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check out my new blog : kylaonblast.blogspot.com where I take my next adventure ... finding The One.

I made it, I did it!

After rejoicing in her accomplishments and with pure excitement on her face, a friend of mine looked over at me and asked, "I mean, 5 years ago, did you ever think you would end up here?" To which I replied, "selling retail and living in someone else's house? No." And yet this is the success that my 27th year has brought. I started this year out living in an unfinished basement with wolf spiders and no job and that is sugar coated. After we had a good laugh about this comment, I reached my arms up to the sky and exclaimed, "I made it! I did it!"

Truth be told I have come a long way. I blank slated this whole year and have ended up happy, with my cat, with a job, in a house. Certainly not under the same circumstances I had envisioned but that's what happens when you move out of the country on a whim and officially hit the reset button on your life. Something something rewrite your own rules and here I am, I made it.

Overall, I guess the feeling that most sticks out from this year is pain. I went through a lot of pain and tears and really really tried hard not to watch the Notebook anymore (I've found that my well being has vastly improved). This pain also taught me how to "just say no to drama" and to have happiness and joy and love at the forefront of all my actions (up and to the point where I started selling retail) and even then I think what a great opportunity to learn patience.

I will classically take a moment to side note, to tell you that : working at my retail slash design job is like jumping into a play pin full of balls. It looks fun, there are a lot of balls, the initial dive into the balls is exciting. And then sometimes it hurts more than it's fun and I wonder how much longer I have to wade through these balls before I can start walking like a normal human being again.

But I digress.

27, I can't really complain. After all the lowest of the lows (*cough* basement) I've landed on top, literally. On top of the west hills. All of the bad things that I went through have somehow managed to smoosh themselves together with the good things. I've championed, I've triumphed, I've pissed off lots of people and I've managed to charm a few. It really took every person in my life to help me get here and for all of you I have nothing but gratitude. I don't know if it was because you really understood what I was going through or you were just tired of hearing me whine allllll the tiiiiimmme, but your words of wisdom moved me, sometimes right out the door.

God, I'm 28 now. What's left to complain about?

Work it

Total meltdown. Work is now work. It has managed to creep into every crevice of my mind and soul. It haunts me in my sleep, reminding me of all my shortcomings and unmet expectations. My victories are quickly overshadowed by my losses and my connections are quickly being squandered by the desperation in my face pouring out onto these poor (rich) people who I am desperate to sell shit to.

I have to remind myself that I am doing a good job. Unfortunately the bottom line washes out all the mantras I am evoking like inescapable white noise. I feel my manager's doubting eyes burning through the back of my neck and I'm not even at work! I'm sitting in MY house, on MY bed, looking at MY cat. The safe zone has been compromised by the growing wardrobe that was bought to silence these insecurities. They are in on the deal. They are watching me bide my time waiting to see who unravels first. I fear my threads are showing.

My heart is racing, I have 12 hours before my next shift. I sell furniture and apparently my soul.

The worst part is, I truly have no control over what or who is walking in through those doors. If I'm upstairs, I'm missing the clients walking in who know exactly what they want downstairs. If I'm downstairs I'm talking to the person who needs to know where the bathroom is when the person who wants 14 Maxwell chairs is talking to my manager. It really is just a crap shoot. I've tried to just make my managers happy, but unlike the Kennedy school, there is no easy arithmetic for this. There is only the bottom line. That is a sales position.

I'm really trying to work this out. I'm learning every day, I'm striving to work harder and be better. I try to not worry, not care about sales or my clothes or my hair. I try to memorize the prices on every piece of product and whats on line. I squeeze every ounce of 4 months experience into everyday and hope it's more than enough because that is what I'm putting into this, yet still feeling like I'm barely holding on.

All I can do is push these thoughts out of my mind. Just push as hard as I can to remain in the moment. Remember there are so many more important things happening in the world. Think about what I'm doing after 6:00 when I get off work. Remember all the fun things about my job. Focus on all the things that I can do. Push the positive energy as hard as I can, retrain my brain and keep on breathing. My life is what I say it is, everyday is how I say it is. I refuse to pay rent in my brain to this.

