in to me see

Intimacy. 
In to me see. 

Intimacy is the foremost ignored aspect of a relationship... and the most important.  Most people refer to intimacy in regards to the physical closeness: kissing, touching, sex, etc.  For me, and for many others who choose a path of growth and self-betterment, it is almost completely emotional.  

We all have our baggage from our childhoods, our past relationships, friends who have wronged us, and our own mistakes (for those that truly own them).  It is how we carry that baggage that determines our success in our present and future relationships.  There are countless other analogies and metaphors for baggage and finding someone whose baggage "matches yours" or "is willing to carry some from time to time"... That's wonderful for those that it inspires, but for me, it is more about realizing what you carry with you and consolidating.  

When you are backpacking through the world, you can only bring with you what you can carry on your back and shoulders.  You don't need ten pairs of jeans and high heels for each color scheme.  You need the basics, the things that will get you through the rain and snow, the things that will shade you from the scorching sun, and the things that will remind you where you came from.  The same is true for relationships.  I, personally, have been a victim (and I do not use that term loosely) of every sort of abuse and I have had to learn over the last thirteen years what to bring with me, and what to leave on the table as I move on to the next place.  

The lesson I learned when I was cheated on by my boyfriend- with my best friend, no less- was to evaluate who my friends are, why they are my friends (Are they friends with me to gain something?  Are there ulterior motives?  Do their core values match mine?) and whether or not we are bringing out the best in each other.  That is the baggage I choose to bring with me: experience.  The baggage I chose to leave behind: distrust, anger, cynicism, and fear.   

It is very easy for people to get caught up in being the victim and create a pool of pity they are too afraid to climb out of.  Newsflash: You will eventually drown.  

With all this baggage, any person will begin to feel like Atlas, and their relationships will suffer.  How can you gaze into your partner's eyes and be completely honest and open when you looking for the easiest exit?  How can you lovingly embrace the person you want to spend your life with when your arms are full of baggage?  How can you hold hands and walk down the path when you have countless walls that you either built, or were constructed during one of your wars, hindering?  

Intimacy is not an option.  For a successful relationship of any sort, one must be open to change and willing to take down those walls... Even if it is brick by brick.  Some walls can be bulldozed in a short matter of time, and some will take ages.  It is a matter of that person in your life, the one standing on the other side of your wall, being worth the effort it takes to destroy those walls. That person will help you.  That person will accept you as you are.  That person will love you unconditionally.  

Without intimacy, your relationship with your family is nothing but obligation.  
Without intimacy, your relationship with your mate is nothing but friends with benefits.
Without intimacy, your relationship with your friend is nothing but social networking. 
Without intimacy, your relationship with yourself is nothing but an empty existence. 

Don't allow the beautiful things in your life to slip away because you can't reach them over your baggage.  Don't let that person run from you because you are throwing your baggage at them.  Life is too short- guilty of a cliche and too passionate to care- and you have spent the majority of your life learning how to love yourself... You don't have that kind of time to convince somebody else.  The same goes for them.  Tear down your walls, dump the baggage, and quit being a little bitch.  You have more to lose than you think... and regrets are the heaviest of baggage. Intimacy is the only thing that will help you on your journey.  The choice is yours. 

In life, you have three choices: Give up, give in, or give it all you've got. 

Don't blind yourself so you cannot see into your partner.

xx.a

somewhere between champagne and backpacks

I like to make movies in my head.  I also like to sound insane by admitting really strange things and blabbing them somewhat incoherently on a blog that I have managed to trick countless readers into following.  Yeah, so, movies... I like to close my eyes while lying in bed and listening to the sounds of the city and imagine myself in places halfway round the world.  I imagine myself, for example, in Dubai, running my fingers along the sleek glass of the Burj Al Arab Hotel as it glitters under the UAE sun.  I begin to feel the hot sand seep into my sandals as I wander the beaches and take in the slight, compassionate breeze.  I listen for the Arabic, Malayalam, and Urdu words that float through the air and into my ears like foreign lullabies that sing to sleep my worries of the unknown.  I breathe in the smells of nearby shishas being shared by friends and colleagues, smells of grape, peach, and apple call me to come inhale and taste their sweet smoke.  Shawarmas, ghuzi, hoummus, and lamb cause me time and time again to overeat, as the taste is too compelling to not have just one more... 

