Identity Crisis

Sometimes, I think I have a very clear understanding about who it is I am and how I want the rest of my life to look.  I've always admired women who are career-driven and conventionally successful.  I'm a high- achiever and I'm just about to finish business school.  When somebody asks me what I want in life, it usually involves a story about a high-rise condo in the city (OK, maybe a townhouse so I can have a backyard for the 2.5 kids), expensive suits, pearls and high heels.  I'd love a nice new shiny car and gorgeous designer furniture that I picked out on a lazy Sunday afternoon with my super handsome husband.  This is the life I've dreamed about since I was a little girl.  Forget the wedding, I wanted the career. 

Now why is it, that two weeks away from finally finishing my MBA and being that much closer to the life I've always imagined, am I having second thoughts?  Instead of fantasizing about watching college football in a hoodie in the rain and finally getting that killer capital markets job, I'm daydreaming about owning my own flower shop in Austin. 

If it weren't for the student loans, part of me thinks I could give it all up to own my own business in a place much sleepier than Chicago, like Columbus or Portland or San Diego.  I'd ride my powder pink bike to work with my satchel in the basket on the front.  I'd wear floral dresses and linen pants and drink coffee with the locals.  And on the weekends I'd take daytrips in my Volvo to play with all my newly acquired used cameras and re-finish found mid century modern furniture in my spare time. 

Why do so many of us have such disparate versions of ourselves sometimes? Like had I woke up on the other side of the bed one morning, it would have all been so drastically different.  I even had a adjunct finance professor who used to be a investment banker in New York and gave it all up to ski in Colorado and then own her own doggy daycare.  Perhaps it's just the left-side vs. right-side of the brain stuff.  Or the social confines which we found ourselves influenced and encapuslated by for almost thirty years.  Maybe it's because the "shoulds" outweigh the "coulds" or that the older we get the better we get at figuring out who we are, what we're good at and what makes sense.

My brothers and I have talked a lot about me moving to Detroit so that we can all work together.  We've talked about that since before my youngest brother was born and I have no doubt that one day it will happen.  But I keep hanging on to this idea of being the big city girl and living the kind of life I've worked so hard to get to the last two or so years.  But moving back to Michigan does mean that I could refinish furniture in my spare time, be a better blogger and devote more time to my photography.  I could garden with my mother and make things with my hands instead of spending more than half my waking hours in an air conditioned hise-rise in uncomfortable shoes. 

But perhaps I'm being a little dramatic.  I feel like my current situation is cutting off all my circulation and all the blood going to my head so I'm losing it a little bit.  Since when do I even know how to garden? Or arrange flowers? Or go shopping at estate sales?

Maybe it's that I've had to be on auto-pilot for so long and all this business school stuff has clogged the creative juice process.  I don't know.  But what I do know is that there must be some way to find more of a balance.  And starting in two weeks, it is my mission to do just that.  Part of me thinks that I wasn't meant to find my new job before graduation; that I need the down time to regroup and enjoy the last of the SoCal summer.  So that's what I'm going to do.  Plug away for these last two weeks and after that, just try (oh, and it will be difficult) to go with the flow. 

Summa Summa Summa Time

In Los Angeles, we have a late summer.  Growing up in Michigan, warmer weather starts in May and Memorial Day is treated as the official start of summer.  Here, we have to wait until the 4th of July (June gloom is miserable and absolutely accurate).  Seeing as we're less than a week out from my favorite holiday, the weather has finally started to cooperate and I got to spend an amazingly beautiful summer day on the ocean yesterday with some of my favorite people (well, not on the ocean, but a few yards away). 

I love summer.  I especially love what summer means: long days, sunburns, drinking with friends, the smell of dirt, sand and sweat.  Grilling, impromptu parties, ice cream, naps, pools, hikes and boats.  Everyone's generally in a better mood, spirits are high and worries are put away (at least temporarily). 

This weekend, I spent a lot of time in the apartment baking, cleaning and reading. Laying in the sun like a dog, trying to soak in the rays from inside my apartment.  I put off researching to catch up on some Real Housewives episodes and I filled the fridge with summer salad. 

Now the problem is that I still have five weeks of school left.  I have three major papers, two finals, a strategy simulation and two presentations before I can really let my hair down and breath.  One of my quests in life is trying to find balance.  Obviously I can't blow off the rest of the semester and play, but I also can't let what may well be my last summer in LA pass me by while I play hermit and ignore what's going on outside. 

What I'm saying is that I want to live my best life.  And that includes doing absolutely everything right now; a mighty tall order.  What I really want is someone at the end of the day, to promise me that it will all work out the way it's meant to.  That I won't push the panic buttom too many times in the next five weeks and that I'll get to play and work all in good time. But I guess I'll have to settle for having some incredible opportunities to savor time with friends, learn about myself and face this portion of the challenge head on.  After all, I've got a pretty great support system and failure just isn't an option. 

Seven Weeks

As a certain someone would say, "I've had relationships shorter than that".  But that's just the amount of time I have until I'll be done!  It feels like just yesterday I woke up, decided to apply to business school and made a decision that would change the direction of my life forever.  I will have a very fancy, very impressive master's degree in less than two months and I can hardly wrap my head around exactly what that means.

