Remember when…

Oh, hey! Hi. Hi.

Remember the glorious days when I used to write incessantly and then post it on Facebook so that everyone and their mom saw it?

Yeah. Those were good days. I miss them. A lot. I love writing. I gotta get back to that.

But I feel as though, in Lubbock, I’m frozen when it comes to putting my thoughts on paper. I’m so focused on not thinking about where I am, and trying to figure out where in the heck I’m actually going, that I forget to actually live day to day. It kind of sucks.

Argh.

I’m tired, so unbelievably TIRED, about constantly writing about freakin’ places I miss. Before I moved I wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of Lubbock and never, ever look back.

And then I moved. And I loved Boston, truly. But the entire time I was there I wrote about how much I missed Texas.

Now I’m back, and all I can think is that I miss Boston more than I’ve ever missed anything in the world.

My biggest problem is feeling as though I stunted my growth. When I came back from Boston I felt like a new girl. I’d faced new things and learned to stand up to problems and people and speak up for myself. I finally learned how to be confident and bold — to a point. Here, nothing really challenges me outside of work. I’ve settled back into my old life so quickly and so easily it feels like it’s swallowed me up completely.

It’s like I’m chasing this constant feeling of peace. I’m always trying to find that place where my heart actually feels still in some ways possible. My sister and my mom say I need church. But I don’t know. I think I need adventure.

I need to nurse this restless feeling and let it take me where it wants to.

What I’ve been looking into lately allows me to choose an unconventional lifestyle; a life spent stretching myself to my furthest limits and actually trying some new things out.

I want to write about actual adventures.

Half of what I loved most about living in Boston was that things constantly seemed to happen to me that made life exciting. Brilliant. Unpredictable.

A man prayed over me in Starbucks.

Steve brought me coffee every single day at that flower shop of mine.

I stumbled upon forgotten gardens on my walks.

I learned from Betsy.

I unfortunately was the victim of an Internet scam. Looking back now it’s funny, but I’m pretty sure that was the demise of my Boston experience.

I danced my heart out to unconventional bands.

I let my heart be broken a little bit by the diversity of people living in one place. Truly.

The point is, you have to have experiences to write. They always say authors write what they know, and right now, in a city where very little is happening to me, there’s not much for me to write about. And I don’t have time to be imaginative. (I mean, really? It’d take a shitload of imagination to spice up this place.)

I don’t want to moan about missing Boston anymore.

Yet, I’m not going to whine about living and working here and wanting to be out again.

All I can do is move forward. That’s a scary thought. In some ways it feels like I failed by coming back, so striking out for a second time is infinitely more scary. But hey, time will tell.

Things really aren’t so bad here.

Maybe I need to search a little deeper for those interesting moments.

But I don’t think anything will compare to getting prayed over by a man in Starbucks. We’ll see.

Just remember.

So, as I suspected it might be, my time away from my blog was short-lived.

I thought that by ending my blog I could just live my life, instead of narrating it for those I love. Which, if you think about it, is a little pointless considering I talk to most of my friends quite frequently.

My reason for deciding to begin writing on this thing is simple: I had a jolt. I saw something that moved me earlier, and my fingers ached to be at my computer, typing madly enough to get my thoughts down before they left my brain.

I had to wait an hour or so, but here I am. Back.

And that’s my problem these days. I’m back. Back in the place I used to hate, and striving to make it better than last time. I’m enjoying my job and I’m spending time with friends I missed so dearly the last two months.

Do you remember this day? The day where I saw a bumper sticker that made me smile and made me list stupid things about myself? It made me re-evaluate why I wanted to move to Boston and made me…not question…but think very hard about what I wanted to do come January 2010.

Well today, I saw that same damn bumper sticker. I was stopped at a light, listening to music, looked up and at the car in front of me. And what do you think I saw? It was the same car. The same bumper sticker with the same message that always makes me tear up a little.

It made me smile because it was another one of those small little signs that I needed. I needed to see that and read it and remind myself what makes me me.

One of my favorite bloggers, Her, wrote a post recently that makes me cry. I go back and read it frequently, because she and her husband seem to feel the same way that I do about our 20s: We all feel a little lost sometimes and unsure of what the next move is. What the correct move should be. It’s never easy, and we’re all finding that there’s never a clear-cut yes or no answer. I think we’re figuring out that sometimes it’s better to take a leap of faith and jump–and then figure out things once you land.

That’s what I’ve done in my life. I moved to Boston. I moved back to take a great job.

Now? Now I’m making plans to leap again. Not anytime soon; not for another year. But it’s going to happen again. I like being the adventurous girl; the one with the spirit and the guts and the passion and the drive.

