To my three loyal readers,

If you're wondering where I've been or how come this blog seems pretty much abandoned, go here.
When I'm inspired to write again, I will but right now I just don't have much to say. I'm in a weird place in both heart and mind.

Sincerely,
Lamo

A Retrospective: 2008

In 2008, I: fell in love, had my heart broken, broke someone’s heart, became an aunt, learned how to ice skate, went to Paris, attended many weddings, ran a few half- marathons, set new PRs, traveled to Minnesota (a lot), went to some new states too (Wisconsin, I’m looking at you) laughed until I cried often, kissed a lot of boys, spent a lot of time on the phone and the Internet

I gained: a new love, a new roommate, a beautiful niece, a few pounds, more responsibilities at work.

I lost: a great aunt, my boss, a few pounds, my favorite black hoop earrings, a lover

I stopped: running five days a week, but then I started again, talking in a British accent

I started: this blog, running five days a week, reading Harry Potter

I was hugely satisfied by: being nominated for a few design awards

And frustrated by: not winning those awards, his lack of response

I am so embarrassed that I: threw up at a friend’s wedding

Once again, I: held on for too long

Once again, I did not: learn Spanish, drink less, forgive my mother

The biggest physical difference between me last December and this December is: my hair is now more than halfway down my back

The biggest psychological difference between me last December and this December is: I don’t care as much

I loved spending time: at museums, in Paris with friends, on White Bear Lake

Why did I spend even two minutes: writing him love letters

I should have spent more time: sober

I regret buying: that plane ticket to Hawaii

I will never regret buying: another year’s membership to my running club

The most relaxing place I went: Mexico with my mom

Why did I: let him treat me that way? Not see it coming?

The best thing I did for someone else was: love them unconditionally

The best thing I did for myself was: let go

The best thing someone did for me was: listened

The one thing I’d like to do again, but do it better is: run a marathon, Chicago 2009.

Shelf Life

My weekend was filled with so much laughter that it's a good thing you can't run out of it because I would be running near or close to empty. I've proven over the past few weeks that it is quite possible to run out of tears, I also proved that here a few months ago. But laughter, I don't think you can ever have too much of it. There is pretty much nothing, other than my niece and my puppy that I love in this world more than laughter. If I could have things my way, I would bottle every moment, every single hearty laugh, every single tear I've shed from laughing, every single moment my face has hurt, my stomach has hurt and every single moment that has left me gasping-for-air-because-I-can hardly breathe laughter and arrange them on a large shelf in my bedroom, ya know for a rainy day or just for a Wednesday. I also kind of love the way that laughter is so fleeting yet so has the potential to be so lasting at the same time. If I were really good with gadgets I could probably figure out a way to make this possible. I could record my entire life, edit it out and somehow transfer these little MP3s and put them on some sort of something that is activated by the opening of the lid to said jar. It would be like a spice rack but for making yourself feel good instead of for baking or cooking or any of those things that I do not do. My spice rack includes salt, pepper basil and sometimes parsley. And cinnamon sugar, 4 jars of it.

I not only sound insane right now but I feel insane from having just written that. Go ahead, steal my brilliant idea and make millions. Just mention my name in the fine print of the patent.

Just to Get By

The good news about hitting rock bottom is that the only place to go from there is up. I woke up in tears again, for the third straight day and after coming to it from my Xanex-induced sleep coma, dreamless and restless, the way all sleep should be when you feel the way I feel, I made it to work successfully without crying on the subway for the first time all week. I call that a victory.

Today I'm surrounding myself with my favorite things, the holiday music is blaring from Pandora® and I'm enjoying a mug of half coffee half sugar free hot chocolate as I write this. I need to procure some gummy frogs, a ball of silly putty or play dough and some plastic inflatable toys (just for the smell) and I'll have enough things to get me through till 5:00 where I'll go and have grown up things like champagne and martinis, enough to make the night disappear into a haze. I'll have my favorites by my side to share in the wallow, or the jubilation as it were. I'm not ready to deal with this like a real grown-up but I have a theory about that. It's too soon to share my theories. I don't really care. I'm doing anything I can to make it, and if that means listening to "All I Want for Christmas is You" on repeat for two hours, so be it. This day too, will end and tomorrow is a new one where I can stay in bed all day in the fetal position until I've had enough. And then I'll get on the train and go make something of myself; make something new.

