I've been thinking.

A lot, actually, about this dream in particular.

I was in the middle of a field; expansive, without an end; yellow, everywhere.

I felt older than the world, yet breathing for the first time. 

My body was small; a child's. 

My hands held up daffodils to the skies. I kissed the wilted ones; blowing pussywillows, waltzing with a cd the wind.

I looked up. They had all turned into birds, flying away, leaving me behind.

Conflicted.

I am excited. And terrified.

Yesterday Husband found me perched on the edge of our bed, in tears. Our life together is going to be irreversibly changed moving forward -- and while deep down I know there are many more beautiful, happy moments ahead, and I am so, so looking forward to what's in store for us with all of my heart ... I am also scared, and apprehensive, in the smallest, quietest of ways. I am doubtful in my abilities in this new role. And yet in the same way that I just somehow "knew" my husband would have a very special place in my life the second I laid eyes on him, I also know that I had unknowingly been waiting for this moment my entire life. 

Becoming everything.

My humor is always tongue-in-cheek and sarcastic.

So I went ahead and reserved the domain name, becomingeverything.com, as my new blog name moving forward. Just to poke fun at society's expectations that women be everything to everyone, and all. 

Also all-encompassing of my affinity to write about, well, everything. Yay!

Listening to the rain.

Becoming one with the universe.

I've been thinking of writing more publicly again. 

This blog spans years of my life but it never had a concrete goal -- which was and yet wasn't and still isn't the point, when I really think about it.

Aside from the increasingly plentiful, cryptic personal rants as of late -- a must, I've long realized, for me to pump and dump in order to free up limited emotional and mental space for writing and being creative in my day job -- I've noticed patterns in topics that intrigue me. The intellectual in me wants, and needs, a place to explore, analyze, and compartmentalize these topics more thoroughly to my little heart's content.

Most of all, I'm a collector -- of thoughts, ideas, memories, books, things.  

We'll see.

The middle of nowhere.

I feel suspended in time right now.

I'm trying not to worry, but it's so, so hard.

It helps sharing the news with the ones you love most, and who love you just as much, if not more, in return. They pray and think of you when you don't have the ability and clarity of mind to.

This kind of news changes people. They do everything they can to ease your mind off of things; they tell you what they've lived through and learned and do their best to reassure you even though you haven't asked for it; they let things go instead of holding on to petty matters because there's so much hope, so many beginnings, a new chapter in this kind of news. 

It's like a collective armor of love and faith against bad karma or luck or whatever other evil lurks in the shadows. 

That writing life.

This was the first week where I started to feel frustrated with a highly visible project. 

The goal kept changing and there were too many cooks in the kitchen.

Feelings were hurt. Time was wasted. And I found myself missing the mark, writing the wrong things, again and again, depending on who you talked to and what their moods were like that day.

But then a parent friend reached out, expressing her excitement over the discovery of our company's products and our newest curriculum, and I realized that it is all part of the process. At the end of the day, we are doing something amazing. Our mission is important. My words mean something. My work is impactful.

Then I wrapped up three more deadlines nearly a week ahead of schedule, and spent the rest of my Friday afternoon chatting while nibbling on stinky cheese and bidding a farewell to a coworker whom I felt like I've known for years instead of months.

I'm right where I'm supposed to be. 

A miracle.

I was on the phone with my sister-in-law the other day, both of us laughing out loud at her musing that she "misses being pregnant", when I remembered that she went on to give birth to two healthy, ultra-smart kids after battling a rare form of cancer. Twice.

The human body and spirit is so amazing. I can only hope for mine to be that strong and unbreakable someday. 

Lean together.

I gush enough about my husband to anyone who wants and doesn't want to hear, but I feel like the luckiest person --not just woman, but person -- in the world to have found him as my life partner. 

I feel for single girlfriends and acquaintances when they complain about the lackluster men they've encountered or, worse still, are still keeping around for whatever reason or another. 

Sure, I've been there but therein lies my point: 

I've been there. I'm not still there.

It's therefore hard for me to understand why someone can't simply just move on or let go when someone they are seeing or dating no longer nourishes them or even remotely fits or fulfills their wants and needs. 

I learned that lesson at 20, and have never looked back -- this applies to relationships just as much as friendships. 

It also saddens me when friends start lying to themselves about what their biggest desires are, simply because they (falsely) believe they cannot attain them. 

If it is marriage you are looking for, look for qualities and a foundation you can build on, not borrow or steal away from someone else. If it is only a good time that you want for a night or month, then accept it and learn from it and enjoy it. 

One of my biggest goals for this year was to be more empathetic and patient, but there are times where the same conversations, the same points of contention, come up again and again and I feel like the person asking for advice, again, is a complete ask-hole. And so I feel the need to serve them my regular dose of candid thoughts when all they really wanted was for us to lean in together, me supporting them in their decisions or inactions.

I recently learned there is a designation for my kind: smug marrieds, apparently, because we've somehow forgotten how hard it is to be single and dating. 

But that is precisely where they are wrong: you never forget how hard it was being single and dating, for the exact reason that you will NEVER forget how hard and discouraging it was to find your person. But in order to do that, you have to move on. 

Do you want to find your person? Then stop tethering yourself to someone who isn't. 

Let it go

How do you let go of a friendship that once invigorated you but no longer feeds you?

Do you try to hold on?

Should you?

Annual review.

My current company's annual performance review process is slightly different from what I'm used to with my previous employers. Whereas most people receive their bonuses and raises at the end of the year, we receive them in the first quarter of the following one.