All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware. –Martin Buber

I see myself walking around markets and trying new foods, sharing experiences with new friends, and writing home to old ones.  Then, I remember where I am at that moment.  Whether I am lying in bed, riding the bus to work, walking through a park, or sipping wine on a patio... I am in Quito, Ecuador.  Six months ago, I was making movies in my sweet little hometown of Corona, California and dreaming about things I didn't even know that I would miss one day.  I dreamt of salsa dancing with Latin men, eating succulent chicken and steamy rice dishes, learning to speak Spanish, drinking ice cold beers in tiendas, and being surrounded by the bohemian spirit.  

I must constantly remind myself to be grateful for what I have, as I am not only currently living my dream but living another soul's dream, by chance, and how dare I take that for granted.  However, this fact will not keep me from dreaming, but will keep me grounded.  I find, once again, my life is a balancing act.  I refuse to let anyone tell me (or anyone else) what balance should be stricken, but I will concede that there need be one.  Some people are unable to live in the now and bury their heads in the sands of the future, finding themselves, one day, middle aged and no better off than they thought.  Some individuals refuse to look at any day but the one they reside in, giving no thought to what lies ahead.  I see merit in both of these approaches, but cannot help but dance slowly around both until we all are swaying together.  The dichotomy that both defines and frees me is what keeps me with my heart, mind, and eyes open.

I just celebrated my four month anniversary here in South America and have had a few revelations while lying on the grass watching the clouds move or cooking eggs and vegetables while listening to the rain fall... I have a gypsy spirit. I am always looking for an inexpensive plane ticket or some special on a boat or train that can deliver my spirit somewhere new and enriching.  I have lost almost all attachment to the things I have left behind in my parents' home and find myself missing people (and food) above all other worldly things. My gypsy spirit beckons to me on the regular, though I cannot honestly say that I always understand what it is she wants from me... However, I try and nourish her as often as I can.  The question has now become, "What nourishes my gypsy spirit?"

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.  -Marcel Proust

I find that when a backpack is strapped to my back and the ground moves at my discretion beneath my feet, that is when I am the most free.  I find myself dancing on the inside.  I live for the feeling of the unknown, the rush from adventure, and the newly sharpened perspective of a place or culture.  I love the independence of the road, the freedom of the sky, and the defiance of the sea.  I know what I take with me is all I need, the music that I find along the way will guide me as a soundtrack, and wherever I land there will be someone to share a cold beer and a story with. 

There is a small part of me that misses some of the comforts and, dare I say, luxuries... I am a sucker for a cold bottle of champagne and a hot bubble bath.  I don't care if it borders on a cliche from a Julia Roberts movie; I will surround myself with candles and soak in bath salts until I am drunk and pruned.  What is it about champagne and all that is associated with it that plucks at my heart strings?  I am not accustomed to luxuries, so it cannot be that I am spoiled or entitled... Is it security?  Perhaps.  The last 10 years have been more inconsistent than stable, by far, and the concept of stability is a folly, at this point.   

I have found that I now crave change more than ever, which contradicts my initial beliefs of stability being the answer to my pseudo-problems.  After just a few months in Ecuador, I was searching for mini-vacations to satiate my lust for travel and going to different bars and restaurants in an effort to diversify my days.  Instead of getting to know new friends over coffee, I prefer to take day trips with them or try something new and crazy.

