Natalie-ology

Damien Rice once said during a live session, that the thing he noticed is the more damned that he is, the better he is at what it is that he does, and that he's sorta bored of being damned. (Live at Fingerprints, Intro to Grey Room) I can relate to that with where I am in life right now. I'm so tired of being tired and broken, but in what I'm learning about myself is that when I experience that brokenness, I find it easier to create and be creative.

I had my heart broken today. And I'm sure you're thinking, Natalie, you wear your heart on your sleeve, you get your heart broken a lot, what's the big deal? Well, I can say, I know, you're right. But I want to cry UNCLE! Enough with the rejection already. I have had more than my fill of being rejected and rejecting others (because trust me, that takes it's own kind of toll on a person).

Let me start back a few months ago. My homecoming has been a mixed bag. I could have wept with joy every time I got to see a friend or realized how easy it was to hang out with the network of "gal pals" I still have here in Portland - and no doubt, I still feel incredibly blessed to have their support and to be able to support them through life. But the job I came into is not for me, or well it's making me realize that the angst I was feeling in my last job was more than just burn out or situational. So after lots of frustration and anger about being at work in something that didn't fit - I finally came to my knees with God. Begging for an answer. For a change. For something. I think that came in two ways. One in finding a career counselor who instantly recognized I was in the wrong spot and is helping me identify the whys and the whats would be better by starting from scratch and digging into how I want to feel and what causes those feelings - then pulling from her experience to point out careers based on them. And the second was probably an anxiety attack before work that triggered me reaching out to a psychologist for help.

I have since learned that I not only have anxiety (probably not the shock of the century) and depression. Both of those I realize are loaded words and probably thrown around too often in our society. But hearing the doctor say them was like a weight was lifted. The puzzle pieces started to fit together. Ah, could this be why I can sleep 8 hours or more every night and still feel exhausted every morning? Or is this why I could live in Europe and feel so utterly alone and sad in a space I always wanted to be? I think yes. The doctor made me feel good, in that she said I'd been coping fairly well, and that this trigger at work just brought it up. But that I should start to pay attention to myself more - notice when I'm anxious or depressed, what was happening, and to take steps to work through it (deep breathes, meditation, prayer for the anxiety and turning the depressed periods into something creative - as a lot of artists are most creative and focused when they are in their blue moods).

If you're as smart as I think you are, then yes, I can feel the depression lurking at the edges of my psyche. Of course, as I stated above I know the trigger. And I had an outpouring of love and encouragement today. As I'm trying to process this all in my head, I would say I'm doing better than normal (hear me out!).

1) I do not think my being rejected has anything to do with the way I look. I have come to appreciate who I am and what I look like. I do think I'm pretty and while I know I could lose some weight for a person of my height, I think all those art museums worked - I truly see the beauty in the curves of the woman's body and I can see those reflected in myself. And I am happy.
2) I do not think I was rejected because I was not smart. A lot of what I'm learning about myself, about how I process and my behaviors are, that I am smart and creative and I like the big picture. I know a wide variety of things and am by no means dumb.
3) I know that I 'dodged a bullet'. I logically get that, and I think even parts of my heart do as well, as I felt a weight release, I am finally able to 100% move on - though that doesn't mean I won't be processing the 'whats' and the 'whys' of what happened.

What is different about this rejection is trying to understand what I missed. Where did I go wrong. Why did I trust and open myself to this person. Is my ability to read people that off??? And why didn't I heed the advice of countless dating books or my past therapist. If a guy doesn't make an effort, he's just not that into you. I know that society has changed and the rules could arguably be thrown out the door. But I know that I am guilty of overthinking everything, when I think generally it's either F yes or F no for guys.

What I will do next about all this - I don't really know. I've been told if you want a relationship, you should treat it like looking for a job. And then I look back and go, haven't I already tried that? I've also been told, to let it go and it will come when you aren't looking. I have yet to have been able to fool my overactive brain into not looking or worrying about it. Even when I think I am not, BAM! I actually was.

All this to say, that tonight, after a rough day, I am putting my energy into something productive. I am piecing together IKEA furniture and pulling out my craft skills as I'm painting some of those pieces! Ack! At least I can look back on today, and feel my house is a little more put together, right?

Tindering Around

This dating thing is always interesting. When I first arrived back in Portland, I thought I'd let the universe guide things. And I ended up with a couple dates in the first month. Not too bad, but no love connection either. But as inevitably happens when I have friends doing online dating, I think "oh, I can do that too" and somehow summons up the energy to start swiping (maybe if I wore a cleaner on my finger, I could clean my phone at the same time. At least then something productive would be happening...).

I had one date early on (he was living in his van, I feel like that should be a requirement to state that early on...), and then work kinda messed things up. And those early conversations never materialized beyond pen pal status. So I'd been on an off maybe once a week, finding one or two new likes here. Going back and forth between saying something first and just waiting. I've also hilariously ran into people I know. :S

I'd been talking with this one guy for a bit now (a month!). The chat was interesting enough, talking about signs and moon phases. I couldn't quite figure out his 'look', but he seemed attractive and at least interesting to chat with. Of course, you're thinking uh... moon phases and you're interested? Or maybe you are more in the 'why did you not meet early on?'. I know, I know. I mean, I'm trying to be more open, and I like to see whether they have balls to ask me out. And finally he said he'd like to meet! After a couple failed non-plan attempts, I agreed to meet for a drink last night - maybe against my better judgement. I mean, he likes to make mead and go mushrooming?!

