Vices.

I am in the middle of what I like to call a "funk". (And no, not the fun, college "pre-" kind where you just play flip cup for hours.) Part of it has to do with biology, part to do with the fact that it has officially been 6 months since I flew south (and coincidentally, 6 months since I've really spent any time with my friends in Seattle) and part of it is a big mystery. As funks often are, very few things seem exciting, talking to people doesn't seem all that necessary, and certain things become hugely comforting for the part of us that feels broken, hurt or simply confused.

Everyone has them. Those simple, small things in life that always seem to function like a hug on a day when we really need one. (Or just make a good day even better by simply existing.) I define said "vices" as falling into one (or all) of the following categories:

1. The things that make you feel better no matter what.
2. The things that, even when crunched for cash, you will spend more than is budget-ly reasonable on.
3. The things that calm your crazy.

I like the third definition the best. Admit to it or not, we all have a little crazy that sometimes erupts into a lot of crazy that sometimes needs to be subdued. And these vices, time after time, do the trick. I wish I could tell you that one of my vices was going to the shooting range, but I'm sorry to say that I am just not that cool. (And I think that firing the shots would actually make me more anxious.)

In this particular funk, I have taken refuge in three particular things: nail polish, yoga and tea. Looking down at ten freshly painted fingers, finishing a Vinyasa session (that, admittedly, I still have a lot of trouble getting off the couch to go participate in) and sipping either green or peppermint tea has all soothed my soul immensely over these past couple of weeks. Three simple things, that together form a coalition of healing, that, topped with a long phone conversation with a certain mom have pretty well done their job to fix me up to the point where I feel like I am ready rejoin the human race.

Another thing that helps me when I am feeling down is to clean. Not in the Holly Housewife sense - no, vacuuming in stilettos is not my thing - but in the sense that I truly believe your outside surroundings heavily influence your inner workings. And that if you are living in a clean, pretty environment, your thoughts will follow suit. As I was cleaning yesterday and carefully arranging all of my various items in my medicine cabinet, my eyes were drawn to the particular shelf that housed all of my Essie colors. The tiny bottles, so seemingly insignificant, put a smile on my face - they just looked so darn nice together. I decided to take them out and neatly display them on my countertop, because they made me so happy (much the same way that I often like to hang a favorite dress prominently in my closet because the mere sight of it makes me exude joy.) The end result was this:

(Please, pardon the smudge on the purple!)

I am not saying that nail polish is now a decorative element (did you hear that, Elle Decor?), but am simply making the point that small things can make you really happy...but you have to let them. Often times when we feel bad about ourselves, we wait for something monumental to break the cycle - how many times have you or someone you know uttered the words "I would be happy if..." 

...I had a boyfriend ...I made more money ...I could lose 10 pounds ...I lived closer to my friends ... etc.

There is not one person in this world who is 100% satisfied with the way their life is right at this very moment (and if you find someone who claims they are, they are lying to you), but we all put way too many conditions on happiness. Or, maybe the thing is, that we wrongly define what it means to be happy. It is unrealistic to think that you are going to be a bobbing, bundle of sunshiney joy all of the days, hours and minutes of your life. But does that mean you are not happy? Certainly not.

In this day and age, when are we are bombarded daily with technology, media, Facebook updates and emails, it can be hard to zero in on the things that add a few moments of bliss to our day. I am encouraging you to seek those things out. Wear your favorite pair of heels with your PJs just because you like the way your feet look in them. Hang your nephew's (poorly) drawn dinosaur picture above your nightstand like it is a Rembrandt. Use nail polish bottles as decorations.

Whatever you do, find those things that even in the midst of clouds, make the sun break through just a little, even if just enough to give you faith that it's still there.

♥mb.

Big plans...cupcake plans.

I started carrying a small notebook around with me a couple of months ago. I realized that I kept getting these ideas about things I wanted to write about or remember, but wouldn't ya know I usually would forget them by the time I had finished mentally telling myself "I need to remember that one." You know how it goes. The human brain can only entertain 7 different thoughts simultaneously, and being an over-thinker by design, I am constantly overloaded in the "maximum thought" department.

This notebook allows me to jot down the things that occur to me WHEN I think of them. Genius, I know. Then, when I'm feeling inspired to write, I just flip through the pages until a particular quote or pondering begs to be transcribed into more words than just the few I haphazardly wrote down on the tiny page.

