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Dream bigger, please. Make magic.

December 31, 2010 3 comments

2010. You little bastard.

2010 was the weirdest year of my life. 2010 was the hardest year of my life. It was the most stretching, the most difficult, the most heartbreaking.

And yet, it also was the most triumphant year of my life. In 2010 I feel as though I changed into a different — a person that I’m beginning to be ok with. I like the way I’ve changed — for the most part. There’s always things to work on.

There was no big romantic love this year. That was a big difference. I think it was because my heart is still a little torn up about Boston. I gave so much of myself to that endeavor — I spent months planning, dreaming, imagining. I spent months searching for an apartment, visualizing myself taking the T, walking through the snowy streets of that new city. There was no room for anyone or anything else in my heart. And right now, there’s still not. I think I’m not happy unless I’m planning my next big escape, and putting my heart and soul into that.

That’s ok, right?

Leaving Boston was heartbreaking. It broke me for a little while. But anyway.

So here’s my year-in-review. 2010: What a year.

January.

My dream.

Well, of course, I up and moved to Boston. Jan. 10, 2010. I remember not being as scared as I should have been. I didn’t realize the implications of my move, or how hard it could be. What I remember most is the satisfaction of saying I would do something and actually following through with it. It was a good feeling.

It was a great feeling. January was a good month. I explored, I walked, I observed new people. I found a wall by Mass Art that had the gem of a quote that’s the title of this post. I worked for sweet Betsy. It was a magical month. I loved Boston: The snow covering the Common, riding the T. The frozen Charles river. Eerything.

February.

Oh, February. We didn’t get along so well. I can honestly say it was the hardest month this year. But I survived it. And it was the month that sparked my writing nearly every day, which I love.

I went to New York City by myself for Valentine’s Day, and it was incredible.

Freedom.

In February I fell. I thought I had a job and then I didn’t. And that’s OK.

Life isn’t always daisies and roses and freakin’ rainbows. People suck sometimes. But that’s OK. We’re all human.

So February. I fell and it took me a while to get back on my feet. But I did, finally, and I was all the better for it.

March.

Spring. Life. Flowers. March was when I got my job in the flower shop. And truly: I loved it. The job made me happier than every job I’ve held so far. The people I interacted with were (for the most part) pretty amazing. I worked harder than I’ve ever worked before, and for a while, I was happier than I’d ever been.

Love.

Love.

I met some truly incredible people: People I still remember today. The pansies man, and Steve. The guy who wanted the rose. The other guywho ays needed a beautiful bouquet for his girlfriend — and always made a point to talk to me and start a conversation, and find out why I moved out to Boston. He was kind, and I appreciated it. There was Cena, the man who worked in the shop next to the flower shop. He was kind — and always gave me an apple. 🙂 There was also the eccentric hair dresser: She was fabulous, and always stopped to tell me the display looked, “Fabulous, love, just fabulous.” She made my days happy.

I also met some amazing people outside of work. Being me though, I screwed it up, royally. And I still wish it had worked out differently.

April.

A hard month. My employers left for a trip to NYC for two weeks, and I was pretty much in charge of the shop in Back Bay. I worked for two weeks straight and it was hard. Little did I know, it was the beginning of the end. I worked double shifts from 7:30 a.m. to 9 or 10 at night. It. Was. Brutal. Apparently I have a hard time saying no when people ask me to work.

May.

I left Boston.

My Boston.

I left Boston in the hopes that I’d get the job I have now. My best friend got married, and her wedding was beautiful. But it was hard being home. I was resentful and missing Boston and frustrated with myself for giving up. It was a hard month. I remember writing one night that it already felt like someone else’s life. And it did. It felt like I’d never left, and I hated that.

But it was also nice getting reacquainted with my friends, my family, and more importantly: Texas. I realized while in Boston I dearly love this state: The people, the atmosphere, the rolling, flat landscape. It’s beautiful in its own way, and I can appreciate it now. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stay here forever. Hell no. There’s too much of that great, big, beautiful, amazing and ever-changing world to see. I can’t wait.

June.

My birthday month. The month I started my first job at a newspaper. I made some stupid mistakes, I sat by the pool drinking beers with my best friend and I settled into my new job.

