Personal Reflection & Future Endeavors.

Peoples' stories will never cease to amaze me. The winding labyrinth of existence and how one decision leads to another fascinates me. I think about my own life story in this way too.

Sometimes I peruse Facebook in attempt to reminisce. With the added feature on FB that allows one to view past correspondence with their friends, I will take to flipping through the connections I've made to various men I once was in love with.

Some of them I dated before FB was born, but our conversations remain witty and playful. Some of them I very rarely converse with. Others are still sensitive subjects, and yet it's nice to look back on what brought us together in the first place. To remind myself that love doesn't die, but changes form. It must, for not one person remains the same each day.

Many of my major life decisions have centered on a relationship at one point in time. Many might find this limiting, but it has been anything but. While I did allow these relationships to dictate various paths I have walked, I haven't let them impede upon my own happiness, or obtaining the most joy from those walks. I learned to recognize when I was at my best and worst because of these connections, and that in turn gave me my foundation for self-improvement.

Much of the way I work is through self-reflection and analysis, similar to what one might do in a therapist's office, but internally. I have internal (sometimes external) conversations with myself about the energy I absorb, recycle, and expend, and how I interract with the world. The learning comes from paying close attention to how others receive me. This is not to say that I analyze everything I say before I say it... In fact, perhaps I could stand for a little more of that. I'm quite free in my manners of speech despite the trouble it gets me into regardless of my good intentions. However, the subtle eyebrow raise, or a sideways glance can mean everything as your looking to the person receiving your dialogue. Do I check myself and apologize profusely after I've erred? If the situation calls for it, but more often I keep my notes logged away for future reference. Primarily, I am a kinesthetic learner, and I work best when practicing my skills and replicating action.

I'm now attempting to use these powerful skills of reflection to create my future. Interestingly enough, last year was the first time I made a major life change that involved the separation of myself and someone I love very dearly. All my previous decisions, leaving for Europe, moving to San Diego, even my college of choice, had some reflection onto whom I was dating at the time. It still saddens me to think of what could've been, but too much was at stake for me to veer off the path I was on. It is, after all, my life and no one else's. How I live it matters to me, and me alone. Those that truly understand, know, and love me, would never begrudge me the happiness I deserve.

I am very proud of all that I've accomplished in this past year, despite the sporadic phantom pains of loss. They mostly only come at night, when the house is empty and dark, when my thoughts spiral into a series of "What if's". I am on my way to gaining something greater, and my only wish is that I could share that eternal knowledge with everyone I love. That quiet knowing that no matter how bad it gets, it's still all right.

Honestly.

A topic of relative urgency and importance continues to present itself in various forms, especially in light of my being in Boston at the moment. It's a matter I've attempted to touch upon before; however, given it's complicated nature, I always fell short of ways to articulate my feelings.

My father and I have not been close for several years now. In fact, not only have we been distant, I no longer think we share the same plane of existence. When we do speak, talking to my father involves the same type of simple, declarative sentences and interrogations one might use with an adolescent. Very short "Hello's", comments on the weather, how work is going. There is nothing dynamic about the relationship. No exchange of intellect, no genuine interest is present. When I reach for a topic that will hopefully unite us, the conversation soon starts to revolve around my father and his doings. I have grown tired of pandering to him, and am unsure of why he wants to keep this connection going. I suspect it is because he does not look like a complete failure if he has me in his life in some way.

I have trouble accepting the way things are when I look back and recall such happy days growing up. Memories of my dad tickling me till I couldn't breathe, pulling my toes so that I could hear and feel that delicious cracking, launching me to the other end of the pool. I don't know how to make new memories with him. I don't know how to accept him as he is because I don't agree with the choices he's made. The choices that have lead him astray from his three children, and the family for which he promised to care.

He says he's still the same, but I don't recognize him. I can see him, and my brain can pick him out of a crowd, but my heart can't love him like it used to... I want to be sorry for that, but there is nothing to be done about it. My father made his choices, and so he must live with mine as well. The father I once trusted and honored now survives through me.

Architextualizing.