Today was one of those days where this small investment of time and money game in hugely handy. It was a slow, sleepy day at the office and per usual, my mind wandered off of work-related tasks. I recently discovered a marvelous website (shout out to my fabulous uncle for the suggestion) called Taste Spotting, aka "Food Porn". And it really, really is. There are thousands of pages of brilliantly photographed treats and delicacies of every variety - enough to inspire even the most culinarily challenged of people to throw on an apron and brave the kitchen. It is my new favorite way to kill time at work. No, no, not kill time - get inspired.

Since finding out about my food allergies, I have fallen irrevocably in love with cooking. I love finding recipes I can convert to something I can enjoy without any pain. Even more than that, I love sharing my creations with the people I love. I have been toying with the idea of recipe development for a while now - I have no idea what goes into actually creating a recipe from scratch, but I think I'm ready to start experimenting...

Perusing the many specatularly sugary treats on my new favorite online destination, I started to think about cupcakes, and how they are really like an empty canvas. There are so many interesting variations out there that use basic cake recipes as a base (for which I have many a gluten/dairy-free favorite!) but are so much more intriguing than just chocolate or vanilla. I thought to myself, if gourmet cupcake shops are popping up all over the place, why can't I try my hand at creating original cupcake recipes for the people in my life to enjoy? I am, after all, a firm believer that a cupcake can change your life, so why not create some "life-changing" cupcakes of my own?

This prompted me to pull out my pocket notebook and begin a list of all the different kinds of cupcakes I want to try my hand at. This is the list:

1. Chocolate Covered Pretzel - pretzel cupcake with chocolate ganache frosting
2. Pumpkin-Bourbon cupcake with salted caramel frosting
3. Lemon Rosemary cupcake with lemon curd filling and vanilla buttercream
4. Snickerdoodle (vanilla cupcake with a cinnamon swirl & cinnamon-sugar buttercream)
      I won't take credit for this one. I want to re-create a Trophy Cupcake but gfree :)
5. Lavender Vanilla
    Yet another Seattle cupcake spin-off: Cupcake Royale
6. Black Forest cupcake (dark chocolate cake with cherry center, chocolate frosting, cherry pie filling & cherry liqueur topping)
7. Kir Royale (vanilla cupcake with Chambord swirl, champagne-spiked buttercream)
8. Peanut Butter Cup (peanut butter cupcake with chocolate buttercream)
9. Tea Cupcakes (matcha, Earl Grey, black tea, Chamomille, the possibilities are endless!)
10. "Healthy" cupcake (something with oat flour, shredded coconut, pecans, flax seed meal, craisins & dark chocolate)


There it is people, my inspiration of the day. I will try to post the recipes as I make and perfect these puppies - crossing my fingers for good results : ) I am hoping this list will grow as well...suggestions?

Happy cupcake-ing friends.

♥ mb.

Put a splint on it?

I'm clumsy. Like, really clumsy. I drag my feet when I walk, turn my ankle almost every time I wear heels and was constantly the featured entertainment in my study abroad group because me + Europe + cobble stones = constant opportunities for tripping myself. It isn't uncommon for me to be covered in bruises & scrapes and have no idea as to the origin of any of them.

Over Memorial Day weekend this year, I truly outdid myself. My family had just left after spending two straight weeks with me and I decided that to ease the part of my heart that was breaking to see them go back home I would spend my Sunday evening cooking. Cooking - baking especially - has always made me feel better. I used to make cupcakes in high school every time I was upset about a boy or a fight with a friend or anything. There are few problems in life that sugar can't make a little better. The older I've gotten, the broader my repertoire of recipes has become, and so this particular "cooking therapy" was going to be spent making several treats for a family BBQ the next day.

Making my favorite potato salad and getting a little too comfortable with a super sharp chef's knife that had literally emerged from the womb of it's plastic casing minutes earlier, I endured a small injury. Now, I am no stranger to cutting myself in the kitchen - I'd say when I'm cooking regularly, there is a 1 in 5 chance I will nick a finger nail, stab my palm or draw a small amount of blood when I get a little lazy with the blade in my hand. But I immediately knew that this was different.

For one thing, it hurt like HELL. I ran it under cold water for a minute or so, but realized that wasn't helping. I was in a little bit of a panick because I know nothing about medicine (other than a. I'm not cut out for that, b. it's scary and c. if you see red, apply pressure) and as it would happen, my mother aka medical advisor was flying 30,000 feet in the air back home to Seattle. I shed a couple of tears, not because of pain or being scared, but just out of sheer "what the BLEEP do I do?".