And that's partly because I don't exactly know what that means.  I know it means a new job (sometime this fall at the very least), most likely a new city (here I come Chicago!) and probably missing my friends something painfully fierce. 

In the meantime, I've dyed my hair blond and put a gold ring in my nose because I can't really figure out another way of dealing with it.  After all, I'm working a full time job, taking a full load of classes (plus an extra credit for graduation), applying for jobs in a city nearly two thousand miles away, saying good bye to my best friend who is moving away with her boyfriend, trying to enjoy the last few weeks I have left with my friends, wishing the weather were nicer so I could finally get some Vitamin D, and trying hard not to let my heart break too badly. 

Needless to say, I've had moments of complete panic and debilitating anxiety in the last week.  I was doing so well for a while, not letting everything get to me. I was keeping up with my life coaching, not crying, basically keeping my shit together for the first half of the semester.  But the light at the end of the tunnel is getting almost too bright now.  I don't' know what to do. 

I'm scared, excited, thrilled, nervous and sad all at the same time.  I'm also insanely proud that I've been able to do this.  And with some pretty amazing success at that.  I've made a few friends, done well in my classes, got some amazing job interviews, made connections and had my fair share of ups and downs.  I've learned a ton about myself, about my life and about the world. 

So I'm trying to take this one day at a time.  Less than fifty days left of this madness that I love and hate at the same time.  I'm trying to enjoy the present.  The precious seven weeks I have left on this magical rollercoaster. That's what life is, right? This.  Right now.  Today.  These next seven weeks will be awesome, exhausting, amazing, terrifying and at the very least memorable.  So instead of trying to control it and figure it out, I'm going to try to embrace it.  In all its messy glory. 



I Cry When I Travel

It started the first Christmas I lived in LA.  It was my first trip back to Detroit after moving to the west coast and I was a babbling mess.  My cheeks were tear-stained, my eyes puffy, my bags packed full of the presents I bought with my first big-girl bonus.  I tucked my iPod into the pocket of my fleece, got on the red-eye and hunkered down, attempting to catch a few hours (minutes?) of sleep. 

That Christmas I cried a lot.  I was thousands of miles away from my family for the first time, permanently.  Voluntarily.  Indefinitely.  Purposefully.  I knew exactly what that meant when I moved out here, but Christmas is always difficult for me.  The emotion was too much. 

Just about two years later, I took a trip to Chicago.  And I cried all the way home.  I again put on my earphones and layed my head against the window as tears streamed down my face.  I cried because my heart was breaking.  I had fallenn in love with a city and a way of life and new found confidence and I knew then that I needed to find a way to get back to that.  That place I'm looking to go back to now.

For some reason, traveling is emotional.  A long car trip to Vegas last year gave me space to think about some really important things that I eventually made happen.  I cry on long flights and get all riled up on train rides.  I even cried on the car ride from Detroit to Chicago two years ago because of all the memories of the life that I used to live and the dreams I used to have that eventually had to change. 

And my latest trip to Detroit and Chicago was no different.  If everything works out according to "plan", this will have been my last flight from Detroit to LA as a Cali girl.  The next time I get on that plane I'll have an MBA after my name, a new job, a new address

So I cried because I'm scared and lonely.  Because I'm afraid that my plans will actually work out.  And that they might not. I cried because I'm already nostalgic.  Because my heart breaks every time I even think about leaving my life and my friends here.  My love. 

But tears are OK.  I think they're good even.  I come from a long line of weapers, and it's a way of knowing that we're feeling.  And I feel intensely.  Sometimes I regreat that I'm so sensetive, but mostly I'm grateful.  Grateful that I have things to cry about. 

Falling Down the Rabbit Hole (and Other Tales of Easter)

I have an amazing ability to make myself crazy; it's part of my charm.  From silently crying just minutes before I have to give a presentation (it was an easy assignment and I've given dozens of presentations in my life; it definitely wasn't stage fright that was getting the best of me) to full on breakdowns, I let stress and anxiety get a hold of me when I'm at my breaking point. 

Most of the time, I'm a pretty tough cookie.  Classes, studying, a full-time job, a social life and general "life" expectations are dealt with on a regular basis.  Over the years I have developed tools to help me deal with whatever is making me anxious (anxiety is clearly my go-to emotion). These days those include hot baths, a brainless movie, yoga, a scented candle or a run.  But sometimes, none of that will do. Hence, a few weeks ago I reached a breaking point and fell down that rabbit hole pretty far.  As a kid, my parents called them temper tantrums.  As an adult, it honestly feels the exact same way.  Something small (usually disappointment in some way) sets off a series of painful memories/emotions including anger, frustration and all-out pain and hurt.  I cry until I have no more tears left and my eyes are irreparably puffy.  And then I go to bed. And I move on.  Part of me thinks that the whole process is healthy and cathartic.  Emotions are natural and need to be expressed; even the unpleasant ones.  The problem is that is brings up some pretty hairy stuff that I just don't have to deal with on a normal basis.  The good thing is that these "fits" are often an impetus for healthy change. 

