Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand blah blah blah

Creation always begins in darkness. Whether you are reading the Bible, the Rig Veda, the Popol Vuh or pretty much any religious or mythological text, they start with an all encompassing abyss. So too does our creation, unless your mother had a tap light in her womb. But aside from the moment when we went from a drunken night between two relatively responsible adults to a fetus, the moments that make us usually begin in darkness as well.

A year ago on this very day I was a nervous wreck that couldn't eat, sleep or move without falling to pieces in anticipation of the inevitable. I knew that my relationship, which up to that point was perfect in my mind, had done a complete 180 overnight and no amount of pleading, crying or talking could change that. I knew in my soul that my love could fix what was being held together with tape--me, him and us. I knew we were stronger than whatever had come between us. I was wrong. But then again, I was right.

This is not my ex...I don't remember this guy's name and this was from two weeks ago.

My relationship was not perfect, I spent as much time happy and in love as I did feeling clenched, unworthy and miserable. I wasn't in love with a person, I was in love with the way he validated my existence, boosted my self-esteem, made every other girl--and my shitty ex's--green with envy, and everything that made me feel better about me because of who he was. The ambition, drive, affluence, and success that drew me to him like a moth to a flame eventually made me feel small standing next to him. It wasn't all "I love you because of the way you make me fel about me", I still love and am inspired by who he is as a person--flawed, funny, and a shit talker--but I was wrapped up in finally finding my Big not how we worked or didn't work together. If you don't see the cracks in the foundation from day one, you end up buying a house that eventually sinks and I saw the cracks, and ignored them just to have my dream guy. Love cannot save a sinking ship. Ask Jack Dawson.

Guess no one told Jack to secure his life vest before attempting to help others. 

While all the love I had for him and us couldn't save anything, the love I had for myself eventually won out. There were days when I literally could not get out of bed and wanted to kill myself, obvs I did and did not. Then throw in losing your job on top of going through the most difficult breakup of your life and you get me circa January. In that vacuum, no job, no man, no money, I began to feel more free than I had in years. (It's funny what hanging at home and collecting an unemployment check can do for you.) For months I devoured self help books, checked into therapy--long over due, did a 4 week group coaching course, started doing volunteer work and a fuck ton of other shit. My life was a nothing like he life I'd spent the past 3 years building, one that would have ended with me and my ex as a strange hybrid of the Obamas, the Clintons--not really but really--the Gates, Bey and Jay, and basically almost any bad ass, smart, talented, revolutionary couple ever to have a documentary made on them. There were few martini circuit events to attend, no tiki Tuesdays and my calendar looked more like that of a yogi/new age/ hippy than a bad ass fashion blogger/writer. I'd gone from Carrie Bradshaw to Lisa Bonet over night and I wasn't mad at it.

Lisa aka Lilakoi Moon & her daughter Zoe make one bad majama mother-daughter duo.

In between all the manifesting, meditating, cleaning, and starting this blog, I landed a job that I wasn't even looking for--that my psychic connection predicted months before--and my life changed back to what I always wanted it to be. I am way closer to financially independent than I ever have been, I have a pretty decent job that is not a major life drainer, I can afford to shop at Whole Foods, I have successfully married my Carrie side with my Lisa Bonet and Beyonce sides--it looks and feels as amazing as it sounds--and I have reconnected with friends that I abandoned when I started my relationship in 2009. My life could only be more phenomenal if I were engaged to Alexander Skarsgard....dreaming is good for the soul.

He is really, really ridiculously good looking.

The point is, everything begins in darkness but it does not stay that way. I mean first there was darkness and then God was all like "let there be light" and darkness peaced out. Everything changes, all the time. Change is the one constant in life. If I have moved form wannabe socialite, shop girl balled up on the floor crying herself to sleep because the one thing that made her worthwhile was someone else to a badass creatrix ready to run shit in 2013 in only 365 day--was it leap year this year? Imagine where I can be in another 365 days, or rather where you can be.

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Oh I get by with a little help from my friends, and I am beyond grateful for each and every one of you who have een there with me through triumphs, tears, laughs, meltdowns, break throughs, wine bottles and more. You all have been the light in my darkest hours and the canned laughter to my corny jokes. Love each and every one of you.


 

What Makes You Happy?

