Mind Full vs. Mindful

I'm back!

It's been forever since I've last written, and I've really missed it.

Frankly, I've had so much to say but couldn't get it from pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard, rather). I know we all use the excuse "I've been so busy" pretty frequently, but how long does it really take for me to write a blog post? I'm hoping to be more back in action given some new developments.

Here's a recap of the latest:

The Career Front
In a little more than a week, I will be starting a new job! This is a pretty significant change in anyone's life, but surprisingly I've been feeling quite calm about it. I'm leaving the PR agency world and headed to the corporate life (also known as "in house" to us PR folk). I'll be joining a global eyecare company's amazing PR team, where I'll have the chance to manage projects of my own, media train C-level executives and assist in the company's philanthropic efforts. This shift from food to healthcare is an exciting one, as well as the change from having multiple clients to just working on "one" client (my company). Of course food and nutrition is fun, but I feel like this new job will allow to me to work on things with a bit more substance. Not to mention, my new employer is regularly voted one of the top places to work - it's truly an employee-centric place, so I'm excited to see how it all pans out! I have yet to mentally prepare for the job (since I'm currently still wrapping up my old one), but I took office supply preparation into my own hands yesterday. I bought some new pens and a work planner notebook - and yes, I'm aware the new job will probably have this kind of stuff on hand. But I'm a pen snob, and I geek out in Staples.

While this new move is exciting, there are always drawbacks. I'm sad to leave co-workers and place the burden of extra work on them. That's the by-product of this that I hate the most. I've also faced some awkwardness at work since I've given my notice. Some co-workers have expressed (not to me directly) that they think I'm just leaving because I wasn't promoted last fall. The bulk of my office was fairly shocked when I gave my notice, most likely due to the fact that I'm pretty cheery and haven't overtly expressed any issues with the agency (to their faces, at least). Oh, and not to mention I won the freakin' Team Player of the Year Award last month (don't even ask how my Catholic guilt is managing that one). Well, if that's the sentiment of some, then that's pretty short sighted. I would not uproot my career all because of some petty title change. Trust me, it goes way deeper.

I'm making the change because I want to do more than just survive at work. I'm always just trying to keep my head above water and hustle through the day. It leaves very little time for mindful, strategic thought. It's just one big to-do list. So I'm hoping this new adventure allows me to be more mindful, rather than just having a mind full of tasks to get done that day.

Oh, and it doesn't hurt I'm getting a fat raise too!

The Love Front
Ty and I are doing incredibly well. It's been just over a year and a half that we've been together, and I feel like it just keeps getting better. It's pretty smooth sailing all the time, minus little annoyances here and there (and not just me - I know how to bug too!). We're in a really good place right now where we are comfortable together and we've worked out a lot of the kinks. Sure, there are some things on the horizon that we'll have to figure out (like how will we live together one day when he hates rent, is allergic to my cat and I want to live somewhere with just us two). The future is not written yet, but I have a feeling it has a good ending! He still completely appreciates and cherishes me (and vice versa), and that is priceless to me. All in all, I'm one happy lady.

The Health Front
I'm sure I've written before how I have this irrational fear of throwing up (it's called emetophobia - Google it). Well, last week I came face to face with it when I found myself stuck with a stomach bug. Ty got really sick right before Christmas, and it freaked me out (yes, I realize how selfish it is for me to worry about myself and not my own boyfriend in his time of need, but like I said, it's called an irrational fear for a reason). Last week, Ty took me out to a show as part of my Christmas present. We saw a Chinese dance show at the convention center downtown, and three-quarters of the way through, I just didn't feel right. I felt it was an imminent certainty that I would vomit all over the sweet old man next to me. Thankfully, I held it in. Once we got back from the show, I ran to the bathroom. I won't go into all the details, but let's just say I didn't end up throwing up - just the dry heaves (ewwwww). But it was awful, to say the least. And in a way I wish it had just been the real deal so I could get over my fear. On the plus side, I feel I've conquered it at least partly. But don't think I'm giving up my hand sanitizer.

I'm hoping I'll make more time to blog once I start the new job. I have absolutely no clue what to expect, but for some reason, I'm not too worried about it. I know that everything will work itself out. I've worked hard to get this far, so it's only fair that luck will follow.

What Is Boredom?

It has been way too long since I last blogged. To say I'm busy is too cliche (because really, who isn't?). But in all honesty, I have been up to all kinds of things lately - not to mention, I have moved into a new apartment and have yet to set up my Internet!