I ended up at the emergency room, which is thankfully just around the corner from my apartment. (Ironic, actually, considering I had just been joking the other day about how "Hey if anything ever happens to me the ER is just right there!") I showed up there, finger still covered with a paper towel I dare not take off, and you would be shocked how quickly they saw me. (Seriously, if you ever have to go to the ER for any reason, just know, if you are bleeding, they push you to the top of the list. Just FYI)
One hour, two stitches and three inches of gauze later, I walked out of the ER looking like I was newly engaged to a mummy.

I returned home, slumped onto my couch, stared at my left ring finger, and chuckled to myself. While so many women in my life were donning engagement rings & wedding bands on this very finger, I was sporting stitches and a splint. It was a perfect testament to the fact that I could not be LESS ready to take that step in my life. As clearly, if I can end up in the ER from the simple task of cutting a potato, I can't even take care of myself. It is proof that I am still learning, still too new to this whole adult thing to even consider replacing the gauze with a diamond.

I kind of loved the symbolism that had stumbled upon me during a time when my fridge is covered in bridal shower invites, wedding save-the-dates and baby announcements. (Although the method could have been a little less painful...) Opening my freezer to pull out ice cream is a constant reminder of how grown-up my dearest family and friends are becoming, and sometimes that can be scary to a girl like me who is still figuring out how to just be herself.

There are still so many things I want to do and experience before I take a step in my life where every decision I make centers around not only me but another person. I am not ready to share my closet with boy clothes. I like sleeping smack-dab in the middle of my queen-sized bed. I love not having to explain to someone why I am crying during an episode of Teen Mom. And most of all, I am in an absolute love affair with the freedom that comes with being 20-something and 100% in control of my own destiny.

Someday I might be ready to give all of that up, if the right boy comes along and sweeps me off my accident-prone feet. Knowing me, the "sweeping" will probably result in an injury - and if he's worth it, I won't care.

♥mb.

You Are Cordially Invited to the Pity Party.

After a week of riding the struggle bus, I finally cracked.

I was driving to get my stitches taken out (the story on that is coming in my next, hopefully better thought out entry) when I called the urgent care center where I had planned to get them removed. I was informed by the apparent pre-pubescent girl on the phone that they closed a half hour earlier than I expected. To add to the stress of trying to make it there in time, I forgot my insurance card at my apartment so I had to run in and grab it before I attempted to make it to the clinic before they closed their doors.

As fate would have it, my normally accurate & easy iPhone directions were wrong, and the place was nowhere to be found. I parked outside a medical center with a similar address, walked inside, and was discouraged to find out that whereas the building housed a dentist and about a hundred other peoples' offices with "M.D." in their name title, the urgent care place was in fact not there. I pulled out my phone, noted the time was 6:29, and determined with a frustrated "HRUMPH" that I was not going to make it tonight. I got back into my car, peeled off in a huff and subsequently ran over a median. Awesome. And this is where the tears come...

And they weren't just from the frustration of having to house my stitches in my left ring finger for another day. So much had lead up to those frustrated tears. Somehow, when I get frustrated, things seem to always come to the surface. I called my mom to ask if I could take my stitches out myself (a decision I soon determined would likely result in a worse injury given my track record) and the conversation turned to so many other things:

How incredibly messy my apartment is. How I haven't seen any of my friends in Seattle since January. How challenging my soy allergy was not going well. How I had to spend all day the next day at an all-day training session. How a co-worker had had to clear with the hotel the training is at that I could bring in outside food that was safe for me to eat. How I have two weeks to plan a party I am hosting in a state that I don't live in. How, God forbid, I may have to live the entire rest of my life without being able to eat cheese.

It became a word vomit of everything and anything that has bothered me in the last few weeks. If I have one glaring fault (of which I'm sure I have, like everyone else, several), it is that I have a tendency to hold in all of my frustrations and then one, small thing sets me off and I just explode. Half the time when this happens, I don't even know why I am crying. All I know is that I am mad. Not just mad - in these moments, I feel personally offended. Like life has intentionally hurt my very fragile feelings.

I threw myself a gloriously decorated pity party. But you know what? I needed it. I let myself realize that some things suck, and that some things are really frustrating - I let it out and I feel so refreshed. Talking about it, complaining & realizing how ridiculous I sounded getting mad about things that other people would feel lucky to call their problems, everything seems a little better. All the bitterness and frustrations exited my body though those few hot, angry tears. I hung up the phone feeling cleansed, changed into a maxi dress & cardigan, sprayed myself with a new perfume and ate peanut butter flavored kid cereal for dinner.

