I have a confession, and no, it's not an excuse about why I have been too busy to blog. Let me start from the beginning.
I was traveling for work and it was quite the whirlwind. With traveling for work brings planes which brings runny nose, watery eyes and stuffed up heads. Which has left me with Saturday, Sunday, Monday night and Tuesday all day being home alone. I am used to being home alone these days, Milo and I have quite the opposite schedules which leaves my weekends and weeknights alone. Prior to moving in together in our own place, I lived with Grams which was like having a siamese twin and then in a house with 5 rooms, two cats and a dog. So needless to say, being alone hasn't been a thing for a while.
So about this confession...I am a total freak when I am alone. Complete and total weirdo.
Over the past few days, I have ordered endless amounts of GrubHub. I almost feel like Miranda when the lady from the Chinese restaurant knows her order by heart and laughs.
I talk to myself a lot. Like nearly full conversations. But as far as any of you are concerned, I was talking to the cat.
I have really done little to now house work. I usually dream of days to be home alone all day with not a thing to do and all the cleaning and organizing I could get done. Oh! The possibilities. Well, I have folded a few throw blankets, emptied the fridge, washed a few cups and vacuumed a bit. Oh and I unpacked my suitcase five days later.
I ordered prints of photos for a new gallery wall I am making and spent hours cropping and picking the perfect snaps. But that quickly turned into ordered personalized magnets with pictures of my cat on them...lord help me.
I have plucked my face of hair, I have stared at my face in the mirror. I have brainstormed outfits, watched more Vanderpump Rules and Sex and the City than I care to admit. I made one single frame with a picture of Milo and I and the champagne cork from our first night here (#pintrest).
I have moved from kitchen to couch to bedroom to couch to kitchen with every possible power card, seven beverages, a patriots fleece blanket and my phone.
So long story short, solo Amanda is a weirdo...and I have loved every second of it.
From a young age, we are exposed to the idea that the more candy attached to cards with your name in a mom's handwriting you have in your sticker covered paper bag, the better. And then as we get older, anonymous 'candy grams' will be sent to you in fifth period and the feeling of only getting one from your best friend was the pits. Now, getting flowers at work is the ultimate badge of honor, unless you are me and your dad is the one who always sends them. I think it's the best, but the looks of judgement say otherwise.
Ya, you guess it. It's that time of year again ladies. The much anticipated and even more loathed Valentine's Day is here. I am sure those two words bring on two very distinct reactions.
one) butterflies, anticipation and excitement.
two) dread and loathing.
I've agreed with the cliche that most pesimistic or sarcastic women spew to their girlfriends over wine and pizza in their sweats. The movies have ruined us. Life and relationships are nothing like The Notebook. Blah blah blah. Frankly, I am bored with it. I just don't think one day should be the narrative for a relationship.
Truthfully, I fall somewhere in the middle of it all. I don't love the Hallmark holiday and I don't hate it either. I have never had a bad Valentine's Day really. In my twenty eight years, I have had what I consider three serious relationships. Number one in high school that lasted about six months and February was not included. Number two was an eight and a half year relationship that had a few great ones and a few ones that felt forced. But there was always a sense of effort. The third, is relationship number one revisited. That high school boy who was my first love and my first terrible heartbreak is now the one I love again. This particular one makes me feel a small amount of those butterflies.
The best part of Valentine's day past are the not so perfect gifts. One time, I was sent a potted plant with a lady bug sleeve made of felt wrapped around it. Another, I was given two t-shirts, one small and one large because he was unsure of my size (MEDIUM?!) The best part? One of the shirts was this.
Do you recognize it? Yup, it's form the Hills. But then again, considering the leg stands and jello shots being consumed during my life at that time, it was probably perfect with just enough room for my beer belly to fit under. These still make me laugh, they are the best part of the holiday's past.
Anyways, back to my real dilemma lies. And I use the word 'dilemma' very lightly. I like to play the cool girl role. The "I don't care about this holiday, don't worry about it". Secretly, I want it all. I have found myself feeling this need for the big romantic gestures. The candlelit dinners and amazing, over the top gifts. Maybe because I am happy in what I have, I want that movie scene to be my own. But really, does a Valentine's Day dictate it all?
