Marathons.

"Remember: it's a marathon, not a sprint"

If I had a nickel...

I have come to realize in normal human adult life (what I like to call this strange, post-college, pre-actual maturity that I currently reside in) that this is everyone's FAVORITE phrase to throw at you when faced with something challenging that takes a lot of time, energy, sanity, lost of hours of sleep, etc. And the more I repeat it to myself, the funnier it starts to sound to me.

Here's why:

1. Has anyone really considered JUST how long a marathon is? "Oh don't worry, it's just 26.2 miles vs. a 100 meter dash" - oh yes, thank you, I feel MUCH better! Hand over those weird goo packets & a sweatband, I'M JAZZED! #justkidding

2. The colloquialism also seems to imply that this amount of time allows you to compartmentalize, do a different task every day, check things off a to-do list one-by-one - except that in a marathon, you're basically just repeatedly running mile after mile with a differet song on your iPod. (Not that I've ever run one, but I imagine it goes a little something like that, mixed with the inevitable self-loathing that results from voluntarily running that many consecutive miles.)

3. In real sports, there are marathoners and there are sprinters. I was on the track & field team all four years in high school and have been watching these events in the Olympics for almost 20 years (yes, seriously, I'm old enough to have memories that are ALMOST, just almost, 20 years old...) and I have yet to encounter someone who does both.

Also, perhaps most importantly, we can't forget about all of those people who LIVE for marathons. It's their lifeblood. The people whose cars have "26.2" stickers on their bumpers and you just drool in envy over their superior athletic ability to your pathetic attempts on the treadmill (don't even get me started on those "100.4" people, or whatever...) To say "it's a marathon, not a sprint" seems to imply that A. I have to choose which one I like better and that B. somehow, one is preferable to the other during a particular timeframe.

Ok, I understand - I am picking apart a phrase that has made it into our vernacular and that most people don't think too deeply about before speaking.  But am I wrong or is this phrase simply meant to communicate a single word - "BREATHE?" All I am saying is that I prefer the simplicity that only obliges me to take a sigh in rather than choose a vein of a sport I no longer even participate in.

Life is a series of hours, a series of days, a series of life events that will make us both marathoners and sprinters at various times. We have to be prepared for both. And in both, the simple advice of "breathe" is always relevant. You are never too busy to take advantage of your vices (brownies, anyone?), to pick up the phone and call your best friend, or to get and stay organized about something you are incredibly passionate about achieveing.

There are crazy challenges to running both marathons and sprints. But even when life gets challenging, breathing is always easy. 

♥mb.

Old love.

Driving to Santa Barbara a few weekends ago, an iPod shuffle of old-school tunes landed on Owl City's "Hello Seattle". As a result of this song's prescense on the stereo, a random pang of homesickness hit my soul like a wrecking ball and I burst into tears as my sister explained to me that she loved listening to this song as she drove across I-90 and the city skyline slowly came into focus. And I just couldn't handle it - I had to change the song and fully grasp that what I was feeling at that moment was something I hadn't felt in MONTHS.

Ever since my parents sold their house in October of 2012, Southern California has been home. The second my plane hit the Tarmac after moving the last thing from that place, something in the cosmos shifted and I suddenly knew that Seattle wasn't my home anymore. This place was. And I was honestly at a point in my journey where that made sense and felt right.

Now, I will be the first one to tell you that I rag on my old hometown. All. The. Time.

I sometimes feel a little guilty - like I'm saying unkind things behind a good friend's back, like in saying "I'm never moving back" I am somehow directly hurting the collective feelings of the Pacific Northwest. It's no secret - I am head over heels for Southern California. But this last time back, walking to a friend's apartment on picturesque Queen Anne hill, the Space Needle peeked out from between the trees and I felt something I can only explain in terms of a romantic relationship.

California is new and exciting. A place that came into my life a bit later and bewitched me, body and soul. I fall in love with it all over again with every new adventure and I couldn't bear to be separated from it. It sets my soul on fire in a way that no place ever has and no place ever will. I'm staying for the long haul - and coming from someone who always used to speak so non-committally about where I would end up, this is a pretty big submission.

But Seattle? Seattle is my first love. The city that was there for me when I went through the perils of being a teenager; the backdrop for my college years and the place where most of my best friends came into my life. It will always be familiar and comfortable, but we're just too different to ever make it work. But just because I recognize that doesn't mean I will ever stop loving it. Coming back into its open embrace will forever feel like the biggest and best bear hug. No matter what life throws at me, a part of my heart will always love it and being here will always stir up those emotions that make me feel like I'm home.

This line from the Macklemore song "The Town" sums up my feelings more effectively and more beautifully than I could ever hope to do:

The skyline is etched in my veins

You can never put that out

No matter how hard it rains

(Photo courtesy of etsy)

Seattle will always be there for me. And I couldn't be more thankful for that.

♥mb.

Pick-Me-Ups.

I, for one, never pass up the opportunity to have something gift wrapped...for myself.

Because why would my answer to the question "Would you like this tied in pretty ribbon?" ever be "No, thank you, it's for me." More like, "yes, absolutely, BECAUSE it's for me!" It takes the term "treat yourself" one step further - besides, you never know how much that little token of self-love is going to pick you up on a night when you really need it.