We met at a local beer garden (local to me), but while I got there early to take Jasper out and relax a bit, he didn't give me a specific time, and ended up getting there after 8 I think. Sounds awful, right?

Well unbeknownst to him, I was happily chatting away with another beer drinker - whom will call Kermit. Learning about everything from why there are little blue lights on top of the light poles in the area (it was a design choice), oh and the buildings are short near the street then go sky-high (to make it feel less daunting), that the OHSU building was the first one there and is set up to reclaim the shower water as toilet water. That Kermit was one of those on the panel against the $85M tram (which was supposed to cost $3.3M...), but he got his way that the buildings were set back 100 instead of 50 yards from the water. I know that at one point there was a proposal (by Kermit and friends) to turn PGE into a co-op, that sounds like it would have been pretty beneficial to us all....oh and I know where all the power for downtown comes from, in case you want to perform an Ocean's Eleven style heist.

Oh and you can buy a life insurance policy from someone, continue to pay their premiums, and then receive their death benefits. Sounds like something I read in Devil in the White City, but apparently it's legal. Kermit has a company that uses that money as capital to help new startups - specifically to find the next 'unicorn' (because sometimes your friends and family can't get you past the $30M fund raising mark) - a company like Brilliant Light Power, some new company that is developing a better power source based on dark matter and hydrogen (http://brilliantlightpower.com). I only understood any of the terms because of Big Bang Theory. :P

Anyway, Kermit and I were chatting when my date arrived... but no worries, the Kermit joined us and talked for awhile. So I wasn't left with Mead-boy for much longer. As I realized it was 9, and well, time for food and bed! Btw... he brought said homemade mead... it was made from honey, shallots, mushrooms, onion, and garlic... aphro-no-siac! Ick!Again, Kermit saved me by tasting it first...so no drugs.

I walked away being grateful to the universe for the randomness, and for strangers who rescue you from bad frogs (see what I did there?).

A New Year, A New Leash on Life

If you have followed my blog at all, you know that I love resolutions. I love the chance to look at the next 12 months as a clean slate and think how I could improve myself in a new and exciting way. But I can never look forward without looking back.

I am always amazed at what can happen in a 12-month period, and more specifically the last January-December 2015. I knew in 2015 that I would meet someone, I had a feeling deep in me, that something important would happen. And as I went through a few dates early in the year, I thought, YES, this could be the year I would find my man. Those early dates dwindled to texts of "I'm not interested" and so I moved on, albeit with less tears than 2014.

In late March, a friend posted a pic of a dog who was looking for a home. Somehow I just clicked with the picture, and after a few conversations with said friend and a couple friends here in Seattle, I decided to meet the pup. I can't say it was love at first sight, but there was a definite connection, and my heart had already decided he was mine - despite all my head's warnings and misgivings.

Unrelated, but important in the journey of Natalie, in late April, I had one of the most fateful nights of my life. In said night, I got called stupid countless times, lost a friend, and pretty much lost another friend because of the aforementioned friend. Not helpful for this dog adopting shit. On the other hand, I did get to talk to Dave Attell, and he did call me the next day, but beyond that he did not seem interested. C'est la vie. I am old. I then went on my last "single" vacation, and came home to adopt my pup, Gordo - or as I lovingly call him, Jasper (Shithead, Scaredy-Cat, Shadow, Nervous-Nellie, Spaz, Little, Pumpkin, and on and on).

On May 9, 2015, I did find my man. He is 9lb, dark black, with brown eyes. He melts my heart and he was meant for me. He has been the easiest transition (expect for that first day where I sat crying in the hall listening to HIM cry) in my life, and I would not trade him for anything. He is my snuggle-bug, my companion, my "pocket-boyfriend". My life has changed, but is no less full. And I have been blessed by Jackie and Michael loving to watch him for me when I'm gone for work, it has made the transition that much better/easier to know Jasper is extra loved when I leave.

Work is a whole other piece of the pie, it was a rough year, managing five people is not all it's cracked up to be, it feels constantly like you are trying to please them and get them to do what needs to be done without getting frustrated. It feels impossible some times. What was I thinking? I've had a lot of crisis of career and location. Where my next move should be is up in the air, and I hate not feeling like I know where to go. I think I have been in the same spot for too long, but at the same time, I don't want to run from something that I could learn from.

And so, here we are at 2016. And this is a year of giving up. Giving up control. Giving up things and habits. Just seriously giving up to God all my hopes and plans, because up until this point I have been unsuccessful at making any specific thing happen in my life. All that has come to me, I believe, is through divine guidance.

My choices for my monthly resolutions should reflect the giving up (and by the way, I was not very good at last year's resolutions, but I DID finish Anna Karenina, and I would say that in itself is a huge accomplishment). Some resolutions are to ensure I have no real addictions, some are to save money, and some still are to lose weight, my bestie is getting married! And I am hoping to look svelte for when I see Seth MacFarlane sing with the Seattle Symphony in April. #marrymeSeth!

January - No alcohol (w/ 2 cheat days, because let's be realistic....)
February - No coffee
March - No tablet
April - No meat
May - No extra driving (only driving to the vanpool)
June - No TV
July - No gluten
August - No re-watching tv shows
September - No social media
October - No sleeping in/snoozing
November - No complaining
December - ???

We all forge in to the new year in our own way, some in crowded gyms, some with "resolutions to not make resolutions". With all the goals and stars in our eyes, may we all feel hopeful and excited of what can happen in 2016.

Photo courtesy of Chris Clark Photography

Pain: Absorb or Reject?