I tried to end my blog, but that didn’t last. Even though I don’t write as much as I used to, this blog is important to me. I like knowing it’s here; that I can use it as an outlet for my joys, my struggles, my angst and thoughts.

A trip to Barnes and Noble one morning sparked a new love: Travel. Exploring the world. It was at that point I started thinking about some new opportunities within the next few years.

July.

Hmm. July. I stopped writing. It was like my words dried up for a little while. I was still learning to settle down in Lubbock. And learning about the job. But once I got into a rhythm, it wasn’t so bad. But in the back of my head,  Iwas still dreaming. Always dreaming. I’m never not dreaming.

August.

I don’t even know. I was reading a lot and working a lot and missing Boston. To be honest, it all blends together. It was an unremarkable month, much like most of my months and days lately.

September.

Oh, this was a good month. My good friend from Germany came to visit, and it was so good to see him and catch up after nearly six years of not seeing each other. It was definitely interesting and a little bit unexpected. Hmmm…I think that’s all I’ll say on here.

This month I also realized how to accept where I am. I made a conscious effort to stop regretting my choices, and learn to be where I am. Does that make sense? I’m trying, really I am.

I also came to the realization that no matter where I am in my life, there’s always going to be things back home I’ll miss. So, to counteract that, I’ve gotta be somewhere awesome so it’s not so bad.

Oh, and I also went skydiving. It was amazing. incredible. Liberating. I LOVED IT.

Liberation.

October.

October, October…hmm. October I realized I had to start being happy. I had to stop reliving my time in Boston, because it wasn’t coming back. And that was ok. I have other things to look forward to. Bigger things. Better things.

October was hard. I was working six days a week and it. was. rough. I felt like I never left work, but I did save an ass-load of money. That’s nice.

November.

November I missed my first holiday with my family: Thanksgiving. It was hard, then again, what’s not hard these days?

And December.

The last month of the year. Christmas. The holidays. Cheer and thanksgiving and peace.

I worked Christmas too. And now I’m here, on the same couch I was on in 2009, ringing in the new year the same way. And yet, I’m different, so that’s OK. I don’t mind it.

This year is over. As I’m writing this, there are 2 hours and 5 minutes left in the year.

I’m ready, 2011. I thought I was ready for 2010, but as it turns out, I think 2011 will be my year.

I still have hope. I still have dreams. I’m going to make magic.

2011 will be amazing. I’m determined to make it so, and you all know I’m a girl with some serious determination.

So here are my resolutions:

I’m going to be brave. I’m going to take on the world.

 I want to stay in shape: Running has been working wonders for me.

I want to find peace. I want to remember that this is my one chance in life, and if I want to do something, I’m going to do it.

But more importantly, I want to continue dreaming. The thing I believe in most is a person’s capacityto dream. Without that, we’re a little lost.

I dream big dreams.

It’s what got me to Boston. It’s what has (and is) getting me through living in Lubbock again.

Dreams are going to carry me around the world, and I can’t wait to see where I land first.

2011 will be my year of adventure, my year of excitement: My year of unexpectedness. It will be. I can’t handle it not being otherwise.

So get ready, people: 2011 is upon us.

Make some magic.

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Categories: Thoughts Tags: , , , , , , ,

Choices, lessons and grace.

November 25, 2010 1 comment

I can’t believe it’s Thanksgiving again. WhenI think about the year since last Thanksgiving…whoa. Really?

Last Thanksgiving I was on the verge of a major move across the country. I was breathless with new possibilities and ready to take on the world.

Oh, that Katie. That sweet, naive, ambitious, optimistic, dreamy Katie.

And how things have changed since then. Last year I was thankful for family. For choices. For making known what I wanted (thought I wanted, I suppose. I don’t know anymore.) and having the courage to go after it.

It was a truly interesting year — a life-changing, dream-transforming year.

So here’s what I’m thankful for this year.

I’m thankful, as always for my incredible set of parents. I’ve thrown quite a few little curve balls at them in the last year, and most recently in the last two weeks, and they’ve never let me down. Even when I thought they would laugh, they never did. They never scoffed at my grandiose and far-reaching dreams. No matter how far into the various corners of the world they reached. They accepted what I have wanted to do thus far and have gone with it quite nicely.