When I was little, I used to complain to my mom all the time that I was bored. After playing bookstore by myself for hours (yes, I played bookstore with all of my Babysitter's Club books sprawled out and a book light that I used as a price scanner) and dressing my American Girls doll in a new outfit, my to-do list was complete. My mom's response to my complaining? "I don't even know what being bored is like!" And oh, how I understand the meaning of that now.

Don't get me wrong - this is a good thing. In my last job, I would finish the day on the dot at 4:30, make myself dinner, do Zumba if I felt so inclined and head to bed at a decent hour. It's nice to have free time after work to get things done, but I also felt I had plateaued mentally. Was I getting dumber? Each day was the same - predictable, fairly easy and monotonous. Without something to push me every day, I wasn't being challenged. So now that I've moved on to to my job at a big time agency, my need for a challenge has been met to the 10th degree. No more monotony. No more cooking dinner every night. And my membership to go to Zumba has been cancelled due to lack of usage. My last year has been mostly taken over by this new job.

Recently, a friend of mine who used to do PR told me how much she doesn't envy my crazy work schedule (and by crazy, I mean not taking lunches, sometimes forgetting to go to the bathroom as I'm chained to my desk, and typically working straight through the day with no breaks and very little breaths). It's a lot more fast-paced than I'd anticipated, but there are others who work even longer hours, check their BlackBerrys at night and regularly work weekends. I have to draw the line somewhere, or I'll really lose my mind. Still, my work schedule is more demanding than most of my friends'.

Call me defensive, but although my friend told me how glad she's not working a crazy job like me and is instead working somewhere with a more flexible schedule, I'd rather be in my shoes. I like this crazy train I'm on where the deadlines are fast and ever-present, the client demands increase by the day, and my brain/patience/mental stability are tested constantly.

The old adage "no pain, no gain" is true. This "boot camp" of a career path is what I need. It's a fire lit under me that has taught me to be a better worker, better communicator and better professional. Sure, do I sometimes wish to trade places with people who make more money and/or work less hours? Definitely.

But this is good for me. I need this discipline. I've only been at this job for a year, and I've grown by leaps and bounds. Who knows where I'll be in 2, 5 or 10 years from now? If it's anything like it is now, I'll still have no clue what boredom is.

While I do love my job, it doesn't mean I've given up my life outside of it (thankfully!). I'm loving my new place, which is in the old neighborhood I grew up in as a kid. Sure, this hood has more stabbings than the bubble I lived in out in the 'burbs, and my apartment complex is sandwiched between Section 8 hell and a halfway house for those fresh out of the looney bin, but it has character. And Ty literally lives down the street, so it's nice knowing he's a 30-second walk away. Plus, my commute to work is so much better!

Also, in other news, I was recently asked to be the Maid of Honor in my friend's wedding in Portland next year. Wow, what an (for lack of a better word) honor. Along with feeling flattered, I'm also apprehensive if I'll be able to live up to the expectation of being the bride's right hand woman. I'm not exactly what you'd call bridal - I don't have a Pinterest account with gobs of photos for inspiration for my big day, and I'm seriously considering eloping when I'm ready to get married. But my friend chose me for a reason, and if that means getting her the best stripper money can buy for her bachelorette party, then dammit I will rise to the occasion!

All in all, life is pretty grand. I hope to order Internet for my new place soon (it's been more than a month, after all), so maybe then I'll be more on top of blogging. Stay tuned!

One Year

Last week Ty and I celebrated our one year.

Holy moly!

This might not seem like a big deal to most (particularly given how the majority of my friends have gone well past that one year mark - many of them doing so in frickin' high school), but it's a huge milestone for me on many levels.

Our first photo taken as a couple - July 2011.

First, I've never made it to one full year without breaking up with a guy. I think I've made it about 6 months before the Honeymoon Phase starts to fade. Then I end it, regret it a day later and beg my way back into the relationship, usually stealing lines from "Dawson's Creek" (the early years, when Joey was still trying to "find herself" at 15).

Second, there was a brief moment there where I was worried about where Ty and I were going. I was questioning it all, and I figured it just meant things were on the outs.

But thankfully, things went back to good. We found a way to work it out. This is a huge step for me - as driven as I am, I'm a bit of a quitter. If things aren't going well, I want to pack my bags and head for the hills (or, rather, my side of the creek). It's not a very good trait, but I'm incredibly proud of myself for recognizing what was wrong (mostly my outlook and attitude) and fixing it! So elementary, yet such a big deal to me. I didn't quit this time, and boy, did it pay off. I've found my Pacey Witter!