My fear of pain started young, and for anyone who knew me as a child/teenager, I was (and still am!) woefully bad at sports. I hate being in pain. I do not like being pushed harder. I do not want to be told that "anyone can stand on their head in a corner and spit nickles for a certain period of time". I would rather quit and move on.

From early on, I gave up at pain. After getting hit in the face with a basketball in 2nd grade (hey, it hurts a lot with glasses) at a two-week camp, I never tried again. In high school, I "played" volleyball and the coach wanted me to dig for the ball. And I thought "seriously, you want me to dive, face first into the carpeted concrete and hit a ball that will turn my arms bright red? No, thank you, I'll sit on the bench please." My dad never understood why I didn't go out and practice to get better (uhh... it hurts!). Even cross country, I only lasted a year, and my goal was only to not be last. So yeah, generally when things are painful I stop (and if you're wondering why hand-eye uncoordinated Natalie could be on a high school volleyball team? It was only because the high school only had 30 people in it, and I did it because we got to travel with the boys basketball team...).

When I recently decided to finally write more and had (what I thought) was a good idea for a book, I went for it. Luckily the first person I told, was supportive and encouraging. So spurred by that, off I went, it felt natural. Sweet! Maybe I'll be able to do something creative, be at least part of the person I wanted to be when I was growing up (a writer and an artist - hey, I'm left handed, it makes sense!).

But I made a fatal mistake, I did not follow the instructions of one blog that said to Keep it to yourself.

"One of the biggest mistakes beginning writers make is showing their early efforts to anyone who will look. I know, it’s tempting. You’re writing a novel. You want feedback! You want support! You want someone to tell you it’s awesome"

Whelp, I didn't take that seriously, and shared again... it only took 1 more person before I hit the negative comments that made me feel as if what I was doing was unoriginal and not worth pursuing. Embarrassed I thought, what's the point? I barely started and already hearing it's a dumb idea, I should just quit. It's just going to get worse, and as I know myself, I go out of my way to avoid pain and conflict. Negative feedback in any form takes years for me to move past, some of it I still hold on to until this day (yes, I still remember indirectly finding out a woman I idolized thought I was annoying, talk about knife in the tender psyche of a pre-teen!). What was I even thinking attempting such a project?

But there was that small small voice in the back of my head that said - keep on and keep it to yourself.

It got me to thinking about how being creative is such a vulnerable thing. I mean, you want what comes out of you to be appreciated and validated. You want to hear "that's a great idea" or "wow I really like what you did", or at least "good luck". Whatever you've created was or is something important to you/how you felt/a pivot point in your life. There are a few options when faced with this, don't share your art, quit, or I guess for those with larger balls than I, push through and create anyway. I realized how hard it is to create art and maintain your self-esteem to keep going. No wonder so many artists descend into madness or alcohol.

So if all of this is just about the process, then maybe I'll learn how to be better at not listening to negative feedback on something I am pursuing. Or at least nurture the creative side to find another idea that seems better.

Anyway, I think I'm going to keep writing, but planning on keeping the whole thing to myself. So if you ask me what I'm up to, I'll say I'm writing. And for all you know, it may as well be tweets I'm writing to the Twitterverse. I'm going to attempt to push past my instinct to quit. And if I get 5,000 more words down the road, and I feel like it's not working, I'm going to re-read the "How to Write a Novel" post, put on some Sigur Ros, and attempt to just keep writing.

Getting Lost in Myself

Whenever I want to do something more, I seem to end up doing it less. I want to wake up a half hour earlier, and instead sleep an hour longer. I want to workout more, and I haven't been to the gym in months. I want to write more, and I have no words to write. What is it about human nature that when we consciously want to do something, the lazy side of us kicks in and blocks us with tv, tiredness, stupid tablet games, anything but what the deep inner self wants.

I know I have been negligent in managing my blog, I mean, I haven't even so much as given it more than a passing thought. Maybe I should write about Budapest, about my summer, or maybe I'd have something to say about the fact that I adopted a dog (and my whole life revolving around him). But no, few words or inspirations have crossed my path. I have been reading a bunch, and they have largely been in the self-improvement arena (Total Money Makeover, 4-Hour Workweek).

So when what I'm calling my new church started a series on "Is this SERIOUSLY my life", it struck a cord deep inside. I started thinking about my personal life and feelings of dissatisfaction, confusion on where to go next, unhappiness in my current work, and just general feelings of unrest. Every fiber in my being screams at me to run away, to go live in a little cottage in a small village and be that odd American girl with her dog who lives at the end of the lane (complete with a meet cute with Jude Law). I think of movies like Under the Tuscan Sun, The Holiday, and Elizabethtown (though the last is less about international, but still in the vein of running away). What is it that appeals to me so strongly? It's that abandoning who we think we are, stripping away of all the preconceived notions and ideas of self, and forging a new path, one that is truer to our being.

That is where this morning's sermon (if you want to call it that) fit in. Instead of a monologue, it was a dialog between two men. They talked about finding that brokenness and working through it to come to the true self. Going through the death to experience the rebirth, and acknowledging that the body is a whole, and when the subconscious is in pain and conflicted it manifests itself in physical ways (pains in the stomach, aches in the back and neck). While the "good Christian child" inside me screams how new age this sounds, in my heart of hearts, it rings painfully true. How often do I just want to get around the pain and find what I am supposed to be or where I am supposed to go. The answer to these questions really is inside of us, and asking God to tell us what to do, is kind of the easy way out, it's saying I don't want to deal with the crap, I want the easy answer. When if we dug through and dealt with all the hurt inside, we would easily find that the answer is inside of us. It would be a gut reaction deep in our souls.