Driving from dinner to a strip club last weekend, I got into one of those conversations that only happens when two girls meet and marry the right amount of alcohol. And by right amount, I mean I had two drinks and perhaps she had too many. Either way, we were on our way to our third stop of the night when the conversation turned from boyfriend drama to convient theories on life. Navigating the freeway with my iPhone I told my passenger that nothing on the outside can make you happy, not your boyfriend, not your job, not the vacations you take, nothing because everything you see is temporary and you shouldn't put your happiness in things that can change with little to no notice. With a bit of a drawl she confronted me dead on, like only a girl born and raised in New York would, and said, "What makes you happy?" Without hesitation I said, "I do. I decide to be happy no matter what and that's that."

Great answer right? In that moment I went from preaching it to knowing that I was totally practicing it. I mean, how else could something so sweet have rolled off my tongue with little thought? It had to have been firmly embedded in my cells or firmly memorized. I remained fully calm and collected while this girl went on and on with questions designed to throw a wrench in my view, "What about if your friend had cancer and you knew they were going to die?" "I'd be hurt, angry and upset, but in the end if there is nothing I can do about it I have to accept it and keep it moving." To me, this proved I was one step closer to enlightenment, or something like it, but only a few short days after our conversation I was slumped on the foyer in my apartment bawling my eyes out to my dad about having had my heart broken by the one man that I'm sure could ever love poor, wretched me. WTF!!!! Where did the happy go? Like any good Virgo, I decided to retrace my steps to see where I left it.

Me and L L last summer with Candace Bushnell...random

Between the sinus infection I picked up early in the week, which left me in bed for most of Monday and Tuesday thanks to my meds, and the sinking feeling I get every time I'm at work for 8 hours alone and then at home for another 8 hours alone my happy checked out. I kept replaying the fact that if it were last year and I had a sinus infection I would not have had to drag myself out of bed to buy Advil, my boyfriend would have done that, and I would not have had to spend every moment after work on my own because there was someone else at home to talk to. If it were last year I wouldn't have to deal with people asking me how is it that I'm single because I wasn't single last June. And there it is. The moment my happy left and the sinus infection slipped in. (Actually the sinus infection has probably bee building for weeks since I live in random hotels when I'm on the road.)

While I know he meant well, telling a single girl "I don't believe that you're still single. You're gorgeous  and I see how guys look at you" is like asking her "When are you getting married?" The instant that statement was leveed at me I sank back to Earth and was reminded that I may have a nice job, a new car I got with my own credit score, a boat load of friends and family who love me, a sick closet in a cute apartment, I haven't gained a pound since high school and I have a million and one things to be grateful for, I am still missing the one thing I so desperately want...a soulmate. It also immediately drew my attention to the fact that I thought I'd found my soulmate three years ago in a dive bar on New Year's Eve--a story he was ashamed to tell--and that despite my best efforts he'd left me. This line of thinking also brought me to a place where I blamed myself for our breakup--it is not my fault he got scared, confused and emotionally cheated on me if not physically--and blamed myself for not having found someone new just yet. This spiral locked me into thoughts of not being good enough to land the appointments I need to book my trip to Tennessee and North Carolina next week, let alone to make my bonus. It made me want to abandon my job and live in a coffee shop working on my book--not a bad idea really since I feel most me when I write. The point is, the way that I took this one statement said without even the slightest air of malice and ran to crazy town with it just further illustrates my point that I decide whether or not I'm going to be happy.

Yes, I would be happier in a job in publishing but until one comes along or my book deal falls from heaven like manna I have to work to pay my bills. Oddly enough, the work that I do not only pays my bills and puts me in contact with some of the strangest and most awesome people in life but it also provides me with plenty of inspiration to write my book and help me reinvigorate my flailing fashion blog. I can also say I would be over the moon if I walked out my door and Alexander Skarsgard was there and wanted to marry me, but since I'm 99% sure that's not happening and that would leave me a bit unsettled in real reality if he did--in fantasy reality I would be all in--I kinda have to keep on trucking until some guy at a party or something is all like "Hey do you want to go see that new Wes Anderson flick? I mean you look like you like movies like that and Thai food." While I'm waiting for my time and divine time to synch up like the recent Venus transit, I have to focus on being happy with what I have because if I'm all pissed and cursing the moon not only is the guy whose supposed to ask me out going to be like "wow that chick is crazy, no movies and red curry for her", I won't have enough time or energy to write a single thing.

So, what makes me happy? Me....and cupcakes.

