Bottlehouse and Book Bindery

The title says it all. I think these two places are my favorites thus far in Seattle.

cheese, olives, and wine at Bottlehouse

Outside of the Book Bindery

On Friday Michael and I went to Bottlehouse, an urban winery in Madrona. We've been there a few times and continue to frequent the place just because of their amazing selection of wine. It's crazy, every glass I've drank there, I've never been disappointed.  They also have a cheese monger who pairs the cheese with the wine you order. This time around I wanted to buy a bottle of wine for Michael's family since we'll be away for Thanksgiving, but I didn't know what to get. Lucky for me, the staff was knowledgeable and recommended some great wines. They were so good I ended up buying two instead of just one.

For dinner Michael took me to Serious Pie in South Lake Union. I had never been there before and the last time he had gone was about four years ago. It was definitely a different experience pizza-wise. They have hand-tossed pizzas topped with pretty interesting toppings. I had a sweet fennel sausage pizza with red peppers and Michael had the soft egg, bacon, and arugula. It's funny, I ended up liking his more than mine and vice versa.

Did I mention I'm a lucky girl? Because on Saturday Michael took me out to Book Bindery which is located at the edge of the river in Queen Anne.

We were both first timers and upon entering, loved the atmosphere. It's split up into two sections, a bar and restaurant area. We were seated in the restaurant area which resembled a glass house/greenhouse that overlooked the canal. If I tried to describe it, I wouldn't be able to do the restaurant justice, so here is a link to their gallery: bookbinderygallery .

Our server recommended the 2009 Nebbiolo, which we loved. It was very light bodied, slightly floral, and opens up very nicely. There menus were really cute too since they were binded (get it? binded bindery?).

Sorry for the bad photo quality, I didn't want to put flash and annoy the other tables :P

To start we had butternut squash soup with vanilla oil and some bread. I'm usually not a fan of butternut squash soup, but this one was phenomenal.

For our starters Michael had the Salad of Pickled Hawaiian Hearts of Palm and I had the Maine Lobster Risotto.

Oven Roasted Beets, Asian Pear, Micro Herbs

Black Truffle, Parmesan Mousseline

Besides being absolutely delicious, the presentation of the food was beyond beautiful.

For our main, Michael had the Grilled Mishima Ranch "Flavor Curve" and I had the Pan Roasted Grimaud Farms Duck Breast.

Creamed Spinach, Yukon Gold Potatoes, Hen-of-the-Woods Mushrooms, Red Wine Sauce

Isn't he handsome?

Confit Leg Presse, Red Wine Poached Apple, Wheat Berries, Spicy Duck Jus

Such great food, great wine, great service, and such a great boyfriend!

And to top off our meal, we had the Valrhona Chocolate Decadence.

Feuilletine, Candied Walnuts, Banana Ice Cream

It was such a memorable night and another amazing date with my Paris Beau. I'm so thankful for another great experience.

And of course since my blog is also about writing, I thought it wise to do a little update. Though I had fallen behind last week, I hunkered down on Sunday and caught up! I am now officially at the halfway mark, and let me tell ya, it only gets harder the farther you go. So for some guidance and inspiration, I'm currently reading The Techniques on the Selling Writer. After finishing I'll post a review on it, but so far it's turning out to be such a great book and investment.

The writing blehhhh

It's been a busy, busy, week. And I am so tired. Even with coffee and two cups of tea in my system, I feel so blehhhhhh, which translates into my writing (even this post is blehhh (sorry!)). I tried to compensate my low enerygy levels with food to fuel me, but it had the opposite effect. I can feel my lunch in my stomach and its tossing and turning, and just not being normal. Now, I'm swaying in my chair (as I count the minutes until I am off of work so I can sleep, oh but I shouldn't sleep since I haven't been too good at fitting workouts in this week so internally I debate if I should push myself to do it or just knock out).

So then I surf tumblr for some inspiration and I come across this pep talk of Neil Gaiman's that he posted. It discusses the need to keep going in your draft because there's always some point you hit that you're just so exhaustied, yet the only thing you can do is keep going, word after word.

But I haven't written in the past two days so I try to get back into it for fear of falling behind and take Gaiman's advice, but I'm just so blehhh. And my writing comes out blehhh and ewwww. Then the weather today is just so blehhh, ewww, and grey.