Anyway, that's a lot of deep for a sunny October Sunday. But if you're interested in the dialog, you can find it here 10/4/15 Is this seriously my life? - and I would say don't skip the songs if you have the time, they all connect into the theme of what the message is trying to teach. Not to mention the last one, which is a Damien Rice song. Seriously, a church that can see worship in the secular is my kind of church.

You Shouldn't Do That

Let me tell you, dating is tiring.  After the 10th first date, it tends to lose it's magic (10 is not statistically accurate, but sharing about yourself and forcing yourself to be interested in someone else gets old fast).  Some people like to tell me I'm too picky, but I'm sure if they perused through my options on OKCupid, they would tell me I would be settling with any of them.  Damned if you do and damned if you don't.

When this week is over, I'll have had some 4 first dates (I think for the month, it'll end up being somewhere around 10?).  You can't say I'm not trying.  And when you add to that "it's better to give someone a chance and not decide too quickly", second dates pile on top and you find you have no time for the gym, friends, or cleaning your apartment.  So yes, I am tired.  Tired of feeling like this takes so much work, tired of the advice, tired of feeling alone, tired of going out there and doing things so I am not accused of "not living my life waiting to meet someone".

Let me tell you, after the millionth time you've sat alone at a cafe, restaurant, bar, concert, park, museum, etc, you do get tired of your own company and feel rather lonely.  And I don't think I could really ever be accused of not trying living my life on my own (I mean most people assume I would be miserable having a relationship because then I couldn't do all the things I do.  Umm, I am choosing to live my life this way, because I don't want to sit around waiting, not because this was the end goal!).

I feel like I'm a parent trying to keep their kid occupied during summer break.  And you say "why don't you just relax at home more" - oh great, yeah, I'm sure Mr. Anybody is hiding out under my bed and I never noticed him before (CREEPER!)!  And yes, I know it's good to try dating and then to pull back, but you have to give it some time to start up before you give up and pull back to not dating (does that make any sense?).

And of course, when you confess this to friends, they tell you "You shouldn't feel that way", "You shouldn't do so much", "You shouldn't try so hard", "You should do more of what you want", "You should you should you should".  It makes me want to scream!  Can we all decide that use of the word should is completely inappropriate?  Who are we to tell someone what they should or should not feel/do/think/act? "There is only feel and do, there is no should." (D.R.)  Telling someone what they should do to get a date or be happy is rude.  It implies they haven't thought of or aren't logical enough to "understand the real situation".  It devalues their feelings and thoughts.  It is just rude.  If I tell you, "I feel rejected because so and so never called", how is telling me "I shouldn't feel that way" helpful?  It's okay to let your friends feel a certain way, and just acknowledging that yes, not hearing from someone sucks.  End of story.

We feel and think and act how we feel, and yes, sometimes I am so frustrated by this whole process I am illogical.  But trust me, I am completely aware of the logic side of the puzzle (umm, have you met me, I'm a pretty damn logical person), but logic doesn't always matter when it comes to feelings.  And my feelings lately are that this whole thing sucks.  So like my rant a few months ago about not assuming things about people, can we also decide that to acknowledge the way someone feels is a much nicer and caring response then trying to "fix" or "solve" them?

(This soapbox moment is another installment of "You Know What Really Grinds My Gears")

Beware of Mexico...or don't

I have so many stories I want to tell, stories I want to remember, but the longer I wait and the older I get, the harder it gets to write them. I never did finish writing about all my European travels. I should have written them after each weekend, but alas, I didn’t.

Now, I just returned from Mexico City. Mexico - a place I have never really liked much (tbh). The Hispanic people living in Oregon always turned me off. The switch to Spanish in front of you and the way the men whistled or catcalled in such a derogatory fashion made me feel dirty. But really, it comes down to a general lack of understanding about their culture (on my part), which is vastly different (or at least perceived as different) from my own. Add to that the perception that certain foods and water were not to be consumed, the news of drug cartels, the issues with illegal immigration, and the stories of kidnappings …it never felt like a place I wanted to be.

Up until last year, the only experience I had was near the border doing ‘missionary’ work (building outhouses or bathrooms, hosting Bible schools). While that was a unique experience, I was young and extra naïve at the time. I think I was more interested in who I got to sit next to in the van on the rides there and back. Last fall, I had the opportunity (??) to go for work. Having spent so much time in Europe, I figured it would be good to meet colleagues in another place and expand my knowledge.

My experience in Monterrey was lackluster and awkward. It re-instilled in me the distaste for the machismo attitudes towards women. And the inability to get straight truth or answers out of people made me question how they could conduct business, with all that postulating and side-picking. Then there was the dog ridden neighborhood (we were told certain trucks would come through and remove the dogs…you can imagine how they were going about disposing of these poor animals), the smell of chemicals in the back of my throat, and the insane driving habits. I was ready to shake the Mexican dust off my feet and never return.

Yet work moves on, and there came the need to go back. Due to the creepy, inappropriate machismo-ism, I was not allowed (nor would I), go back to Monterrey. Instead, I was to accompany my colleagues to one of the largest cities in the world (per the metropolitan area there are some 21M people – almost 9M living in the city proper). Just about everyone and their mother balked at this idea – they all threw their concerns and questioned whether I should go. They asked whom I was going with, where I was staying, if we had bodyguards, and generally gave me no sense of comfort going to a country that already intimidated me.