I’m thankful I have a sister who tells me what I need to hear, even when it hurts like hell.

I’m more than thankful I have friends who listen to me bitch and moan and whine. I don’t deserve their listening ears, but they’re always there for me nonetheless.

I’m thankful for new experiences — good and bad. This year was completely and utterly transformative, and I can’t believe I am where I am today. It’s not where I expected to be, but it’s not entirely bad.

And I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again: I’m so thankful I moved to Boston. That city, it changed me, as trite as it sounds. It’s a part of me now, and I’m terrified I’ll forget those four months.

I’m thankful for all the little things: learning the T and memorizing the stops I needed to get to my little apartment on Shepherd Ave. I’m thankful for my flower job and for working for sweet Betsy. I’m thankful Steve became my friend and taught me how important it is to give–even when I think I have nothing. Because until I’m in Steve’s position I always have something. I’m thankful for all the wonderful people I was able to meet — people who taught me how to look at the world in different colors, to find the beauty in the mundane.

I’m thankful I found a home in a new part of the country other than West Texas.

But this year I’m most thankful for learning lessons. It’s been one of the hardest years of my life, but boy, have I had to grow the hell up. And I love that. I love that I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’ve finally realized that coming back to Lubbock wasn’t a failure.

Not going to Boston would have been the failure. Simply taking the leap and making it in the city for a few months was the success. And it taught me I can take big chances and dream big dreams and come out the other side partly unscathed.

So this year, I guess instead of “Peace, faith, courage and possibility,” my words are these: “Lessons, choices, opportunities. Grace.”

And still peace. Always peace.

And this year is so different from last year. Last year I had a clear idea of where I was going and where I wanted to be. Last year I was a dreamer and bit more innocent. Now my ideas are foggy and unsure. But I think that’s ok. I’m looking forward to figuring it all out and finding a new place to land.

Life gave me a kick in the pants this week.

October 29, 2010 Leave a comment

This week I had not one, but two, people tell me something that bothered me horribly.

“Katie, you’re never happy. What’s going on?”

“Katie, you weren’t happy in Lubbock so you moved to Boston. Then you moved back to Lubbock after Boston, and you’re unhappy again. When are you ever going to be happy?”

Um…

Ok.

Apparently, it’s time for a little self-reflection.

And here’s what I came up with.

I’m not unhappy — in any way, shape or form. I’m frustrated, and that feels like a huge difference to me.

I’m frustrated and deeply disappointed in myself. When I moved to Boston, I had all the optimism in the world. I was going to go up there, kick some Yankee butt and ingrain myself in that life. I was going to find an awesome job in the publishing industry, and basically, start over.

So I did that. In January 2010 I hopped on a plane with my cat and a suitcase and a hell of a lot of dreams and left the hometown I was born and raised in. 

Four months later, I was back. Granted, I am back for a great job, a real job, (and that’s more than some people can say) but still. I’m back.

No matter what anyone says to me, no matter how many people tell me I “made it in Boston,” I don’t feel like I did. I feel like I gave up. Like I threw away my dreams of the last few years because things got a little hard. It feels like I turned my back on the girl I was in January and ignored her pleas to stay. To power through and keep trying and pushing and hoping and wishing.

I’m so disappointed in myself, it’s hard to explain. I hate living with this much regret. I hate that, as my sister phrased it, “I’m drowning in self-pity.” It’s true and when she said that to me it was like the universe slapped me in the face and told me to get the hell over it.

But. And here’s the part where everyone reading this realizes that I’m really not a total downer. My mindset is turning around.

I am where I am, and regardless of how I wish it were different, it’s not going to change for a while. And you know what? I’m thinking that may be OK for now.

I’m realizing more and more how where I am right now is not bad. It’s finally hit me that living with such a sh*tload of regret and disappointment backlogged in my brain and my heart is essentially crippling my life. It’s not healthy, and even more than that, it’s not going to get me back to where I want to be. The only thing that will get me back on track is more of that optimism I talked about earlier. And sheer will. And you know I have that.

