June 22, 2012 § 1 Comment
There’s some serious layers about to be peeled back. And much like my sensitivity to onions, the tear ducts have been busy.
Putting aside all those things I should be doing right now (like looking for work to replenish my funds), lies something with equal weight. No, its heavier. To respect and protect those I write about, I do not use real names.
There’s a layer of my story I’ve been sitting on. I miss someone.
When I was in Australia I met somebody. We were strangers before then, but in the short amount time and copious occasions we spent together, it felt as though our relationship came in dog years. Weeks seemed more like months.
Most of us have had that relationship we fell the hardest in. The one that nearly killed us. The one you had to go through, and come out of… The one that taught you the most about yourself, and because you braved its wake, you now know the limits of your ability to survive.
That relationship for me was nearly 10 years ago, and took place in San Francisco. You’ve heard me say hundreds of times how emotional I am, I’ll probably repeat it hundreds more, this is my disclaimer as to why the following description will likely sound a bit dramatic.
You know those perfect days? The unplanned one’s? A gorgeous day spawns spontaneity: a stunning drive along the coast; the perfect weather; the perfect temperature; the perfect company; the perfect song comes on, at just the right time, and you’re loving this moment so hard that you can’t do anything but close your eyes, lay your head back, and smile it all in. I felt like that all the time with… we’ll call him, Alano (I was going to go with the Spanish name for “destroyer”, but that’d be four syllables & just taking it too far).
He was incredibly spontaneous. Romantic in a way that always left me feeling anew. It was like having all my favorite endorphin releasers in one person. We loved eating together, we loved food. He was, to this day, one of the best natural-born cooks I’ve known. Music is probably my strongest mood changer, he always played the right songs. He took photographs, and we took drives. He loved reading, and I loved the way he drove a car. He was not perfect, and when I looked at him, I saw his flaws. I called him on them. It was because of all these things combined that I knew I loved him.
So there’s one of my very Audrey prefaces. But these things are important in order to give context. Surviving Alano – once you un-cloak the power of pain, it never quite takes the same hold of you. If and only because you’ve now once endured it. The loss of an innocence can only happen once. One of my biggest hurdles in overcoming that relationship was the possibility of living life without ever feeling that level of happiness again. But, your definitions change. You get older, and your world becomes bigger. You realize the aspects that ended the relationship were a piece in that “happiness” and there’s a different kind you’re now looking for.
Collectively, I was with Alano for roughly two years. The two that followed, I was single and dating. Then, I met… Ethan. He was my boyfriend for over two years and we broke up in April of the year I left for this trip (2010).
It wasn’t until I was swirling through leaf-littered roads on the world’s driest continent that a glimpse of that happiness showed it’s face again. His name is… Leon.
As a lot of time has passed since then, nearly four months & three countries (that was Oz, I’ve been to New Zealand, Fiji & now NY since then), I’ll give you the skinny and fill in details later.
Now here’s where I throw in a big, fat, “wait a second”, & tell you that Leon fell for me too. When he confessed his feelings, I told him I didn’t feel the same. I wasn’t ready. I feel like if I were on a stage right now, all the guys would throw tomatoes at me. Maybe you’re already thinking I’m a stupid girl. Maybe I am. But, I’m prepared to reveal all of this story, humility intact, if you care to read it… just not all tonight. I’m beat, so I’ll pick up where I left off tomorrow.
Night big apple.
June 18, 2012 § Leave a comment
For the three nights before my interview I stayed up to the un-Godly hours that born & bred New Yorkers just refer to as time to start their evening. The Lucky Magazine scout suggested I bring photos of myself and be prepared to give her some background on who I am.
I got an idea. I decided to try and knock this one out of the park. I believe in the “you never know…”, maybe a story in the magazine won’t pan out, but perhaps something else Lucky will. A job? A fortuitous networking contact?
April 20, 2012 § 2 Comments
The Single Suitcase business cards are in!
Coming to a country near you.
April 18, 2012 § 1 Comment
It’s quite an achievement when a city gives you everything you’ve heard about it… in a matter of days.
I nearly gave Mila a heart attack as I came into her view at the airport. Two carts, a dog, and seven suitcases. Look, it’s still The Single Suitcase, but this is NY, ok. There’s no question mark at the end of that sentence on purpose.
In Fiji I remember a girl who stayed at the same lodge as me who said, “you’re the most glamorous traveler I’ve ever seen.” It was very much in the kind of tone that leaves you stumped on how to respond. So I just laughed… pretty much at myself. No offense, but no matter where I go, I refuse to use a backpack. I take a suitcase. One of those colossal, multi-gallon new ones with four wheels & a Samsonite nameplate somewhere because that seems to be the only brand that can uphold the beating. I showed up with seven of these sized monsters to JFK.
Traveling tip: Virgin America might prove to be a wonderful (financial) tool to moving across the country. They allow !10! suitcases (50 lbs each) for only $25/bag.
I love the cloth. And everyone knows NY is one of the worlds best playgrounds to expand & strut your creative fashion side. The mood for an outfit doesn’t always line up with the outing to wear it to – unless you’re in NY, any day will do. So I’ll lug each suitcase, burden Mila a bit, so I can have one of my favorite fun’s.
Craigs List was as scary as I remembered it. Especially when you’re looking for work. I found two hidden gems, but prior to that, I got my few chuckles & scares with the derogatory listings.