As you might be able to see, this blog will be under construction for a little while. I am unsure as to what theme or colors I want to incorporate, so the process will be an ongoing one. I realize I still need some work when it comes to demonstrating patience; so, what better way to accomplish that then by practicing slowing down. Baby steps though.

This whole week is an exercise in slowing down, I suppose. I am vacationing in Boston, my home city, after having been away for nearly 3 years. Given how much time has passed, and all that has transpired, I felt the need to start anew and leave this blog behind. However, I have a tendency to toss things by the wayside once they've lost their initial glamour, and I really don't want to indulge in such childish tendencies any longer. So, this blog will stay. Keeping the original title of "anxious musings" feels a bit sedentary, when, in fact, I've been anything but. I'm not sure what else to title it though... I suppose it'll come to me. I'm looking to officially transition out of this "limbo of anxiety", not continue to soak in it.

So far this week has been spent catching up on sleep, soaking up love and attention, and imbibing as much alcohol as I can. It is quite a surreal experience. Forgetting I was no longer in the Golden State, I gushed with excitement at the sight of a New Hampshire or Massachusetts license plate. I began counting all the Dunkin Donuts locations, and promptly gave up upon reaching the number 7 before we'd even left Somerville. Apparently, I also had more of a non-rhotic accent than I'd realized... More to come later.

Filtering love out of pain.

It is 3AM. I am awake, fueled by the coffee I know I shouldn't have drunk tonight. My eyelashes are crusted with dried mascara and tears.

I am alone with my thoughts, my mind meandering through a veritable graveyard of past mistakes made by lesser experienced versions of myself. What to think, to say, to do... Nothing comes. Nothing takes away this particular brand of anxiety, a quiet discomfort that is slowly infecting me.

I am in love. So in love that even I fail to fully comprehend it. It is so very much a part of who I am that there is no point to rationalizing it, or explaining it. I can only breathe it.

This is not about me. It is about giving all the love I have to the person who deserves it most. The person who has been my solid rock through thick and thin. The person who has inspired me to be the best version of myself.

I am forever grateful.

Feeling tipsy?

I am somehow fascinated and frustrated by the long-time tradition that is tipping in the service industry. Becoming a waitress has flared my love-hate relationship with the industry; some days are phenomenally wonderful, some are okay, and some days just downright suck.

Last night was somewhere between wonderful and okay. I began the evening by reorganizing our back stock of to-go cups, boxes, and lids because for some reason they never stay in neat rows, and prepping the barista station. In the midst of that, my boss informed me that our Red Room had a one-hour long reservation for a young man who was going to propose to his girlfriend. At this notice, I set to work on this man's behalf.

I threw champagne on ice and prepared chocolate-covered strawberries for the hopeful bride and groom. I programmed a Michael Bublé song to play at the right moment. And I guarded the lounge to ensure their privacy. Surely enough, she said, "Yes" and was even elated enough to thank me multiple times for making everything so wonderful.

Later on, the young man came to the front to pay his bill. I think the $90 charge surprised him, but with entrées, drinks, a specially prepared dessert, and champagne, it should not have been unexpected. He saw fit to leave me a $5 tip after all the extraordinary service I provided. I am not sure I understand the mentality behind this... Luckily, the bride's friend who had tagged along to play photographer quietly slipped me a $20 for all of my efforts.

I would think that if you were going through with something as important as proposing to the woman you love, you would understand the potential cost of the performance as well. It doesn't have to be a grandiose ordeal, but if you've decided to break out the flowers and champagne, you need to expect to drop a little money.

I don't know about you other ladies, but I pay close attention to how my man treats service staff. If a man wants to wine and dine a woman, he needs to accommodate the staff that is helping him out. The tendency to be cheap, especially when the service has been exceptional, runs deep. If a guy is cheap, then he's cheap, and that is far from impressive in my book.

sueños

Una parte de mí siempre será vagar por las montañas de España.

First step.

Today was busy.

I should write more. Again.

I hope it sticks.

What should I write?

Anything. Everything. Write it all.

I am hungry.

A first step.