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 There comes a time when some things should end, and this is one of those times. If this seems sudden, it isn't. I've had this thought out for quite some time now. It's nothing personal, nothing professional, nothing at all. Simply, a parting of ways. I've had a wonderful run here at toastier.org, and I'm glad to have written for you (and for me). I know I never wrote specifics, but I hope that I had made some kind of connection with you, the reader. I'll miss my ritual of taking photos, uploading, and then, most of all, writing. I still don't know what I want to do in life exactly, but I'm on my way there. Stepping stones. The thing with life is that, everything and anything can change in an instant. The world is an imperfect place. So be willing be adapt your best laid plans, take things in stride, and face the many challenges that will come. In the coming years, I may completely deviate from what I've set out to do. Who knows? But at the very least, I'm content with continuing in this current direction. I'll be around, reading what you guys write. I truly enjoy reading your entries, even though I don't comment often. The one place that still has me is at an ocean apart, so please do head on over there since we'll soon be relaunching (stick with Jasmin, and you'll know when we officially relaunch). Otherwise, don't look for me. I may pleasantly surprise you one day or, as I would hope, that I'll drift away like a nice dream you once had. Thank you for reading. Cheers, everyone.  This past Saturday night, I was laying on my couch with a textbook and pencil in hand, brow furrowed. The television was on, but with the volume very low, just so I could have some background noise. Silence can be deafening. These are my nights, if I'm not out running on artificial turf under those blazing lights. It's the closest I'll ever to get to playing underneath those beautiful Friday night lights. I'm a student again—a graduate student to be exact. After three years of working at a job that was just a job, I figured out the direction I wanted to head in, and here I am. Brow furrowed, pencil in hand. It's very strange to be back in an academic environment again. It's like hopping on a bike after long a time. You still remember how to ride, but you're a little shaky at the beginning. And then soon enough, you're cruising along. The difference between now and college is that, I have more perspective on life. A bit more wisdom, I suppose. That, and I'm actually enjoying what I'm studying. At least, I think so. It's more focused on my interests, less fluff to get through. I've had some doubt along the way, of course. We always do once we make a decision. We think about it afterwards and wonder if it was the right one. The truth is, there isn't a right one. I taped this phrase to my laptop: "Live in the flow." It's a small reminder everyday to keep living, to keep going. The beginnings of a movie played on the television and I glanced over. It was the Nanny Diaries. Hmm. I closed my textbook and sat up. Lately, movies I've seen in the past keep popping up. Movies that my high school self thought were deep and indie and oh so cool. You know, thinking I was way ahead my age and knew everything (riiiight). I thought I understood them then, but I really didn't. I do now. Lost in Translation was one I re-watched recently, and I could relate to it so much more. I understand the feelings she felt. Garden State was another one, but in a few years, I think I'll truly understand when home isn't home anymore. So, the Nanny Diaries. I read that book back in high school, thought it was fascinating and incredibly dysfunctional. I never thought in a million years that I would end up working for someone similar years later. So I sat and watched it, munching on granola with yogurt. Every now and then I paused mid-chew and said out loud, "Oh my god..." The dysfunctional lives of the rich. I know what you're talking about. And, you know, the whole I-just-graduated-from-college-no-idea-what-I'm-doing thing. I know what you're talking about there, too. It's true: sometimes you need to live in a different world in order to understand your own. I always thought I was, well, weird (I am). I don't like to drink, I don't go out to bars or clubs... I'm a homebody who likes sports and the outdoors. I generally think that's what most people do though, the whole going out thing, and that I'm in the minority. But after quitting my job, I realized just how normal I am. And god, how much do I talk about my former job? It occupied a trying time in my life, so I talk about it a lot. Deepest apologies (and greatest appreciation) to anyone who had (and has) to suffer through me complaining about yet another absurdity. I'll stop soon. The other night, I walked out at the same time as my neighbor in my apartment building. She was with her friends, dressed to go out. They were all tall, almost model-like. I didn't think people like that actually existed in real life. She often has people over; I hear the music and laughter through the walls. I'm often cooking dinner and settling in for a night of studying at those times. Smartphones out, they made their way down the hall with me behind them, bespectacled, in running shorts and a t-shirt, flip-flops, and books in hand. None of them had acknowledged me at that point, not that I cared. I was a spectator. The elevator came and we all got in. They talked above me (literally, because they were all tall) about where to go and who was waiting for who. I stepped off on a different floor before the main one. As I made my way to my friend's apartment to study, I thought about what I had just seen. I'm in no place to judge, but I know for sure that I'm incredibly different from them. And that's okay, because I know who I am and how I am. I knocked on my friend's door and wouldn't you know it, my friend had the same tired look and was wearing flip-flops, too.  My new favorite piece of advice: "Live a balanced life - learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some."  It's funny how after living a quarter of a century, I finally know the kind of people I like to be friends with. It has honestly taken me just that long to figure it out. Moving to a new city means finding new people to hang out with and to keep up with. As I have more conversations with people, I realize how much I base things off of humor. It's always humor where I find common ground, and when someone gets it, everything's good. And I'm finding that there are a lot people who have my sense of humor... and a few who just don't. And that's alright, I just have to, you know, backtrack and smooth things out. Some advice that was given to me recently was to 1) talk to people wherever you go, and 2) surround yourself with people smarter than you. I'm finding that in doing both, I'm learning far more about myself and the people I meet. Besides, I get to laugh a lot and get laughs because apparently I'm pretty funny (who knew?).   If you like to do work in coffee shops, what's the etiquette? Do you have to buy something, or can you just scoot in and sit?  Running here is different than running in New York, or even where I grew up. During my many walks, I observed where people ran while trying to keep my disbelief in check as I wondered how anyone could run in this heat and humidity. And so, after telling myself I wouldn't pass out from the heat, I went for my first run in this new city. Unlike New York, where you take in the stares as if, "Seriously? You're taking up my walking space", people here tend to run on the streetcar tracks. Which is absolutely perfect. You're not bothering anyone, and the paths are ready made. All you need to do is run against the streetcar traffic, watch for approaching streetcars, hop to the other side when necessary (then hop back), and watch & wait for crossing car traffic. It's like a game of Frogger. While it all may seem like a lot to keep in mind, you're pretty much running along for some time before you have to hop or stop. Which brings me to admitting my (small) caffeine problem. I was on a serious coffee kick for a while, but since coming here, I've been slowly stepping off the coffee and migrating to tea. Which, I have to admit, has been strange (the coffee kick). I've mentioned before that I prefer tea to coffee, but stressful and tiring times call for fuel. I've only recently decided to cut back on sugar as well, so my mornings start with English Breakfast tea and a little milk. It's helpful that there aren't Starbucks or coffee shops on every street corner here, but somehow, I've sought them out. How does this tie into running? Well, I've been slowly rebuilding my endurance since I haven't been running in a while. And what better way to have a destination in mind? I've been running to the local (and very charming) coffee shop for a morning pick-me-up, and then running back. It was a small iced strawberry-kiwi tea the other morning. Here's to hoping I slowly ease myself off of caffeine (but keep running). (Above was a break during a walk along Magazine. It's an iced grande 2-pump black tea lemonade, or BTL.) |
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Hi, my name is Amy. Be well, and say hello!
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