That being said, I WENT TO NYC IN AUGUST.
Oh yeah, it was a smoking hot time. I got to see my close college friends, I made new friends, and I found comfort in the familiar ones. :)

Dan was awesome to pick me up at JFK. We took the subway into Manhattan and saw all sorts of stereotypical New York things: people peeing at public telephones at a station in Brooklyn (to which Dan commented with disdain, “Ew, we’re in Brooklyn”), a terrible poet bellowing his cliched poetry on the subway hoping to make a buck or two, having the train break down as the conductor thanked us for our patience, and the gape-mouthed tourists wandering about Grand Central Station, taking as many blurred photos as fast as their trigger happy fingers would permit. (Though, to be fair, Grand Central is absolutely gorgeous.)

Dan and I walked around Manhattan for a bit and found some foodins. :) We caught up and talked about the things going on in our lives, things that had happened to us, and things that we hoped would happen, over traditional NYC late-night deli fare.

It was so very nice seeing him and being within such close proximity to someone who was a part of your life years ago.

How could you not love that Korean face? (And yes, I do have something in my teeth. Whatevs.)

While we waited for the sailor to finish up his obligatory corporate socializing, Dan and I sat at an Irish sports bar and had two very meh beers (I had Longboard, which was terrible. Grainy in flavor. Unoriginal. And for some reason, on tap and actually award winning). We both turned pleasantly pink before we called it an evening.

I spent a nice quiet evening (early morning?) at The Roosevelt with the sailor where he briefly entertained me with his NYC tales of PBR-drinking girls who apparently cannot buy their own alcohol, THE appropriate way of wearing pocket squares, and the endless evening of corporate schmoozing before we went to bed. :)

By the way, I flew Jet Blue. Can I say how awesome Jet Blue is? I loved it. I loved my experience. I don’t get how people can complain about Jet Blue. Have they not flown United, Continental, US Airways, Air Tran, or any other crappy airline where the planes are dirty and/or perpetually delayed with disgruntled employees?? Jet Blue has a fantastic customer experience. They still serve quality snacks, have thoughtful boxed meals, onboard entertainment, one FREE checked bag, and drinks. Yeah, I dug them. Lots.

Tears started to well in her eyes. I looked at her, concerned, and asked her what was wrong.

She looked at me, with the saddest look, and said, “It hurts me to hear how badly you were treated.”

Damn. A part of me crumbled and became croutons on my bed of greens. I hate seeing adult figures in my life cry, nonetheless, my mother.
I knew exactly what she was talking about, and I was quietly praying that I would not be mercilessly scolded about my past as I was the night before by a friend.

She didn’t judge me, nor did she mention that I was stupid to stick around.
Even though our relationship has its moments, her silence meant everything to me.

I have a hard time forgiving myself for staying. I don’t know if I have ever forgiven myself. I knew he was bad for me; my life was quickly spiraling downhill, but I felt powerless to do anything. I hid so many things from people who cared about me: the red slashes on my arms were from absentmindedly scraping them against something sharp, the big, vibrant purple bruises were from carelessly bumping into things, and the tender spots on my head and neck were from sleeping crookedly.

Shame doesn’t even begin to cover it.

I made innumerable poor decisions; decisions that left my mind to focus on something other than the internal heartache and agony I felt with someone who claimed to love me. The physical pain became an enthralling distraction; it became a sick game where I would always win because in the end, I had no one else to blame but myself. I did this to myself, I was blindly in control, and no one else could hurt me. A form of redemption, if you will. Redemption for the lonely.

I smiled at my mother. She only knows a story or two, but that’s more than she’ll ever need to know.

I looked at her and said optimistically, “It was a ‘good’ experience. I learned from it.”
“But I’m your mother.”

Touché.
I think her lip quivered ever so slightly.

“Yes, you’re my mother, but you see, it would be bad if I went through it and never learned from it. Then it would be a cycle.”
She paused, and I continued. “If this never happened, I would have never learned that I could walk away from it and know that it wasn’t okay.”

Another pause. She appeared a bit defeated. She acknowledged the truth in my words, but the reality and aftermath were harder to accept: the fact that she didn’t know and then finding out years later. My words lingered briefly in the air, fading away as the random peals of laughter continued to emerge from the rest of the deli. The topic shifted once more, and shortly thereafter, we headed back to the office.

I feel uneasy and unsettled. Perhaps it’s the high of NYC wearing off, or it’s the fact that I know what I don’t want out of life (and what I do seems elusive).
Or it’s the fact that even after what seems like such a long time, I still feel so embarrassed and ashamed for allowing everything that was Very Bad to happen to me and that some people believe I will permit Very Bad things happen to me in the future. I feel as if my choices have labeled me as nothing but a misguided, weak, stupid girl.