I don't think so. I think the little things like a reach for your hand in a movie or the belly laughing over the stupid things is what counts. So that is where my focus has been turned to. It's not an easy task. We are in a world where comparison, envy and gloating are king. Even as I write this, I have read and re-read every sentence to make sure it doesn't sound like any of those adjectives. I believe true happiness lies within the little things. The happiness that you have in your day to day encounters. Everything else is just icing the proverbial cake. Am I perfect in my practice of these preaches? Not one single bit. But this is my new mantra. With that said, I hope your Valentine's Days are full with girlfriends, wine and laughter or the grand gestures that make your heart flutter.
Before we start the regularly scheduled program...I have to share something that caught my eye today.
During my walk to the train in the busy Downtown Crossing part of Boston, I passed a girl in her mid twenties. She was trucking through the snowy streets likely headed home. What caught my eye is she was carrying a full french baguette and without an ounce of shame, ripping pieces off and eating them on her stroll. It took everything in me not to stop and high-five her. I don't know if it was the non-discrete consumption of straight carbs or the fact that I have been starving on my current diet (read: eating healthy and not really hungry at all but just dying for some damn bread). But I want to say to baguette girl, I applaud you. Also, can you spare a soul sister a piece?
When I wake up on a Monday morning, the first thing I think to myself is "I really hope it is a super snowy day with school and work cancelled for most people except me!"Not.
However, with a mostly shutdown city comes a few perks. Some of the best? No line at Starbucks, a seat on the train and a speedy ride home. The other major plus of a snowy day? The snow gear. I am really a creature of habit during each season. I have my favorites and I usually stubbornly stick with them. With the blustery winds, wet sidewalks and chilly air I am able to slip on my favorite boots, my even more favorite (and typical blogger) blanket scarf and the coat my previously mentioned bad bought for me for Christmas. I almost love these things as much as my jorts! (For those unfamiliar with the term 'jolts', it is a loving reference to my cut-offs which are a uniform in the warmer months).
In my absence from the blogging world I have had a real struggle with what I like to call the 'perception of perfection' that is attached to it. Of course when posting to social media, most of us post the perfect moments. And why wouldn't we? Who wants to see me sitting here typing away with a mason jar of sauv blanc while watching Project Runway Junior reruns. But I think I became obsessed. I got away from what the fun of all of this is...being me.
What this has become is a collage of the best moments and none of the imperfect ones. The loving photos of you and the significant other cutely cuddling in your pristine bedroom or the perfectly filtered candid with love oozing from your pores. Not the arguments in pjs with your hair up or the mouth breathing, sweaty sleep. Or perhaps the effortlessly styled outfit where you magically decided to wear your converse to contrast the dressier blouse and lipstick that will never smudge. Or my favorite shot of your amazingly styled chic apartment. Not a mess in sight. Meanwhile, outside of the frame there is a chair piled with outfits that didn't make the cut and last nights half drank beer.
I, my friends, am the ULTIMATE offender these social media crimes. And honestly, I never plan to stop. And I ask you to please do not get me wrong. I don't judge this. In fact, I applaud it. I know how much work it takes and I truly love following along. I love me a perfect shot of feet with amazing shoes and bright colored leaves. But it had become kind of an obsession for me to keep up. When I get ready in the morning, it is never good enough. I have grand ideas for how an outfit will play out and when it all comes together and I excitedly run to the mirror...a bit of disappointment comes over me and I think:
"this is not instagram worthy."
"What would my followers think of this?"
"Will I even get more than 20 likes?"
While I will never not post the perfect shot of my over styled coffee table or my favorite #ootd... I will admit my current #ootd consists of leggings I wore yesterday, my boyfriends hooded long sleeve and a mess of ratty curls on my head. But while I sit here, I am daydreaming away of that next snap and what the outfit will consist of. And yes, of course it includes crisp while Converse and a $2,000+ leather jacket. Duh...