I'll admit it wasn't particularly helpful coming up on the holidays in my first year here with no extra funds for Christmas presents, but then I realized, most (if not all) of my bonuses have always gone straight into my savings accounts anyway, so actually receiving it was more for peace of mind than anything.

Peace of mind. Now that we've purchased a home together and considerably depleted our bank accounts in the process (damn that down payment and closing costs!), I think I've subconsciously started to worry more about things that I previously wasn't as worried about, like job security.

Actually, I'm mostly just worried about job security -- especially in this economy, nothing's ever guaranteed, although TIME reports things are looking slightly better. That, and the CEO of my company recently extended his employment contract for another six years here, so I'll take my and Husband's decision to move to MD as a good sign of things to come.

I realized over the weekend that I've been, more or less, working since high school, when I was 15. My first foray into being an entrepreneur involved teaching piano to my grandmother's neighbor's children, while my first "real", tax-paying job was as an activities assistant at the nursing home down the street.

Although it's been well over a decade since those very first paychecks, and I've gone down many other paths since then, I still feel so lost and unsure -- and, most damning of all, still unfulfilled.

Reflecting back, I've only experienced true happiness -- that is, true bliss where my professional work and life is concerned -- in very short, very infrequent bursts since those early days.

Admittedly, those enjoyable moments have been more frequent in recent years, through freelancing projects and school. My thesis topic, also, brings me much joy and passion as much as it makes me feel anxious and stressed out as graduation inches closer and closer.

But the fact remains that I've always felt this constant, incessant need to "find my calling", so to speak, and that void remains glaringly, largely unfilled. A feeling most characteristic of my generation, perhaps, but even more so, a feeling most characteristic of creative, wild souls like mine, more probably.

May 2014 get me there.

I am so silly.

Husband and I recently asked each other, 

"What do you want for Christmas this year?"

I thought about it.

And thought about it.

And all I could think of was, 

I am so silly. Everything I want is silly.

...

I mean, wouldn't you want a pet piglet (or two), too?

Actually.

"Actually, the best gift you could have given her was a lifetime of adventures."

- Unknown

That includes love, because love is a wacky, wonderful, weird and worldly experience of its own.

Sad.

Sad that real life starts up again tomorrow, but grateful that we didn't experience any major damage or power outage from the storm.

To be honest, it was really romantic being stuck indoors together while the rain and winds howled outside, although I am definitely thankful we know exactly when and how to give each other space when we both need it.

Fall fun.

Finally made it out to Cox Farms today to enjoy a few hours of Fall fun in the sun. Had us some apple cider and the largest spiced apple funnel cake, ever, and the corn maze and goat village were a blast!

We were there just the two of us, and it made me miss my family so much as we were surrounded by parents, grandparents, and lots and LOTS of children today.

Two years ago I organized a family outing to the pumpkin patch at Butler's Orchard, and everyone enjoyed themselves tremendously. In fact, my relatives are still talking about it, but it's so hard to get everyone in one place these days - not to mention, I have so much on my plate right now that I really can't bother planning anything other than my own life events at the moment.

But, still. I love that the Fiancé and I make time for each other, and never wait on others for us to do things together. We've never been the type of people - much less couple - to sit at home and do nothing, so I know deep in my heart that this adventure-seeking trait will transfer over to our kids one day.

If anything, it'd probably be because we're both simply grown kids at heart ourselves.

Homeland.

"I like it when life is like that. Heightened, somehow."

Didn't expect this show to be so damn good.

Damn you, Showtime, for your Homeland marathon!

Just noticed.

That the four most frequent tags on my blog are

(as displayed on the right-hand side of my page):

 

- random thoughts

- life

- personal growth

- love 

 

Yup, that's about right. 

 

I present to you: Ponderings in a Pod, redux.

Blurred.

I had a dream recently where I was stuck in this pink house, trying to escape.

I finally did, but realized I had a small boy with me. I ran and ran from an invisible entity behind me, and without looking back, I threw the boy to safety ahead of me. I screamed out to the blurred vision of a crowd on the other side.

Then I woke up. The frantic panic is still with me.

Love list.

Right now:

*Fall

*Fall colors

*cashmere cardigan

*sweater weather (...sweather?)

*well-worn leather riding boots

*wake-up hugs

*morning kisses

*sunlight streaming in through the curtains

*unlimited Japanese green tea

*French crepes

*outdoor dining

*women helping women

*the power of words

*the promise of amazing weekend plans

I love making lists.

I love making love lists even more.

Hyper with words.

I've long self-diagnosed myself with hypergraphia - the overwhelming, compulsive urge to write. 

My writing patterns as an adult mimic my writing patterns as a child - where I once kept multiple diaries and secret journals with pen and pencil to paper, I now log in and type out my thoughts or advice on various online platforms.  The only difference now is that I no longer look over my shoulders to see whether my mother is reading my musings or not without my permission.  

I'm not deluded enough to believe any of what I write is brilliant - not in the least.  Half of the time, it doesn't even make much sense, and the paragraphs are often riddled with tangential overtures.  To be honest, they're generally mental, internal ramblings that I desperately need to get out of my system.  Sometimes, it's because it's, well, yugen.

But most of the time, I write to capture it all, and to look back on what once was and what could be or what could have been.  Isn't that the goal of many writers and bloggers these days, in this digital age?  To keep record; to keep tabs?  And, more so than to remember, to not be forgotten?

Suspended in time and space.

I am going to spend the bulk of my time off snuggling in bed with these two.

Lucky and happy that Manfriend has plans of joining us, too.