But the way I see it, I had two choices back in May/June when I was offered this job. Both choices would have given me different experiences, new people to meet and various life lessons to learn.

Neither choice was bad. Neither choice was clearly the better choice.

Because I chose to take this job, I’m going to end up somewhere different than if I had stayed in Boston. While that’s a hard truth to swallow, I have to believe it. And I’m not going to end up somewhere bad. It’s just going to be much different than I originally thought it would be.

But isn’t that sort of the beauty of life and the power of making your own choices? You never know what’s around the next corner, and I love that.

So long story short, I’m sorry everyone. I’m sorry for imposing my frustration on all of you, as I know it hasn’t made me a fun person to be around. Know that I’m trying; know that I’m attempting to turn all this negativity into peace — into optimisim and hope and dreams for my future. It’ll happen. I’m not going to be drowning anymore.

So thank you, Universe. And thanks to my friends and sister who aren’t afraid to be honest and call it like it is.

I just hate that I have to wait for my next adventure, haha.

The dreamer’s disease.

October 21, 2010 2 comments

It’s time to write a kick ass post, because it’s been far, far too long since I wrote a good one. You know what I’m talking about? I need a post that almost brings me to tears when I re-read it. One that fills me up heart and soul and leaves me spent and nearly empty because I poured my whole self into these words I’m letting you all read.

One of those.

So hopefully, here I go.

I’ve been on “vacation” the last couple of days. When I say vacation I mean I’ve got five mandatory days off work and I’m in Midland at my parent’s house. Which is nice. Ish. I definitely needed the days off work. I’m beyond exhausted.

Needless to say however, I’ve had a bit of time on my hands. Today was spent in my pajamas, laying on the couch and watching freakin’ Jersey Shore reruns. Ew. I feel like I need a shower after watching their antics.

But I’ve also spent much of the day reading blogs. Travel blogs, specifically. I follow a few, but today I took the time to look at who they follow.

And whoa.

It was a goldmine, an absolute gold mine of goodness. Here, look. And here. And just for good measure, go look here too.

I’m not jealous of these people. I’m admiring of the way they faced into the wind and the unknown and took that terrifying leap.

Earl’s Syria post resonated with me the most.

He talks about how there were some moments in Syria where he felt nothing but “unrestricted happiness.” It’s a beautiful post. It filled me with longing because I’ve felt that before.

I’ve felt that beautiful feeling of absolute rightness. That feeling of peace, of love for anyone and everyone in your path. It’s a beautiful thing. I felt it when I breathlessly hopped on the trains in Boston with just seconds to spare before it left the station. Or when my regular customers recongnized me and I them. I felt it when I trotted up and down the streets of New York City, letting the energy revitalize me and remind me just how very alive I am.

I almost think it’s that feeling those bloggers have that I’m searching for. Their posts have embedded in my mind the idea of going to these countries that I’d never before considered.

Albania. Syria. Turkey. Morocco. Egypt. South Africa. Czech Republic. Cambodia. India. Peru. Argentina. Thailand. China. Tibet. (I HAVE to see Everest — whether it’s from the Tibet or Nepal side; I don’t really care.)  So many more places. The far-flung corners of the globe.

I say this all the time, that I can’t wait to travel and see the world, but maybe it’s time to start thinking more seriously about it. At the very least maybe I should start making a list of where I want to go and what all I want to see and experience.

Maybe it’s time to start dreaming again.

After all, isn’s that the momentum that got me all the way to Boston? Aren’t the wild and crazy dreams and ideas and the belief it can happen what makes me me?

I feel like it’s the part of me that’s been missing for six months now. And I feel like it’s the part of me that I need to get back. Right now. ( I almost typed right meow.)

This is my dream for the day.

September 20, 2010 1 comment

I never set out to be a copy editor.

And yet, here I am.

I never intended to go to Texas Tech.

And yet, there I went.

I never intended to be purposefully single for any stretch of time.

And yet, here I am. (Happy about that, too.)

I never intended to move to Boston.

And yet, I did.

I never intended (or fathomed) that I’d be back in Lubbock after four months of living on the East Coast.