I haven't been blogging lately because I've been in a rut.   I've been uncomfortable, anxious, tired, and on-the-go.  My brain has been going a million miles an hour and I've been putting myself out there and making things happen.  I had finals, meetings, birthdays and social obligations.  No time to think.  No time to write. 

But I'm pretty sure I've made the decision that's been haunting me the last year; I'm interviewing in Chicago the end of this month.  I haven't even looked at jobs in LA in months and I've reached out to all of my contacts in order to gain some headway in the job search in the Windy City. 

The one caveat to this is that my heart is still breaking.  Daily.  I have fallen in love with so many things in LA and to leave them will be a pain like I've never experienced before.  I moved from Kalamazoo to Columbus to LA in less than a year, so I'm pretty familiar with this gig.  But, this time it's completely different.  I've grown up here.  LA will always be a part of me.  Just like a relationship, getting over it will come with time.  But I feel like I've got a little (or actually, quite large) clock ticking on my time here.  And that's quite a conundrum. 

My Cold Dark Heart

I like my coffee cold.  Like, extra cold.  Filled to the brim with ice cubes and maybe a Splenda or two.  I always tease that I like my coffee like my heart: cold and dark. 

But, as we all know, I have a pretty big heart.  I try not to listen to it too often (right now it's screaming at me and I'm trying to decipher its immature babbling), but it's definitely not cold or dark.  Perhaps a little broken and neglected, but it makes its presence known on occasion. From that place comes my love for my friends and family and my need to take care of everyone around me. 

Now I sound like the immature babbling idiot because I just got back from a fantastic trip to Chicago for a little St Patty's Day done right.  And by right I mean filled with friends, family, boys and copious amounts of green beer.  It was a magical and relaxing weekend; just what the doctor ordered after the last two months that have aged me two years.

Every time I get on that plane at O'Hare on my way back to LAX, I get weepy.  I love my life in LA for a few specific reasons.  And this place has, while occasionally making me utterly miserable, had a hold on my heart for the better part of a decade.  Its magical weather, inspiring views and my crazy wonderful friends have made this home for me.

But I'm at a place where I must let go of a few things.  Dreams, visions of my life, hang-ups and relationships.  I'm growing up and getting rid of childish notions is key every once in a while.  If you had told me five years ago that this is where I would be today, I would have laughed.  And perhaps cried.  But reality has a way of creeping up on us sometimes. 

And that means moving closer to my family.  Getting back to a place that makes sense.  Where the food is good, the alcohol is flowing and I can get a good job.  But it also means moving away from my life here - everything I've created over the last six years.  All the things I've learned about myself and everyone I've grown to love. 

So my heart is breaking a little because letting go is never easy.  But deep down (deep, deep down), I truly believe two things.  The first is that everything happens for a reason.  And the second is that God may close doors, but always opens other windows.  I know that whatever my decision may be, everything will work out.  It might be scary now, but it will eventually be better than ever. 

Networking Is Hard

Or rather, it's hard for me.  I'm an introvert.  (What's that snickering I hear??? Yes, an introvert.  I'm most comfortable by myself or with a small group of people.  It takes me a while to open up. I promise.)  And introverts aren't drawn to careers that require networking.  But in this day in age, just GETTING a job requires a significant amount of networking.  It's not all about what you know, but about who you know.  Especially in commercial real estate.

One of the huge advantages of continuing to work while getting my MBA is that I have been able to make connections and learn about the industry I'm passionate about.  From the brokers that I work with and the people I've been introduced to, I should know where to go to look for a job by now.  I've been preparing for this for the last eighteen months. 

But when push comes to shove, and I'm a mere five months away from graduating with my fancy degree and needing an even fancier job, I'm having a hard time calling on those connections.  That requires emails, asking for things, putting myself out there and having difficult (and possibly akward) conversations about my least favorite topic of discussion - ME. 

But somehow, I have to make it happen.  I can't waste this moment because it will never come around again.  I've wasted enough time getting here, and I have the perfect opportunity to really propel my career forward.  I'm in the driver's seat because I have a job and a whole slew of people cheering me on.  So despite my hesitations and fears, I'm writing those emails.  I'm making time to talk to new connections and giving my resume to anyone who will take it. 

And this isn't just a business school lesson, it's a life lesson.  Hopefully I can translate all this hard work (in school, at work, with friends) into a really great opportunity.  My issue is really the name.  Networking has a negative connotation in that it infers (at least in my mind) someone using another.  Everytime I think of the word, I picture a bunch of corporate stiffs in awful cheap suits, swilling happy hour wine and scarfing cheap appetizers on little napkins.  When that's not what it's about at all.  It's truly about relationships.  Making friends.  And I seem to that easily enough.   I can definitely drink happy hour cocktails with the best of them.  Maybe this isn't so hard after all. 

Coming Down Part 2

Now that I'm not going 100 mph and not working on school work and projects and going non-stop, I'm coming down.  This usually happens when I'm finished with a semester and I have a few extra hours a day on my hand.  But this time I've just come off a whirlwind 7 weeks of real estate boot camp, extra classes and crazy group projects.  I'm barely getting over my stress-induced head cold and I've been given a minute to breath.  And all of a sudden, I feel like all the emotions I've suppressed for the last two months have come bubbling up to the surface at once.