I went to Colombia for Carnaval this passed February and stayed in a sweet little hostel a few minutes walk from Old Town. The freedom I felt as I rocked in an old, wooden rocking chair with my bare feet on the mosaic tile floor of the community courtyard was liberating. I am so fortunate to be sipping fresh Colombian coffee on the Caribbean coast, exploring one of the most misunderstood countries
In the world, and living, not only my dream, but countless others' as well. The beds were mediocre, but acceptable, the family running the hostel rarely wore shoes, and there was no hot running water. Why on earth was this heavenly to me? Where were the big, white fluffy bathrobes? Where was the huge jacuzzi tub? Where was the massive, luxurious bed? Why was I not missing any of those things?

These questions are not limited to this experience, nor my travels. I have little preoccupation with marriage and zero concern about my biological clock ticking. According to society, that makes me a gypsy and a weirdo... I'll take both with a smile. Though I truly miss my dryer, I have grown accustomed to hanging my laundry to dry. I feel as though my newly adopted lifestyle has altered my perception of what is normal and what is a luxury. A few years back, normal was having a fridge full of food, having a bathtub, and being able to flush toilet paper. All of those are now luxuries. I count change now, saving every coin I find, knowing it could add up to a bus fare or an almuerzo, whereas I used to give all my change to the neighborhood kids or into the family's communal beer bottle bank. I've not become money-hungry by any means, but I am definitely more careful than ever with my spending.

So, I've fallen in love with my backpack. I've traded my dreams of grey walls and throw pillows for dreams of conversations in a foreign language and stamps in my passport. What of my champagne? I am still a classy broad in need of romance (of my own, personal definition) and a a human being in need of comfort. Can I love both my backpack and my champagne? Must I choose? I believe that it can be both... I can stand on the top of a mountain, backpack in tow, and sip my champagne with sweet satisfaction. I have spent the majority of my adult life bending over backwards for people in my life, sacrificing career and self, it's my turn to find the balance I desire: I want champagne and a backpack.

My life is befitting of dichotomy. I work hard and I love harder. Dressing up and going out for a night on the town is as enticing as watching movies in bed while eating pizza. I find contradictions within my dichotomy... I feel at home in cities I've never been before. I find some of my best friends are people whom I spend a few hours speaking to while lying in a park. My favorite things to write about are experiences that leave me without words. Perhaps, my home lies somewhere between champagne and a backpack.

xx.a

i fell in love with a girl named quito

Quito. When I was looking to move abroad, all of these amazing places sprung into consideration. I imagined myself sipping Argentine wine in a romantically lit cobblestone courtyard in Buenos Aires while I watched locals and foreigners alike Tango and twirl. I saw myself bowing slightly to pass through the noren that hang in every restaurant throughout Japan, removing my shoes, and sitting amongst countless locals to eat the freshest sushi on earth while I practice my formal tea pouring and regional diction Japanese in Kyoto. I pictured myself eating tapas and viewing Gaudi's architecture along the streets of Barcelona before headed to the beach to sip Sangria and chat with the locals. Never did I think, "Hey, perhaps I will head to the Andes and try and build a life in a city I have never even seen a photo of", but therein lies the adventure.

I hadn't taken a Spanish class since Sra. Gallardo's Spanish class at Corona High School my sophomore year, and seeing as a solid decade had passed since then, I knew I was in for a challenge when I accepted a position in the capital of Ecuador. My sweet mother gifted me the South American and Ecuadorian Lonely Planet books (I live by these books) and I got started planning my new life... My new life in Quito. My mother and I popped open an ice cold bottle of champagne, poured two glasses worth into her fancy-schmancy crystal flutes, and opened the fresh, virgin pages of the travel guides to see what was in store for me.

On a side note: Admittedly, I am a bit of a planner. Ok, that is an understatement. I am a certified professional organizer and I love to plan, organize and make sense of things. I did do some research on Quito prior to my interview and my departure, but I found my gypsy spirit whispering, "Let go..." and so, for once, I did.