I want to say that I can do this and I know I can but I have a sinking feeling in my heart, a snag.

Fuck that snag. That is change happening. Push push push, work it.

I don't fake it.

I hate faking it. But was it faking it, or was it just being polite? I didn't really want to see her but she was there. I didn't want to share any bit of myself with her but in a group conversation, it's hard to chose who's listening. And I was being fairly successful at being selective in small side convos but then we were all together and the wedding came up. I listened quietly. I smiled apathetically while the group talked about something I had no clue about, I was not invited. And my smile wasn't apathetic because I was hurting. Somewhere in my heart, or maybe it was my head, I was feeling smothered by this aching of frustration and annoyance.

I want to be her friend, I want her to be someone she's not, I want to move on and not have to be around this kind of thinking and I can, except I want to keep hanging out at girls night and neither she nor I will stop attending. During our "high and low" game at girls night when we talk about our highs and lows of the week, I wanted to say, "Not getting invited to Gabby's wedding and then having to hear everyone talk about it at girls night." But what was the point in doing that? I didn't really want to go. I could feel everyone thinking it, all our minds connected in only the way a group of girls' brains could be, but I still couldn't say it. It would accomplish nothing. Before I was 27 I would have said it just to be bold. Just to put it out there, that I could say it. I was fearless and direct. There was nothing false in my mind. However the 27 year old me is starting to realize that silence isn't being fake. Silence can be strength. Sometimes giving the ache a voice is like giving breath to embers in a fire. I felt good knowing that only I was feeling my feelings and the only fires I was starting was the ones of sisterhood with the women who have loved and supported me through this tumultuous year. ...

I've moved into the house. THE HOUSE. There's a chapter. It is a castle on the hill and Josie and I couldn't be happier. Space, lighting, view, sunshine, city. I'm 5 minutes from work and I don't have to deal with anyone else's living habits. I feel like the dust is settling. And true to form, the closer I get to my birthday the taller I feel. I'm growing.

Piece by piece

Ah. I'm sorta enjoying this. This moment. The calm before the storm. My incandescent lamp next to my bed is glowing with calmness and warmth. Josie has become more snuggly. And I have a plan.

Well not for my whole life, but for the next week. Good enough for me. I've organized my packing for the move, I'm not stressed about asking for help because I know what people are moving (they're not helping me actually pack like previous experiences). Everything will be prepped and ready to go. I'm thinking about all the things I carry around with me and deciding it should only be what I can carry myself and happily most of it is.

I'm looking forward to quiet nights overlooking Portland, making earrings, reading, and working on Kiss My Sass.

My birthday is coming up in just about a month. The end of 27 is almost in sight.

Kim and Adam have been the BEST friends a girl could ask for. They have truly allowed me to get back on my feet and "settle" back into my life in America. I've seen my family a lot this year and the time I have just spent with my sisters and nephews have been priceless. I don't know what I would have done without my dad this year. And Mom, we've had some great times too.

In this moment, all I can be is grateful. Little fuzzy josie ears are poking out around the back of my laptop, nestled into my blankets, reminding me it's time to sleep.

Thank you.

Almost a year later.

I'm moving.

I'm making earrings again.

After a great conversation with my dad, I've come to terms with being single. I'm just doing single right now and I felt great about it. Not great, like I'm crying on the inside, but great like, it's all good.

My sisters are coming with my nephews tomorrow and life is good! Really Good!

Hallelujah!

If you find yourself going through hell, keep going!

What the cuff just happened?

I woke up, I was nervous about work (only because I've been lacking on the wardrobe - a.k.a need to buy new clothes) but was happily reassured via facebook chat by casual acquaintance, that it's just another day. With renewed affirmation, I got ready for work and set out to take on the day ahead of me. Phew, one obstacle out of the way.