Although it occasionally pains me, I think I’m okay with that, though. I know, for a fact, that my past does not dictate my future, and that I’m in a good, albeit, restless place – thirsty for new experiences, new adventures, and new and wonderfully old friends.

And I still genuinely believe in love – giving your entire heart, trust, loyalty, and faith ever so willingly – to another, to that one person, regardless of those who have taken advantage of you in the past.
I want to love deeply and selflessly, and I believe, even if idealistically and foolishly, that it still exists for me as well.

“He might have been naïve, but he didn’t care; he said he’d rather die with his heart on his sleeve than end up another cynic.”

Love is not broken glass bottles on the floor.

On Friday, the sailor drove up from the shore to pick me up in Downtown. We went to Whole Foods before we headed South, to the Bay. He made me a wonderful dinner: grilled gruyere cheese sandwiches, crammed with garlic and tomatoes; we had greens on the side. It was unbelievably delicious – a lovely variation on a classic. I had a beer with my meal, but my body revolted and decided to turn me wonderfully splotchy and pink. I was so ridiculously tired from the week. After the sailor showed me how to wrap bracelets around my wrists (and I must admit, I couldn’t help but admire my hands and wrists in the glowing red light), I fell asleep.

Rest is good because Saturday was a busy day! After a hearty homemade breakfast of pancakes, we picked up drinks and got ready for a sail. :) We met up with his friend Trent and Trent’s girlfriend, Kirsty.

And thus, the framework for my first sailing experience was laid…!

The weather was perfect. It was hot, but there was a warm, comforting breeze blowing through the bay.

The sailors and Kirsty prepared the boat. I was the useless onlooker, but I tried to grasp what they were doing. All of the intricacies didn’t make much sense to me, but it was fascinating to watch! After all was said and done, we were off to sea. There were races going on that day, and lots of lovely boats sailing in the wind, gliding gracefully over the water.

Here’s a quick little list of observations:

• Sailing is methodical and calculated. This is clearly evidenced in preparations. I love how that there are specific steps you need to take before you can set sail. To me, this makes it extremely teachable to others.
• Alcohol and sailing seem to go hand in hand. Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum! And rum was indeed the liquor of choice.
• Heeling the boat is fucking awesome — let no one convince you otherwise. I love having the water skim my fingers and toes, and the saltwater spraying into my hair.
• You need music when sailing, and nothing is more enjoyable than hearing friends sing along to old classics while enjoying each other’s company in the sun.
• Even sailors can get seasick.
• It’s insane how parts of a sail have a wide variety of names. :) (I totally appreciate Trent sharing with me what he knew about sailing.)
• Fried food is almost mandatory after being at sea. And pizza.

The sailor and I went swimming after dinner and talked more about sailing, looked at boats passing by, and cheered silently when the screaming kids finally left. :p We played around in the pool before we washed up and watched Garden State.

The next morning, we had another delicious breakfast and mostly scrubbed down his boat. I met his other friends, the fair lasses who fix up boats (badasses who were fierce as hell). I ended up chatting with the vivacious redhead; we seemed to have quite a bit in common, and she was pleasant company.

Shortly thereafter, the sailor and I headed back into the city where we climbed for a bit and then had dinner at Freebirds, this burrito place that makes disturbingly big burritos. We picked up a Charlotte’s Web dessert at Ruggles Green and rented Mad Men.

I wish I had my camera to take pictures of the weekend, but unfortunately, I don’t. (Not to mention, I don’t need to ruin a camera.)
That being said, I do have a picture that I can leave you with: my glorious sunburn.

Texas can suck in its own right, but I have to admit, due to its vast size and location, there’s just a lot of things you can actually do here… if you’re in the know. ;) I sometimes can barely process that I’m away, in a place that feels so far away, and then see myself chained to a desk in Corporate America less than 24 hours later…

My brother has really been one of my best friends. I feel like he knows so much about me, and I feel comfortable telling him things that go on in my life — even if he may roll his eyes at me or mutter a STFU. He’s been there through the really tough times. I feel honored and privileged to have spent so much time with him and see what a truly fine human being he has become. His character, strength, and outlook on life is unparalleled to the average 18-year-old.

