reflecting back. (25).

i've been thinking a lot about what i would--what i should--write for this.

and the thing is, well, i haven't come up with much.

other than...

i'm okay.

here i am. 25. and i'm okay.

thrilling, right?

well, for me, it is. okay is nothing short of utterly and completely thrilling.

because for so long i was not. okay.

and then i was not quite.

i have moments. all the time. moments where i feel like i should have done more. been more. said more. moments where i feel so far behind. hell, i'm 25 already. this is it? this is all i've accomplished? but then i quietly remind myself that we all have different paths. different life trajectories. our stories vary. and my accomplishments, my multitudinous (yup, i just used that word) victories are mostly private. things that others might never understand. but for me those victories are the difference between not okay. not quite. and just fine.

and just fine, okay, whatever-you-want-to-call-it is the beginning. the beginning of everything. the part of my story where my successes become (i hope) a bit more public.

so who am i at 25?

i'm someone who believes that unsolicited smiles by strangers are one of the most profound acts of kindness possible.

i still use the crabtree and evelyn room spray that my mother gifted me for my 19th birthday. it immediately brings me back to a time of naivete and endless possibility.

i find the music of florence + the machine to solicit more sock-to-wood-floor dancing than is proper or appropriate or even becoming of a lady of my pedigree (and now) age.

the quote that makes the most sense to me right now--right at this very moment: "sometimes i can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives i'm not living" (jonathan safran foer {of course}).

if i could go anywhere tomorrow i'd hop on a boat and sail up the dalmatian coast. or i'd return to rome. and sit in church after church after church. saturating myself in beauty and history. satiating myself with prayer (and a lot, a lot of gelato).

i don't know where life goes from here. but i'm so excited to go boldly into the unknown. to try. and to fail a little, as inevitably i will. but also to start gathering successes. collecting them one by one in the cradle of my arms so i can lay them on the alter of this life as my humble (and multitudinous) thanks.

i am so thankful to be 25. to be 25 and just fine.

see last year's who i am at 24.

image via.

reflecting back. (24).

tomorrow is my birthday.

i'm sitting in bed this morning contemplating that notion. drinking my coffee from a mug my father picked out when i turned twenty-three. it has a quote by thoreau emblazoned on the front of it.

i'm sitting here looking out at the river--the bare rock of the palisades and the green of the trees that will soon turn orange and red before fading away.

and i'm thinking how i'm not the same person i was three years ago, just after beginning this blog. and i'm not the same person i was at twenty-four. or at twenty-five. hell, i'm not the same person i was six months ago.

and i feel so fortunate. to have this. this blogspot-lover-of-mine. because it helps me keep track. chart the progress and the difference and the space between.

so will you indulge me today? tomorrow i'll post who i am at 26. but today i want to take stock of who i was at 24 and who i was at 25 (i didn't write one for 23). my hope is that reflecting on the past two years will help give meaning to this year.

let's travel back in time, shall we? or, at least, bear with me as i do?

who i am at 24...

this morning i woke up to a new year. 

i buttoned up my brand new, crisp-as-they-come, white blouse, took a good long look in the mirror and decided that yes, 24 felt different in the best possible way. i was different. better. immediately, i knew.

then i gave one squirt of smashbox foundation into my waiting hand and ended up with five gloriously large makeup blobs all over my brand new shirt--my never-been-worn shirt. and i was brought back to reality. this would not be the year of the immaculately clean white blouse. a new year, a new day does not a different person make. i am still the girl who gets make-up on her shirt (or food--more often food), stumbles over her words, and does not realize that the restaurant has not been serving broccoli now for a full 34 days (as my boss so kindly pointed out). 

and you know what? thank God above for my persistent little foibles. they're glorious. and i love them.

my girlfriend from high school and i were speaking on the phone today. about boys. (what all young, twenty-something women most love to discuss). and she mentioned a boy she had dated several years ago that she would be meeting up with soon. she expressed trepidation about the time elapsed and said, i'm not same person i was at fifteen. to which i replied, thank God,  whitney. thank God we're not the same people. 

