Hello again. Or hello for the first time. Either way, hello. I’m glad you’re here.
Because, as much as I love to write, this isn’t all about me. It’s about you, too. It’s about experiences that we might have in common, struggles and happenings to which we might relate, ideas we might share. It’s about life.
And it’s about stories. Because sharing stories makes us feel better. Sharing stories reminds us that we’re never truly alone, and, let's be honest, we all just want to belong.
With that said, here we go: Post #1.
Friday was the autumnal equinox. It signifies renewal, shifting, changing of the Guard, or what have you. It always reminds me of that line from You’ve Got Mail:
“Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly-sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address.”
A bouquet of newly-sharpened pencils: Arguably the most romantic gift on the planet.
Ah, New York in the fall…Makes me want to buy soft Gap sweaters of red and gold hues--sweaters like my 16-year-old half-sister from Easthampton wore when she visited us, which seemed like the coolest clothes on the planet at my tender age of eight. Makes me want to pull on some cozy socks and curl up with some cinnamon tea. Makes me want to bake pumpkin somethings as I brew mulled wine and listen to soulful music...like Norah Jones.
September is a time to take stock and make some next moves:
2013: Having recently moved to NYC, I start working at Equinox.
2014: I subconsciously need a new challenge, so I break my humerus arm-wrestling...and, while apartment-ridden, build my first website.
2015: I decide to leave Equinox by January, so I brainstorm what comes next.
2016: Having recently moved in with my fiance (a lot happened in 2016), I start working with two young start-ups and, for the first time in my life, set some financial goals.
Now, in 2017, as a newly married woman, I enter the job search chaos yet again, looking for more stability--because those 2016 financial goals proved very difficult to reach working with two young start-ups.
My husband once told me that I am “like a leaf blowing in the wind”. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Okay, yes I do: As a 33-year-old woman with a one-step-below-Ivy-League education and a respectable Master’s Degree, as well as personal training and nutrition coaching certifications that I decided, kind-of-sort-of on a whim, to pursue, I feel like I shouldn’t feel so damn lost at this point in my life. I see people doing awesome stuff like TED Talks and book tours and think, “Well, shit: I want to do that. Why haven't I? What am I doing with my life?! AHHHHHHH!!!!”
You reach goals through persistence, right? Right. Yet here I am, once again, either over-qualified or under-qualified for most jobs I find on Indeed or Glassdoor (having officially moved beyond Craigslist), because I have such a “wide range” [Note: Random smorgasbord] of education and job bullet points.
But autumn means hope that I will finally feel like I have my shit together for good this time and move on up--versus just over.
Most people consider spring a time of renewal, when the dead frozen gives way to living warmth; when the city, energized by sun, revitalizes; when everyone smiles as they stroll, free of 27 layers of clothing.
Meh. Autumn means that WINTER IS COMING. (You know that I know that you know what that means.) Autumn: A time of impending death and frozen tundra. That’s. My. Jam.
Yes, give me autumn: A time to hunker down and not feel guilty with your house pants on at 6pm--because the sun went down an hour ago. Give me autumn, with beautiful days full of crisply-colored light, hot toddies, roasted brussels sprouts, and drinking red wine 24/7 because it's not blazing hot outside.
So, hello. Welcome to autumn. Do you feel the shift? It’s there. At the risk of shamelessly exposing my hippie-dippie roots, the equinox is a magical time, so climb on that carpet and enjoy the ride.
Right now it’s taking me to that glass of red wine--because I can't wait any longer.
Cheers to that, my friends.