Back to the champagne. We drank, we read, we laughed, we dreamed. A short month later, I was sipping coffee with my father on the way to LAX as the sun seemingly chased us westward in the early November morning. Luggage in tow, containing carefully chosen articles, I sent vibes to this foreign city that would become my dwelling place for the next year. Would it become my home? Flash forward to the three month mark of my journey and I can say without hesitation that this city has become my home, my friend, and my lover.

My feet have grown accustom to the often jagged terrain of the streets and sidewalks that aid my navigation of Quito. I find that I need match my eyes to my steps less and less with each passing step and each passing day. The sounds of airplanes in the distance blend naturally with the clamor of honking taxis, buses shifting gears, and the symphony of car alarms that sound off endlessly throughout the city.

It is amazing to ride the blue city buses and watch contently out whichever window sports that day's adventure. Seeing something new every time, it allows the association of times passed to be connected with new sights, inciting, "I've been there before..." as connections are made. I am truly beginning to know this city. I am falling in love with her curves- both those soft and seductive, as well as those dangerous and elusive- as she allows me to explore them with the curiosity of a child. I have grown accustomed to the temperamental and fickle weather, just as women are perceived to be. As I leave my home some mornings, drenched by the time I reach the bus and taxi hub at the bottom of my hill, only to find myself peeling my coat and scarf off under the intense equator sun as I exit my class just a few hours later. The altitude, around 9,000 feet, depending on your location, offers a hospitable home for rolling, white clouds and constantly changing views in every direction. At night, when the sun rests, the fog rolls in like a team of bandits in the Wild West, occupying street corners and slowing traffic to a cautious roll. Quiteños fear not this timid fog, still linking arms and wandering the streets of La Mariscal in search of cuba libres and reggaeton music.

My ears have ceased searching for English in the sea of Spanish palabras (words) and have sat back in the hammock next to my brain and begun enjoying the challenge that has thus become a game: Learning Spanish. Reggaeton, Salsa, and Meringue music please my inner musician and songs have become familiar, just as in the States.

The incredible preservation and restoration of Centro Historico (Old Town) Quito has helped it quickly become one of my favorite areas to pass the time. Classic Colonial buildings are flanked by the soft, golden lights that guide locals and tourists alike down the streets towards canelazo and empanadas. Massive churches with ornate entrances remind us all that there is something greater than us, and we should all remember to not outgrow out britches. Street performers and beggars alike cast hopeful eyes in the direction of those who pass by and handfuls of plata (change) become the sought after treasure battled for by all.

Parque la Carolina, Quito's answer to Central Park, beckons to all who must pass by on their way to work or school. Flanked on the North side by an art exhibit of massive hummingbirds that have been decorated by local artists, Parque la Carolina hosts jungle gyms, museums, paddle boats, islands, bridges, a skate park, grassy knolls, basketball courts, soccer fields, shady trees, and all sorts of guests who use the park for their own benefit.

My legs have grown accustomed to the countless hills that are to be climbed on my daily rounds and I have found that my daily retirement upon my pillow is always truly welcomed. It has never failed, however, that my mind and body rejoice in venturing out again into my city when it calls upon me.

When I am sick, she lulls me to sleep with her many voices. When I am weary, she reminds me of the incredible, bustling life going on around me. When I grow lonesome, she provides me thousands of people to listen to and watch. When I find myself lost, she shows me a sliver of curving mountaintop or a peak at a street sign, and I have once again found my way. When I feel like dancing, sweet Quito delivers me music to entice my soul and my hips.

She is a good lover, this Quito, and I seek to enjoy every last day with her...

¡SIGA! ¡SIGA! ¡SIGA!

Every day I leave my house in La "Y" (pronounced: 'La Yay') and wander down the broken asphalt of Echaverria to our giant Roundabout-o-Death in hopes of a miraculous break in traffic so I can scurry across dodging cars, motorbikes, buses, horns, and sly comments in Castellano (Spain-influenced Spanish).  I walk down to the corner, past the tienda where we buy our beer, eggs and bread, and stand amongst other Quiteños and hope the next electric blue, smog machine that comes barreling down the feeder road is headed my way.  

