Furniture Shopping

Since I can’t look at apartments I started looking for furniture. I need something to look forward to without making my ass even more anxious than it already is. Furniture is the answer.

As I have previously stated I have a bed ready to purchase as soon as I find a place to live. I’ve added a desk to that equation as well. I decided to look through ApartmentTherapy for visual inspiration and I came across this particular post.

AND THEN I CLICKED THE LINKS…

Yo. I need this chair. I watched all the videos. It’s porn. It’s porn to show you all the different ways you can use the chair. Don’t click the links I’ve provided unless you want to watch legit porn.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you. 

I need that chair tho… seriously. It’s so useful.

ANTI-EMO

55 site hits on a rainy Friday and I post something super emo (cues Mayer Hawthorne). I’m joking. I swear I didn’t listen to that song or cry, at all.

I know for a fact I have too many things to be positive about, every time I become even slightly whiny everyone tells me to shut the fuck up (in the most loving way possible). No one wants to deal with Debbie Downer Kate, yeah I don’t prefer her either, for the most part she’s just extra sarcastic. Thankfully I’m surrounded by beautiful souls who never doubt me or my future, even though that’s all I can do at times.

I turned down 3 contract offers while waiting for the one I really wanted. It’s a contract-to-perm situation, which makes me uneasy, because I generally put too much pressure on myself and over-think things. I only have one client/project so the work is not steady as far as hours and day-to-day tasks go. One day I’m slammed, the next I don’t have to come in because the client is reviewing the work. It’s already a huge step for me to be legitimately working, but it’s by no means anything secure yet. It takes all of my self control not to look at Craigslist apartment or room mate listings. I’ve told myself that I can’t look until I sign a full-time offer, if all goes well that will be sooner than later.

All in all I have plenty of things to look forward to, I just have no idea what they are exactly.

I guess that's all part of the adventure.

The Lonely Social Butterfly

I’m constantly on the receiving end of the statement: “You’re so popular.”

Personally I think it’s silly to describe a 31 year old woman as popular. What is this, high school? Who’s even judging what that means? Ok, I have a lot of friends. I could go from Hawaii to London and hit up various people up along the way. I’m a people-person and yeah, I guess I’m well-liked (why are you here reading this right now?). 

I have 5,000 friends, give or take, of varying degrees, from coast to coast.

HOWEVER…

I still go to sleep alone… wake up alone…

Feel alone.

I can’t fix it, no matter what I do, so I just try to forget. 

I try to forget how nice it is to kiss someone good night. I try to take advantage of sleeping in the middle of the bed, sprawling out, only to wake up on the left side. I still remember what it’s like finding someone on the right, obnoxiously screaming “GOOD MORNING” into his ear as soon as I woke up.

I can text a dozen folks on a good day, but the bad ones? I go into hiding. I’m not trying to burden you with my broken-record self. It’s always the same thing… “Tell me things will get better. Tell me I won’t be alone forever. Please convince me, cause my words don’t mean anything to me anymore.”

I realize the observation that I am “popular” is a compliment, but just so you're not completely fooled—this social butterfly is a lonely one.

Dream Bed

I already have a bed picked out.

It has a tufted headboard, made of a mixture of grey/white linen thread. It’s a simple rectangle, more timeless and less feminine than the velvet one my Ex now claims. I think I’ll invest in some legit hotel-style pillows, the pricey kind that cost around $70 each and shit. I love hotel pillows. I’ll order a foam mattress and purchase a fancy-as-fuck duvet cover for my down comforter. The sheets will contain a ridiculous thread count, cause they feel like butter against my bare legs.

I’m already in love with the idea of this bed.

But I’m more in love with the idea of sharing it someday.

Brackets

Anything I can do… You should do better.

Maybe not better, maybe I just expect you to be able to hang.

Ex-Mr used to pour me Jameson with less and less ginger ale until I could drink it straight on the rocks. We then moved onto taste-testing different scotches and he would ask if I could tell the difference between the aged editions. The first time I had Johnny Blue he asked: “How is it?” “It’s good,” I responded with a slight wince. “Then don’t make that face,” he replied. Lessons learned, now I get frustrated when I go on dates with men who order vodka tonics. Weak, so weak.

Since high school I’ve been surrounded by men who know music very well, and then I met Rob and Vince in college and the bar has since been set ridiculously high. I don’t quite have the same exact taste as them, they can discuss Alchemist & Madlib albums until sunrise—I’m still very much into more mass-produced hip hop, but they’ve provided the standards. Because of them I can verbalize why “Graduation” is my all-time favorite Kanye album or why “The Black Album” is above “Reasonable Doubt” as far as my tastes go. I’ll need you to understand the significance of why in my heart Aubrey will never surpass “So Far Gone” for me, ever. Ever. Ever. It dropped in 2009, best (year) I ever had—so far, until someone else wants to change that.