It's just me, laying around the apartment.  Listening to music, ironing my work pants and putting away paperwork that's been nagging me.  I still have a paper to write and textbooks to read, but I'm taking a moment to slow down. 

And I'm crying.  Because I'm overwhelmed with all these crazy emotions I've had to keep bottled inside while attempting to conquer everything else in my life.  After all, this is why I keep myself extraordinarily busy and over scheduled. 

I can't help but think about how much it hurts that my father never calls. Or that I'm unbelievably anxious that I'm going to be done with business school in a mere five months because after that, I have no idea what this life holds for me.  Or that I'm unbearably frightened by the thought of leaving the only person I want to wipe away my tears.  The possibilities for the rest of my life are endless and amazing and I can't wait to meet them, but the task of trying to wrap my head around all of it is a bit overwhelming at times. 

The last year has been unbelievable.  And I have no doubt the next twelve months will be equally astounding.  But part of me wishes I had just the slightest of clues as to where it's going to take me.  I feel as though I'm walking blindly towards my future, with a firm faith that everything will be alright, but with very little reassurance. 

The bottom line is that I need to stop taking myself so seriously; everything works out for the best in the end.  And usually when we least expect it. 

Five Things

No, this is not a post about my five favorite things today.  I haven't whipped up a great meal of which I want to take pictures and share (I made a mean spaghetti sauce Friday night but it was definitely not photogenic - I like my meals to be just like me), I have no amazing news to share (I did buy tickets for a weekend trip to Chicago in March, but that's pretty unspectacular), and I will spare you the existential (and emotional) angst I experience every time I think about looking for a job and possibly moving across the country in the next six months. 

Instead, here are a list of the five things I've accomplished in my relatively short life that I'm proud of. (And they're in no particular order - that would require too much brain power for a Tuesday.)

1.  Breaking up with my college boyfriend.  To this day, he is the only man I've ever truly been in love with.  Our four year relationship taught me things I will never be able to articulate, and he was my best friend through some of the most trying times of my life.  Breaking up was inevitable, given our vastly divergent visions of the future and eventual boredom of one another, but it was gut-wrenching, mind-numbing and courageous.  That moment in time propelled to become the woman I am today.

2.  Moving to California. I was young and dumb and I would never had done it knowing what I know now. But isn't that the beauty of life? I've been here for almost six years and sometimes I still experience a little culture shock, but making it on my own and discovering so much about myself has been truly invaluable.  While I miss my family and friends, sometimes space and time is truly necessary to heal and get proper perspective on things. 

3.  Being able to keep my job in commercial real estate. My first real corporate job in commercial real estate was amazing.  I got a raise, a fancy cubicle, an even fancier wardrobe and some great friends and mentors.  I immediately fell in love the with the whole industry and was totally devistated when I was laid off.  Having very particular skills in what was a niche market taking a serious hit at the beginning of the Great Recession, I was convinced I was going to have to settle for a job outside the industry.  Instead, I landed where I am now, continue to work with great brokers and am constantly learning and networking.  While it's not always particularly challenging, it has been a great home for me while I'm in school. 

4.  Playing kickball.  It sounds silly, but joining and eventually captaining a co-ed kickball team changed my life.  It forced me out of my comfort zone and threw me into a world of fairly like-minded people who joined together for comroderie, friendship, compeitition and of course drinking. The people I met over those two years are counted amongst my best friends and our relationships have endured far beyond the dirt fields of Venice. 

5.  Going back to business school.   This is a no-brainer.  It took me years to get up the courage to tackle this most spectacular of experiences and I'm so glad I did.  While I occasionally have regrets about how I went about it, I've met people who have changed my life permanently.  Having to juggle school, work and a social life has not only taught me a lot about my own priorities, but what I am capable of and what I want out of life. The challenge isn't over, and while it's completely daunting, I'm amazed I've been able to get this far and am looking forward to what it means for me down the line. 

This Better Be Good

I haven't written a good blog post in a long time because I've been so completely overwhelmed by my over scheduled lifestyle.  But there are a few things I'd like to share.  And we all know how much I like to make lists (and number them), so this is how it's is going to go.

1.  I'm sitting in business law class.  Normally, I'd pay attention.  But our professor is telling the same stories he's told for the last twenty years and I'm over it today. Maybe if I had some food in my stomach I'd be more prepared for his droning today, but frankly I'd rather blog.

2.  I've rediscovered yoga.  I really wish I had more time for it, but it was actually one of my favorite unemployment activities.  But now I can just go to classes at the gym either before (sunrise yoga is amazing!) or after work.  And I'm not your typical crunchy granola hippy-chic, but I love a good earthy yoga instructor. Sometimes ours even sings; I dig. I've learned how to do shoulder stands and all kinds of fun poses.  It's not the cardio I still try to fit in two to three times a week, but it has the same calming effects as a long beach run in a shorter period of time. 

3.  Speaking of being a crunchy granola hippy-chic, I just invested in a few reusable grocery bags.  I ordered them online (on sale, of course), paid shipping and handling, and possibly even showed them to half my coworkers when they were delivered to the office.  I've used them at Target, carried them around in my purse and told my friends about them. Clearly, the sunny California disposition is going straight to my head. 