After a couple searches on TripAdvisor, to reassure me that it was no more unsafe than any other major city.  I mean, I have been to NY, LA, Paris, London, Lima, Moscow – and never felt unsafe in any of those locales. So, I decided to fly in a day early and take a tour of some sites – namely the pyramids close to the city. Now, I truly hate tourists, both from living in a city that gets a decent amount of them to running into them while traveling and trying to stay as far away from them as possible. You know those large groups that allow you to see sites, but never experience or know a culture?  The ones that stand out and push past locals, stopping at asinine spots to take photos without care for who or what is around them. Then there is the loud entitled way they act!  And this is NO means limited to Americans, every time there is a large group of non-native people visiting a place, they seem to get lost in their own cultural bubble that does not allow them to merge with and see the place they are in.

 But I was scared of being alone in Mexico, so I did the unthinkable and signed up for a full 13-hour tour. I found a tour through UrbanAdventures via some comments on TripAdvisor, and boy am I glad I did! The morning half of the tour was myself, a Danish man, and the tour guide Eva. We walked, took a random taxi, and boarded the metro to visit three different Mexican markets. We stopped and got fresh tamales (like the locals), saw murals painted by students of Diego Rivera, and picked our way around dripping stomach linings. I also bravely tried Huitlacoche (don’t look it up, or do, it’s just fungus corn…tastes better than it looks), fermented pineapple juice, fresh tamarind, and cactus (fried it is not so slimy). We also saw the animals to be used for witchcraft, all sorts of dried spices, herbs, and flowers, and statues of Our Lady of Guadalupe (of course, mixed in with party gear and Disney's "Frozen" paraphernalia).

My first part of the tour ended, and the second part to go to Teotihuacan started. I was ‘warned’ of this next tour guide that he was eccentric and engaging (I’d also read about him online). The Dane left, and I was joined by 3 ladies from Texas/California. Luis definitely lived up to the hype! He, like Eva, was a local and familiar with the city. He was engaging, if a little spastic, but I do agree that he made the tour. We again took the metro out to a bus station that would then drop us off near the pyramids.  No touristy styled buses for us!

It was almost an hour and a half out there, but was worth the trek. Luis was informative, but not pushy about the information. Apparently, they know very little about the Teotihuacan civilization, as they have not found any writings. The Mayans found the pyramids later on, but they did not build them. They know the people there would powerful (as the settlement was set up near an obsidian mine, so they had sharp tools and weapons). And the “Sun” and “Moon” pyramids, as they are now known, were not their original names. The whole areas is built to be 5 degrees off of, and in line with, the North Star.  They also valued squares (as you can see from the pictures, everything is square).

After walking stairs, the 5 of us hoped in a small taxi to head to one of the three farms we were to visit – but first we stopped for pulque – an agave cactus fermented drink that was really quite tasty! We then visited an obsidian farm, a cactus farm, and finally ate at a local family’s house.

It was a long, but very fun day. And I’m really glad I did it. It helped put me at ease the rest of the week in the city, and provided new friends – as later in the week, I met up with Luis to experience the monthly ‘cultural’ night – where they play music in local museums.

I have also learned not to trust people who judge a place before they have been there; I was unduly worried as a result. I should trust my instincts and past knowledge, which is when you get down to it, all of us are the same. People are generally good, want to be liked, and are friendly to share their town/culture with someone new. I’m blessed to have been able to meet many different people from many different places. That knowledge is powerful and useful, I've found that judging others is never worthwhile or productive.

Work was…interesting, but not bad, and the office was in a nice area (for once). I don’t speak Spanish (sorry to my high school Spanish teachers!), but never felt like I couldn’t get by (my coworkers did some, and pointing and smiling always seems to work). The food was good (and cheap), and the days were warm and sunny (between 70-80). The difference between this trip and that couldn’t be more profound. While the traffic and smog sucked, the sudden wafts of sewer were ever present and unpredictable, there were a couple days of protests in the streets, and I ended up with a sour stomach by Saturday, I felt able to walk at night with my coworkers, or jump in taxis (or ubers!) when needed. I am really looking forward to another opportunity to go back, and hope that the experience is just as positive. Viva la Mexico!?!

Donut meets Coffee

I'm not sure I understand the dating site "Coffee Meets Bagel", especially since the girl is termed coffee and the boy is bagel... ok, yes, I know, my 12-year-old brain is trying to kick in and figure it out physically (well you may dunk the bagel into the coffee... but really a bagel has a hole...damn it all to hell, I don't know.  But I really think you'd want a donut, not a bagel with your coffee).

It's hard to keep the proper 'excitement' when you're attempting to date.  You never want to get too excited about any one person.  But you do have to keep a little sense of hope and expectation, or you may come across as the bitter cat-lady.  You also don't want to go sharing with everyone about your dates, because if it doesn't work - you have to relive why it didn't work when they ask (because dating is somehow an interesting topic).  But conversely, in having friends and sharing your life with those friends... if dating is what you are doing as part of your life, how do you not share that part?  If I learned anything from last year, it's that to get to better more intimate friendships, you have to be willing to share about yourself - both the good and the bad.  What it really comes down to is me talking a lot or me going MIA because I've out-talked myself (don't snicker, it DOES happen).

I'm back in what is known as the dating game - though it's not that fun, I think it should be called 2nd shift or life-part 2 or purgatory.  It really is like another job.  It seems you really can't do much else or then you risk seeming uninterested.  And as much as I want a relationship, finding the energy and time to be interested in a stranger, can be hard to muster up.