For example, when he was in his mid-teens, he declared, “Why is gay marriage such a big deal? Who CARES if gay people want to get married? It’s just so stupid that people feel the need to say they can’t get married.” He took me by surprise, but I was surprised and very pleased. He is focused and motivated but not without humanity. He is smart, fun, and mature, but not too mature as to find poop and fart jokes juvenile. ;)

Suffice it to say, I’m going to miss him like hell. Living on my own has been a great experience, but I miss living at home because we could always hang out, even if it we were doing our own thing but in the same room. I miss charging into his room and jumping on his bed telling him to get up, laying side by side with our DS, drawing doodles to each other, and blabbing about absolutely nothing. To this day, I miss all of our baking sessions: looking back on the domesticated elements of my journal, nearly all of the dishes I’ve made were made with him. He was a great helper and a great cook in his own right.

Despite my partial reluctance in accepting that he will be starting something new, I’m terribly excited for him as well. College was a truly defining moment for me, and I believe the same will hold true for him. :) I hope that he will call me or tweet me when he’s off at school, and I hope that we can still have a close relationship even when he’s away and gaining all sorts of new experience (or xp ;D).

We were able to hang out one last time on Sunday. We went climbing together, and I had one of the best times I had in a long time. I laughed so hard at our horrible Pokemon inside joke references, loved every moment cheering each other on, and snickered at our self-loathing Asian moments. ;) Afterward, we had some… sneaky mac and cheese from Ruggles while watching Daria before crashing for a nap. (And Mumsy came by with bubble tea for us! :D)

Amazing times. :D

This past weekend, we had a small get together for my brother before he went off to school. It was at Mark’s place. I haven’t been to Mark’s in years, but it was nice to see everyone in one place again before we all parted our separate ways.

Texas is pretty interesting. Houston is a big, ugly city, packed with sprawling freeways, with only a few redeeming qualities. However, depending where you go, the scenery can change drastically. Head south towards Galveston and you get Florida. Head up North and you get… Well, you get this:

I sometimes can’t believe that there are so many beautiful areas hidden in this city. :)

PS – Sporky is Mark’s cat whose age is estimated at 20 or higher (!!). And yes, that is my handsome little brother with my mostly pasty self. :D

I wish to pass through, not vanquish.
Do not vanquish me.
- James Holman

It has become quite apparent that the things that used to bring me much joy no longer do so. More than anything, my appetite for new experiences have increased. I wish I could attribute all of these feelings to a funk, but I honestly don’t think that that’s the case. Four years of restlessness has built up. I have been comfortable from last December until June, and I feel broken down and done.

However, on the plus side, in this past month, I’ve come to these realizations, some of which are very difficult to admit:

1. I will never make a lot of money, and I’m okay with it. Money, to an extent, is necessary to survive; however, it’s not something I’ve ever sought (“riches”), nor is it something that I have ever identified as something I need to make me happy. I can live within my means, and I’m quite content with the simpler things in life. :)

2. I love love. Cliched as it may be, I love everything about it. I love seeing people together with nothing but adoration for each other in their eyes. I love seeing someone’s hand naturally slip into another’s so perfectly – so right. Most importantly, I love the look that two people who are in love share: the knowing smile, the lingering touch, and the constantly evolving, developing, deep friendship.

I can’t even begin to articulate how much I want this, and as embarrassing as it is to admit, I have put everything, including my career, second to the possibility of finding love. I’ve seen a lot of what it is that I don’t want, and most recently, I know what I do want. I know love isn’t limited to rainbow shitting unicorns: before it involves another person, it requires being a happy, complete human being. There’s no need for another; there’s the desire to share your life and heart with someone else. Moreover, what you have is never based on fleeting emotions.

I don’t know if I will ever find this person, and I’m still struggling with accepting that I may never will.

The sailor sent me a link to this journal of a couple who met and within a month, decided to sail the world with each other. The girl’s name is Taru, and she keeps another blog alongside her worldwide travels. I read her post, a year later, of self discovery. It made me so happy to read that she had re-grounded herself, and found the person with whom she wants to share her life experiences, in that one perfect moment.

3. That being said, what hinders me from jumping headlong into a huge adventure is the fact that I want to share it with someone more than anything. I would love to share it with my love, but I would also be content to share it with my friends. However, most of my friends are finishing up school and/or working jobs that they enjoy/make bank/etc. I suppose that it would be relatively reckless for them to join me on an adventure when I’m still figuring things out, especially when it comes to a relatively drastic decision.

4. Speaking of which, I’m still internally sorting out what it is that I want to do. It’s frightening reconciling what I want and actually making plans to take that risk. At this point, I’m not comfortable to discuss it any further detail, but I’m afraid of losing everything (well, the few things) that I actually have. This is my biggest obstacle.