Geometry

The past two weeks have been painful and cut deeply, wrecking any semblance of damage control I had done unto my heart. The past two weeks have been sleepless, restless, loveless. And man, am I tired. I have a habit I cannot break, a voice I cannot speak, a love I cannot give and a heart I cannot shake. I'm stuck in the middle between what I know to be true and what I wish were true, the given, the geometry of my life. I'm caught in that crossfire between my fucking head and my bleeding heart and I wish, dear God I wish I knew the way, the answer, the road out of this mess. I cannot see a light, there is no light, none that I can see. It has gone out, the flicker that was once a roaring flame, a wildfire, has nearly gone out completely, even the wind cannot help to spread, to bold and beautify. Tell me, where is the fuel or the matches? Have we run out on this journey and most importantly where do I restock? Does it come in bulk?

I am drained of any energy I once had, of that brilliant spirit people have come to expect from me, and most specifically the laughter I once knew. It has made a grand exit and left in its place a literal puddle; water spilling over from the blue vase onto the table and down my leg. The cracks have become gaping holes that swallowed me whole, like a vortex in the deep night sky. It has sucked me dry. I am twisting and I am turning and mostly I am wanting, so much, to find the trigger or the plug whichever I stumble upon first in this seemingly endless given, the geometry of my life.

There Would Just be Love

If I could have it my way, everyday would be Saturday and 75˚ and I'd get to spend the first two hours of my day with my darling little niece snuggled on my chest as the gentle rise and fall of her little breath lulls us both to sleep, a mug of lukewarm specialty coffee resting on the couches' arm and my beautiful sister-in-law busily cooking up a hearty breakfast in the nearby kitchen; there would never be a sad goodbye and one last kiss on the forehead at the end of the weekend, a pit in my stomach and a red-eye flight back to NYC, a day spent at work missing her so much it literally hurt, a day spent at work fighting the urge to fall asleep head-first on my keyboard; there would never be a day I couldn't see her, touch her, hold her and adore here; there would never be a week spent lost in translation, lost in confusion, lost without you; there would never be snow in October or nights spent tossing and turning wondering when, if ever, you were coming home; there would never be a line to get a cab at JFK, my flight would always be on time and we would get off the plane together; there would never be just me, groggy and depressed to venture back to my tiny apartment where, my roommate and dog are already sound asleep and the lights too, have gone to sleep; there would never be a morning where I wake up and wonder why I left, where I am and why you can't be next to me; there would never be a night where I didn't talk to you before going to sleep, an entire day you didn't say my name or care when I scream yours; there would never be days on end spent at work reading text messages through tears or trying to set up a three page brochure with blurry vision from both loss of sleep and loss of love. There wouldn't be any of this, really; there would be hardly much of anything else. There would just be love.

My Own Holiday

"Sometimes it's not holding on...but letting go that makes us stronger."
---
It's beautiful today--an almost perfect Autumn day in New York, but more importantly an almost near perfect day in my own life. The sky is clear, there are no clouds and the temperature is such enough to have lunch in the courtyard with a friend. Inside at my desk, things are getting done, projects are being finished, laughter is plenty and the happiness is written all over my face. I could not ask for anything more.

Two years ago to the day, I sent an IM to a friend that said: "I have really big news." A few minutes later when she saw it she immediately replied with her congratulations because she assumed, and almost rightfully so, that I had gotten engaged. It was only after I told her "actually no, we broke up" did she feel like a total ass. Yep, it was two years ago to the day. It was two years ago today that I became single for the first time in over six years; the first time I walked the New York streets alone, cold and vulnerable; the first time I wasn't a "we," I was just a "me." And I stumbled. For a long time. I cried, I slept, I cried some more and I hurt. A lot.