What a day!

Now, I should get back to work.

The endeavors of a writer

Reddit: Game of Thrones-Pressures of the 6th Book

The link above will take you to a thread on reddit. Michael came across it the other day and sent it to me. I thought I'd share it with you fellow writers because it sheds light on the truth about writing books-it's goddamn hard.

The past two days I haven't been able to keep up with my word count. Work has gotten really busy for the moment, and I'm just so excited to go back home, see family, and finally be with my pets again. This is a relatively short post, but read the reddit post. It'll make your hump wednesday a little bit better.

Try Something New

Sometimes it's really easy to get into a routine with things, which isn't a problem of course. The problem only occurs when you can't break out of that routine. So this weekend my SO (significant other) and I made it a point to try new things for the weekend, which turned out great. It resulted in cool new experiences and gave me a chance to be more acquainted with Seattle.

On Friday I was able to get off an hour early from work which was great since it gave me a chance to run before the sun set.

(Something beautiful on my run)

The only bad thing was that I forgot my building key. Luckily someone exited the apartment building within fifteen minutes to let me in, because it was freezing! My SO, Michael, however, beat me home by a minute and surprised me with these!

I know, I'm a very, very, lucky gal!

That night we went to The Garage on Capitol Hill to play pool, one of Michael's favorite past times, though I totally kicked his butt so we are now tied (again).

Afterwards, we decided to try something new for dinner. Nearby we found Fogon, which served some pretty delicious and authentic Mexican food. The vibe was really cool with its neon green walls, and I especially loved the light above the entry way.

Since the night was still young we decided to go out to a bar we both haven't been to. With a quick search on yelp, I found Pie Bar. It was a very small and cozy bar that made homemade pies and even paired drinks with the pies. Michael and I split The Deserted Island Pie, which had a blend of strawberries, raspberries, and marionberries. I had the recommended Strawberrry Champagne pairing and Michael got the Water Lily.

Michael's favorite dessert is pie, and he said it was the best pie he's ever had, and I could only agree.

Though I do miss my sunny California, I have to admit that Seattle is very eclectic with so many great places to eat as well as drink. Transitioning to this point in my life and moving has not been an easy feat. If you're ever in a similar situation, I think it helps if you emerge yourself in it. Like they say, "Be where you are, not where you want to be." It's taken me awhile to realize that when the longing for home is constant.

Another thing that helps is setting goals for yourself. Working on the manuscript has kept me pretty productive over the past three weeks, and because it's set in the middle of Oregon and Washington, it gives me a reason to explore the area. For example, a scene I was writing this weekend involved the EMP museum. Since I had never been before, I decided to go to take in the scene and imagine my character being there.

Despite the fire alarm going off and the need to evacuate, we really enjoyed ourselves. Michael enjoyed the Nirvana exhibit, and I enjoyed the fantasy exhibit. Below are a few photos from it:

Upon exiting we stuck our ticket stickers on this.

Which is soooo Seattle right?

For dinner that night we headed to Ballard, another cool neighborhood that we enjoy. We went to the Walrus and the Carpenter. We had never been there before and Michael had been wanting to for sometime. The food was french inspired but had a relaxed vibe. All of the walls were white with mirrors behind the tables, and the bar held the fresh oysters in ice. Not to mention they had a wicked looking white chandelier made from the top of a tree.

And great thing we did because we had "the best oysters ever" (said Michael).

I usually don't like raw oysters, but I had to admit, they were delicious.

(Michael shucking an oyster)

(Look at that chandelier behind him!)

We also had a cool bartender named Craig who whipped up a Martini with St. Georges Gin, which has now become Michael's new favorite.

He also chose a really great French dessert wine for myself.

Earlier that day we had watched Shark Tank which featured a pitch about bread pudding. I had never tried it before and lo and behold it was on the dessert menu that night! It was absolutely delicious, though Michael told me that this was an extraordinarily different bread pudding he's ever had. It was both sweet and salty and was served with expresso and whipped cream.

I really liked the bar display there, so I couldn't help, but take a photo. While there, Michael and I met a couple sitting next to us who were from Canada. Randomly a conversation was struck and we ended up staying awhile after our meal to talk with them. 