And yet, look at me now. Fully ensconced back into my old life, and stuck with a few more bills than I was used to last fall.

To be honest, I absolutely cannot believe it’s already September 2010. Like, what? Last September I was working two jobs, loving school and my friends and frantically making plans. I spent hours on the Internet perusing Craigslist and shooting off e-mails to unknown persons in Boston, begging for a spot in their apartment.

I mentioned in my last post that I had a bit of a breakdown last Thursday. It wasn’t only about missing all the events of the weekend.

Rather, it also stemmed from the realization of how very little I accomplished while in the East.

Sure, I came back a little more confident and a little more eager to say what I think or what I feel.

But I also came back with a bad attitude: an expectation that people should see what I saw in myself. Things I might have been imagining.

This really has nothing to do with what I’m trying to write about.

So anyway.

I had another thought the other night when I was on my way home from work. I also wrote recently I feel as though I’m not learning anything in Lubbock.

What if I’m wrong about that?

What if what I’m supposed to learn is how to deal with my mistakes? Think about it. This is probably one of the first times in my life where mommy and daddy haven’t bailed me out. Not that there was anything they could do; they thought I w anted this.

what I’m saying is this: This was the first time I couldn’t say, “You know what? I’ve changed my mind. This isn’t for me. Thanks, y’all are great, but I think I’ll head up to Boston now. Catch ya later!”

No. This time I made a commitment to a job, and to be honest, I don’t have the funds.

This is me learning to accept my mistakes and start learning. No, I don’t want to be here. But I made the choice to be here, and I have to deal with it for the time being.

It’s a frighteningly fine line, though.

I want out of here so badly I can taste it. It colors my every day: My moods, my thoughts, my attitude.

You see, I’m scared. Because I’ve been back and I’m happy here. My job is great, my co-workers are fun and amazing, and my friends? Well, they’re my lifelines.

I know, I just know, that if I let go and let myself be completely at peace here, I’ll never get out.

My biggest fear is waking up 10 or five or even three years from now and still stagnating in this own. It’s a real possibility, especially when I consider just how quickly the last year has gone back. How easy will it be for the next two years to fly by? I’m scared I’ll blink and open my eyes and it’ll be 2015. I can’t handle that type of disappointment.

Being this disappointed in myself right now is difficult enough.

So the moral of this post is learning. I’m learning. I’m learning what it is to grow up and accept responsibility for my choices.

But I’m also learning to figure out what I need for myself.

 And what I need for myself right now is some adventure. I need excitement and inspiration and I need to be challenged.

Boston was that challenge, and I gave up way too quickly. I gave up when the going got rough. The tough did not get going in my case. (hehe)

So now, as I conclude this post, I’m sitting outside on the patio of Daybreak coffee. My views consist of a parking lot full of cars and a busy street directly in front of me. It’s not scenic, to say the least. I’m wearing a fabulous navy blue jersey dress, and I’m soaking up the alternating sun and clouds.

And because I wrote on my facebook status that today is a great day for dreaming, I’m going to for a minute. Right now I see myself in an alternate reality. Just go with it, OK?

I’m in the same dress and I have my computer in front of me. I”m writing my daily update for blog. Instead of Pandora playing from my speakers, I’m listening to the tones of the speakers around me. It’s a foreign language, but it’s lyrical in itself. I love listening and imagining what they’re saying; I love hearing the rise and fall in their tones and inflections.

Instead of coffee, I’m sipping on an ice cold beer: A local brew, if you will.

Instead of 82nd Street and the roar of cars passing I see a crowded street full of stalls selling street food. People meander up and down the streets, pushing in between carts to get the best cuts of meat. Beyond that I see a glimpse of torquoise, the ocean in an exotic locale.

The smells in the place are intoxicating: Foreign spices mixed with salty ocean air.

And me? I’m tucked up in a small corner on a patio of a small cafe, loving life. Loving my new adventure.

That is my small little dream for the day. Take it for what it is: Lame or immature. Fathomable or attainable. I don’t even know.

All I know is I can see it. And I want it.

My watch is still set to Eastern standard time.

