Feel My Pulse.

So you say this is human / your heartbeat versus mine / I'm in chains 'cause I'm choosing / showing love or living life. / I shouldn't have to leave where I stand / I shouldn't have to change who I am / To count as human. / Feel my pulse / With your hand on my heart / You know it beats just as hard as yours / Feel my pulse / Feel my pulse / Can't you see that I'm scarred / I'm just the same as you are so just / Feel my pulse / I wish I could reach them / And strip away what separates / It's the same air we're breathing / The same tears run down our face / So I don't have to leave where I stand / And I don't have to change who I am / To count as a human / Feel my pulse / With your hand on my heart / You know it beats just as hard as yours / Feel my pulse / Feel my pulse / Can't you see that I'm scarred / I'm just the same as you are so just / Feel my pulse

My emotions have been on a roller coaster ride this week.

It's resulted in a lot of crying. A lot of being quiet. A lot of secluding myself. A lot of Disney movies to take my mind off of things. And a lot, a lot, of reading the stories about the lives lost last weekend.

I have felt so much anger. Like, red rage. 

And ironically, I'm mad at myself for that. 

I am not that girl. I'm the girl who loves the EDM scene because of the PLUR (Peace, Love, Unity, Respect) Movement. I'm the girl who loves life, and has always felt that everyone has good in them and they just need someone to recognize it. I'm the girl who doesn't give up (on things or on people). I'm the girl who always has hope and faith on her side, and it has never failed her.

And this week I've looked in the mirror and seen a girl who is tired. Tired of crying, tired of people dying, tired of the world being so screwed up. 

I know, I know. We're supposed to be strong. We're supposed to stand united together. The community is supposed to join hands and not let this knock us. But I don't think I realized how hard that is...how absolutely, completely difficult that idea is to me right now.

I wanted to go to Orlando today. I had it all planned out. I was going to go to the memorial. I was going to try to meet up with friends I haven't seen in far too long. I was going to stand tall with the city I called home for four years.

But I couldn't. I couldn't go to the memorial, because it's right around the corner from Pulse and I don't think I'm ready to see it again. I couldn't meet up with friends, because there has been so much death over the last week and I wouldn't even know what to say to them besides, "I love you and I'm so glad you weren't in there when the attack started, and I'm sorry that we lost people." I couldn't stand tall with the city because I don't feel very tall this week.

I still feel small.

I still feel fear.

I still feel despair.

I still feel anger.

I still feel gut-wrenching nausea. 

I'm still having trouble sleeping.

I'm going to try. I'm going to try to walk with a smile and mean it. I'm going to try to stand tall and be fearless. I'm going to try to be strong for the people and city I love. I'm going to try not to blame myself for the anger that haunts me, or the sadness that overwhelms me in random moments. I'm going to allow myself to feel. Because I think that might be how we heal eventually, by allowing ourselves to wholeheartedly feel. 

And The Journey Continues: Land Down Under

Before you get any crazy ideas: no, I am (unfortunately) not relocating to Australia.

...but that doesn't mean I can't vacation there...

Ever since I can remember (sadly enough, I'm pretty sure it was when Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen came out with that ridiculous [I may or may not have been obsessed] movie Our Lips Are Sealed), I have always wanted to travel to Australia.

We're talking, dream vacation spot.

I've been fortunate in my twenty-six years to have traveled to so many different places. My family was the traveling kind growing up; I remember visiting friends in Germany--traveling to Switzerland and France along the way. I remember being nine and standing with my Dad and middle brother at the fence that encircled the Alps. We stood on our tip-toes and managed to put our heads just over the top of the rail (in hindsight: probably not the safest thing ever; sorry Mom!). The feeling of the cold gust of wind that traveled up the mountain side and blew our hair back took my breath away.

Traveling was just fun. Exciting, fun, and spontaneous. I honestly believe traveling encouraged me to branch out, to not be afraid and move to LA. Had I never had those experiences as a kid, I don't think I would have had the courage to pack up and move myself 3,000 miles away to start anew.

While living in Los Angeles, the first job I ever had was working as a front desk concierge at a boutique hotel in Beverly Hills. I met so many different guests while working there. Working in Beverly Hills, you experience an eclectic array of people coming to visit SoCal. Within the first few months of me working there, I met two wonderful couples traveling together from Australia. I really connected with the one couple; they fit the norm for Australians based upon what I had heard about them in the past--kind, generous, and down-to-earth. 

We struck up conversation every time I was at the front desk--whether it be first thing in the morning while they were on their way out to a tour, or when they came back in the evening and they'd sit to have a drink with me. They were so warm and kind--and before they left, they told me if I were ever to venture out to Australia to contact them. We've stayed in touch ever since.

Every year (since then, especially), I contemplate planning a trip Down Under. There are SO many things I would love to see and experience. The culture, for one; koalas and kangaroos are pretty high up on my list, too. The beaches, the reefs, the water. I could go on and on.

So recently an old friend who also worked at the hotel with me reached out on Facebook and let me know she would be following her dream of traveling the world for the year. She has an opportunity in New Zealand and plans to be out there for a few months. Three things kind of hit me--1. I was so envious that she was living her dream; ever since I met this girl I knew she wanted to save up and go out and travel the world. 2. How perfect would it be for me to go this year while she's there, so I can experience it with someone else? 3. I still have that couple I consider friends who might want to still show me around (even though it's 4 years after I met them to begin with and we haven't seen each other since then; I've already reached out to them and they are on board for showing us around!). 