Then we topped off with some wine at Portalis nearby (a lot of drinks were had this night :)).

On Sunday mornings I really enjoy going to the nearby coffee house. A new one, called Ada's, just opened up recently so I decided to go there and do some writing. The tables there were so cool and all different. I sat at the table with the compasses and enjoyed a nice soy latte and mushroom pot pie.

So the point of this post? Sometimes it's really cool to try new things and break routine because you just might find the best pie over, a favorite martini, experience the best oysters, learn about pop culture, and have a wicked awesome time doing it.

But of course, sometimes it's always nice to have a routine, because Sunday we went over to see Michael's family again, and as always we had the best spaghetti and meatballs ever!

It was such a great weekend, and I am so thankful that I am lucky enough to experience great things like this.

Even more so, I can't wait to be home with my family in less that two weeks! 

NaNoWriMo and my life lesson in first drafts

This November marks my first time participating in NaNoWriMo and I can't believe we're one fourth there. The requirement for it is 50,000 words in 30 days. Though I will have written 50,000 words this month, I've also made my own personal requirement for myself: 80,000 words in 56 days.

The great thing about NaNoWriMo is that it helps condition you to write daily, which is what I needed. Not the journal type of writing that I did daily, but the get-that-fiction-out writing. It's strange though, I enjoy writing but it's also a source of anxiety. Anxiety that is probably due to self-doubt. To explain, let me tell you a story:

Earlier this year I made five goals. One of them was to write a manuscript. The thing with me is I tend to write something then stop after so many pages. I just never finish big projects. In college we concentrated on poetry and short stories, so when I graduated I set out to write a novel. I didn't work, didn't bother finding a job, instead I just cranked out words. I wrote all the way up to the climax of the story in just a matter of weeks. I was almost there. Then the real world set in. I realized that other things were more important and that writing would just have to wait.

I got a job, I moved, and life immediately changed before my eyes. Sometimes I still wake up surprised at the turn of events. It took me awhile to get back into the groove of writing again. A part of me just resisted so much. Even writing in my journal, something I always made time to do, had become difficult.

Sometime in October (or possibly September) I dug up the old manuscript and printed the first 50 pages. I walked to a cafe down the street, ordered myself a pumpkin latte, and sat in one of the brown overstuffed armchairs to read it. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't my reaction.

I hated my manuscript. Yeah it was a first draft, but it just seemed utterly repulsive to me. I could see my lack of consistency, the voice needed work, dialogue could be better, descriptions needed to be more poetic instead of plain, pacing needed fixing, and so much more. I realized that this first try was a learning experience. It was still a good story, but a story that needed work. One day I would come back to it, but it just wasn't ready... or maybe I wasn't ready.

So I tucked it away and didn't bother reading the rest of it. The first fifty pages had been enough heartache for a day.

As the days passed, I became so anxious and wondered if I would ever become a writer. I was scared to involve myself in another long project in fear of setting myself up for disappointment. So I turned to reading. Like old lovers, the flame was rekindled. I loved the stories, the words, the characters, the memorable scenes, and the array of emotions as I experienced everything alongside the characters.

And I wanted so much to be the creator of something so wondrous that would brighten up someone's day. I wanted to make someone fall in love with reading just like I did.

I started reading writing and author blogs to get inspired and got back to work with another idea (my current project).

I still get anxious about writing. So much that I will never let anyone read my work until it's fully completed for peer review. I'm not sure how many drafts it'll take, but one thing I'm sure of is that it'll never be one.

One thing I did learn about first drafts? It's functional, and that's what makes it magical. Though it may not be the best prose you can manage, the beauty of its magic lies in its existence. The story is real (word-wise anyway) and not just something flitting through your mind.

Isn't that something to be celebrated?

Today I've reached 30,000 words. In just another week I'll be halfway done and I know I'll get this one done. I've outlined the rest, and now that I've seen where the story is headed, I'm excited. I'll make my goal this year.

To all you other NaNoWriMo first-timers, stick with it!