5. If I’m not spending time with people, doing/trying new things, or challenging my mind and body, I feel empty.
As much as I liked makeup and shoes, nothing else can come remotely close to companionship, sharing experiences, and reading books, to put more insensible ideas into my squishy brain.

The uncertainty is disconcerting, but in the midst of it, I know that there’s still a lot of beauty in this chaotic world.

I wrote a lengthy review of my experience at Ruggles Grill but have never written one for Ruggles Green. I honestly don’t think I’ll write one that long for Ruggles Green. Suffice it to say, Ruggles Green is like the fun, relaxed sister of a stuffy suit. It’s not a very large restaurant and can be extremely busy and full during peak hours. It can also be very loud, especially indoors. I prefer sitting outdoors since it’s much quieter, but during the summer, you risk feeding the mosquitoes.

First things first. The parking is absolutely horrible, made even worse (…if that’s even imaginable) when no parking signs went up on Revere and when Persona Spa put up parking signs for their customers (which is amusing since I have never seen anyone actually go in there). I stopped eating at Ruggles Green because I had no idea where I was supposed to park. D:

A week or so ago, I spoke with an awesome employee who said that you can park across the street at the super fancy restaurants that are only open for dinner; if you’re already there, they won’t tow you or ask you to leave when they put up cones for valet parking. He also mentioned a parking garage that you could park in during the day, but in the evenings, no go because the owners will tow. Persona Spa closes at ~6, so it’s okay to park thereafter. However, park during their business hours, and they WILL be extremely vigilant about towing you (I totally respect that, even if they have no customers).

And another complaint: I really wish they would throw out their John Mayer CD. Talk about killing the mood when you hear trash like “Gravity” and “Your Body is a Wonderland.”

I used to order their burgers and sandwiches, especially when I was vegan. Since it’s extremely hot, miserable, and wretched in Houston, lighter fare is my new thing. :D

They have a newer salad on their menu called the Jenny Dipper Salad for $9.95:

Grilled Portabello mushrooms, asparagus, tomatoes and grilled red onions
on a bed of baby spinach with homemade blue cheese, sun dried tomato
vinaigrette and honey mustard dressings on the side – perfect for dipping!

This salad is. so. good. Unf.
I get mine with grilled pressed tofu (no soy ginger glaze, though that can be requested) for an additional $3.95.

I’m not a huge salad person. I don’t really like eating overly cold meals, but this… This… This is a wonderful grilled salad.
This salad is plain. Deliciously plain. I love how it isn’t seasoned with salt or sugar. The grilling brings out the depth and flavor of each vegetable: tomatoes and red onions are naturally sweet, the mushrooms and asparagus earthy and hearty. The tofu is perfectly pressed and grilled – no soggy squishy bits. My favorite dipping sauce is the sun dried tomato vinaigrette. :)

I took this picture with my cell phone, so I apologize in advance for the quality. :)
(You can see a bit of the blue-eyed sailor’s spinach appetizer in the background. He ordered also ordered a pizza, but I didn’t get a picture of that.)

I’ve written about things that I’ve truly enjoyed: supporting independent businesses, finding and salvaging wares that were close to being thrown in the trash, making handmade gifts and presents for people… I find my life at the crossroads once more, and I feel less than enthused about any of those things that occupied my attention, nonetheless, writing about them.

I crave new experiences. I’ve done things in the past year two years I never thought I would do: live where I wanted to live in Houston, started doing yoga, found peace within myself, started doing volunteer work, adopted a kitty, and felt comfortable to start meeting other people.

I firmly believe that I’ve made progress, but I still feel like I haven’t really lived.
That’s currently my problem. The confines of Corporate America do not make my situation any easier. Instead, I find myself incredibly stifled, ready to pick up and leave.

I want to sell my stuff. I don’t want to be chained down to this place or this world.

I had a rough, tumultuous early 20s full of heartache, insecurity, and fear. Life was difficult; everything I had anticipated did not happen. I tried my hardest, and many times, I found myself in complete and utter despair, questioning if this was it. I made many poor decisions and hurt myself both physically and mentally. Time, doing what it does best, passed, and stability and calmness finally found its way into my life. For once, I could say that I was truly happy.

I am still happy and insanely fortunate, but I don’t like being this comfortable. I feel dragged down by materialism; it’s never appealed to me, and it’s not something I’ve ever really desired.
I never wanted a big house, diamonds, or expensive things. All I have ever wanted, especially in friends and a partner, is unparalleled chemistry, companionship, trust, loyalty, and love. And with them, the freedom to travel and explore, to savor and sense new experiences, and to share a new found appreciation for something that you can’t find within a crumbling American Dream.