Over the last couple of weeks, I've had more dates than I did maybe all of last year (ok, that may be a slight exaggeration, but the dates have felt a little easier to come by - I highly recommend Speed Dating).  So much so that last week it was a 3-for-1 week.  Which leaves my brain and emotions spinning a little.  It always feels like you like someone more than they like you or someone likes you more than you like them.  It's like 2 trapeze artists flying in 2 separate circus rings - it's bound to be a disaster when one person let's go and finds there isn't a partner on the other side to catch them

I thought I had a guy I was interested in seeing, turns out he did not feel the same way (though I do appreciate the honesty, but there is a slight pain when it comes to being rejected).  And with others...I'm frustrated with the over-communication.  Or with a guy who says he wants to date, but then never calls again.  You really have to take it all with a grain of salt I suppose.

I've had date conversations about how I touch my hair a lot, or how touching my hair is a sign I'm sexually interested.  I've been asked to go running on a date (I'm sorry, boob giggle?! f no).  I've gone to a chain restaurant (and did not feel very well the next day...).  But I've had guys patient with my travel schedule and me coming down with the flu.  I haven't had a single one push a check at me and tell me "you got this".  There hasn't been a guy who showed up smelling like he crawled out of the bar that morning, or one that just kept staring at me saying how attractive I was (I know, I sound like a jerk, but for someone to say it more than once throughout dinner, it becomes a little awkward - how much demurring can a girl do?).

Overall it's been good and awkward and tiring.  And I was reminded by a dear friend tonight - you have to see it like the world is your oyster and there are a lot of options out there.  If one doesn't work, move on to the next.  He said you are attractive, you have a great job, and a lot to offer.  Trust your gut, be honest with how you are feeling, and most of all have fun. (I'm sorry if I mixed up what you were saying MP!)  One day this cup o' joe will find the perfect donut to dunk in her cup... wait... strike that, that doesn't sound right.  Oh well, and by the way, I really like maple bars ;-).

UPDATE: I think I spoke way too soon on not having any awkward experiences, apparently people can hold it together for a few dates, and then go a little nutso later on.  Dear lord, nothing about this process is easy.  Maybe I should just give up and marry myself? (see story of 40-yr-old woman who married herself recently...)

Nesting

For a long time, I've felt stuck between two worlds.  My love for the friends in Portland pull on my heart all the time, but the life I have established in Seattle has become equally hard to part from.  At one point, I'd likened Seattle to Jacob (well you know, he IS the fun, literally hot, one...), and for the most part the lifestyle I lead here reinforces that.  And when I was visiting with a friend, I mentioned that I hadn't hung any pictures up in my new (at-the-time) condo - she mentioned that maybe I was subconsciously not wanting to be in Seattle.

After returning from Rotterdam, I admit, I felt pretty lost.  I didn't quite feel like I was "home" and it took a bit to feel like I was established with a life here again.  Moving to Portland seemed closer than it had been in awhile.  But this summer, after making the choice to stay home for the weekend, I finally decided it was time.  It was time to hang up my pictures.  I mean seriously, I'd owned my condo for 2 years, and all they were doing was collecting dust and taking up precious space under my bed (I mean, where else is the monster supposed to live?  And by monster, I mean the extra clothes :) ).



So after a little soul-pinterest searching, and a few arrangement attempts, I figured out how to lay out my collection (I don't know what got into me, but a long time ago, I fell in love with the "Kissing the War Goodbye" photo...and rapidly collected multiple kissing black and white photos... creepy or hopeful, they make me happy).

Layout idea
How to hang a wall collage

Now, I don't know about you, but I find hanging pictures alone to be...a bit challenging.  I mean, something can look perfectly great close up, but look...ummm...terrible when you stand back...and by then, you've already got holes in your walls.  So you know, I probably looked a bit like a spaz standing on my couch, attempting to hammer in pin nails (praying I DIDN'T hit a stud or at least one of those metal ones, I just don't have the power to put those in! #twss), and then jumping back to check every 5 seconds that it was ACTUALLY level and ACTUALLY the right distance apart.

And I'd seen examples of people using paper to map out their plan, rulers to measure where to put nails etc.  Well, I don't keep spare butcher paper around, so I figured the ginormous roll of Costco wrapping paper (that I've had for about 5 years) would do just fine.


After finding a layout that was most similar to the pictures I had on hand, I set to work drawing and measuring.  After the first couple of photos, I realized no matter what I laid out, it was measuring about an inch lower than expected... hmm well, I adjusted and liked seeing the work slowly come together.

And I have to say that I was pretty happy with the finished product, and had fun even incorporating black and white photos of people I love to complement the whole wall.  I can't say they are perfectly straight or measured, and I've had to 'adjust' some of the small frames, but that really doesn't matter.  Seeing them behind my couch every day makes me smile, and if you can't feel happy and cozy where you live, where else can you expect to?

It took ~2 years, but I finally made my house more of a home.  I put permanent marks in my walls that I may be annoyed by one day, but for the time being I'll enjoy the fruits of my labor and be glad that I didn't have to make multiple holes for each one ;-).  So I guess the moral of the story is...live fully where you're at, because if you're always waiting to get to the next place, you'll never feel fully settled.

The opposite wall

Above my bed, though now there are a few more Vegas trip photos :)

We have arrived in the future...