Marriage Isn't For You

I read the article Marriage Isn't For You sometime last night. It had such a good message to it that I found myself thinking about it today. I decided to share it on my blog, because

 

1) I think everyone should read it,

2) it gives a refreshing perspective on love, and

3) I'm such a hopeless romantic that I'm a sucker for this kind of thing.

 

So, enjoy!

 

That is all.

 

Patience is a virtue

I'm trying my best to be patient, but I feel like I can't breathe. Yesterday was a bad day, but I refuse to let today be a bad one as well just because of one person. One person, who really doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

One of the things I miss about college? You do your own work, and you get the grade you worked for. When it came to group projects, everyone had a stake in it, because no one wants to fail when they're paying for the course, so in the end it gets done.

Take personal responsibility.

I'm merely writing this to vent and I'm sure I'll be over it by the time lunch comes around, but if you're reading this, don't be someone who takes advantage of others, because you really put a damper on that other person's day.

This 'blogging' thing...

The way to write a book is to actually write a book. A pen is useful, typing is also good. Keep putting words on the page. Anne Enright

***

I’ve always struggled with my blog. I mean I want to be a blogger, but I have a problem with this thing called ‘consistency’. So, I have written this post as a promise that

 1) I will be consistent at posting, and that

2) my blog will finally have some sort of direction

Because if you’ve ever read my blog before, I’m kind of all over the place – snippet here, snippet there, and some abstraction everywhere. And to be honest it’s because I really don’t have any idea what I’m doing. In fact, I never really do. But I’m going to try.

Trying is the key word here my friend, because that’s really the point of my blog. Instead of wanting, or hoping, I’m going to have to start by trying because that’s the only way anything ever gets done. I’m going to try to be a blogger, I’m going to try to enjoy life, I’m going to try and be a better person, and I’m going to try to be a writer. And if I keep trying, then I will be a blogger, I will enjoy life, I will be a better person, and I will be a writer. Of course failures are to be expected so I’ll just do better next time (or fail better as Beckett says).

P.S. I’m also trying to write a book, hence the Enright quote.

There she goes.

Death. It’s so quiet. When one departs from the world, you don’t even notice it unless it’s a person close to you. And when it does happen to you, the silence of it is so loud. So jarring. So blaring. A loud echo that resonates inside your heart; a piece of it blackening and shriveling away into dust. Yet, the world goes on and you plant one foot in front of the other while the rest of the world is oblivious.

The Fifth Letter

It was a bit like oncoming spring—the rain dries up, but it’s still damp and chilly, reminding you that winter never quite goes away. And those that had been around me for that winter were quickly drying up. The friends that had ceased to be friends were now acquaintances and memories, droplets in a particular season in a given year that would most likely be forgotten.

And little did I know, you could be too.

                “Just a drink,” I said, pulling you by the arm. “I never see you anymore.”

                You hesitated, and I could see you debating with yourself through the creases in your forehead and the faraway look in your eyes.

                “But T—,” you protested.

                I frowned, realizing how much I disliked your girlfriend and not understanding why you continued to be with her.

                “Are you serious B—? You have to come celebrate with me.” I had just changed out of my performance dress and was ready to hit DeVerre’s, my favorite bar in Davis. “Just one drink, we need to catch up anyway,” I reasoned, though I also craved company. Real company. Not the false pretenses I was used to with everyone else, but the one where someone solid, someone genuine could laugh with me, listen to me digress about the world, and someone who I could confide in.

                You smirked. “All right. Let’s go.”

                I smiled triumphantly as we walked towards downtown. It was slightly cold, but I still felt warm and giddy from the night’s performance. We talked like we normally did, catching up like kids who had known each other for years instead of a few months, and it always surprised me how we managed to do that.

                We sat on one of the brown couches in the back where the bookcases were. We met a few other friends of mine who drank celebratory drinks with me, but soon left since it was still a school night. I didn’t feel like leaving though. I was still holding on to that temporary happiness that often comes from a good night and I wanted to hold on to it as long as possible. And when I looked over at you, I could see that you were holding on to it too.

                So we had another drink, just you and I. And soon, the barriers fell, crashing all around me. But as it fell, something within me was reaching out towards you. It was an affirmation of trust. I knew that I could,  and I wanted more than ever to confide in you, hoping you could see me full circle, not just what you had observed.