My limousine.  I like to share. 

I am fortunate enough to have been born a woman, in that the bus will almost completely stop for me when I am attempting to get on.  When I am strapped into 3+ inch heels, this is a blessing beyond comprehension by the male brain (well, most male brains, but that's another story entirely).  The humor in that we as women are given a hard time about the buses treating us well (they also stop for people who look like they could be 100 years old and anyone carrying a child like a football or basket of bread) is that once we are on that first step, the bus driver- conductor- is off.  Most times, it feels as if he has skipped first gear entirely and thrown the blue beast into second gear and we are handing our twenty-five cents over to the controlador (fare-collector) who wanders up and down the aisle.  How they remember who paid and didn't during rush hour is beyond me, and I have a knack for faces.  

During rush hour, getting on the bus is an Olympic event.  Usually, I must climb on amidst countless other (not to mention over-capacity) Quiteños and squeeze in between a middle-aged man who, coincidentally, falls at the appropriate height to function as a guard for the money stashed in my bra, should I need him to, and an indigenous woman with a baby strapped to her with a bed sheet and a bag of some unnamed vegetable either on her head or squared between her short, sturdy legs.  The crowd is not conducive to personal space, let alone the aforementioned jerking of the bus, which causes you to get to know your immediate traveling companion in the biblical sense.  

Standard method for carrying babies, though typically more complex in the wrap. This one looks like he can breathe, which is an anomaly.

On the off hours, you should find a simple plastic seat with your name on it.  Those who sit in the aisle do not rise or scoot over to allow you to pass by and lower yourself onto the window adjacent seat; they simply scoot both knees to the aisle and keep their glazed stare on the passing buildings or on the sales person selling choclates, caramelos, dulces, and chicle.  No one wants their bag sliced.  The dull roar of the engine and warm sun beaming through the messy glass makes for a nostalgic ride, like when we were babies and our parents, worn out from pacing us back and forth while we wailed, would strap us into the car and drive us around the block until we were lulled into a peaceful slumber. 


Sometimes there are entertainers who enter the bus, much like those selling soccer nets, sweets, ice cream, music, hats, chips, etc.  I have seen two boys under the age of ten come on to the trolé and blow the windows out of it with two classical guitars and voices that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up out of respeto.  Conversely, I have had a tall, goofy man with skin the color of lacquer come on with a jump drive and speakers and rap the same three words over and over and then stick his hand in my face for his due diligence.  Back it up, buddy. No me gusta.

¡SIGA!  ¡SIGA!  ¡SIGA!

It means "Go ahead..." but it comes across as, "Get on the goddamn bus and get away from the door".  The laid back, round-to-it attitude of the Latin Americans disappears as soon as that electric blue tank rolls around the corner of the redondel and screech to a halt- never where you are, mind you, but about ten feet away and around ankle-breaking potholes- and you hear ¡SIGA! Shit.


Every parada where countless ¡SIGA! exclamations are poured out of the open bus door onto the grimy streets of Quito, I see people get off the bus and return to their private lives; filing into twenty story buildings, wandering into local restaurantes or exchanging kisses and handshakes with loved ones.  At stop lights, local performers wander between vehicles juggling bowling pins, spinning poi, throwing balls over buses to their counterpart, riding unicycles, you name it. Older indigenous women meander the lanes with newspapers, fresh corn on the cob, lottery tickets and handmade items.  Pedestrians scramble to cross the asphalt before the light changes to green and horns begin to blare out of sheer habit.  Drivers pitan (honk) and have zero remorse... Think NYC with flavor. 