Lessons Learned From...Charlotte York-Goldenblatt

She may be naive and old fashioned but this Kappa Kappa Gamma was fiercely loyal to her friends, knew how to tastefully decorate a penthouse and never was caught dead in a bland twin set--well maybe in the first season when the budget was $0. It also doesn't hurt that I've finally embraced my inner Charlotte. Without any more chatter from the peanut gallery, here are the 5 things I've learned from Mrs York-Goldenblatt aka the former Mrs. Agent Dale Cooper.

1. Never marry a man who says "okie dokie" no matter how perfect he is, how great his family's house is or how sick he looks playing tennis in his boxers. Okie dokie men are probably only okie dokie.

2. Mr Right may not look the way you want him to or have the right pedigree,  as long as he makes you feel like the shiksa goddess that you are. Let's not forget she gave up Jesus for Harry. Jesus.

3. Be a lady in the street...Charlotte was no Samantha, but she did hang out with her. Enough said.

4. Relax, relate, release. After pulling all kinds of tricks to get married and have a baby, Charlotte met her man while she was going through her divorce and had her baby after adopting. In other words, the minute she let her guard down and chilled out, she got everything she spent 6 seasons stressing over.

5. Never, ever stop believing in love.

Stop the Shhhh!!!

I was walking from Madewell to Bloomingdale's on my Spring living spree, bags in hand, when my phone vibrated to let me know I had a new email. I was expecting some kind of spam from one of the many mailing lists that my email address has found itself on or something work related, however it was an email from a friend of an acquaintance saying that she had passed in the night. (She being the acquaintance not her friend.) Before I go a character further, I have to say that I didn't know this person very well, only through facebook, herfture and email. Despite not knowing her in real, real life, her death shook me enough that it made me question the way in which I live my life. I mean, she was 31, had been living with cancer for years and despite that was still the shining light in my inbox every week.

I'm not going to dwell on the life of someone who touched my life without knowing much about it, but I have to say the death of a person in your age group always makes you rethink your life. It forces you to face you own mortality in a way that seeing an older person die never could. It drives home the message that life is short since it indeed could be over much more quickly than you think, causing you to rethink the way you've handled or not handled things. Having a friend or colleague who is merely a few years older than you live her life fully while dying, while you are stressing over the dumbstuff, makes you remember that life is a gift. I'm trying not to sound too shallow but it often takes the death of someone to make you realize how good you have it. I mean just yesterday I was bitching about the fact that I'm single instead of celebrating my new job and car. I was also debating on wether or not I should get real with my ex about us. Now all of that drama seems both small and huge at the same time. Small because it's petty stuff. My life is stinking awesome the end. However on the other hand my drama just got ocean size.

When you die the things you regret are the relationships you effed up, the people you took for granted, the time you spent working instead of living and a whole host of stuff that has nothing to do with how much money you earned, how many shoes you owned or how successful you were. People say it all the time but it's true, you dan't take it with you. The only thing you'll have on your death bed is family, friends and your memories--and perhaps a blanket. You have your love and that's all, and if you're me you have a heart full of love deeper than the ocean--Titanic reference--that is reserved for one person who either does not care or does nto believe me when I say that I love him not the job or the money or the outside shizz but the person who makes me feel like being me is the easiest thing in the world. (Trust me being me is not easy, being a puppy is easy being me is strange.)

You know, death makes you remember how fragile and temporary our bodies are. Once they're gone they're gone and you move on to wherever you came from. But in the meantime, while you have a body, tell the people that you love how much you love them, forgive the people that have wronged you, enjoy the time you have to do nothing, seek balance and have ice cream....real full fat ice cream that is rich and creamy and makes you want to jump on a treadmill after eating it. You only taste for as long as you have taste-buds so don't waste your sense of taste, or hearing, sight or smell for that matter.

*I'm not going to get all weepy and sappy but I am going to say that Shanna Sandmoen was an amazing woman and her weekly emails and blog posts will be missed. 

Now Reading...