September 12, 2010 Leave a comment

It’s been four months and one day since I moved back to my little spot in Texas.

That means my time back in Texas has officially exceeded my time in Boston by one day.

And I don’t like it. Not one bit.

I miss you, Boston. And it’s not technically you; it’s the dream of you. It’s the joy of living, of trying something different. That’s what I wanted. This is why I drive myself every single second of every single day. So I don’t think. So I don’t feel you. So I don’t have to love you; so I don’t have to know how much you broke my heart.

Before today Boston still felt close — it still felt like something I’d lived recently. But now I’m realizing exactly how quickly that time is running away from me. Yesterday, I could look back and say, “One month ago exactly, I was doing this.” Or, “three months ago I was on my way to NYC for Valentine’s Day.” Somehow, now that I’ve been back longer than I lived there, it feels different. I felt like in some way my time here mirrored my Boston time, and maybe when next four months are up I could get the hell out again. And I feel like I can’t say those things anymore because then I’m truly living in the past and not paying attention to my life in front of me.

When I looked back at my move to Boston, I always smile when I think about that day: January 10, 2010. I thought it was the first day of the rest of my life; the day when my life would change. And it did. But I thought the next time I’d be in Texas I’d be a bonafide city girl, ready to swing through Midland for my best friend’s wedding, dazzle my friends and family with my newfound confidence and then resume my fabulous life in Beantown.

I woke up that January morning with a stomachache: Fear, uncertainty and excitement were at war within me, and I couldn’t decide which to let win.

I remember touching down on the runway at Logan and leaning past the man next to me to get a glimpse of my new city. I sighed, not really sure what to think.

There are so many things that made me happy in Boston, and so many things that were hurting me while I was there.

Those months in Boston stretched me further than I ever dreamed possible. I’ve talked about it before, in this post, about how much Boston tested me. Back at home, I could see the changes in myself. And that was important to me. My time in Boston wasn’t about having grand adventures (although those were wonderful); it was about growing up. Changing. Living. Figuring out what i want and what and want to do in life. Boston is still so much a part of me, it’s scary. Almost everything I experience here reminds me of life in Boston. Something. A song puts me back at a night in a bar in Fenway. A particular smell has me walking through the Common on a sunny day, just getting off work from my flower shop. And flowers — that job was rough and at times I despised it, but now I always stop and “smell the roses.” Or since roses aren’t technically fragrant, the freesia. My favorite.

But now. Now I’m in Lubbock. Now I have a job I’m grateful for, friends and co-workers I love, my family close by and an apartment all to myself. In the last four months, I don’t see any growth on my part. And that makes me sad.

What I’m figuring out is that I cut my grand adventure short way too early. I let go of living and let my fear bring me back here. Maybe Lubbock is the right place for me for the time being, but it’s not going to fulfill me for long.There’s nothing that drives me; nothing that moves me; nothing that really makes me question anything I believe. It doesn’t’ stretch me.

I went into my move naively; I didn’t see the future as something to think about. All I knew was that I wanted out and I wanted out now. Maybe I should have thought about it more; maybe I shouldn’t have been so “brave.” I should have had the foresight to realize problems would happen and I’d have to deal with them.

But, I didn’t. And I’m back in Lubbock. Things aren’t so bad, but it sucks to be so disappointed in myself.

Plant your own garden.

March 10, 2010 Leave a comment

Like I said yesterday, it’s been two months to the day since I moved to Boston. (Assuming I finish this post before midnight. It’s 10:45 p.m.)

I started a new job this morning. Don’t get too excited; it’s just a part-time job in addition to some other things I’m going to be doing. The job is at a small, family-run, hole-in-the-wall shop in between the South End and Back Bay.

I love it. I absolutely, 100% adore the job.

I interviewed for it yesterday after randomly applying for the position without even really thinking about it. The owner e-mailed me on Monday asking me to discuss the position and after speaking on the phone with him for about 20 minutes that afternoon he invited me in to talk in person and fill out application. When I went in I wasn’t sure what to expect. I’d never ever considered working in a flower shop. I always thought it’d be such an idyllic job, but I never thought it would happen.