Exiting the bus is by far the least stressful leg of my daily adventure, I bid a lighthearted Gracias to the holder of my destiny as a thanks for not killing me between La 'Y' and Estadio Olympico (where my employer is).  As the bus rolls away, I always find myself feeling as though I left a part of myself on the bus... With the child who was turned around in their seat looking over their mother's shoulder at the gringa smiling back... With the old man with the brown fedora perfectly framing his experienced face and snow-white hair that has probably lived two or three lifetimes.... With the woman wrangling three children who want nothing more than ice cream from the man in the bright red uniform on the bicycle...

I am amazed at the pace of the daily life here in Quito.  The incredible people who unknowingly cling to their culture inspire me to look deeper into mine, as well as to create my own.  I know in my heart, that every day I am fortunate to be here in Ecuador and that this was by far the best decision of my life.  My "Year of the Yes" will continue into 2012, without a doubt, and I will continue to ¡SIGA! every chance I get.  A massive part of my blessings are derived from the people I have met here... But that is another blog, as they deserve recognition, if for nothing else, just for helping me find my home here in South America. 

Go forth... ¡SIGA!

xx.a

Ecuador Bound!

It's been years in the works, 100+ hours of certification, months of planning every single step, months of improvising when said steps were different than anticipated, countless sleepless nights, hundreds of questions (some of which remain unanswered), thousands of prayers... But it is finally a sweet reality.... 

I am moving to Quito, Ecuador to teach English! 

I physically am incapable of speaking these words without breaking into the biggest, nerdiest grin humanly possible.  My heart has never been so full and happy, nor has my deepest self ever been so sure of this being the right path.  I am beside myself in joy and am proud of all of my accomplishments, as this is something that I did by my own free will, but also with the support from friends and family, and for that I am supremely grateful.  

I will be teaching English to business professionals on the Equator, two miles in the air.  When did my life become so fascinating?  Well, truth me told, it was pretty damn cool before when I was traveling the world modeling, studying in Europe, achieving scholastic greatness with a triple-major, double-minor degree, producing television and radio commercials for brand giants like KIA and Universal Studios in my native Los Angeles, rocking a massive corporate restaurant chain in Dallas, becoming certified as a Professional Organizer, and nannying for one of the best families I have ever met.  Lord knows I love to take things to the next level, so why not teach English in South America?  

As I revealed my amazing news to my family and closest friends, I discovered that there were quite a few misconceptions as to what kind of place Quito and Ecuador as a country are.  Some people thought I was going to be in an urban metropolis dominated by cement giants.  Others believed I was going to walk to a classroom down a muddy road and live in a grass hut.  I Googled these images (thanks, Google!) to give you readers an idea of where I am headed, and to preemptively answer questions regarding my new adventure.  You can find all the information about Quito & Ecuador aquí and find a little love for Latin America until I get over there, settled, and start posting about how things are coming along.  

When I started blogging a year ago, I had no idea that my blog would have well over 2,700 hits thus far, that I would be moving to a foreign country other than Japan, that I would be surrounded by and involved with the most amazing people on the planet, and could possibly be this happy!  I am truly a blessed individual.  Every struggle, every heartache, every heart break, every disappointment, every wrong turn, every mistake... They all were stepping stones leading to this monumental moment in my life where my heart is screaming "YOTY!" (Year of the Yes) and I am forever changed.  


I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestioned ability of a man to elevate his life by conscious endeavor.  -Henry David Thoreau 


Soy verdad agradecido para el amor y apoyo demostrado por usted... And off I go to practice my Spanish...  xx.a

dynamics of goodbye

Goodbye.  It's not such an awful word... There are more appealing versions of it: farewell, ciao, so long, until we meet again...  I understand that the notion of goodbye is tough on some people, and for good reason, but I think that goodbye has become an egocentric notion that does not allow for the individual leaving to make the best of their situation.  I prefer to meet goodbyes with a positive mindset:  


May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall softly on your fields. And until we meet again, May God hold you in the hollow of his hand. -Irish Blessing


In other words, "Thanks for being a part of this chapter of my life".  Recent events have lead me to finally pursue my dream of teaching English abroad, and my friends and family are handling it... differently.  That is literally the only word that accurately describes the group and individual efforts of those that reside in my life.  Some of my nearest and dearest friends have rallied behind me in a united effort; offering to help with costs of certification, help me study, help teach me Spanish... You name it.  Some friends have retreated behind the front line in an effort to avoid being wounded in battle.  It wouldn't bother me so much if these individuals communicated with me, but I suppose that is asking too much.  