Like a tidal wave, it crashed into you.

                I told you everything.

                The dark things, the things that I tried to hide away, the things I could not face, the memories that had consumed me, and everything I was afraid of.

                You looked at me in a way I could never forget. There wasn’t sympathy in your eyes, or an expression of being overwhelmed by the onslaught of new information, rather you were awed and said, “That’s how I know you’ll be a writer. Because you’re broken.”

                You explained how that gave me the ability to truly feel and write so that others would be able to relate and you showed me that through confiding in me, telling me the things that you wouldn’t dare utter out loud.

                With the barriers no longer there, we talked for hours, and within another drink my mind became hazy.

                After, we took a walk outside, the night air made me shiver.  Overhead the stars watched us and in the distance we heard the echoes of the music from a nearby bar. We walked in a comfortable silence without direction; just being in the moment.

                But then all of a sudden, you stopped. You turned to me and said, “You’re everything I want and you’re everything I’ve been looking for.” Your eyes were honest and pure. “You’re perfect.”

                I stopped too, and inside my heart hammered, but my mind reasoned with it reminding me that I was broken. I was too lost. I could never allow myself to love or care for anyone again.

You searched my eyes, waiting. Waiting for what? I did not know, but somehow I felt like you could see right through me, for the imposter I was.

                “B—, I am far from perfect. I will never be.” I turned away from you, afraid that I would change my mind and say something I would regret, or something I wasn’t ready for.

                Then I remembered that we had too many drinks, and I wondered if what you had said was the truth, or out of passion. You remained silent, like the rest of the stars that watched us.

 ***

                Time passed before we met again, but when we did you smiled as you always did. We exchanged pleasantries and bits of our lives that the other had missed out on.

                “How are you and T—?” I couldn’t help, but ask.

                “Still together for now, but I really don’t know what’s going to happen once I graduate.”

                I nodded all the while gritting my teeth, wondering how you could still be with her when you realized that there was more out there. There was me. So I allowed myself to see it. You and I, but quickly took a step back, afraid. I was not ready.

 
***

                “We should always keep in touch. Write letters or something about our adventures and all the places that we go,” I suggested.

                “You know what? I really miss writing letters. No one does that anymore so yeah, I would be up for it.”

                When the time came, and the rain returned I wrote you the first letter and you replied with the second, the third, and then the fourth. But through the cold winter, I had forgotten to reply. So time went on, the seasons changed, and it was only when the leaves began to fall did I remember you and the time we sat looking at the leaves fall in the quad, mesmerized by their dance.

                So I wrote the fifth letter, but knew that I may never get a reply and realized then that you were perfect.

Perfect in the way that you were always yourself and perfect in the way that you continued to remain true to who you are. Because those were things I was never able to do. Those were the things that made me so imperfect, so afraid to love, so afraid to lose.

It was a bit like oncoming fall—the leaves fall, reminding you that winter is not far away. That the time for recollection nears, reminding me that you will never be forgotten.

Thoughts during my first experience of kava...

There's a whisper.
There's a whisper,
all but over there.
It's the intangible wind
that combs through your hair.

There's a laugh
and a smile,
from a love long forgot.
He's alone and lost,
and worst of all
an afterthought.

There's a sigh
and a cry
for those who are in pain.
The battle is endless,
and their shadows remain.

But there's hope,
there is love,
a joy no one can describe.
It's that certain feeling
you wished for
for your whole,
life.

Un-independence day

It's Independence Day, and as I write this it's 1:29 a.m. My eyes are puffed and tired from crying and my nose is rubbed raw; I am feeling far from independent. Rather I feel dependent on everything and anything around me in fear that I'll fall and relapse into a time and place that I know is no good for me.

In my last post I wrote about chasing something. What that something is, I have no idea. As a matter of fact I still don't. However, I have a few guesses. Uncertainty being one option, and awareness the other. Or maybe they go together.

How to reconcile with the uncertainty of life, I do not know. It only makes me question who to trust, and most of all, if I can even trust myself. There's nothing like things or people knocking you down as you make mistakes that you've become aware that your face has been on the ground all along. You've been inhaling the dirt, clogging up your lungs, but still you breathe, hoping that if you hold your ground things would be okay.