The owner spent more than an hour yesterday talking to me about the job. It was great. I could tell how much he loved his job and that in turn made me want to work hard and prove myself. He explained to me all the things that the job entails, which includes setting up the (beautiful, gorgeous, breathtaking) display of flowers outside the shop, making bouquets, helping customers and just taking care of the flowers and plant. I know I’m going to love this job because there’s always something to do or someone to help. There’s no standing around, twiddling my thumbs and tryng to look busy. Love it.

After hearing what all the job was about I was a little overwhelmed but determined to prove myself. I wanted to try something new. This job appealed to me because it’s going to be so interesting to learn about flowers and arrangements and how to take care of flowers for optimal lifespan and stuff. And come on. Flowers are happy. So how can working in a flower shop not be enjoyable?

The owner told me he’d call me later that afternoon to set up a time for me to come in and shadow an employee, just to make sure I’d be a good fit at the job.

That’s what I did today.

And woah. He told me to be at the store by 8 a.m. That’s not bad at all. Normally.

Except for the fact i haven’t been doing squat with my life the last few weeks. And have gotten on a truly terrible sleep schedule. Which meant that just because I got in bed at 11 p.m. (like a good, responsible adult I’m trying to be) did not mean I got plenty of sleep. Oh, no. It meant I laid in my bed sadly watching the time click by on my phone. Midnight, 1 a.m., 2 a.m., 3 a.m. Finally, I fell asleep, only to be rudely woken by my alarm at 5:30 a.m. And then my sweet best friend sent me an encouraging text message exactly one minute later. Thanks for being happy for me.

5:30 a.m. I didn’t know how long it’d take me to get to the shop this morning. I thought that I would have to leave my apartment super early in order to get over to Copley on time. I thought the trains would be jammed with weary people making their ways to work.

Nope. Took me about 15 minutes to get there. So I got up ridiculously early for no reason.

But I’m glad I did. I’m so glad. Because I love the early morning. It’s quiet and peaceful and still. It allows me to get ready without feeling too rushed. I can shower leisurely (because who else is going to be up at that godforsaken hour?) and drink my coffee in silence. I loved it.

When I left my apartment at 6:55 a.m. I walked down the street with a smile on my face and a spring in my step. It’s not possible to not feel cheerful when the day is so beautiful. The air was crisp. The sun was shining and glinting brightly off the buildings. The city was waking up and I got to witness it. (Unlike New York, Boston sleeps.) Cars were honking and almost getting in wrecks. School buses were dropping kids off and picking them up. People were gripping coffee mugs like life-preservers and rushing to work.

And the best part is that I was awake to see it. I had a purpose. I had to get breakfast, catch the T and get to where I needed to be. In the big, impersonal city of Boston someone, somewhere was counting on me and expecting me to be somewhere. 

It was one of the best feelings ever. And I felt it fitting that this occurred two months to do the day that I moved. It just felt right.

And the actual job was perfect. It’s not easy work. There’s lots of toting arrangements and making sure everything looks uniform and appealing.

But I love it because this is a store that is established in the neighborhood. They have regulars. People come each week to get flowers for their desks and to brighten up otherwise dreary offices. Women come to get a gift, just for themselves. (I’ve always wanted to do that.) And I love it because I felt like I was contributing, in some small, mundane, probably truly unimportant way to someone’s happiness.

When the man who came in and bought a bouquet of lilies and irises for his wife and spent 15 minutes writing a heartfelt note to her I felt so excited for the smile that I knew would cross her face when her husband came home. Then there was the guy with the suitcases and travel-weary smile and rumpled clothes who asked me pick out a single, perfect rose. And I knew that somewhere in Boston someone (I make no assumptions) would feel the care that went into picking out the perfect rose.

It’s satisfying. It’s gratifying. It makes me feel good. It makes me feel like not only am I making people happy in a small way I’m also being given another outlet with which to express myself. In some way it’s art. I have to make things look pretty. It’s a new muscle to learn to flex and explore and I can’t wait to learn more. 

No, it’s not the perfect corporate job I was hoping for. But again, that’s part of the adventure. This will be great for some period of time. It’s something unexpected and that’s exactly what I was hoping for when I moved here.

Two months ago.