4.  Have we already discussed that I pierced my nose? Well, I did. Like five months ago.  I've wanted to have a little diamond stud in my nose since I was eighteen.  So a decade later I had a few strong drinks, went to an amazing little piercing parlor in Palm Springs and had a tiny little piece of titanium put in there.  It didn't hurt and frankly, I absolutely adore it.  It's sexy, rebellious and super feminine, all at the same time.  I've had mixed reviews from the boys, but I really think they all secretly find it attractive.  I obviously think it's awesome!

5.  Last March I bought a new camera.  It's a fancy digital SLR and I've taken literally thousands of pictures with it since then.  But this very well might be my last summer in LA and I want a new toy.  Maybe a Fuji Instamax? Or a Diana F+ lomo?  I can't decide; I should probably just learn how to really manipulate and play with the one I have. 

Hamster Time

I'm taking a commercial real estate boot camp that takes up six hours of my weekend for four weeks.  I'm taking my regularly scheduled two classes during the week, and on top of everything else I'm taking a six week strategy course that requires an incredible amount of team work, analysis, and writing. 

So yes, I feel like a hamster on a metaphorical wheel.  I continue to go out with my friends on the weekends, make lunch and dinner plans, and work a full-time job that has become increasingly demanding.  And I'm just grateful I'm not training for a half marathon right now.

The downside to my usual over-scheduled life is that sometimes the things I like to do (the very things that keeps me sane) go by the wayside.  On a good week, I run twice and go to yoga once or twice.  This week I slept through sunrise yoga, had to work through my gym routine and have to be at school so early both days this weekend I can't possibly make it for a morning beach run. 

Now I'm not asking for your pity.  I did this to myself.  And the hope is that I'll reap the rewards when all is said and done.  I just clearly don't know my own limits.  The more I take on, the more invincible and powerful I feel.  But I feel equally overwhelmed and powerless when it seems as though I'm losing a grip on what needs to get done.  Heaven forbid my proclivity for taking on too much diminish the quality of my output; then maybe I'd have to rethink my general life philosophy. 

I'd really love to be blogging more.  And connecting more.  And looking for investment banking/commercial real estate jobs.  And figuring out what I'm going to do next.  And fretting about the big decisions I need to make in the next six months.  But if I can just get through February, I might just have a shot at getting it together. 

The Rhythm of (My) Life

Yes, I come up with the titles for my blog posts before I sit down to write them.  Yes, they take me days.  Yes, I have a bunch of half-written posts that will never see the light of day.  This was meant to be a blog about the struggles and joys of a twenty-something who works full-time and is getting her MBA.  It has turned into my journal.  If you're still reading, I thank you. If not, I wrote this mostly for myself anyhow. 

Now, back to what's been going on. 

NOTHING!

Ok, I take that back.  Not quite nothing, but after a relaxing month off I'm finally back to the rhythm of my everyday life.  And it feels good.  For now.  This week I spent approximately 16 hours in class and 40 at the office.  And four in my car.  I also had brunch with a friend, went grocery shopping, did homework, ran, went to yoga and slept.  I promise you, there's not much time for anything else. 

It's nearly 11pm (bedtime anyone?) and I'm at a complete loss as to where the evening went.  I left work at a VERY decent hour (5pm is the earliest anyone should be allowed to leave a full time office job, even when most of the brokers are partying it up in Madrid and leaving me alone), ran two errands, picked up dinner, returned a few emails and then scarfed down a salad in front of my DVR in between a quick phone call to Mom and an hour-and-a-half long phone call with a group member and our tutor.  There are still dishes on the rack that are clean but haven't been put away, dress pants that haven't been ironed for the week, a lunch that hasn't been packed, half a chapter of Entrepreneurial Finance that hasn't been read and a pile of clothes that haven't been folded.  But here I am, writing a blog post instead of editing the first part of a business proposal or developing the models for our business simulation class.  Girlfriend needs an outlet sometimes. 

Round and round and round she goes.  Where she'll stop...nobody knows!!!

Sometimes I feel like a wind-up toy.  I have no idea how anyone does this with a significant other or children... or heaven forbid both.  This weekend was basically the calm before the storm.  The last weekend until March that I was able spend late evenings and lazy days with a glass of wine in hand and good friends in tow.  The end of January into February brings intense studying and writing sessions, weekend days spent almost entirely on campus and lots of "to do" lists. 

For some reason, I've always felt like I could do anything I wanted to.  Like the hours in the day were not a limiting condition of my success or happiness.  Not until today was I ever forced to rethink that approach to life.  I am currently taking three classes, start an extracurricular commercial real estate (four week!) seminar in two weeks, and am contemplating spending 16 hours this weekend on campus learning about private equity and M&A modeling instead of with a friend who is in town between her stints as a nanny in Sweden and a farmer in Australia. 

And frankly, I like both my sleep and my sanity.  I can't decide if I should keep barreling forward with reckless abandon (hey, I've been successful thus far with my proclivity for over scheduling.  And it's not like I'm training for another half marathon at the moment), or take a step back in order to preserve what's left of my inner peace.  I mean, there's a lot I can't NOT do.  I must take three classes until the beginning of March.  I must write business plans, read textbooks, work, blog, and shower.  I even have to take that commercial real estate seminar because I know it will be good for me, despite its "time suck" factor. 