It is so difficult to walk away from people you love, and I would know, as I have done it more than anyone I know.  (In my defense, I wasn't running away from anything or anyone, it was all for higher education, career moves, etc.)  However, if approached from the right perspective and emotional base, it can also be a character-building experience.  Sometimes you have a choice in walking away, such as I do, and you just have to hope that those around you support you and send you off with love and well-wishes.  Sometimes, you are pinned to the wall and don't have an inch to breathe.  It is then that you hope your loved ones will rally, open their arms and hearts, and make the best of the situation in an effort to ease the pain and stress of your departure.  People who shut down, run away, or become a shadow of their former selves are often the ones that hurt the most: hurting themselves and hurting those leaving.  

Try to remember that leaving is the closing of one chapter, but it is also the beginning of a fresh and beautiful chapter for your loved one.  Be open minded, share your self, and hope for the best for everyone.  Some things have to fall apart for others to come together... That is the beautiful dichotomy of life.  You cannot fall in love with your soulmate if you are in a relationship with someone else


Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened. -Dr. Seuss 


This blog was initially about my departure, but life has a funny way of mixing things up... 


To my second family:  You will always be blood.  You will always live in my heart.  You will always be Mamma K, Oh Daddy Pappa K, Tuta Taquito, Kiwi Wiggle Beans... Of course, KyKy, too.  Lucky's bark will almost be missed, but her spirit and beer drinking abilities will be.  You compose half my stories, millions of inside jokes, the best memories, and I am who I am because you were here.  I cannot thank you enough for everything you have ever done for me, nor all that you have given me.  You are the true definition of family.  Thank you for loving me.


To tequila out the eye.
To Ray Charles in log cabins.
To only if you'll take me.
To crash. 
To wedding dresses.
To nerd glasses. 
To writing on the family room floor. 
To Laguna Beach. 
To limo rides to Vegas.
To falling up escalators. 
To the Oh Daddy dance. 
To Mexico.
To pole dancing. 
To songs for everything. 
To pot smoking lesbian lovers.
To Coors Light. 
To drunken chair racing. 
To drunken cooler racing.
To guitars and Maaammmmmma Kriiisitiii.
To Kevin and Art are lovers.
To Paprika. 
To Sunday Funday. 
To Angels baseball in the garage.
To being a lady.
To cutting someone.  Twice. 
To buttery nipples. 
To SoCo... but don't tell.
To half pints.
To garage time.
To brown on top, red on the bottom.
To HGTV & DIY junkies.
To mimosas.
To potato/tomato/cake.
To soccer.
To bang the drum. 
To drunk dogs. 
To LYMI 
To I'd do it myself but I don't have thuuuumbs.
To build me up, buttercup.
To stfu.
To family.
To the people who changed my life for the better.  You are irreplaceable. 

xx.a

sunrise in my soul

"We must get beyond textbooks, go out into bypaths... and tell the world the glories of our journey." -John Hope Franklin


Have you ever been so excited that your hands literally are shaking and you cannot stop smiling?  It feels like the sun is rising in my abdomen and there are chirping birds in my lungs, singing a beautiful melody with every breath I take.  I love the feeling of happiness, hope, and inner peace.  


I officially registered to become TESOL/TEFL/TESL certified.  By the end of August, I will be qualified to teach English as a foreign language and will begin applying for jobs over seas.  Those of you who have been a part of my adult life know that I have wanted to do this for the better part of a decade, however, I made the choice to- let's just leave it at "postpone"- my dream for others.  Twice.  In the last 9 months, I have had an awakening in my soul and started respecting and loving myself more than ever.  I have become a better version of myself and I am the happiest I have ever been.  Now I can pursue my dream, because I know I deserve it, and I do not need another's validation.