And I’m going to continue reminding myself one thing:

It’s OK to feel lost in life. I just have to keep in mind I’m the girl with the damn wanderlust.

Hair-raising success.

Hello, everyone. Say hello to me, Boston’s newest freelance writer.

Hmm? What’s that? How did this happen, you ask? I’d be happy to explain. It goes way back. Settle in; it’s a good story. And it begins with my hair.

I’ve had issues with my hair a long, long, very long time.

It’s curly. It makes me look like a fourth grader. I switch products weekly because nothing ever seems to work well at controlling the curl. Or keeping it straight. A couple years ago I finally took the plunge and chopped it short, which I loved.

When I moved to Boston I decided a new life meant a new haircut. New place, new me. That was the idea. Because I was trying to save money at every turn I held my breath and went to this place called Blaine Beauty School. Basically the place gives cheap haircuts and highlights because the students are the ones who are the stylists. They are watched over by their instructors, but still, it’s a little nerve-wracking.

My experience was great though. This guy named Jason cut my hair, and he was the sweetest man ever. We hit it off and talked about everything while he painstakingly cut and highlighted my hair. Three and a half hours later he was finished. And he told me wanted to give me a haircut that made me more distinctive. He said my haircut would help prospective employers take notice of me and notice me more.

Two months later this is exactly what happened.

Last Sunday I was working in the flower shop when this woman came in. She wanted to buy flowers for her mother-in-law, and she didn’t care what she got. In her words she “despised the woman.” Haha. While I was wrapping her flowers for her, she commented on my haircut and how much she liked it. She asked me where I got it cut and from there we just started chatting. One thing led to another and I mentioned how I recently moved to Boston from Texas, then I told her I’d just graduated from college.

She asked me what I’d studied and when I told her journalism her eyes lit up.

“Journalism? So you write then?”

Yes. I write. Not well. But I try.

But I didn’t tell her that. I told her that yes, I write and I love it. I told her I’ve been looking for any sort of job that would give me more experience.

She whipped out a piece of paper and started talking again, telling me about what she does and that I should e-mail her. She told me she knew people at the Weekly Dig and at Stuff and at the Boston Phoenix. She told me she was looking for someone to work on writing projects for her. This woman moves very quickly and before I knew it she was out the door, leaving me with her e-mail address in hand and a fluttering heart. I was wondering if it was some sort of a joke.

A couple days later I decided to shoot her an e-mail to see what whould happen. I kept it quiet from everyone because I didn’t want to be embarrassed like I was with that other job. But after receiving a positive response from her I started to feel better. We set up a meeting for my next day off, which was today, to talk about getting started on some writing projects.

Basically, this woman is an event planner for JP Centre/South Main Streets. It’s an organization in Jamaica Plain that’s focused on keeping the community a part of the big cities. It focuses on shopping locally and drawing tourists into areas of the city that are off the beaten path, so to speak.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I went in today. I was afraid to hope. I didn’t want to be disappointed again.

But, my readers, I was anything but disappointed. 

I met with the woman and she started reeling off story ideas for me to begin working on immediately.

She wants me write about First Thursdays, an art event in JP. She wants me to do profiles over interesting people in Jamaica Plain, one of whom is the former personal assistant to Steven Tyler. Yes, the Steven Tyler. She wants me come up with my own ideas and be creative. I have a bit of free rein with this project, I was excited to learn.

After picking my jaw up off the floor I started furiously writing everything down. She threw names and numbers of contacts at me so quickly I could barely get it all down. She suggested I write a story a week. She told me she wanted me to write a few press releases for her events; press releases that will possibly be in the Weekly Dig and the Phoenix, and if she can swing it, the Boston Herald and the Globe. The Boston Globe. Yes, the Globe. Me. In the Globe. It’s a slim possibility, but it’s a possibility nonetheless. (And in case you forgot, possiblity is my favorite word.)

She set me up with a more professional e-mail address and is getting me in touch with a designer to get business cards. She wants me to be able to hand out my cards as a freelance writer at events, because apparently, I get to attend them with her.

She wants to help me because by writing these stories for her I’m helping her out.

Why do I deserve this? I feel so blessed. Three months ago I was at home in Midland and had graduated 10 days prior. Now I’m in Boston, working at a flower shop and acting as a freelance writer.

What if I had never done this? That thought scares me even more than actually moving here scared me. What if I had never moved here, had never gone to that beauty school on that one night that Jason was there? What if I’d never started working at the flower shop and never met this woman?

What if I’d listened to the professors and advisers at school who told me not to move to Boston?