okay, so i am different today. and i'll be different tomorrow. each day brings a new and exciting adventure. 

i may not be so young as i was last year. but i have a year's worth of knowledge along with a new number. and for the first time in my life i feel like i am on the precipice of... everything. 

so 24. who am i. well, here goes.

if i could have a constant supply of anything for the rest of my life it would be flowers and paper toweling. 

at the grocery store, i most love coming away with the tall, slender bottles of pellegrino. it makes me feel...french.

i hiccup any time i've had too much food or eaten too quickly. so... often. very, very often. 

there is a direct correlation between the quality of my mood and the cleanliness of my home.

laughter. above all, i need laughter. small hiccups of laughs and roaring guffaws. when i think of the man i'll marry there is so much i dream of. but the only thing i know--i mean really know--is that he'll laugh at my jokes and my constant mistakes. and himself. oh for a man who can laugh at himself! he'll make me laugh and for this i'll love him as though our lives depend on it. 

i'd like to tell you that ned isn't following me into this new year. but he is. two weeks ago i would have said, no, no way. but with the onset of bed bugs and thus a disrupted sleep cycle, he has taken taken this opportunity to creep back in. when i am healthy it's as though i've found a little pocket of air in which to breathe--and i ride it for as long as i can. it's a sweet spot where ned can't touch me. and i know that in the process of recovering it's important to fall out of the pocket so that i can figure out how to get back to it quickly. so i'm trying to give thanks for the fall out. but giving thanks isn't always so easy. nor is finding my way back in. 

back in april i gave myself a year to fail, to fall on my ass again and again. and i'm doing it and loving it. and i've still got a good six months. 

i promised myself that come 24 i would take pictures. all the time. every day. it would take work and practice, but i would make it a habit. and it would be a crushing blow to ned. but i'm not feeling very picture pretty today. so i make this promise. it will be a week late, but come this weekend i will post some photos. full length photos. photos that pretty or not will show you who i am in a way that my words cannot. 

i feel good about this age. this 24 number will be a good one. ned will end. and i will fall in love. (that's my divination for the future...i guess we'll see if my predictions are on point!). 

ps: i have a crush on a man who snaps his fingers. and when he does it's strong and clear and reminds me of my father and this inspires great confidence. 

photo via sabino.








25 coming this afternoon. 

sunday mornings meet fall.

somedays i wake up and life is just easier.
and i think of course i am beautiful.
and of course i am happy.
and of course i am filled by the love of those around me.
i am not lonely or alone.
and of course i'll figure out the path.
and of course i'll find success.
and of course, of course i'll fall in love.



usually, on days like this, the weather is really damn nice.

photo via one of 

my very favorite blogs.

filling myself in the morning.

There are days I drop words of comfort on myself like falling leaves and remember that it is enough to be taken care of by myself. 


Brian Andreas

i was reading the words of brian andreas when i wrote this. i think part of the secret of success in life is to find those--those in your life and immediate circle of friends, as well as poets and musicians and artists--find those people that speak to the very deepest parts of yourself and cultivate those friendships, those affairs. cultivate a taste that no one can question--that is yours--fill yourself up with that love.

i'm realizing i'm a better person when i begin the day with oatmeal, some really good music (lately, the tallest man on earth) and the words of someone so much smarter than myself (like brian andreas).

remember when a few weeks back i posted about happiness and asked that you all might help me make a list of tangible things to pull us from that place of funk? well yesterday, this one was added:

i am great. i need nothing but myself to make me happy. 

words of comfort, dropping like leaves, indeed. 

it's national coffee day!

who knew?! 

cheers to everyone from this here latte lover!

and just this week both the huffington post and the guardian wrote about a new study in which researchers suggest the caffeine in coffee might actually alter the brain chemistry in such a way as to ward off depression.

as someone who's been wildly depressed, is hopelessly devoted to coffee, and really has written quite a bit about how coffee is one of the things that keeps me happy...i think the articles (and perhaps the study too) miss the point...didn't expect that did you? 

we'll talk about it tomorrow. for now i'm off to enjoy a mid-afternoon pick-me-up.