It's been one crazy year - falling in love, starting a new job and now moving into a new apartment in a new neighborhood. I've had to let go of some things, make room for new things and basically just settle into this new phase in life - that time when college is even more distant in the past, yet you're not completely "settled down" and falling asleep to the sound of your ticking biological clock. It's a strange, in-between phase, the mid-20s. But so far, it's been pretty grand.

What can I say about my year with Ty? He has inspired me to be a happier person - not because my happiness relies on him, but because he looks at life and appreciates all things big and small. He's taught me that happiness is a choice - it's how you view things and not take them for granted. He enjoys every bite and sip of life, and I want to do the same!

So here we are, a year later. We've figured out the basics of how the other operates, and I feel like we've got a stellar foundation under us.

What's next?

Well, that remains to be seen. I see another year of date nights, outdoor adventures, family extravaganzas and living literally down the street from one another (I call it Living Together with Training Wheels). I am hopeful for many more years together. If they're anything like this last one, then it's a good life!

Obligation

Coming from a Catholic background, I am very accustomed to the feeling of guilt.

I feel guilty on the regular - guilty for watching "The Bachelorette" instead of going to the gym. Guilty for leaving work at 5:45 instead of 6:45 like so many of my colleagues. Guilty for relaxing on my weekends instead of getting every single chore done.

It's exhausting, to say the least.

Today, Ty told me to not be so hard on myself. I've been feeling a bit blue today and beating up on myself for not doing this and that. It's difficult to be pulled in so many directions. It's one of the reasons I hate making decisions and having too many choices - I loathe feeling like I'm missing out on something else I should be doing.

This whole obligation issue makes me quite the doormat at times. I can't count how many times I've done things I don't want to do, simply out of obligation. I wish I could be carefree enough to take care of myself and not worry about the aftermath, but then I just feel selfish. Where is the middle ground? When do you take care of you while also pleasing others?

I think this might just have to be an aspect of my personality that I have to deal with. I'm a people pleaser, plain and simple. It sure comes in handy when it comes to work - pleasing co-workers, pleasing the boss, pleasing clients. I'm very good at taking direction - I just hope this won't hinder me in the future by giving me the reputation as someone who will always be the "doer" and the follower, not the leader.

There's my self-reflecting rant for the day! I just did some yoga, which helped for sure. And writing this all out makes me feel loads better. Here's to another week - hopefully obligation and guilt-free.

Perspective

Ever the complainer, I tend to moan and groan over trivial things. It's been that way since I was a kid, and I don't like that about myself. But sometimes, you just get stuck in your bubble, and small things become big things.

And then someone in your family gets stage 4 lung cancer. And then has a stroke. And then your grandma has hip surgery, goes to rehab and has to learn how to walk again at 86 years old.

Talk about putting things in perspective.

These last few weeks have been a bit tough. I was bitching about small health ailments I was experiencing, dreading my pending move to a new apartment and stressing over the pressures of work. But none of that matters in the grand scheme of things. My family is #1 to me, and if anyone is hurting or struggling, I immediately feel petty and ridiculous over sweating the small stuff.

So now, while my Grams has improved and those minor annoyances in my life have subsided, I still have a family member who will not be with us much longer. It's awful.

Thankfully, my family has so much strength. And I no longer need to stress over irrelevant things. It's the big stuff - family - that matters.

Honesty Is Not Always the Best Policy

I love my boyfriend dearly - quirks, idiosyncrasies, strange habits included. He's loyal, he's thoughtful, he's attentive, he's honest.

And therein lies the problem. This fool is a little too honest.

Last weekend, he and I headed to the East Bay to visit his best friend Matt and Matt's girlfriend Kim. On the drive into town, Ty says, "I know a girl who lives around here that I tried really, really hard to hook up with back in college."

Okay. Moving on.

We drive a little closer to Matt and Kim's place.

"Yeah, that girl I know - she works in a restaurant here. Her name's Kate."

All righty. Swell.

I didn't think anything of it because frankly, college was a bagillion years ago.

We got to Matt and Kim's, and they took us out for beers. The place we went to was great, and after we finished up, we decided to walk to another bar down the street. As we near the bar, what happens to be right next door to it? Yep, that's right - the restaurant Ty's little college friend works at.

"I'm going to go see if she's there and say hi," he says. Fine. Again, not stressing at this point because what are the chances this chick still works at the same restaurant? Plus, Ty is Mr. Friendly with everyone, so nothing unusual there.

