With a pile of stuff smaller then the pile of trash, it’s officially the end of an era for me in Boston. I’m packing again, this time with a sincere effort to leave behind the things that are truly in the past, with a few keepsakes that will ease me into the next adventure. I’m strapping on a backpack once more and flying out to New Zealand in October. I will be flying one-way to Wellington, New Zealand with no job, no house, and no friends. Why? Here’s how I see it and how Mark Twain put it on paper: “twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”
I’m off to do just that. Explore, dream, discover. But first I have to clear out my apartment, clean my slate, and put a few things into boxes that I’m not ready to let go just yet.
A warm sunny Sunday in November leaves me with a calm mind from yoga, a squeaky clean house which includes fresh laundry, a fully stocked fridge, and an acceptance that tomorrow is Monday.
This whole health kick thing is starting to settle in and I find myself routinely doing wonderful things that don’t include binge eating ice cream, or watching 6 hours of TV getting up solely to pee and maybe get another snack. While I miss big glasses of red wine and the occasional demolition of an entire bag of mint chocolate chip bites, I’m figuring out new things that still rock my world without the killer headache or stomachache after. So cheers to a new smoothie recipe I just got and bon apetit to my roasted brussel sprouts.
I’m so over Mondays. The only good thing about them was 10 cent wing night, but now that I can’t eat wings, the only redeeming quality about Monday is that it consistently ends at 11:59 p.m. and gives us Tuesday. My lackluster attempts at finding a glass half full yesterday has led me to the lingering depressive attitude on Tuesday. So I sit, rather pathetically, with a mammoth chocolate shake (not recommended by my doctor) from J.P. Licks as I surrender to my statistics homework.
And honestly how does Monday expect me to be pleased when I am forced to get back into the grind after a sublime weekend in Vermont with the family. While I could banter on for days about the negative effects of Monday, I recognize that it is now Tuesday and time to move on. As a quick side note before I pull it together and end my rant I just need to get this out. Whoever thought green juice was good is an absolute maniac. In efforts to follow through with my health kick I opted for green juice as I’ve heard of the insane health benefits. Extra shot of wheat grass? You betcha. It tasted like a fresh cut lawn mixed with vegetables I cannot even pronounce, and it looked like bile. I never want to taste it again. So I have burned ‘learn how to make green juice’ off of my list of things to accomplish.
On my quest to become a master roaster, I successfully roasted salmon filets and broccoli. Unfortunately I tried the broccoli straight out of the oven and have subsequently singed the majority of my taste-buds. Lesson learned, do not eat food covered in olive oil directly out of the oven. Even with half my taste-buds missing it still tasted great. So while green juice was an epic fail, I am well on my way to being a connoisseur of roasted salmon.
And tonight, I’m back to hip hop yoga. Maybe I’ll do a headstand today. Probably not considering I have not been to a class in ages, but maybe the inner yogi will appear and inspire me to at least try.
This crazy thing keeps happening, one minute I look at the calendar and it’s just September. Now I look out my window (that is broken and doesn’t close), and feel the bitter chill of the November night. My dedication to write weekly again fell to the wayside as everything else, including Kim Kardashians two part wedding special, took precedence. But it’s November first today and I’m initiating my new years resolution two months early. How’s that for ambition?
Every fall I set goals for myself, little reminders of what I want to accomplish in the day to day. Rather pessimistically I lose steam sometime in the middle of October and try and cram them back onto my to-do list before the holidays, which ends up failing because I’d rather sit home eating pumpkin pie and listening to baby it’s cold outside on repeat. I’m confident this year will be especially bad as I’ve already begun the Christmas playlist and my room is merrily adorned with two full strands of festive holiday lights — the perfect recipe for an afternoon nap. And just when I see myself going down the path of no return, I find myself here, on my blog, talking to no one in particular about the demise of my goals. But it’s these moments here where I find myself back on track a bit firmer in my convictions to do what I set out to do.
After a rather chaotic and wonderful year indulging in my wanderlust and trotting the globe, I’ve been slowed down by my own self. The long story short is that in early August instead of going on a planned road trip in South Africa I landed in the hospital for five days with pancreatitis. No one is quite sure why I got it but nonetheless it happened. To keep the pity party going a few more lines, after planning for a trip to Kenya and Kilimanjaro in December I was told that that was not in the cards this year. Neither was drinking. Or traveling to any country with insufficient medical care. So here I am, staring at my list of ‘to-dos’ which include going to Kenya, trekking in the himalayas, and taking a tour of the Sam Adams brewery. I realize a few things are going to be put on hold, but then at the very bottom of this very long list it says four words that put it all in to place: less human. more being. I’m so caught up in what I cannot do, possessed by this sadness that really isn’t so bad. Finally, after rambling for a bit, I have decidedly kicked out the crazies in my own head, and officially have ended the pity party.
Here is my open list of goals and my resolutions that I’m going to write about over the next six months. Just six months because really, come May, come rain or shine, I’m going to be healed, hopefully with some better cooking skills and a few other interesting things in my repertoire.
It’s a work in progress but for now here is the short list:
- Do a headstand in yoga.
- Cook my way through a cookbook. (Which will hopefully and ambitiously include a tur-duck-in).
- Read books that should be read. Starting with a reread of The Great Gatsby.
- Go to Mardi Gras.
- Drive from San Francisco to Vancouver.
- Take a boxing class.
- Master the perfect Sunday brunch.
- Run the Boston marathon.
- Volunteer at the animal shelter in Boston.
So join me, give me recipes, road trips to take, books that should be read, places that should be seen, and music that should be heard. I’m hoping to write when inspired about something new, something discovered, and in the process plan to become a more devoted yogi, a better cook, a master of French toast, and a girl with a mean right hook.
I have no idea what exactly qualifies an ‘Indian Summer’ but I’m going to go ahead and declare this October weekend exactly that. An indian summer, a throwback to those August days, extending the life of my well travelled flip flops and awkward tank-top tan. 80 degrees, blue skies, and cool breezes helped the East Coast store up on some much needed vitamin D, and as the week returns to normal the energy in the air in infectious. While I try and finish some papers I’ve known about for weeks, I can’t help but feel a bit of that spark from the first days of class where I was genuinely ready to get back on the grind. I knew it was there somewhere, just needed some of this summer air to recharge. Hopefully you’re catching some of this pre-winter bliss too. With this re-emerging energy and spirit, I turn you to the Njabini Apparel blog as ‘energetic’ is highlighted this week as one of the seven words we live by! Stop on over, and tell us what gives you energy?
Thanks to Christopher Columbus and his wanderlust, I have a long weekend. My wanderlust took me out of Boston and up 93-N, just over the Roxbury Gap, and at the end of the road to home. With leaf peepers across the country making their way up north, I found myself stuck behind the Sunday drivers and lost tourists for much of the three hour trek. But with my stress and to-do list in the backseat and my ipod accompanying me for much of the ride, I turned the music up and my mind off. You know that old phrase, home is where the heart is, well for this weekend my heart is in Vermont with my Moms homemade apple pie and the comfort of family. It’s so nice to be reminded of the simple things and how important they are. And I’m sure the world or at least my roommates are going to appreciate this mental break as I will come back with a bit less sass and a bit more positivity and happiness.
So thank you Christopher Columbus for landing in the Americas and giving me a chance to go home. And while I spend the weekend working on the resume and figuring out what is next, you have inspired me to seek a career as an explorer/navigator. It worked out well for you, maybe it will work for me too.