Codependency has been the big word popping up for me, and some of my pals, lately. Speaking solely for myself, I mean who else can I speak for, but my fear of being alone for the rest of my life has consistently manifested itself in some not so nice behavioral patterns that could pretty well be labeled as codependent. Basically every time I let my ex get away with something that didn't serve me or put his needs before mine or thought of him as the strong one who I needed in order to be happy, healthy and wise, I was engaging in codependent behaviors and thought patterns. His desire to be the one to save me only reinforced this. So here we were trapped in a pattern where I needed him to feel loved, supported and worthy and he rose to the occasion. (I'm not blaming him FYI, my parents and friends have also supported my "poor wretched me" behaviors as well.) The point is, since codependency has been the word in my life for quite a while and since I've noticed its patterns and characteristics making themselves known when my girls talk about their relationships I've decided to do something about it. Namely, picking up Melody Beattie's book Codependent No More to get to the bottom of these thoughts and release these patterns before I do end up alone or worse, I have a daughter and pass these patterns on to her.

Old Maid My ASS!

A few weeks ago I was on the phone with a good friend in the middle of the night trying to comfort her and give my best "advice" on her relationship woes when she dropped this bomb, "Most people our age are married or in committed relationships." First of all, not only did I find that to be a gross overstatement of a fact--I know a ton of girls all over America who are my age and are happily single, statistics prove it--but I also found it to be a highly insensitive thing to say to someone who is going through a breakup. (Remember before you speak wait and say Why Am I Saying This, I guarantee it'll save you many an embarrassing, foot in mouth moment.)  This sentiment expressed by my friend--and secretly held in the heart of many a single or relationshipped girl that I know--that everyone our age is married or on the way to being married got mt to thinking some pretty deep thoughts. After a few days of thinking and talking to another friend with some equally skewed views on why we go down the aisle I came to the only sane conclusion, we have all been brainwashed! I mean, who says you have to be married by a certain age anyway?

Does no one else think June was a bit ridiculous wearing pearls 24/7? 

When I was 21, anything over 25 seemed old. Now that I'm two years away from 30, give or take a few months, I don't think 25 is old at all. I mean 25 is older than 21 but it isn't as old as 40, and everyone I know over 32 thinks I have all the time in the world to get messy, make mistakes and find a husband. The only people who think I should be looking for a mate are some of my friends and me--about 80% of the time. Actually most of the women I know who are in the older, wiser age range, aka my mom's age, have repeatedly told me that getting married before turning 30 usually ends in divorce because most 20 something girls have no clue who they are which incidentally is supported by science with tons of research saying that the part of the brain that governs complex cognitive behaviors, personality expression and decision making are not developed until about 25 give or take a few years. Most older, wiser women also agree that most of us 20s girls get married for the WRONG reasons.

Before I delve into the wrong reason pile, let's do a brief super short history of marriage in the 20th Century as illustrated by our grandmothers and mothers. Our grandmothers who were in their 20s during the '40s, '50s and early '60s existed in a strange Stepford like time when they were expected to marry largely because they didn't have many career prospects and pre-women's lib societal norms held over from previous ages when women had no voice in politics and weren't expected to be educated told them that their place was at home. Thankfully society also knew that no man wanted a dumb wife who couldn't manage the household budget, make dinner from scratch, wrangle the kids and look like June Cleaver or Lena Horne while doing it, so off to college to earn their MRS our grandmothers went. Along the way they became secretaries, teachers and nurses but if they weren't married with a baby by 25 their lives were incomplete. Fast forward to our moms who thanks to changing societal norms were able to take control of their reproductive systems thanks to birth control and Roe v Wade, could earn a living wage thanks to their educations in something other than how to be a great woman behind the throne and were not doomed to stay in loveless marriages where they were abused, mistreated or just unhappy thanks to divorce become more normalized. As a result our parents who got married when "society" told them to, between the ages of 19 and 24, found themselves divorced by 35 (hint, hint). Due to the pioneering efforts of our foremothers, many of the gals of today are as well educated and finically  (in)secure as their male counterparts making the need to get married before your prefrontal cortex has fully developed a thing of the past. Unless you live in the South like me where girls are expected to get married fresh out of college like it's 1955.

All single, all over 30, all fly as all out doors!

The point of our little history lesson is that the reason for marrying young that held up in the past have been obliterated thanks in large part to the feminist movement--which actually asserts that woman have the right to be who they want to be whether that mean's a housewife or the next President not that we have to stop shaving our armpits unless we like that sort of thing. You don't have to get married because society thinks you're deficient if you aren't married by 35, or because your eggs are going to go bad, or because your knocked up, or at all if you don't want to. There is no need to find a man for security, hell in this economy there is no such thing as finical security at any age let alone in your 20s when most of us are underemployed or getting so many degrees it's crazy in an effort to wait out the seemingly dismal job market's eventual uptick. Oh and as for having kids, I checked that one out and your eggs do go bad but not as quickly as I thought, making it perfectly OK,  to have kids in your 30s. I mean, my mom had my brother at 30 and he didn't turn out THAT bad.

