The world outside my window is peaceful and calm, but the thoughts swirling around my head are anything but. Just a few minutes ago I lifted the blinds in my bedroom, relieved to breathe in some fresh air (that window has been sealed for the last four months. Ick). I thought of my life just a year ago and remembered that last March held so much promise because it was a small footbridge to the events of summer and a full social calendar. Just a year ago (pre-Hawaii) it appeared that Jackson and I were heading in the same direction in our relationship and I was ecstatic. After the last few uplifting blog posts, I hate to return to such a sad place but such is life sometimes. So allow me my Debbie Downer moment. I feel it’s just as important to capture these negative thoughts as well though I don’t always like to acknowledge them. It’s easier to embrace the happy than indulge in the pain, right? And I have been very celebratory lately. But today I find myself thinking about the things I miss about Jackson and living together. …
It’s amazing what a few days away can do to revive and rejuvenate. This past weekend I somehow managed to flee the blizzard of New York and landed in Charlotte, North Carolina, where a friend and I rented a car to drive to the granola and “my-other-car-is-a-bike” Mecca known as Asheville. I fell in love. Bluegrass, veggie restaurants, hippies, head shops, more hippies, and a store with eco-friendly bedding. What’s not to love? We stayed with some friends of mine and they welcomed us with open arms, red wine, warm muffins in the morning, and lively debates about tempeh and Obama. They also have a fuckin’ awesome dog, and I miss her already. It was a wonderful weekend.
It was also refreshing to spend time with people who know how to enjoy the finer things in life. The friends that I have there don’t own a TV; they prefer to listen to NPR radio instead. They live without cell phones; opting to have conversations with friends face-to-face about politics, healthy living, and the on-going events in their local community. It was a welcome change from life in the big city. I’m really sick of the many eyes I see glued to Crackberries and iPhones everyday. Remember when we used to live–and function!–without? When we would make a meeting spot for the movies with friends and we would all magically appear there at the scheduled time?? I’m also guilty of cell phone dependency and find myself flipping the phone to see if any texts have come in frequently. But this trip has taught me (among other things) to decrease my dependency on my cell (it’s not fancy by any stretch but it is blue and that‘s what initially attracted me to it. What can I say, I like shiny objects. I am SUCH a girl).
I didn’t expect to think about Jackson as often as I did but he popped into my head on quite a few occasions. When I picked up a Bob Marley t-shirt in a local clothing store. At the cool brew pub with the great live bluegrass band. In the Thai restaurant when I ordered his favorite curry dish. Asheville was also a place we had discussed traveling to together and I couldn’t help but think of how much he would have loved it there.
That being said, I also enjoyed some alone and away time: alone with my thoughts, away from life back home. I enjoyed a break from the smog-filled streets of my home and took in the crisp mountain air every chance I had. I enjoyed the flight to Charlotte (despite the fact that I ordinarily hate flying) and the chat I had with a kind stranger seated to my left. (He might actually read this, so HELLO, DAVID! It was a pleasure). I looked for the pink lady, a figure who presumably haunts the Grove Park Inn. I toured the grounds at the Biltmore and marveled at the beautiful treasures tucked away in the antique stores in downtown Asheville. I hope to go back in the summer when the music is in full swing and even more hippies flood the streets. (God, I love me some hippies…) I would love to return with someone who believes in the importance of conservation; someone who understands and doesn’t mind my love/cult-like obsession with music. It would be wonderful to share Asheville with someone who can wax poetic about the smell of a used book from an independent book store.
But in the meantime, I’m happy I was able to escape Mother Nature’s wrath and find a tiny piece of heaven in North Carolina…
Before I move on to today‘s blog entry, I would like to make a special dedication to my dear friend Rebecca’s father who passed away this week after a battle with Parkinson’s disease. She has been one of the best friends a girl could ask for and I‘m truly devastated by her loss. Becky, if you’re reading this: your family is in my thoughts and prayers and I’m sending healing vibes your way. Love you, girl.
I’ve had this post written for a while now, but a big piece of the puzzle was missing and it drove me crazy. I like music. I hope that’s not news to you, dear reader, but since I started this project I vowed that I would somehow interlace all of my posts with a lyric or song title that resonated with me at the time that it was written. For some reason, this week I was completely stuck. Then I remembered a double disc my aunt gave me some time ago and, as it turned out, it was not only the perfect rainy day soundtrack, but the woman singing nailed it on the head for me. Thank you, Mary Gauthier, for your inspired lyrics and also to my wonderful aunt Sabina for introducing me to this great talent. …
Please come and show your support for a wonderful New Zealander (I stand corrected!) I’ve communicated with the last few months. She has been extremely kind and helpful and is currently featuring mypixieblog.com on her Web page. Her site is awesome and full of tips and tricks for moving on (as well as the importance of “No Contact,” a rule she strongly adheres to).
Well, that’s over with. I’m glad that I didn’t fret about Valentine’s Day this year. I think it had a lot to do with the fact that I didn’t have to worry about whether or not a boyfriend would come through in the romantic department. I’m just not a fan of the Hallmark holiday with its smelly roses and chocolates that are clearly targeting my ass and thighs. I suppose if I were to watch enough schmaltzy romantic comedies, I might expect Prince Charming himself to waltz into my life on a white stallion carrying a teddy bear and a box of chocolates. Until that day happens, I’ll be happy to spend it as I did this year.
It was, quite honestly, one of the best I’ve ever had….
Tonight I decided to compile a list of things that don’t suck about living alone. Because let’s face it: I signed a one-year lease and I still have a good eight months (at least) to go. Might as well make the best of it. So, things that don’t suck! Drum roll, please…
1) I can do whatever I like on the weekends. I’ve been thinking of this a lot lately because it seemed Jackson and I always had to buddy up and attack all errands together. Was going to Staples such a romantic experience that we had to do it as a team? And as much as I loved his family (still do), there were times when it would have been nice to opt out of some family obligations. But in all fairness, I really did love that stuff and I often looked forward to getting together with all his cousins, aunts, uncles, parents, and grandparents to celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, and christenings.
Another snow storm threatens to disrupt travel, interfere with my Brandi Carlile concert going experience, and drive shoppers into a frenzy to grab a year’s supply of milk, eggs, and bread. Silly Americans. It seems terribly unfair that the snow has decided to arrive just in time for me to miss out on the two days in the week I look forward to the most. Who knows if we’ll even get any of the white stuff in the first place. I mean this as no insult to weather forecasters everywhere, but how cool to have a job where you only have to be accurate some of the time. That storm that hit us this past week? No one had even predicted it! Where do I sign up for this kind of work?
I hate February. Depressing. Brutal. Heartless. I’m also extremely tired of all the Valentine’s Day hoopla already and there’s more than a week to go. I didn’t like it when I was in a relationship (how can you really enjoy a dinner when restaurants welcome you with cheesy heart-shaped decorations and waiters are clearly trying to turn tables?) and now that Jackson is no longer in the picture, I find it’s really getting to me. When did I become such a Scrooge?