I understand a large majority of the population finds that baseball is boring. It’s cool. I can see why you think so. Part of the fun is predicting the game. The dude on 1st is gonna try to steal, he shouldn’t though because this catcher has been fire as of recently. Lincecum should just walk Goldschmidt because that mother fucker owns him, they can’t afford the batter to connect with two men in scoring position. IDK, details. The game gets better with knowledge, I guess that goes for any sport… Once I had a man ask me if I followed both the Niners and Raiders, yes I was on a date. STOP. That’s the dumbest question any man has ever asked me. You’re killin’ me, Smalls. 

There was a dude on my commute who used to regularly engage me in conversation on the way to work. I hate small talk in the am, especially before my coffee. We spoke about traveling, I told him about my trip to South America, he told me he hasn’t really left the U.S. and that he was too intimidated  to venture into countries where English is spoken in limited amounts. That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard. At least be afraid of flying… something legit. Shit. Fortunately my schedule shifted to an earlier time and I got out of these awkward talks.

I realize these standards are narcissistic. I am the one setting the levels and I will definitely compromise when the proper time comes around—BUT COME ON. 

As Meek Mill would say… “See, its brackets…” These men couldn’t get past the first round.

Also, maybe I’m not as cool as I think… maybe the way I view men is all wrong. Sometimes people try to remind me, “all he has to do is treat you right.” Is that really all he has to do? No. That’s not gonna be enough for me. What about attraction, chemistry, compatibility, etc. etc. etc?

Can I have it all or do I settle for “a dude that’s gonna just treat me right?” UGH. That’s another blog entirely and I just made my head spin unnecessarily. 

I don’t even know why I’m trying to rationalize my thought process… these dudes are just all wrong until he’s right.

YUP. That's it.

COSIGN

Once I went on a date with a man who prefaced himself with the statement: “I’m really not good at planning things.” He left me with a terrible first impression. He had no idea who he was dealing with, and really—what woman wants to hear that? I appreciate the honesty, but it’s not going to help your cause, dude. I stamped a giant red flag on him after he disclosed that information, but we still went on a date (don’t ever say I don’t give men a chance, I do). 

We ended up splitting the planning duties, it was easy enough: “Ok you choose the restaurant, I’ll choose the bar, let’s say East Village, deal?” He ended up picking a restaurant I’ve been meaning to visit, of course it was popular and on everyone’s hype list. On the night of our date, he texted: “They say its a 2.5 hour wait.” DUH, IT’S FRIDAY NIGHT IN NYC AND THEY DON’T TAKE RESERVATIONS. I predicted this, but I wanted to give the guy the benefit of the doubt. He was accurate with his self-assessment because he didn’t have a backup option. Homeboy ended up Yelping a mediocre second choice last minute.

Fail. SUPER FAIL.

After my failed marriage I realized I was tired. Tired of planning every thing. Every date. Every weekend. Every adventure. Literally EVERY THING. I was the natural so I took it on. I lacked surprises and feeling like I was taken care of. I never want to be in that position again. 

I love being independent and in-control, but I will forgo it at the drop of a dime in the case of romantic interests. YOU TAKE CHARGE. I don’t want to have to think…

:: Segue here ::

So I’ll happily cosign this. Yes, I will admit to having read the entire 50 Shades of Grey trilogy. I found it bearable until the 3rd book of which was so fantastically stupid it made me want to yack. I’m a strong-headed and self-sufficient lady but I’d be fucking lying if I didn’t swoon over a Don Draper, Christian Grey or Damon Salvatore type (yes, I was a fan of “The Vampire Diaries” for the sex scenes alone—GUILTY AF). All assholes, notice the theme? GAH.

The article basically states that women like feeling in-charge and making executive decisions, but love relinquishing control (to the appropriate person).

YUP. COSIGN. COSIGN. COSIGN.

“We want to make our own money, but still be asked out on the date and have him pay. We want to be strong and independent, but still have him asking how we’re feeling. ‘We want the alpha male with arousing qualities…’”

I’m full of dualities and checks and balances, so I understand this completely, however it’s fine lines if you’re not careful.

What's really new though? ;-) Always with the fine lines...

Waiting Game

I can’t sleep, so I’m going through an old hard drive. I hit the jackpot, I found a million old photos.

I’m unsure whether or not it’s an advantage or disadvantage that there is only one man alongside me throughout this entire photo library. Years and years, trips on trips, vacation after vacation—only one dude. I guess it doesn’t matter… all I can focus on is that he’s already making new memories with two others. I’m still here… solo. as. fuck.