I have to wonder what I’d be doing right now. 

I know this isn’t a “forever” job. I know that it’s not permanent and I know that it sucks to not get paid for my work.

BUT.

But it’s something to put on my resume. It’s more experience and it’s a way to get my name out there in Boston. I am a writer in Boston. How supremely awesome is that?

I’ve always been told how difficult it is to get “in” in Boston; that it’s an extremely closed community to outsiders. This is how I picture it. Boston is a closed door. But I shoved my foot in the miniscule crack and I’m forcing my way in and won’t stop until I make it. I’ve got my foot in the door.

So tomorrow, I get to start working on my first story. And that makes me so unbelievably happy. I feel like I’m about to burst out of my skin with joy.

It’s days like today where I’m going to be so happy I smile widely at strangers. This is when I feel less skeptical and cynical about the world. This is the type of day where I’m able to believe in magic and in hope and in the power of dreaming.

Because look where dreaming big got me.

Meh.

Last semester, when I was getting ready to graduate and move, I listened to one playlist of music over and over and over. I loved these songs because the lyrics really spoke to my heart and encouraged me on days where the last thing I wanted to was haul over to school. I listened to them in the mornings when I was gettin ready for classes, when I got home from work and school and when I was gettng ready for sleep. These songs made me hope that things would change eventually, and gave me faith in myself and my dreams. They made me want to strive for more and go different places. And now, here  I am in Boston.

I listened to these songs over and over this weekend on repeat, simply to remind myself of a few things.

I wanted to feel my drive again. I wanted to hear the words that had inspired me in the past because I need them to inspire me in my present, when I often feel a little lost. So here’s just a little sample of this musical goodness. (Really, though? My music choices are lame. So forgive me.)

1. “Defying Gravity” from Wicked. Oh, yes. I Love This Song. Whenever I had my car I would put in this CD, switch it to this song, and absolutely BLAST this song over and over. It’s amazing. It’s one of the few songs I will sing to. The lines that are my favorite are, “I’m through accepting limits / Cuz someone says they’re so / Some things I cannot change / But til I try I’ll never know.”

2. “Break Me Out” by The Rescues. I found this song on a random episode of Grey’s Anatomy. I can’t remember which, but the song caught my attention. Great song.

3. “Runaway” by Love and Theft. This is a perfect, amazing song. I listened to it on repeat so many times I think my iTunes lost count.

4. “Heartbreak World” by Matt Nathanson. This song got to me with just the first couple of lines. It says “Let’s all pack up and move this year / We’ll slip the lines and disappear.” And then later, “In this heartbreak world of just imagine / with its tired talk of better days / in this heartbreak world where nothing matters / C’mon let’s make this dream / that’s barely half awake come true.” Oh. Shivers. I love it because these lines really emphasize how it’s important to chase your dreams. What else is there to live for?

5. “Gone” also by Matt Nathanson. Basically it just says “Gone, let it wash away the best I had / Gone, and when I disappear / Don’t expect me back.” I know this song isn’t about what I use it for, but really, that’s the beauty of words. They can be twisted to mean anything.

6. “We weren’t born to follow” by Bon Jovi. Obvious.

7. “Boston” by Augustana. Um, duh. Hello. If I had a show like The Hills, this is song that would be played in the introduction. I know it’s lame. I know it’s a silly song. The day I drove back to Lubbock from Midland, after talking to my parents about my plans to move and making a concrete decision to do so, I listened to the song on repeat the ENTIRE way. No joke. You don’t understand what hearing that song did for me.

So that was part of my little playlist. I know that these songs make me seem completely idealistic, but really, they were such good reminders for me.

And now that I’m in Boston, and things have happened, I have to listen to them to remind myself of my dreams.

“I think I’ll go to Boston. I think that I’m just tired. I think I need a new town, to leave this all behind.”

Peace.

I’m trying to take this whole job fiasco in stride. You know, let it roll off my back. Shake it off. Get back on that horse. Walk it off.

Looking for jobs is a love/hate thing for me. On the one hand, I hate looking for them because it brings to my attention all the things I can’t do. I don’t have ten years experience in this or that, or even three years.

All I bring to the table is a winning smile and my sparkling personality. Heh.

It’s daunting, to say the least. But searching for jobs does remind me that I am unlimited in my search. Yes. I just moved to Boston, but really, who’s to say Boston is where I have to stay? That’s the part I love. I love the freedom.

Hey. Just wanted to say thanks to everyone this week. Your encouragement and prayers really meant a lot to me and I am absolutely humbled me the support I received.

Peace. Like my dove. That’s supposed to be my reminder. So I really need to start remembering this.