Work, meh. Felt great, looked great. HOWEVER, today was a special day. I was suppose to meet up with Brandon after work. Brandon, my casual non-boyfriend boyfriend before Japan. I liked him. We were the most casual I've ever been in my life with someone. Maybe because I never actually trusted that there could ever be anything serious between us, but I liked his attention, mentally and physically. He was the last person I saw before I left for Japan and those memories I am quite fond of. But as the year went on, he did what most boys do and slowly fade out of view. When I returned home we tried to get together a couple of times, but it never worked out. I thought we had plans, but he thought our plans were never confirmed....the perfect metaphor for us. I knew in my heart that I would just continue down a journey with him of pseudo feelings and fun times, always longing for it to be more, resentful already of the passivity of his intentions. It was just time to stop playing games. Tonight's plans however were practically confirmed meaning he asked me hang, I asked what we were doing and then left it at that. I could have easily stood him up and played it off as if there was a miscommunication, but that is just not me. I would rather be honest, or honestly confusing, than be vague. As I left work, I was begging for the courage to not see him.

Instead of letting it lie, I called him up and let it all hang out. "In all honesty, I don't know what we had before I went to Japan and I don't think that's what I want anymore." He said to me, " but it's just stupid me." My heart sank. I realized I had de-humanized him into a caricature of a heartless boy. He said he didn't expect it to fall back to where we were before Japan, but just to hang out as friends. The me pre-Japan would have jumped at the opportunity to go and see what happens, to build a friendship and just let the waters guide my ship, but the post-Japan me just simply can't explore waters that have been tumultuous once before. The conversation got awkward and he blatantly stated that. He either said, "you are being awkward" or " this is awkward." Either way, the word awkward was used and I agreed. I wasn't prepared for a reasonable response and long pauses ensued. I told him I felt awkward because I had already made other plans. Then he said he felt like an idiot for being stood up. All I could say was that, "I just didn't know how to handle this and I'm sorry."

Something something, "have a good life" and I said "you too." No one knows how to end those conversations. I just sat there on the phone praying it would end. What do you say "Okay, well, I'll see ya?" It just seems so informal for talking about just strong feelings and yet "have a good life" is too serious for the reality that eventually we'll run into each other. This is a classic case of when words get in the way.

Then I get the text message : fyi, that may be one of the most undeserved and inconsiderate moves anyone has pulled on me in my post college adult life. So un called for. Have a good night.

I replied : I don't know what more to say other than I'm sorry. I hope you understand.

It's like - sorry for being honest. And also, I didn't realize you cared that much about me or we probably wouldn't have waited an ENTIRE YEAR before I saw you after I got home from Japan, right?

Thank goodness my friend Sarah was available and to her house I fled to drown out my guilt with a good ole fashion mushroom burger and some whiskey. But only for an hour or so. I was set on going to see Inception that evening. My original "ignore the Brandon situation" plan was to not call him and just go see Inception with my friend Josh. Well, by the time I got to the movie, I was not in the mood to see Josh or to see the movie really but I was already there and paid my ten bucks. (TEN DOLLARS!)

I understand that there is already a lot to my evening without this part two, but first let me say, this is my life - you just have to read about it - and two I don't make this shit up - when Josh first came and sat next to me, he smelled like cologne. It smelled fresh and nice. And then after about 10 minutes the perfume of the kitchen started to overtake his cologne, he had just got finished working at the restaurant and ran straight to the movies. Shortly there after a pungent aroma of ammonia pierced through that, reminding me of the 5 cats he has in his apartment, also reminding me of the night I had to drive him home because he was too intoxicated, finding his apartment at 1:30 a.m., having to use the bathroom and stepping into a house where the cat box had probably not been cleaned out for over 2 months. The movie was fantastic but I could hardly focus with the smell of grease and cat box.

I have finally arrived back at my house. I feel kinda like a wreck. I still feel icky about Brandon and that whole situation. Half of me feels like I could have pulled it off, hung out as friends just to see each other and then moved on, but the other half of me knows I would have just fallen back into that "I'll see you later" mentality or worse. This is all happening while I'm wondering if I should have told Josh he was kinda smelly....and also wondering why I keep hanging out with him knowing we're not going anywhere and feeling kinda trapped at the end of the night in the "please don't try to kiss me" place.

I'm just getting used to the idea that I'm going to be single and I'm going to be okay. Maybe I should just marinate on that for the rest of the evening. The reoccuring theme of this week : If you find yourself going through hell, keep going.