Now, isn't that a much more lovely sentiment than simply opening up the box & enjoying what's inside?

♥mb.

It's been too long...

Well, friends, I just realized my last post was in August. Which is a lot of months ago.

I feel like a lot of life has happened since then, which (surprise!) is probably why I haven't been writing much. I've made a lot of friends, had more fun than can possibly be legal and have fallen even more deeply in love with California (to the point I don't think I ever want to leave - I'm a smitten little kitten for this place.) I'd suffice it to say I am pretty dang content.

If I believed in New Year's resolutions (which I absolutely do not) one of them would be to write more. Let's just see my return to the blogosphere in January as an interesting coincidence, rather than a reflection of our society's need to hit "Refresh" every January 1st. My soul just happens to be craving this today.

Welcome back, self. I missed this place.

♥mb.

Why happy tears are beautiful.

It's no secret: I am a very (very) emotional person.

As in, "cries when she sees a cute dog" emotional. I cry at the same moments every single time I watch "Tangled" (yes, as in the Disney movie.) A good friend told me she was engaged this past week, and I told her that she had better invest in an industrial strength mop because throughout all of her wedding festivities, I am going to be a gooey little puddle that she will have to constantly be mopping off the floor. I was only half kidding.

Sure, like anyone, I cry when I'm sad. But I find myself, more often than not, crying because I am overwhelmed with happy emotions. I like to explain it like this: "sometimes, you are just so happy that some of it has to come out as tears". I am a self-proclaimed "emotional cupcake" and damn proud of it. At my cousin's sister's wedding last summer, I was the maid of honor and upon setting foot down the aisle, waterworks ensued. That was basically me throughout the entire ceremony. After the wedding & reception were over, I was talking to her new mother-in-law (a wonderful woman who I am so glad is now a part of my big & ever growing family) I made a comment about how much I cry, how emotional I am. Her response? "Me too, and I love it that way." I thought that was so beautiful. And so very true.

I recently stumbled upon this quote by Zooey Deschanel - an actress who I'm not sure I'd mind entirely switching lives with - and it absolutely sums up how I feel about this emotional mushy puddle that I melt into when something touches my heart:

It's like she took the words out of my mouth. Not everyone understands it. It has its critics. But guess what else? We who feel this way have a ridiculously high capacity for love, love for all things. People, puppies, sugar, coffee, places, restaurants, sweaters, you name it. We allow ourselves to be affected by the things that bring us joy and we truly embody "live life to the fullest" when a lot of people simply say it.

Emotions are beautiful and a huge part of what makes this life worth living. So you should never be afraid to cry.

♥mb.

Mid-year Resolutions.

As I made so clear in a post back in December 2011, I am not the biggest fan of New Year's Eve. Nor do I really believe in making so called "resolutions" to implement post-midnight. I will admit, I did make a couple resolutions for 2012: A. to perfect cat-eye eyeliner (something I am happy to say on which I am making progress) and B. to finally sing "Apologize" at a karaoke bar, hand gestures & interpretive dance included. Obviously, I take myself very seriously come the New Year. Not.

I am much more a believer in goals that you make because of something you want or to perpetuate something you enjoy, rather than the calendar turning from December to January. I like goals that I begin to implement on a random weeknight - in this case, a random Monday in July.

My mom has been out of town for the past 5 days, and as a result, my poor, helpless (joking...) little corgis have had to spend 9 hours during the day locked up in the kitchen. To help compensate for putting them in "puppy jail" for the majority of the day the past few workdays, I have either taken them to the dog park (something we have to call the "pumpkin patch" around them or they get so excited they don't quite know what to do with themselves) or for little walks in a community park across the street from my apartment complex. Not only does it help them run some of their willies out, but I've also found it extremely satisfying and enjoyable. At the dog park (ahem, pumpkin patch) I get to meet adorable puppies and new people, and in the neighborhood park I get a little exercise, fresh air, and quality time with my tail wagging (well, in Bear's case, figuratively) babies. I think these evening jaunts might be just as beneficial to me as they are to them.

After tonight's light stroll, I decided to make some "July 23rd, 7 Months Into The New Year" resolutions: more walks. More outside after work. More ignoring my "tired" to indulge my puppies' "I need to get out of the house". So often we get caught up in our work week and just want to collapse at the end of the day with a glass of wine and whatever happens to be queued up on Netflix at the moment, so this is me resolving to do exactly the opposite.

Most of the time :)

♥mb.

happy.

I am happy to report that I am having an absolutely fabulous weekend.

At a time in my life when I still feel like the majority of my friends live in the "frozen North" (aka, Seattle) it is nice to be reminded that there are people who love me and like spending time with me down here as well. I suppose I always know it, but I tend to spend a lot more time missing the people who aren't here instead of really enjoying the people who are. And they are no less important, by all means. The only thing that separates them from the people at "home" (which one is my home, anyway??) is the time I've yet to spend with them and the memories I've yet to make. It has much more to do with my own personal shift in focus; on the here, the now - making this place become as integral to my life as Seattle has been.

Plus, California is splendid. And I think my new hobby is writing on my patio with a glass of white wine...

♥mb.