We all lose a lot of energy trying to be strong, and trying not to talk about what is bothering us when it is perfectly ok to throw yourself a pity party. Just don't make it a week-long rager...set up for it, have a few hors d'oeuvres, throw a tantrum and then take down the streamers, vacuum up the glitter and move on with a better attitude.

♥mb.

The Tale of Stuntbird.

Back in January, I was thinking to myself that I have never once in my life been responsible for road kill (at least that I knew of). A fact, by the way, I was quite happy about, given that the mere sight of an animal lost to the road makes me incredibly sad EVERY time.

Well, on my second trek down from Seattle to Orange County in 2 weeks (never again...), it happened. I was driving a big, yellow rental truck, singing along to the Smashing Pumpkins when something hit the windshield. Terrified, I glanced in the rearview mirror to see the aftermath of my horrible act. I gasped, incredibly saddened by what had just transpired, my perfect record tarnished forever by this senseless murder. I turned to my cousin, nearly in tears, and uttered the words I had hoped I would never have to "I think I just killed a bird!"

He could have just apologized, given me a frown and a "chin up kid, it happens" but instead, he spun a story so imaginative, so fabulous, that it could only have come from someone I have known my entire life. "Nah," he responded, nonchalantly, "he was just practicing, ya know, for that big movie role."

These words, obviously nowhere near what I had expected, took me very much by surprise. "What on Earth are you talking about?" I was still in shock over what had just happened, and was now even more thrown off, not a great combination when trying to navigate a vehicle containing all of your possessions (in addition to yourself & your kin). My cousin smiled: "I think he was a stuntbird."

We spent the next half hour of our seemingly endless drive creating the life story of Stuntbird that brought him to the moment when he hit my windshield. "He just landed this amazing role", "He is the Tom Cruise of the bird world!", "I know you saw him in the rearview, but that was just part of the stunt - he had to make it look real didn't he?"

My emotional state turned from partial heartbreak to brimming with hope and a childlike state of imagination. I liked this version of the story SO much better, even if it was complete bollocks. I didn't care - I couldn't change that past event, and in that moment what mattered was creating a better present for me to be a part of.

No matter how far-fetched, the Tale of Stuntbird reminded me of fairytales and of being snuggled up in bed with a teddy bear waiting to hear a bedtime story before drifting off to dreamland. It was pure comfort in a moment when I felt sad and vulnerable and upset. It was a verbal hug, and it made all of the difference. All of it.

It reminded me that sometimes all you need to be brave is for someone to tell you you are. So much of this life is what we make of it, and what a better reality to exist in. One where the bad things seem a little better, where the monsters in the closet are figments of our imagination and where the world welcomes us with a warm embrace instead of a cold shoulder.

Don't be afraid to believe in the Stuntbirds of life. We can't always live with our heads in the clouds, but sometimes, it's the only way to live.

♥mb.

A watched pot never boils.

For anyone that has ever cooked pasta when they are REALLY hungry, you know this to be true. Even when you make sure to fill the pot with water that is already warm and add a pinch of salt in hopes of facilitating those elusive rolling bubbles, the longer you stare at it, the louder that second hand seems to tick. In those 5-10 minutes that stubborn piece of stainless steel takes to reach the desired temperature, you feel like an entire chapter in a history book stands between you and your marinara-coated dinner.

Isn't it funny though, how much faster that water seems to boil when you step away and watch some tv or strum a few chords on the guitar or try on those fabulous (yet extremely painful) shoes you just got for a killer price? It seems like time just sails by. In those minutes you weren't sending all of your will power onto that stove hoping that water might boil faster, and you weren't salivating about the meal that would soon fill that empty bowl already set out on the table. Because you stepped away and did something different, it seemed more like a fleeting moment than an eternity.

Yes, I agree - that description of the preparation of pasta is a bit dramatic. But don't act like you haven't been there. And even if you aren't a pasta eater (which if you aren't, please jump on the next flight to Italy) I can guarantee that you've been there in life - staring at that water, hugging your knees, wishing it would just boil already and making yourself miserable by only thinking about the outcome and not the present, precious moment.

There are many situations where this happens, most notably this "water watching" occurs when it comes to looking for a romantic relationship. Most of us who are single spend a lot of time , dreaming of that faceless, nameless person, wondering about who they might be and wishing beyond all wishes that they could be brought into existence by sheer willpower. Unfortunately, life doesn't always listen to us.