It's crazy to think that in 1985, movies predicted that in 2015 we would have hover boards.  Yet, I suppose we have come a long ways since what 1985 was about - I mean if I said I was going to blog back then you may have thought I was trudging through a bog? (you can laugh now)

As you can predict, like I do every year, I will be making resolutions in this January 1, 2015 blog post.  But first, a quick look back to last year, and the apparently 'unusual' thing I did with my resolutions.  If you remember correctly, rather than making one resolution I would likely only keep for a month (if I was lucky), I was going to make 12 (The year I turned 32) - everything from spending less, finishing books, working out, trying new things or doing more of old things.  My favorite thing was actually something I didn't put on the list!  Instead of going cross country skiing, I tried rock climbing (and loved! it).

Last year was a year to focus on improving/analyzing me.  And it was interesting how multiple mediums reaffirmed what I was going through (from books to therapy to conversations with friends and even some movies).  I can look back now and clearly see the direction of last year was to be more okay with me, to know myself a little better, and to be more gentle with me - even though it was a year I cried more than I have in a long long time.  Growing pains much? (though, I gotta say, for all the hard times there was a LOT of good in 2014!)

Let's just say, I'm hopeful and excited for the 'clean slate' that the new year brings.  And found that my 12 months of resolutions were a great thing for me (and it sounds as though I may have inspired a few people to try it themselves? I'm excited to hear what they pick!).  It was fun for me, having something new to look forward to, having people ask about which one I was on that month or how it was going, and I allowed myself to fail.  There wasn't one month that I hit the mark 100%, I'd say I completed around 50% of each.  I found that the mix between improvement and fun things was appropriate, though I would look forward to the next month, but didn't allow myself to "start early".

The things I would like to focus on this year - fit back into a certain little black dress, purge the stuff, find more ways to incorporate spirituality into my life, spend less, and be less busy.  And knowing how this last year went (I was super looking forward to the dance month...and only went 1 time when it came to it!!), I think this year I will put 12 resolutions in a 'hat', and pick one at the start of each month.  So off the cuff, without much ado here is the plan for the year!

1. Meditate 3 nights a week before bed
2. Scrapbook my year in Europe - 1 page and favorite memory from each place AND find a way to display concert and football tickets
3. Do something active outdoors every weekend
4. Don't plan anything (additional) for the month
5. Start each work day with 5 minutes of prayer
6. Run an 8k (I know it sounds wimpy, but the most I've done now is 5ks...baby steps)
7. Cook completely through 1 cookbook - get rid of any where there isn't 7 things I would like to make
8. Don't watch TV during the week days
9. Check out Martha Stewart's guide to housekeeping from the library - and clean at least 3 things that I've not cleaned in my house
10. Get rid of non-sentimental things not used in the last year
11. Don't buy any entertainment items (books, music, movies, concert tickets, plane tickets, etc)
12. Pick 1 class from the gym - go 2x every week

Now, what are you resolving to do in the Back to the Future year you have arrived in?

Failed MRS

If any of you know me, you know that I joke that I went to college for my MRS degree.  And I remember distinctly my senior year being told by some jerk in my accounting class, that "I guess you failed that one!"  Almost 10 years later, and I still have not accomplished that 'feat' and those words still sting.

Within the last 36-hours, I have had 3 people tell me that I am crazy (and not in a joking manner, but more towards the 'who I am' frame of reference), torn a pair of jeans in an uncomfortable and embarrassing way, and been told that I would be a horrible mother (was going to make the baby I was holding cry and that I looked awkward - from multiple people in front of a larger group of peers).  This Halloween has certainly been more of a trick than a treat.  I feel like I got salt poured, rubbed, scrubbed, and sanded into this gaping wound.  Because if you also know me, you would know that all I have ever wanted to be was a mother.  And like the rest of you, I just want someone to love and care for me.  To need me and for me to need them.  To not be alone, because man just cannot live...alone.

It never ceases to amaze me how mean people can be, and how self-absorbed and rude that comes across when they make assumptions about another person.  At what point has it been okay to wound someone, and then back-peddle saying 'we were only joking'.  I've been told that I should show people how I am hurt, to let them see the side of me that I keep hidden in an attempt to look/act/be what society says is 'normal'.  In doing so, I guess I become fake and then people don't know what could hurt, because I don't show that.

I live every day with this intense pressure that I am alone.  The fear that I won't be a good mother or ever get to be a mother.  That this is what my life will continue to be, a full one - but not a completely fulfilling one.  That there will always be that something I'm lacking and that bond with a person I won't have.  I just can't believe that this is my life, and that I must have made some wrong choice in my 'choose your own adventure' story - one that led far away from what I hoped for.  And honestly, that's probably what hurt the most is someone putting me in a box and attacking that hope.

This was a little raw, and a lot all over the place.  But this is me, this is what scares me more than anything else.  And I think better through written word.  So the next time you have an urge to make some 'funny' comment, think about the assumptions you are making about that person first.  And I'll do the same, plus allow myself to be hurt and let you know, because if I don't, I'm just keeping up the facade that reinforces your incorrect assumptions about who I am and what I want from life.

Oh, where is my Hairbrush?

While Milan was almost a full 3 months ago, the impression of it still sticks with me and it quickly has shot up to one of my favorite cities in Europe.  I would say it has all the fashion of Paris, with the hospitality of the Italians.  Perfecto.  Needless to say, I felt my time (working) in Milan was fantastic.

After almost 24hrs of travel, I was awake enough to navigate the train and the metro to make it to my home for the week.  And I did what I always do when I get in - take a nap. :) But by 3, I was on the metro headed to the center.  While on the train, we were 'serenaded' by a guy with a speaker and a microphone...putting me in the right mood to talk with a cute guy who came up to talk to me when we got to the Duomo.  I ended up walking the city with him and a couple of his friends (they were Romanians, living in Italy).  He was a bit of a spaz, but harmless.