This adventure I am about to embark on marries so many of my favorite things in life: travel, teaching, passion, learning, adventure... The list goes on and on.  I have found nothing but support from my family and nearest and dearest friends, and for that I am endlessly thankful.    Initially, my intent was to venture out through the JET Programme, however in light of recent events I feel my path is taking me elsewhere.  I will always have a serious love affair with Japan, and we will one day be reunited, but for now I will find love in another place.  I was also looking very seriously into Dubai, however being a woman (and a sassy one, at that) it would be extremely difficult for me to find a job without a Masters Degree and limited work experience (they also have a hold on all work visas for non-UAE passports).  Based on my qualifications and what is out there in this market, I am looking at South America.  Brazil and Argentina are the top two contenders for my attention, thus far, and I am taking some serious time to research the countries and their respective lifestyles, pay, cost of living, etc.  

This is going to happen very quickly, but it has been a long time coming, so I feel the immediacy of my departure is appropriate.  I will begin applying to schools in both countries (as well as Ecuador, Taiwan & Panama) at the beginning of September, and depending on the interview and work visa processes, I could be gone as early as November 2011.  Wherever this adventure takes me, I will still be on facebook, Skype, ooVoo, Whatsapp and blogging faithfully.  Once I am assigned a school and get settled, I will also develop a work-based blog from an ESL teacher's perspective, but more on that later down the road. 

There will be a couch available to anyone who wants to make the trek and visit me wherever I am teaching, and know that I am still adding things to my Bucket List, though achieving this goal will definitely be crossing a few off of it as well! I hope that you all start thinking about whether or not you are grabbing hold of your dreams and desires of the heart.  Life is far too short and far too beautiful.  I breathe freely knowing that one day, this sunrise in my soul will be one on another continent, and I am free. 

“Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free til they find someone just as wild to run with them.” 

xx.a

Manifested People?

Whether or not you recognize it, you are faced daily with decisions that alter the rest of your life.  Sometimes these are major decisions; such as moving to another hemisphere or switching careers.  Sometimes they are smaller decisions; like taking a walk instead of watching television or going with a friend to one bar instead of another.  Sometimes, when the fates are smiling, these less obvious decisions turn out to be one of the greatest things to ever happen to you.

The challenge in life is to see beyond what these decisions result in and to see the beautiful additions they present to your life.  I have recently had a lot of blessings appear in my life out of a proverbial nowhere.  I use, "proverbial" because I know it was manifested somehow... My mind and heart became more open to whatever it was I subconsciously wanting in my life.  Some extraordinary people have recently entered into my life, and for that I am forever thankful.  I never would have found these connections without a simple decision to leave one place and head to another; a whim, if you will.  Spontaneity changed my life, even if only slightly, but it's enough to stick with me and warm my heart on the rainy days. 


Is it possible that I manifested people to come into my life by appreciating my 'sponsoring thoughts' without me even knowing it?  Did I switch from fear... to love? (See the book, Conversations with God for further understanding.)  Somehow, I must have opened up a hidden door and allowed myself to be magnificent again, as the people entering my life mirror just that: magnificence.


Either way, it is a wonderful reminder, when fantastic people enter your life, to continue to thrive and live hard and purposefully. These people re-open your eyes and reinvigorate that which is sleeping inside you, and it's fantastic.  I have always felt myself fortunate in life, having the chance to travel, gain a greater education and meet some of the most incredible people on the planet.  I love when life looks at me and says, "You ain't seen nothing yet..." 


So as I wander these paths, I know the hearts of those I have connected with are with me, as I am with them.


"The purpose of life, after all, is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experiences." - Eleanor Roosevelt


xx.a