I have an interview for a dermo slash laser hair removal joint that offers fast, easy money, for two weeks worth of promotional work. But the last three days I thought happy thoughts & found my feet leaving the ground.
Cryptic text caught my eye in another ad for a start-up. After shooting off an email, I quickly found the reason for the ambiguous ad had to do with restrictions by the company & I was scheduled for a group meeting with Zaarly.
Zaarly is an online site started by Bo Fishback & apparently Ashton Kutcher is one of its investors. It’s something like bidding for a favor. Say it’s raining out, you’re dying for your favorite sandwich & tea rendition, but don’t want to take the rain to get it. Go on Zaarly, say you’ll pay x dollars for it & name the amount of time you want to give the ‘filler’ to deliver your meal. Anyone can go on Zaarly and fulfill your order. It’s a way to have something done, and a way to make some cash.
So I say, ‘why not?’ Take a chance, dive head-first into my NY chapter and I go to the meeting. A young lady named Lily was running the show, she is one of those great young women who is at least five years your younger & has already had a career many of us dream about. By the end of the gathering, some kismet was already making its way to me. Lily & I hit it off chatting and she asks me what I’m doing the following evening. “Nothing. What am I doing?” “You are joining me to represent Zaarly at a CEO lunch auction. Wear something black.” By the mercy of my seven suitcases, I’m well-prepared, and I step out of the closet so Mila can give me a once over. “What do you think?” Mila thought it was a tad on the riskier side, this being a C-level event, but I decided to ride this NY welcoming a bit longer & went with my bolder look. It is NY, right? Why not. So I’m at this auction thing, the CEO list looking like exec’s from HBO, Martha Stewart, Redbook Mag & on, but I’ve sighed the relief of comfort after getting a couple shot outs for my outfit. This all sounds terribly shallow, but the kicker came as Lily & I were grabbing our gift bags and heading out. A young woman approached me & said, “this may seem funny, but I love your look and I’m actually a scout for Lucky Magazine. I help them find woman like yourself to meet with the editor & potentially be featured in one of our ‘everyday woman’ write ups. Would you be interested to meet with the editor?”
My appointment is next week.
February 14, 2012 § Leave a comment
When has time ever felt like what the number shows? That funny thing that happens when you almost un-decidedly take a moment to note where you were this time x number of days/weeks/months/years ago.
On Valentines Day I’m smiling at the thoughtful gifts given to friends by their man or woman, scoffing & laughing at the angry sentiments & witty anti-love takes strewn down my Facebook feed, and I’m thinking about where and who I was with one year ago today.
My take? It falls on one of my general life mottos: Something positive.
My take is not grasping to be a do-gooder, and with certainty, it’s not because I’m absolved of the exquisite pain love can lend. I like looking at things positively because of the choice in it; and the strength you gain by making that choice. I’m not talking about donning rose-colored glasses, or some shallow & falsely winning line you repeat to yourself in light attempt for a band-aid cure. I think it varies for each person, because all our realities vary. I like to look for something honest, and whenever I find that, I suppose it’s like finding a bit of peace.
Even if you’re lonely, you’re in the company of many.
My brother had a great quote up on his social status bar. I’m not even sure it is fitting, but I feel compelled to share it: “we are all right where we should be…”
For me, that means we both have and don’t have control. I had the biggest hand in the choices that delivered me to my present seat; good, bad, and I have no regrets. But there are always outside variables contributing too, and those are the ones I try not to concentrate on.
This year, my mom is my sweetheart. I made her dinner & got us both flowers.
February 9, 2012 § Leave a comment
In many ways this will be my first visit to New York. I’ve taken the standard childhood tour, painted something like glimpses atop two towers that no longer stand, & a windy ferry ride to a mini-island housing our country’s statue. But since then, my passes through New York have been brief stints; in and out of the city visiting an ex, his family or mine, and a couple alcohol-blurred weekends with friends… I’m pretty amped on getting my umpteen chance to visit the city anew.
Recap & Plan. I’ve been to three countries so far (Australia, New Zealand & Fiji), and I still feel as though pieces of me are left scattered behind along stops throughout the Oceania. I’m heading to NY for three reasons; to visit one of my best friends (Mila), to study under my favorite choreographer (Luam), and to make some cash. Well, to be in NY too, which holds countless reasons.
My best furry friend & I will be staying at Mila’s. Luam should be teaching at Broadway Dance Center and off road trips most of the month or so that I plan to spend in NY, and I’m looking at Craigs List or dog-walking to facilitate some funds.
I’ve fallen for Luam as many times as I’ve watched her class clips on Vimeo or youtube. As much as you can get a feel for someone through streams of footage, I get one about her. Her energy, her dance etiquette, her creative art – she sums up so much of what my dance muse embodies. So yes, it’s safe to say I’m somewhere between bouncing of the walls & a thousand “eeek’s” at the opportunity to take her classes, be in NY, and spend time with one of my dearest friends… yet somehow, that bottomless chasm of my insides is going through a bit of shock being back in the states. I’m not quite able to pinpoint it, but some of my heart seems to be unaccounted for. The spoils of living in the U.S. I still appreciate, but are lacking in their luster. And the inconceivable patience I now seem to have driving is a calm I must figure out how to hold on to, and perpetuate. Everything appears to be just as it was when I left, so I suppose that means I really have traveled, right? It’s me that has changed.