It’s ok, they can have him. He’s better with them than he was with me—it should be that way. Be the best you can be, homie, I’m not mad. I’m just waiting for the universe to grant me some company too.

AHEM*COUGH*AHEM…

Nevermind. 

I still need to lock down this job, move out of my parent's and then homeboy can cross my path. I have priorities and timing is a bitch, so the waiting game continues… 

*Looks at watch impatiently (now set to PST)*

Rest > Less

I’m the most content when there is too much going on.

Too much work. Too many places to go. Too many people to see. Name it, I’d rather do more than less. And once I conquer something—shit’s over, I’ll go for more.

I blame my divorce, because I learned the art of distraction. I blame New York, because of its fast pace. I blame the woman I always was but hid inside, because I was too busy caring for someone else and not myself.

But I’m over my divorce, I no longer live in New York and the woman that I am today is pretty fucking badass—so I want more. I live for constant stimulation.

The other day I was describing to my mother how I was between two job offers. I ended up choosing the one promising more growth as far as my career goes, “I’m going to go for the challenging one,” I said. She responded with, “You like challenges, don’t you?”

Ding. Ding. Ding. Winner winner. Chicken dinner. That’s the realest thing she’s said to me since moving home. 

I still think I need to slow the fuck down. I still believe I could use some simplifying in my life. So I’m slowly acclimating. I literally walk too fast, while going nowhere in particular. I have to tell myself that it’s ok if I stay home and watch “Friends” for 5 hours, the world will continue spinning and it’s perfectly cool if I do absolutely nothing. There’s no bucket list bar I simply must hit up, there’s no clock running out. I no longer have to force myself out on a Saturday night after an exhausting day, because no one is telling me “You can sleep when you get back to Cali.”

I’m here, but how do you teach a restless girl to rest? *Shrugs* I’m trying.

About A month Ago

Despite cliché coincidences like having my divorce granted final on 12/31/2013 and moving back to the West Coast in time for the new year I am not one to make actual resolutions. I will never tell you specific plans or fixed goals, I’ll give you a flighty “vision” instead. This year my response to the typical resolutions question has been easy: “I need to put my (California) life together.” Most agree that this is a feat in itself, but absolutely manageable—given my attitude. This is a completely brand new chapter, one that I feel is equally significant as New York, if not more. NYC was a healing period, this is basically a rebirth—it’s a new life.

I have returned as a different person. I like this woman much better—real talk. 

Today marks 1 month of being back in the Bay. I swear that time flew. Aside from 2 really terrible initial hangovers (from celebrating my return, of course), my entire time here has been productive, body and mind. I have zero regrets about my move. No second thoughts that I cut my New York period too short or that I need to run back to the East Coast. I am exactly where I am supposed to be and it feels amazing knowing this.

100. Thousand. Trillion.

Top Priority

Multiple friends back on the East Coast have asked me a similar question, “Have you downloaded Tinder yet?”

FIRST OF ALL… Dating is the last thing on my mind right now. SECOND… I hope I never reach a point where I have to download Tinder onto my phone again. *Prayer emoji here*

Out of all of the things I want to accomplish during this refresh period a dude is on the bottom of the list. This is a fact. I’m too busy trying to get my shit together. I have quite a few boxes to check off before that happens. Do I really seem like a lady who is trying to date while unemployed and living at her parents house?

Nah. I got my priorities right, people. Who do you think you’re talking to?

I’m actively seeking a good job at the moment, not a man.

Note: I’m purely speaking about an active search, of which I have no time or mental energy for. If a good man fell from the sky and asked me to dinner I would oblige—I’m not stupid. Just so we’re all clear.

Piece 1

If we don’t factor in the holidays I’ve only been working on “getting my life together” for 2 solid weeks. Within this time frame I’ve put together my most recent portfolio, applied for 25 jobs total, met with 2 recruiters, completed 2 phone interviews and 2 in-person. I’ve already turned down a well-paying on-going contract job offer at a small agency in SF because I’m holding out for the right opportunity. Ohh and I checked out an apartment, however that didn’t work out. That’s ok though, first things first.

Yeah, that’s just 2 weeks of effort.

People are amazed when I share this, “Damn, you work fast.” Ehhhh… I’m just motivated to find the right pieces. I have no reason to slow my pace. I want dough. I can’t move out until I make dough, however I want to chase paper at the position that fits me and this new chapter best. Also, a recruiter basically told me how much I’m worth and my jaw practically dropped. When I accept an offer it will be “drinks on me, like a coaster.” Cash in when that time comes.

Obtaining the first piece of my puzzle is looking promising. Stay tuned, like I said—it’s only been two weeks.

Good GOD

Mr. Ocean, I've loved you since day one. You're ridiculous for this.