I find myself living life without much passion, zeal, or conviction, and I’m sick of it.
“And love that’s wakened so. Takes all too long to lay asleep again.”

I want to feel that again but not for a brief, occasional moment. I want it to be a living and breathing part of me.

It’s become a cliche that one person can make a difference. In the squishiest bit of my brain, if I can make a difference, in a meaningful way, in one person’s life, I would feel that my life would have been worth living.

I will take steps to change my situation. So far, this is all intangible and nebulous, but I want to make it tangible.
I want to make it all happen, and I think I can once I can face my fears.
I want to be the happiest motherfucking bitch on this planet.

Here are my findings.
1. If it’s a new box, cat be damned that he won’t try to fit into it.
2. He must secretly do yoga.
3. Any place is a good place to sleep, but boxes are just the best.

Seriously. Today, Ashlin barely did anything but sleep and eat. I fed him in the morning, and he took a nap. He woke up and moved into another spot for another nap. Then he woke up and started getting into my work area. (Normally, I don’t mind, but I do NOT like him getting too close when there’s a hot iron.) I gave him a healthy little treat to keep him distracted and because July is his birthday month. :) And then he went back to sleep. Repeat. I even gave him a lecture as to why I wasn’t going to feed him dinner right then and there despite his protests.

But he got his food not too long thereafter, and I think he’s sleeping again. Wait. He’s actually chilling in the tub.

Pictures to support most of my findings:

Suffice it to say, I’m up at 5, at work by 6, and usually don’t leave until 6 or 7 although I’m off at 5. Granted, I do have a nice two hour break to work out during the middle of the day, but there’s only so much time in a day! I’ve been meaning to post a bit more frequently and have taken a ton of pictures, but I never could find the time to actually write anything. Of course, inspiration hits at the most inopportune time. Blah blah blah, on to some more interesting content…

Whole Foods has some really freakin’ delicious things in their bulk section. I saw these fried garlic cloves (which I will now affectionally call garlic pods) when my sister came for a visit in May. Whole Foods has a lot of fried things: green beans, carrots, bananas, random veggies in a chip blend… While snacking through the bulk, I came across a container that held garlic cloves. Hrm, never seen them before… As I was pondering the latest fried offerings, an employee chatted with me.

Him: These are really good.
Me: They look salty. And super garlicky.
Him: They aren’t.
Me: Really?
Him: I like them on salads as croutons.

I tried one. And they were amazing.

They aren’t as garlicky as one would imagine. They’re definitely garlicky, but it isn’t sharp or lingering. I somehow thought that they’d taste like raw garlic. Nope.

They’re sweet and (of course) crispy. A lovely crunch. You can even eat them as makeshift potato chips! And they aren’t as salty as I thought they would be, but this really does vary depending on batch. The first time I bought it, they weren’t very salty at all; the second time, salty.

Whole Foods guy had it down when he said he used them as croutons. It is mind-boggling just how good these are on top of a salad.

These are a new favorite of mine. :D Love.

(PS – Another Whole Foods guy said that he eats them when he feels like he’s getting sick. I’m not sure how effective these fried morsels are at warding off illness, but whatever floats your boat, haaaay!)

I like using the zip top bag to store these. Keeps them nice and crunchy; much better than the standard grocery bags in bulk.

On a spinach salad with roma tomatoes and ginger dressing, heaven. :9

Okay, now I’m hungry.

*Um, pardon the plastic rug mat. I use this on top of my table to keep my cat off. Yeah, that never stopped him, even with the pokies flipped up. I swear, I have tried everything (electronic sensors that spray compressed air, tape, water, aluminum foil, spray bottle, coins in a can, stacking stuff precariously) to keep him from counter and table surfing. NOTHING WORKS.

In order for me to stick to my budget, organizing and seeing what I have makes me question whether or not I really need to make that purchase. This afternoon, I decided to document my shoes. :B

I love shoes. People who know me know that I love shoes. I actually do wear my shoes whenever I can and if I have the proper hosiery or socks for them. Some pairs haven’t been worn yet because they were were purchased on clearance, post-season. (Although I should clarify, I don’t wear my stripper shoes frequently. Those are worn when I caught a show, for a costume, etc. :P)

Not gonna lie; I have a lot of shoes. However, none of them were ever purchased at full-price but rather with a coupon, at sale, clearance, or before being dumped away!

More underneath the cut! :)