phone, I was always thinking, I should take more pictures. Now that I have no excuse, I find picture taking exhausting. The grass is always greener I guess.

Now, I am going to post a bunch of pictures to distract from perhaps some personal reflections. I regret not taking pictures last year, but I was kind of rushed coming from work. I think we took like 2 grainy shots at Lawry's. Anyway, here are some snippets of my celebration this year.

Valentine's Day Eve cookies

Valentine's Day cookies from work
Sugar cookies from scratch. He also made a dulce de leche cheesecake, which is currently in my refrigerator.
I made smothered filet mignon, quinoa stuffed bell pepper, and caesar salad.

Sunday, January 26, 2014

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Tunnel Vision

The problem with locking myself down to specifics is that as soon as I figure out what I want, something comes along and causes a paradigm shift.

Monday, January 6, 2014

"A good first kiss culminates a period of longing, but its true sweetness lies in the promise of a new beginning."- Michael Cunningham, The Hours

Wednesday, December 25, 2013

"I didn't get any presents"

I lugged a Nordstrom's bag out to my cousin's car at the end of the night. "Can you pop open the trunk?" I asked. She had driven me to the family party.
"What's that? Gifts?"
"Oh no, it's just food, leftovers."
"Oh, I was about to say, I didn't get any gifts!"
"Me neither."

My cousin and I grew up like sisters. We were the only children in our age group for a long, long time, so naturally, when Christmas came around, everyone showered us with gifts. I remember leaving these annual Christmas Eve parties with piles and piles of gifts. We were allowed to open one on Christmas Eve and the rest in the morning. I never waited. I just stayed up until midnight and declared it to be Christmas based on a technicality.

We got older. The gifts got smaller. We were handed envelopes full of cash or gift cards and sometimes, expensive cosmetics. Our older cousin introduced me to Hello Kitty and Sephora, the loves of my life. We still received gifts in college. I may have gotten some Starbucks gift cards in law school. There was a time I lamented this transition in a high school diary. I felt sad that no one could tell what I wanted anymore, that I wasn't easy to predict anymore.

I don't even bother looking for gifts under the tree. No one presses envelopes in my hand after I started working. Last night, we drove off with full bellies and an empty trunk. I've never felt more like an adult.