We walked all around the center, twirled around 3 times with our heels on the bulls balls in the shopping center (see below), meandered through the castle (me in front of said castle below), looked for gelato (and finally found some), and generally had a pleasant time, but I was getting tired of them and hungry for real food.

Which led me to what I hoped was food, but instead was just a bar, so I had an aperitif (Straf Bar) and then headed for a pizza.  I ended up at that bar at least 2 more times before I left.  It was cozy, and appeared to be a place where locals would go to hang out.  And I can say that I am a big fan of spritz's.

The rest of my food and drink week was amazing, but rather than bog this down, I'll post that separately (Restauranting - Milano).  But for a 'taste'... here's a sample of what I had:

We found the old city with the last remaining canals (and I of course got eaten alive by mosquitos and ended up with cankles...) and I got to have dinner with my friend, Jon, from Seattle who just happened to be popping through during the same week.  Also, in our search for a spot to watch the British football match (we were unsuccessful, as even the British pub was only showing the Italy game), we happened into a quaint little place that was packed people watching the Italians play, we were the odd men out, but the owner showed us some great hospitality in getting food and drink while the game was on.

Church with the Last Supper

What the city used to look like

The streets of Milan

I ended up staying in Milan for the weekend, and while I wasn't able to get tickets to see the Last Supper, I did walk through the adjacent church, all around the square (was hoping to see the Duomo with a friend, but that never happened and as such, I never did make it in the big church), into the Modern Art museum, around the castle to relax and write postcards, shopped a little, ate some more, and generally just had a relaxing 2 days in the city.  My favorite church was a recommendation from my friend Jon - it's a cool optical illusion to be sure!

One of my favorite experiences was sitting down at a cafe for dinner (now sometimes I have problems picking where to eat, I over-think it, find a place on Yelp or TripAdvisor that looks good, but when I walk past it, I am not interested or don't realize I've walked past and then I get all awkward about wanting to turn around and look like I'm lost).  But after walking for quite a bit, and getting away from the largely touristy areas, I found a great wine and food bar.  Here I sat, read, and had a chef's choice 3-course meal.  Near the end of the meal, a girl who was sitting nearby struck up a conversation and invited me to join them for drinks.  Who am I to turn down making friends?  It was a fun evening with a makeup artist, an architect, and a socialite who is known for throwing fantastic parties.  While I was invited to go, and the girl added herself as a friend on Facebook, she never did accept her own request.  Alas, it was fun to hear about anyway.

The city of Como

After working in the city, I headed to the lake...of course hoping to see the famed George Clooney, but instead maybe only seeing a glimpse of where he lives.  Como was great, albeit a little stormy at the time.  It was an easily navigable town, but it is fairly quiet and the center is deserted early on.  I had 2 days in town, and spent one day wandering (in the pouring rain, refusing to buy an umbrella from the street peddlers) and popping into little places for coffee or wine.  I took the streetcar up the hill and the ferry to Bellagio (not to be confused with the Vegas monstrosity, or the sister hotel of the "Pellagio", aka the Palazzo... that joke was for any of my Vegas girls who read my blog...sometimes I make up new words!).

I popped onto the the slow ferry, so it took 2 1/2 (very hungry) hours to get to the city.  And of course once there, I popped into the first place I saw....haha, no of course not.  I wandered and checked Yelp, and wandered a bit more.  I did find a semi-hidden little wine bar where I had a wonderful eggplant cheesy lasagna (pictured above in the food preview).  It was worth the wait, but I wouldn't go until 2pm before I eat again - not advisable.

I asked my waiter for advice on a swimming spot and he recommended the tip of the town.  Off I head in search of a place to bathe...only to find a restaurant and a boat mooring spot.  I of course go into awkward mode and decide I guess I'll have a glass of wine.  After serving me wine, I asked the waiter where a place to go in the water was.  He says, oh I'm headed to swim after I leave here.  I can show you.  Me, thinking, this was part of his plan to meet up with friends agrees.  It must be close by, right?

The ferry ride and my scooter companion in Bellagio

He covers the wine and leads me to...his scooter???  Alright, I didn't realize this was part of the plan, but ok, sure, why not?  He FLIES through the little town at cringe worthy rates.  Slowing barely for people to jump out of the way, the policeman makes the "slow down" gesture at him, and I am holding on for dear life, hoping my bare skin won't be rubbed clean off by a crash.  We arrive...at a bar?  And he goes off to change (so yeah, I guess he wasn't originally planning on swimming after work), and tells me to get a drink at the bar.  I do, and wait.  He returns swim-trunks clad, and off we go again... to the other end of the town...

You might be thinking, seriously Natalie, you're an idiot!  Well, I may be, but I'm writing this so you know I'm alive, and it was such a fun, spontaneous afternoon.  And I did, in fact get to go swimming in the lake (it was F'ING COLD), laid out on the floating dock, jumped in again and again, and laughed with delight that this was where I was in my life.  We shared a couple spritz's, some vodka and lemon soda's, and he only had a couple hours before work, so I was able to get back on the ferry and head "home" to Como, Milan, and eventually Seattle.

I learned from this trip that when traveling alone, I prefer to be in big cities, as opposed to little villages (which are truly made for couples), and oh yeah, and I think I forgot to mention, I left my hairbrush at home and I was stuck with a comb for 2 weeks...  Here's to living life 'on the edge'!!