The Obligatory New Year Post

This blog post is obligatory in that we get to write about resolutions, plans, thoughts and reflections once a year.  It's like the holy grail of blog posting; a free pass to tell you exactly how I feel.  

I haven't blogged in a few weeks because I shut off my laptop and traveled two thousand miles to the blustery Midwest.  I didn't look at my bank account balance, I didn't check my emails (well I have a Blackberry, so I kinda did), I ate tiramisu, cookies and popcorn for breakfast and tried my very very best to just relax. I tried to not have plans, to go with the flow, to not worry about relationships, school, running or anything else that haunts my daily thoughts. 

And I feel good.  I feel like a week and a half away from my routine gave me space to be calm.  The massive amounts of alcohol, sledding with little ones, a spectacular day with my mother on Michigan Avenue and quality time with old friends and new family didn't hurt either.  Going "home", luckily, has been more of a respite for me than it ever was.  Being away for the better part of a decade has given me much needed perspective and appreciation of what I have and what I came from.  My independence has empowered me and while it is often scary, it one of the most important things I've ever achieved.

Most years I feel like a broken record with my resolutions.  More whole (real, fresh) foods.  Less Diet Coke, more running.  Fall in love, be free.  Go to the gym.  And while most people want to be less in the new year (weigh less, consume less), this year I vow to be more.  More me.  To give more, to see more, to breathe more, to sleep more, to find more peace.  To love (without cynicism and fear) and travel more. 

Now that's a pretty tall order.  And it definitely includes seven more months of my MBA, a full-time job, a set of incredible friends, that spectacular gym membership and lots of salads.  But hopefully it also includes a little yoga, maybe some meditation, good restaurants, a museum or two, and lots of determination.  By the end of 2011, I will have a very fancy (and expensive) degree, a new job and maybe even a new city.  I'm excited, scared, nervous and thrilled about all of the things I am lucky enough to experience in the next twelve months.  Bring it on!!!

Flying (Running) Solo

Over the last six years I've learned how to do a lot of things by myself.  I've lived by myself off and on for years, I always travel and shop solo and today I ran my first half marathon by myself. 

And it wasn't nearly as difficult as I thought it would be.  I mean, it was difficult because I had a massively upset stomach the entire time, but nothing that a running partner would help. In fact, the first eight miles were fantastic and my body still feels really good.  It was the second half that was difficult both physically and mentally to get through.  But I finished.  And it wasn't my worst time.  I didn't set a personal record, but there are always a number of circumstances one can't control during a race. 

What stinks is that I'm now home alone.  My sick running partner, who had planned on running the race with me up until yesterday afternoon, was kind enough to come out, cheer me on, take pictures and drive me home.  But that's about as exciting as it got today. 

Running 13.1 miles is an insane experience and an incredible adrenaline rush.  In fact, I couldn't even take a nap today because my heart was still pounding hours later.  Sometimes I have that tree falling in the woods feeling.  If a tree falls in the woods and nobody's there to hear it, does it still make noise? Am I making any noise?

I've long since given up trying to get my father to acknowledge my victories.  But it would help if someone would remember without me having to tell them a thousand times.  I feel like I've spent the last month fighting.  I took two finals, wrote two group papers, gave two presentations, trained for and ran a half marathon, battled a sinus infection, hopped on four flights to see my family for 72 hours, bought everyone's Christmas presents and I won.  I f*ing did it!

And I need a hug.  But instead, my family is thousands of miles away decorating the Christmas tree without me, nobody will return my texts or phone calls, and I'm eating pizza alone.  I've painted my nails, read my book, watched my DVR and even curled my hair out of a combination of both frustration and boredom.  Sundays are typically hard around these parts, but the combination of coming down from the adrenaline rush, being homesick and not having any homework to do is a difficult combination. 

The No-Stress Turkey Day

When I would go home for the holidays for the first four or so years after college, I was a bit of a mess.  One Christmas two years ago I was newly laid-off and cried for two weeks straight. Not only was I miserable, but I made everyone else around me sad. I've wasted too much precious time spent with my family picking fights and acting like the typical high-strung big sister and daughter I've always been.

This year was markedly different.  It was the first Thanksgiving I've gone back to Michigan since I've lived in Los Angeles.  And maybe because I knew I was only going to be there for 72 hours, I managed to forget about the fact that I'm in the middle of finals and go with the flow.  I had no agenda, which was a first.  There was no Black Friday shopping that needed to be done, nobody outside the family I needed to see, and nothing I had to do that couldn't be left until Sunday morning when I got back to LA. 

My mother, in particular, noticed how unstressed I was for almost three days. My demeanor changed instantly about two hours before I had to head back to the airport and she noticed that too (for better or worse, exactly what I'm thinking and feeling is written all over my face).  It was nice to not be expected to help with Thanksgiving dinner or worry about what I was wearing or who I was seeing.  Having my whole family in one place was indeed a blessing, and I'm grateful I was able to get out of my own way and really enjoy everyone's company, even if it was only for a few days. 