In fact, most of the time it ignores us. The things we pine over are often not ours until we stop worrying about them and move on to focusing on the things we can control. When we truly, really, so-SO-badly want something that it hurts, the best thing to do is to wrap it in a dust cover, put it up on a shelf and replace it with something else that isn't quite as old, worn out and overused.

Walk away from that stove (it was getting a little too warm over there anyway) and ignite yourself. View that unemployment not as a failure, but as an opportunity to train for a 5K like you've always wanted to. View your relationship status not as "single" but as the freedom to meet as many people (and have as much fun) as humanly possible. View missing your friends not as sad and lonely but as a great way to build relationships with the people who are close to you now (and by remembering that "distance" is only a physical thing).

Whatever you do, STOP watching that water. It isn't going to boil any faster with you staring at it. I guarantee you that the second you step away it will seem like no time at all before that first bubble reaches the surface.

♥mb.

Why it's ok to be selfish.

The word "selfish" has gotten itself a bad rep. Whereas society attributes this word to the likes of the Jersey Shore cast and Paris Hilton, I attribute it to happiness and the ability to embrace life. I truly believe that one of they keys to being happy is being able to accept that it's ok to be selfish. Dictionary.com defines selfish as:

devoted to or caring only for oneself; concerned primarily with one's own interests, benefits, welfare, etc., regardless of others

Taken literally, this pertains to people most of us don't want to be around. The kid behind the wheel of a new BMW in high school, the professor in college who didn't grade your papers because he was lazy, the people who talk on their cell phones about personal matters in public...[insert example here]. "Selfish" isn't generally something you hear used as a compliment. You don't love your best friend because she is so darn selfish or admire that celebrity because they are so obsessed with number one. But if you aren't letting yourself be selfish, you aren't being true to yourself.

I have news for you: we are all human and because of that, we are ALL inherently selfish. It is arguable that everything we do in life comes back to selfishness - I am reminded of an episode of Friends I saw a while ago where Phoebe and Joey got into an argument that no human act is truly selfless, because in doing something nice for someone else, you get a good feeling from it, so in a way it is serving you as well. Which, by the way, is totally true. 

What separates the truly "selfish" people from the important people in all of our lives is simply the way they choose to apply selfishness to their own lives. One person may choose to use this word to steal from someone, another may choose to use it to make themselves feel good by doing the right thing. Some selfish acts are one dimensional, others are two dimensional - the added dimension being the happiness of someone else on top of yourself. If you can bring someone else into your selfishness and make their day better as a result, you are doing it right.

I am in my mid-twenties (terrifying!) and I always advise my friends that this is the time in life where we really get to be 100% selfish and that by golly, if you don't take advantage of it you are going to regret it. For the most part, we don't have spouses, we don't have dependents to claim on our taxes or obligations that mean we can't take off for a weekend to Santa Barbara or San Francisco or New York City. Our money is ours, our time is ours and as long as we are going to work 9-5, the rest of our lives are completely and totally up to US. Pretty powerful no?

The concept applies to people all across the board:

   If you are a 20-something like me debating whether or not to make a move, DO IT. The only things we regret in life are the chances we don't take. Travel. Learn to cook. Spend entire Sundays by yourself working on making your apartment a place you are proud of.

   If you are a student, blow off studying every once in a while. The things you remember from college are never the tests that you take or the classes you are half-awake through. Watch your roommate sing in a school-wide contest. Go stargazing in the quad instead of writing a term paper. 

   If you are a mom and stretch yourself so thin that you start to lose yourself, take a step back and think about you. Go get a pedicure. Get a latte. Read a magazine. Take a half hour to yourself for everyday to do what YOU want. Not what someone else wants you to do.

   If you are a dad and work hard all the time to support your family, spend Saturday mornings reading with a dog by your side. Play Nintendo Wii for 3 hours. Drink some Maccallum's 18.

No matter who you are, be selfish with other people. No relationship is going to function properly if there is an imbalance - make the things you want known and make them happen. I can guarantee that no relationship is stronger than one in which both of the people are getting exactly what they want out of life, but doing it together. 

I am not suggesting that you only think about yourself every moment of your existence, but I am saying that if you don't think about yourself at all you are selling yourself short. It's ok to eat Ramen noodles because you spent too much money on that Marc by Marc Jacobs bag you've been coveting for months. It's ok to sleep in until 12:30 because you stayed up watching How I Met Your Mother until the wee hours of the morning. It's ok to say things other people might not like if it's what you truly believe.

Everything in life is about balance. And putting yourself first sometimes is part of that balance.

So do it.


♥mb.