But of course, while Matt, Kim and I are sitting in the bar, who walks up to us with Ty in tow? Good ol' college hook up Kate. W. T. F.

Apparently, by some miracle (misfortune?) she still works there, and instead of looking through the window, confirming employment and heading back to the bar, Ty thought it was a smart idea to go in with a welcome wagon. I guess when he told her he was hanging next door with his girlfriend and some friends, she got the grand idea to pop on over to say hi.

Not only did this chick have a lip ring, but she genuinely used the term "hyphy" in a sentence. W. T. F.

These are the types of women my boyfriend was so hung up on?!? Not like my past doesn't have its share of train wrecks, but lordy. Why did he try so hard with Hyphy?

Immediately my irritation kicked in, and I gave some serious attitude to Ty. I was not in the mood to be the "cool" girlfriend that puts on my chipper face and introduces herself, acting completely care-free. Uh uh. Nope. Not gonna do it.

Instead I went the green monster route - I gave her the cold shoulder, barely acknowledged her presence and subsequently downed 3 shots of whiskey. She didn't hang for long, but the effect of the Jameson sure did.

Needless to say, the evening was a bust. I was annoyed with Ty (albeit nicely drunk and annoyed), and I'm sure I looked like a psycho, insecure bitch to his friends. In the end, he and I talked it out and are totally fine now. I'm still trying to decipher why I reacted the way I did when I'm not at all worried about Ty liking anyone else. I'm very secure in what we have, but for some reason, seeing her struck some kind of chord.

My guess is that it was your typical not-feeling-your-best kind of weekend for me - my hair was frizzed to the max, and I had no makeup on (hey, it was the weekend and I'm lazy). So for some reason, maybe my fleeting low self-esteem got the best of me.

Ty and I finally came up with a solution so this won't happen again (and no, it's not me taming my 'fro better and slapping on more rouge) - he said he's not going to be so blunt when it comes to talking about his past. If he had said she was a college friend, I don't think I would have had the same reaction. He's got plenty of female friends, which is no biggie.

But really, sometimes it's okay to not be so honest. I know honesty is super important in every relationship, but geez - I don't need a play-by-play of every past conquest this dude has had (for the record, this blog post intentionally left out additional details shared by my too-honest-for-his-own-good boyfriend. He may like to share it all, but I have a pretty good filter).

We'll see if that does it. And if not, there's always Jameson and getting hyphy.

Thanks a Lot, Ted Bundy

I made the mistake last weekend of watching a movie on Ted Bundy.

I watched it with Ty on Sunday and went home that evening. It was almost 9 p.m. and I was in the middle of cleaning up yet another pile of cat vomit (Cammie likes to remind me who's boss when I spend time away from my apartment), when I heard a knock at the door.

Not expecting anyone, I was instantly on high alert. I tiptoed to my door and peeked through the peephole. It was some young guy in a plaid shirt. Still weary from watching a movie on a serial killer, I immediately assumed this guy was donning a fake cast, would guilt me into "helping" him carry something and then bludgeon me to death. Oh and then do awful things post mortem.

The logical side of me told me the chances of this were slim, but I was still completely freaked out! Living alone is sometimes not all it's cracked up to be. And the worst part? That little ass knocked on my door TWO more times! Really?!? It's almost 9 p.m., you bastard. Some of us are grandmas and like to hit the hay early.

It wasn't very grandma-like what I did after he left, though. I quickly threw together some stuff, frantically called Ty and headed back over to his house for the night. I didn't want to stay home because I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, even though the guy was gone (and most likely one of the pesky salespeople that plague my complex often), my door has a double deadbolt and, more importantly, I'm 26 freakin' years old.

I was so relieved when I arrived at Ty's house (and happy to catch up on some "Boardwalk Empire"). I may have taken self defense in college, but there's a certain security that comes with having a guy around (I know, I know. Revoke my Feminist Card now).

It's moments like those that remind me that I don't have to resist relying on people so much. I'm always trying so hard to be Miss Independent and not feel reliant on anyone but me. Those girls that turn to their significant others always disturbed me, and I've vowed to never be that damsel in distress.

And yet, having Ty around at that time to calm my fears (rational or not) made me see that it's OK to turn to a guy sometimes. It doesn't mean I'm not independent or incapable of being alone. I just like to feel safe, and in that moment, he made me feel that way.

Pretty weird, huh?