And then one day, I woke up and I was okay. It didn't hurt anymore. I'm not sure when it actually happened; that day wasn't quite as memorable as the break-up itself more so because it wasn't one day, it was an entire process of healing, growing and changing. Some say that the freedom really comes when you stop counting, but I disagree. The counting just means I recognize it. And that too, is important. I am not a robot. I am not void of feelings even if they are two years in my past. I think that if I had just turned around and gotten myself into another unhealthy and codependent relationship or shut down completely and not allowed myself to love again, I think that would have been a bigger tragedy. What I did do however, all the right things in the right order, has led me to where I am today--in this big and wonderful place in my life. And I suppose that's why I choose to act as if today is a day to celebrate. It's not so much that I'm celebrating having my heart broken or being "free" (though in a way, I sort of am) but in so many other ways, I like to celebrate it because that day eventually bridged the gap to where I am today.

Autumn in New York

I had the most amazing weekend; the kind where on Sunday night as I was pulling back the comforter to crawl into bed, I almost couldn't remember everything I had done and when I really thought about, like really really thought about everything, I couldn't believe it had taken place over the course of 48 hours and not say...148. And not just because I had done my fair share of drinking in those 48 hours.

It was the kind of weekend where I was reminded why it's so much fun being a girl and so much fun having girlfriends to gossip with in the meadow at Central Park on a Saturday in October that felt more like a Saturday in July; or girlfriends to have an al fresco brunch with on a quiet street of the UES; where meeting a friend's mother and getting a peak into her childhood almost makes perfect sense; where laughs and giggles and 'remember whens' far outnumber any present matter, pressing or not; where a quick stroll through MoMa reminds me that I really should partake in more cultural activities and that even an hour's outing always make me feel so humble and grateful all at the same time; so incredibly fortunate to live in this city where, at any given moment there are 50 zillion amazingly fun things to see, to do and to love; where dinner at a new-to-me Italian restaurant makes me stop and wonder why I rely so much on the old standby favorites; where a meal shared by five friends is so much richer both in taste and price than a meal shared with myself, in front of the TV and an old episode of Jeopardy on the DVR; where a Belgium beer at 5:00 is the perfect appetizer; where the lights of the Empire State Building still make my heart smile; where another walk across the Brooklyn Bridge literally makes me stop in my tracks and smile and sigh and almost have to pinch myself to realize yes, I live here; those tall buildings I'm walking towards...that's home; where walking across the bridge shoulder-to-shoulder with my dear friend feels more like a movie than real life but at the end of the day is more real life than any movie; where the sun is in the perfect position to cast brilliant shadows and make for wonderful pictures and the sky is a color that even a master couldn't replicate; where there are no clouds, no smog, no nothing. just pure and rich blue; where watching football at a bar on the UWS while my friend steals sips of my beer during her double shift feels absolutely like home, even if most of the time, I have no idea what is going on in the game; where a friend from our kickball team stops by and together we share laughs and embarrassing stories that really belong in an issue of Cosmo; where the bus ride back across town through the park feels more like a beginning and less like an ending, like another chapter in my NY life and not the close of one; where the weekend reminds me of where I live and who I am and why, just the very reason why I am so incredibly happy and why, yes, at times, I need a reminder. We all do.

New York is incredible and has a way of doing that every now and again, of tapping you lightly on the shoulder and saying YooHoo, get off the couch and get outside; discover me; enjoy me and remember me. There will be a day when I'm 40 that I'm glad she did. Hell, I'm grateful that she did this weekend. In turn, she gives me fabulous memories. And meals. And friends. And laughter. And a life unparalleled to anything I could dream up on my own. And I am almost always entirely grateful. I have to be or the next time, she will just kick my ass instead.