I know I'm not making sense. But at this unfortunate hour that I'm up. It makes sense to me.

I have this urge to rip up my diploma, a symbol of almost four years of my life amounting to... amounting to... well, frankly I don't know. I feel like I'm being punished for being an honest person. Is it bad to love so much? Is it bad to be who you are? Even if that means being reserved and a dreamer?

Apparently, yes. It seems like everyone wants me to be something else, even though all I want to be is myself. But the world doesn't belong to me. It's not my game, and therefore not my rules. It's their game and they want me to play it their way.

And I've decided that I don't particularly like this game very much. It's no wonder I keep to myself!

Chasing Cities

If I close my eyes and think of a happy place, I'll see the Seine River. I'd walk along the cobblestone steps, just as the sun was setting and the city lights of Paris were just beginning to shine. In the distance, the Eiffel Tower would be peeking out above the autumn trees, making me think "Wow, it's just like the picture," as I try to put it down into words.


What are places anyway? What's a home location as opposed to a vacation destination? How is it that they both bring about different emotions within us, such as comfort and nostalgia versus the excitement of a new adventure?

Last week my sister left to New York. A courageous thing to do no doubt. New York is the Paris of the U.S., is it not? So it made me wonder, can a city bring happiness? Will it bring her happiness? I think of my time in Paris and I think about how happy I felt when I was there. Would it still give me that same feeling if I lived there? Or would that all change?

I think about home, all the things I love about it, and all the things I hate. And most of all, all of the things I miss.

Those, like my sister, going off to new cities and relocating, I wonder what they're chasing after. Hope? Love? Adventure? A fresh start?

And as I sit in a coffee shop in Seattle, I can't help but ask myself the same thing: what am I chasing after?

Unanswerable and Uncertainty

Sometimes I wonder if I really know anything about the world. It's so big and vast, I wonder if I'll ever really be a part of it, or if my role is something insignificant like a piece of dirt. You could make the argument and say, "Of course you're a part of it Michelle, in fact you're a part of something even grander. Even being a piece of dirt makes a difference because you along with other pieces of dirt can be the soil that flowers grow out of, and so on and so on..."

We as individuals wrestle with the idea of 'purpose' that it's understandable some turn to religion. Religion gives some answers. But "answers" aren't really "answers," are they? Do you follow me? Because an answer can't be one hundred percent true or one hundred percent false. It's just an abstraction when you think about it, or even a "guess", so really, there aren't any answers in this world. And what sucks about that is the questions that arise in our minds. What are we suppose to do with them when they drive us absolutely crazy. Is that the point? To just be okay without answers and live in a world of uncertainty?

Unfortunately, yes.

Great... another abstraction, another guess, and no answers.

The "Second Draft"

I took a long break from writing my novel and after beginning the editing today, I really regret all of that lost time. The ending to the story just wasn't coming, which is pretty damn frustrating when it's been stewing in your mind for some time.

But after reading a couple of books over the weekend that somewhat disappointed me, I realized that I had the power to make something that wouldn't disappoint. Disappoint me that is.

And hopefully something that matters, not only to me, but to someone else.

Little Blaire Bear!

A photo of my cat, to brighten your day.

(More relevant, though that's not to say that Blaire is irrelevant, posts to come!)

Congrats to my twin sister No!

Turbulent

I grieve for who she was,
and cry for who she is.
I fear for who and what she becomes;
tangled, tangled, web
done and undone,
patchwork quilt
of year after year,
step after step
never, ever, good enough:
to light up the sky
with all her goodbyes,
to the girl, she once was.

Olive, the Kitten!

Arsenal

I’ll give you some matchsticks

along with some love letters,

(and tell myself,

I should know better.)

a knife

and a single rose.

Bullets to go along with a gun,

so shiny

and silver

I shiver

at the touch.

I’ll kiss that palm of your hand

Where you held it

as you held my face

Love in my eyes,

and trust in my kiss

for all the things you have

all the things you keep.

Never to use

nor ever lose.

Unexplored Territory

I went out for a run this afternoon, hopping to log about 6 miles. I have this out and back route to this wooden bridge on the river near my house that I usually go on. It's a pretty straightforward, but for some reason I got lost today and I don't know why.