I also find the holidays the hardest time of the year to be single.  I loved traveling at Christmas with my boyfriend in college and at nearly thirty, there's always part of me that's sad to go home alone AGAIN.  It's easier to not have a 'plus one' because I can do exactly what I want and spend as much time with my family as possible, but all those damn jewelry commercials and smitten couples all over the place? It will definitely be nice one day to have someone to introduce to my parents, wake up with on Christmas morning and keep me company on the airplane. 

Routine

I was able to shed  fifteen pounds in the last three months because I changed my routine.  I made small changes in my diet, made sure I ran at least ten miles a week and did bootcamp every other Wednesday.  Now it's finals time, the holidays are here, and I'm losing my routine.  Long runs have been cut short because of injury, weather and travel.  I'm having to make more food decisions because when and where I eat is not necessarily in my control and it's generally a little hectic around here.

My life is made easier with routines.  From what I eat and when, to where I shop, who I see and where I go, I love the calm and reassurance of repetitive activities.  I like knowing that I can count on some sort of consistency, even if it's rather trivial.  In fact, I had a near meltdown earlier in the semester when I had to drive out to another campus for a class once a week.  I had never been to the building and didn't know where to park or even where the classrooms were.  Wouldn't you know I got so flustered I sat in the wrong classroom for fifteen minutes (in all fairness, so did another classmate - it was confusing!). 

Having a routine also relieves some stress. Each semester brings a new schedule and putting certain things on auto-pilot can be helpful.  For example, I know that most Sundays I will do two loads of laundry, go grocery shopping and vacuum the apartment.  One night a week I'll run and have dinner with Vani and I don't have to think about hitting the gym because I do it every Tuesday through Thursday at lunch. Studying is even built in so procrastination is harder. 

The months of November and December pose a unique conundrum for me.  I'm traveling, studying, going to holiday parties, shopping and running.  I've been skipping my regular workouts, getting take-out instead of going to the grocery store and spending time with my girl friends, not vacuuming or doing laundry.  It might sound lame, but routine gives me consistency, something to count on and just the smidgen of control I need in my daily life. I'll be away from home for the next three days so my schedule will be completely out of whack, but it's good practice I suppose.  I plan on being too busy and having too much fun to miss my dull routine. 

Holiday Buzz

More like holiday buzzkill.  I'm unbelievably excited to go home for Thanksgiving this year.  I haven't spent a turkey day with my family since I was 22 and it's been way too long since I've seen my little brothers.  But finals are getting in the way of my excitement!

Before I leave in less than three days, I have a presentation and a group paper due.  Two days after I get back I have a cumulative final, the day after that another group paper and presentation and then I get an entire week to study for my Global Capital Markets final and rest up for my latest half marathon. 

Luckily, the majority of the papers are done, I'm not too worried about the finals and I've been training for the half marathon.  But it's officially Thanksgiving season and between the end of the semester and the lack of real holiday spirit in LA, it might as well be August around here.

I haven't put up a Christmas tree in two years and I doubt I'm going to do so again this year.  It's not that I don't have the time or space, but by the time I'm done with finals and running, I'll be a week and a half away from going to Detroit until after the new year.  My Christmas tree is a little sparse and all my good ornaments are packed away at my mom's house, but I'm sure the act of putting on some holiday music, boiling the mulling spices and decorating the apartment would put me in a jolly mood.  However, I most likely won't do it because I know I'm the only one who will get to enjoy it.  And at this point, I'm not sure I wouldn't enjoy a nap even more.

Because I'm pretty much is school mode all the time around here, I measure things by midterms, finals, and semesters. Gina asked if I wanted to to go Coachella today and my immediate thought was not "oh, that's something I've always wanted to do" but "I hope that falls in between semesters, not before finals".  I know that I have less than three weeks left until I'm done with the semester and that a week from now I'll be crazed with school work, but I'm going back to Detroit for 72 hours this week so it will all kinda be put on pause.  I just hope I can pause it enough to really enjoy the time home with my family.

The Wedding Post

I promised Michael I'd write a post about Robyn's wedding.  So here goes. 

A lot of people don't know this about me, but I'm an extremely lucky girl; I have two families.  When I studied abroad in London in college, I shared a flat with a couple of Brits and a few Americans, two of whom would become some of my closest friends (Jenica and Shaum).  I ended up moving to LA over five years ago to work for Jenica's father and the Gerber family immediately took me in as one of their own.  Jenica's cousin, who has become an older sister figure to me, got married at a beautiful sunset ceremony on Sunday.

I haven't been to a ton of weddings in my day, but there is a distinct difference between a friend's wedding and that of a family member.   And I have to admit, this one was the best of both.  I got to enjoy everything about the day without having to deal with all the family dynamics, but I truly felt like I was at home. We were the first to get there, one of the last to leave, and I danced around all night (I mean, the groom's mother had me lead the conga line - I was a hit). 

It is always such a wonderful occasion to celebrate two people finding each other. It gives us single girls hope, but it also makes me think.  I truly believe that everything happens for a reason, but the older I get and the more people I know, I start to wonder if there is one person out there for all of us.  Or if there are indeed many.  Sometimes it amazes me how perfect two people can be for each other, and how once they meet it all just falls into place.  On the other hand, I'm pretty sure I could be happy with a life with any number of men. 