So...what's stopping me?

...I thought about it. And then I thought about it some more. Sure, it's expensive. But money can be saved up. Sure, it's a 27 hour travel day, but traveling is in my DNA so that's not really stopping me...and then there's work, but isn't this what vacation time is for?

The last year was great--I settled down, I worked really hard and I made a life for myself. But just because I don't live in LA anymore doesn't mean I can't go on an adventure. I had kind of given up on that adventurous side of me. I left that girl in Los Angeles when I moved back to Florida over a year ago. 

My adventure isn't over. My journey is still going. So to the Adventurous Me I left in LA, I'll be picking you up at LAX (this is the goal, anyway) on October 1st at 9:25pm. Pack your bags, kid. Depending on how much money I can save, we'll either be taking flight this year or next! I'm tired of waiting. We're going to Australia!!

Memories

Timehop (or "Facebook Memories", whichever app you may or may not use) is a beautiful thing.

If you aren't familiar, it allows you to login to all of your social media sites and it compiles posts, pictures, etc. that you've posted since you've opened those accounts. For someone who has been on social media for years, there's so much to look at and reminisce over as time goes on.

It really gets me to thinking just how quickly time truly flies by. 

I recently reinstalled Timehop as I hadn't had it for a while.

The past few days, all of these photos from my time spent in Los Angeles have been popping up. And for a split second (just a second), I missed it.

The photo that popped up today was from 4 years ago--a day I will never forget. I had off from work, as did my best friend. He had grown up in LA and knew it like the back of his hand. I was still very much so a "newbie" to the city and had no idea what was in store for me. 

He met me in North Hollywood at my apartment in the valley. From there, we walked about three blocks away to The Fed, an amazing bar (the only amazing bar in NoHo, in my opinion) that immediately became our "local". I had a martini for the first time. He practically forced me to eat bruschetta (which I had always been terrified of because I have always disliked tomatoes) and I actually enjoyed it. We walked another block and a half to the Metro.

I had been on a subway once or twice in my life (both times in New York or Boston), and didn't even realize there was a subway system in LA, to be honest. He showed me how to get a Metro card, we jumped on the train and we were off to Hollywood. It blew my mind how quickly we got there! Had we taken the freeway around the mountain or the canyons through the mountain, it would have taken us an hour. Instead, we were there in 20 minutes or less.

He asked me if I had ever been to the Standard downtown (at least, I think it was the Standard). I looked at him blankly and told him I really had never been anywhere in LA. Besides the beach and the small area of Beverly Hills we worked in, I had never gone out exploring on my own.

He proceeded to take me to the hotel where we were taken to the roof top. There were luxurious planters, three pools and all of these "pods". They were water beds where you could lay while a bartender came to get your drink order. Looking up you could barely make out the stars through the lights of downtown Los Angeles's skyline. I just remember drinking around all of these other LA "locals" and realizing I was one of them. I lived here too. I wasn't a tourist this time, I actually lived here. This was my home. It was fancy and extravagant, and something I had never in a million years imagined for myself.

Afterwards, we stopped inside another hotel (I wish I remembered the name of it) with intricate paintings on the ceilings, people were wearing suits and I felt so out of place in my jeans and blouse.

We then went into another bar. The Edison. This one was unbelievable. It was in the basement of a building that used to be a private power plant. It had, what looked like, it's original architecture. The ambiance was breathtaking. It was dark, yet classy. It was filled with people our age, people just trying to find their places in this crazy city.

We hopped back on the Metro and went back to my apartment after that.

I was in awe. I was so in love with the city I had found myself in--it was everything I anticipated. My friend and I promised to do this once a week; just go out and explore the city that we lived in. Just before I moved, he told me that those were his favorite times because he, who had grown up in this life, had really taken it for granted. It was his backyard. But he felt like he got to see the city through my eyes during our weekend adventures. 

Do I miss it? Do I miss being in complete awe of the city lights and the people and the places?

Absolutely.

But after that first year, I too began to take it for granted. 

The Hollywood events and lights turned from fascination to annoyance--it meant more traffic, more tourists, more street closures.

The bars went from amazement to frustration--they were constantly crowded and the drinks were overpriced.

While I realized I fully loved this city of fascination, excitement and dreams--I also realized it wasn't home.

So yes, Timehop, I appreciate your reminders of what my life used to be. It puts a smile on my face.

And to the girl sitting here typing this today? Thank you for realizing it wasn't home (nor would it ever be). 

I feel the same happiness I did then.

Just now, it's seeing the Bay every day while driving to and from work.

It's coming home to my two beautiful Cockers who I rescued (though I fully believe they rescued me).

It's working my butt off for a job that is sometimes stressful, but other days kinda fun (and allows me to be independent).

It's being able to see my family more often and be a part of their lives.

The happiness is in my heart, in the box right next to memories of the crazy, adventurous time I spent in LA. 

Thanks for the flashback, Timehop. It's fun looking back at the naive, wide-eyed girl I was 4 years ago and the woman I've become today.