On my way though, there were all of these butterflies along the river and the trail was littered with caterpillars.

So much that after 2.5 miles in on my run, I just stopped and decided to walk, not wanting to crush them by accident. Somehow, I took the wrong turn without realizing it. I thought I had stumbled upon a dry area, the word 'wasteland' coming to mind.

But I kept walking despite the rocks and weeds and came upon a peaceful place along the river that I had yet to see before.

And I wondered at that moment if this was somehow a metaphor for something I have yet to discover. 

I didn't go after the bridge today, instead I went all the way back home, the way I came. For the first time, a run didn't clear my mind. And for the first time, I got lost on a route I thought I knew so well. 

Present Moment

Yesterday I had the pleasure of catching up with a truly great friend. She's been with me despite all of the ups and downs of our college career and now that college is over for me and will be soon for her, we've realized how vast the world truly is.

It's kind of daunting thinking about where you'll be and what you'll be doing, but at the same time its exciting. Possibilities are endless, letting the mind wander infinitely. Sometimes I forget this. So used to being subject to fear, I wake up filled with anxiety and I wonder, "What will become of me?"

But there's some kind of wonderful and desperate beauty within that urgent question. For one thing, I acknowledge that I'm alive. How many times do we forget that we are when we go through the motions of life? How many times do we take it for granted? Being alive every day and having each day that comes my way simply gives me another chance to answer it. And I have the choice of keeping the same answer or changing it. It's all up to me. Though it comes with a responsibility, it is all empowering.

So take each day composed of moments and decisions and be present in every aspect of it. For who knows what the future brings and the past has already happened. But the present is ephemeral. Take it while you can before its gone. Some days will seem like the same, but believe me, they're not. Just like how every sunset and sunrise is different, so are you. Ever evolving, learning, and growing.

And there's never going back to who you used to be.

To my friend who inspired this post with her speech, thank you as always. "You're a damn good catch." ;]

The truth about writing...

So true. More than halfway done with my first draft of my manuscript.
Must.
Not.
Give.
Up.

That is all. Happy Thursday everyone!

Amazing Talent!

Hearts a mess-Goyte

Favorite song on the soundtrack!

Post-Seattle

It's been over a week since I've returned from Seattle. The past week seemed to go by so fast, yet upon reflection, so slow. Does that make sense? Or is my conception of time off the mark? Anyway, being back in Sacramento was a shock. Temperature shock that is. Luckily the past two days were nice, cloudy, and cool. I needed it. But now that I'm back and it's been over a month since school finished, I can't shake the feeling that I've come to the period in my life where all I'm doing is waiting, waiting, and waiting. For what exactly? Who really knows.

I've been submitting job applications, but after I submit them I imagine them diving into a pool of other applications in the black digital space, and soon enough mine becomes lost in the shuffle that I can't even distinguish my applications from all the others. Am I truly lost?

But maybe being lost, as they say, is the only way to be found. All I know is... I miss the coffee in Seattle (and of course the people ;]).

I definitely can't wait to go back. For those who haven't gone. I recommend it. Especially if you're from the hot, dry, valley like I am.

-M

Cereal Alternative! Milk+Strawberries+Chocolate=Yum

I don't allow myself to have cereal often at breakfast because of the sugar content and a serving size just never really fills me up. So instead I made my own alternative to cereal! All you need are three ingredients: your choice of rice cracker (I used a gluten-free chocolate flavored), milk (I chose unsweetened almond milk) and fresh fruit (hence my strawberries). It's all so simple: crumble cracker, cut fruit, combine altogether with milk! I feel like a kid again.

And just to make you smile, here's a photo of Blaire ;]

Have a great Tuesday everyone!

Post-Grad Update

Have no fear, I will no longer disappear!

As you can obviously tell, I've been away from my blog for awhile. There's no legit reason why. Rather, I've been lost in the shuffle. You would think that after graduating I would be blogging like crazy with all my free time, but to be honest I've been quite lost. All I've known is school and now that it's over, life's a bit disorienting. Not in a bad way of course. It's just something new that I'm trying to adjust to.

This post is simply my apologies and a notice for you all to be prepared. More posts are on their way and there's a lot of things to update you all on.

-Miss M