Robyn was one of the most beautiful brides I've ever seen.  She's tall, graceful and mature on an ordinary day.  Add to that a custom-made gown and the glow of marriage, and you have one gorgeous bride. Plus she's nine years older than me, so she's that much more mature. 

One thing I've realized lately is that in an ideal world, we really do spend our twenties growing up.  It's amazing how different I feel, look and act now than when I was twenty-five.  Heck, I'm not the same girl I was six months ago.  It's taken a lot of hard work and reflection but I'm learning how to be a better version of myself every day.  While I'm not always thrilled to live the crazy life of a single girl, part of me is glad that I have had all this time to myself and that I didn't meet someone amazing when I wasn't the best version of myself.  Life is one big learning experience, so I'll never stop growing and maturing (hopefully), but I'm terribly grateful that I've had the experiences in my life (good and bad) that have led me to who I am now. 

Homesick

Because I made the decision to move out of Detroit, and I wanted to take a job in glamorous LA, and I had all these plans for a life that was bigger and better than the suburban boredom of my youth, I never allowed myself to miss home.  (I grew up in the suburbs, but I usually just say Detroit - or Michigan - for simplification purposes.)  And for the most part, I don't actually miss Michigan.  I miss my family and my favorite little haunts (Moosejaw, The Duck, Dunkin Donuts coffee) occasionally, but it's pretty much a "been there, done that" thing for me. 

So it struck me the other day when I was talking to my best friend from high school who also lives in LA.  She moved out here after a year or so in Paris and some other various traipsings across the globe, while I moved here for a job that was going to get me out of Ohio.  She was telling me how much she missed Michigan.  The cider mills, the changing leaves, the snow, the pace, her family.  How could she miss Michigan when she's been to so many other great places?

I feel guilty every time I say I'm homesick because I know that I could be back in the Midwest right now.  I was laid off twice in two years (hello financial crisis) and could have seized those opportunities to change up my life and head home (Chicago or Detroit) with my tail between my legs.  But something was keeping me in California.  Something inside of me was telling me that I had things to take care of and accomplish in LA before I could go anywhere else.

In what has been a never-ending quest to rationalize all that I've done (and not done) in the six years since I graduated from college, I find myself taking a tally.  Especially now that I've decided to go to my ten year high school reunion when I'm back in Detroit for Christmas, I've been mentally making a list of all the things I've accomplished, what I value and who I've become. 

I don't have the typical trappings or milestones of a lot of my peers.  I'm not married, I don't have kids, I don't own a home, I haven't traveled the world.  But I will have run four half-marathons, I have made incredible friends, I captained a kickball team for five seasons, found an industry I'm passionate about, lived thousands of miles away from my family on my own, had crazy silly adventures and am just months away from finishing business school.  And a lot of that would not have been possible if I still lived in Michigan. 

When the weather gets cooler, the days get shorter and the holidays draw near, I undoubtedly get homesick and feel guilty about it.  Luckily this year I'm actually going home for Thanksgiving to see my family, godparents and cousins.  It's a short trip but my homesickness is mildly ameliorated by the fact that I can be there when it matters.  And as a bonus, I do believe both The Duck and Franklin Cider Mill will still be open. 

Pretty Red Lip Gloss

Oh, such a fun title!  It was fun, really.  Friday night I went out with an older coworker of mine.  And by (barely) older, I mean like four years.  She's married, successful, wonderful, mature and just that much wiser than me. And she's gorgeous.  So yes, it was a little bit of an intimidating prospect to go out on the town with her and her friends.  (Thank goodness for Halloween costumes - we could all look like idiots.)

So my natural instinct was to hit the mall before we could hit Main Street.  Not that I could wear anything new (I was dressing up like a cowgirl - not too terribly dorky) but I needed a little pick-me-up.  So I stopped by the make-up counter where Dana, the unsuspecting Macy's employee, humored me for ten minutes while I tried to describe to her exactly what I wanted. 

I didn't learn how to apply make-up until I was in college.  And while my morning make-up routine changed drastically when I started working in commercial real estate, I've always kept it simple enough that I can do it in ten minutes in the car on the way to the office.  My incredibly young-looking mother maintains her complexion with a little moisturizer and chap stick so I come by my affinity for simplicity naturally. 

Every lip gloss, lip stick, etc. that I've owned has been pale pink and girly.  Pretty, but not sexy.  I mean, I'm going to wear it to work (heaven forbid I have a separate one for work and one for going out), class and the bar so it has to be neutral.  Apparently at twenty-eight I didn't really know what neutral meant so Dana and I had a good laugh.  I wanted color, but not like a crazy red lipstick.  I wanted neutral color (??) apparently.  Anyhow, the jargon still alludes me but this redish clearish gloss is actually quite flattering and makes me feel (look?) a tad bit more grown up. 

So a little pretty red lip gloss changed my night.  OK, I lie.  It didn't.  But it changed how I felt.  I'm sure nobody noticed (I went out with strangers; they didn't know me pre-lip gloss), but I felt like I could handle the new situation with a little sparkle on my lips. And a ridiculous cowboy hat.