Another group of fab single ladies that didn't get married until they were in their LATE 30s

So the next time someone asks you when are you getting married or asserts that there is something wrong with you because you'd rather be single than stay with your jerk ex-boyfriend who stole from you, hit on your friend in front of you in a bar, forgot your birthday and every holiday and was an all around ass (FYI this is not about my ex, he was and still is a great guy just not with me right now), tell them piss off. Would you rather be happy or following whatever "rules" society has set up for you? BTW society is pretty effed up in case you haven't noticed, so I don't think I would take life advice from whoever this society person is. And if you think I'm going to be an Old Maid or whacky Spinster aunt living in a house in Miami with my mom, a retired whorey debutante and some chick from Minnesota, not only do you not know the definition of old but you have no idea how awesome the Golden Girls were. I have at least another 30 years before I'm considered an Old Maid and that is more years than I've been alive, so odds are it's not going to happen.

The point is, it's perfectly normal to want to get married and have a family but it is perfectly insane to put a sell by date on it.

Just Drop It Mama.

In an effort to get rid of the not so awesome stuff that has been blocking me from having the super awesome stuff that I deserve, I decided to drop all of it for 8 days. I'd like to say that I arrived at this conclusion to drop everything I've been holding on to like an Alex Wang at a sample sale on my own, but anyone who knows me at all knows that letting things go isn't really my bag. I actually came to this beautiful place of wanting, needing and finally throwing down release while I was talking things over with one of my spiritual running buddies. In a not so beautiful moment I'd begun to hold on to expectations for my relationship, career and living situation in an effort to find comfort in the "what will be"and the "what was" instead of embracing the "what is."This caused all kinds of stress, fear, moments where I was bawling on the couch and all I kept thinking was "You are a spiritual gangsta not someone who lets the past or future rule your present," and boy did that make me feel worse--hello ego posing as my higher self, I see you.

In the middle of this strange slip I reached out to my fave spiritual mama for a real reality check to get me back to where I belong. I told her everything that was going down and what I was trying to do and basically she said I needed to drop it, all of it. I needed to stop replaying the past like a broken VHS, let go of my expectations and do nothing-- a message that came to me three times that week. So I did. I sat in my meditation spot, wrote a letter politely demanding that my ex get out of my space and take any of his bad juju with him and forgiving him for everything, lit a candle or two and mediated for like forever. I wish I had some beautiful story of how the minute I did that he called--well he texted the next day to say he was in town--or that a job magically appeared--a job did come my way the following week--but that night the only thing that came through was peace. Finally I could sleep alone in my bed without feeling alone and that was all I really needed, to be at peace with my own company. This peace felt so deliciously amaze that I continued my 8 days of allowing to fifteen days, so far. I know I'm on the right track, because not only does it feel good but everywhere I look and listen someone is saying "release", "allow", "let go", "drop it."

Like I said, I haven't had major miracles happen every moment of every day--partly because I realized that in doing something to achieve a particular outcome I was feeding my ego and trying to do magic tricks--but I did come to have a few major revelations about myself...and here they are in no particular order:

*I like the way it feels when I come through for people. Let me rephrase that, I like the way people feel about me when I help them out. Basically I'm not really the supportive, loyal to the point of being a masochist because I just am, I'm that way because I'm addicted to the high I get when someone says "Thank you for coming through for/being there for/helping me." This addiction has caused me to call some emotionally unstable/effed up guys into my life. I try to fix/help/hit them with the Virgo Earth goddess energy that radiates off of me and they take what they need then move on. Sooo I'm going to start volunteering to get my helper high and let that fulfill that need so that I can stop calling in people with holes that I desperately want to fill

*I don't want to be a writer because I want to be a writer, I want to be a writer because someone else saw that talent in me and said you'd be a great writer. I love writing, why else would I do it for free, but the kind of writer that I want to be has nothing to do with being some prolific hipster writer who writes while sunning herself on the roof of her Brooklyn apartment and appears in videos for her friend's indie band. That's the kind of writer I always thought he would date so I tried to be that girl, while I love being cynical, listening to obscure music, French New Wave films, Sylvia Plath, looking cool and bored and wearing Wayfarers, I'm sooo not that girl. I went to a state scholl where I studied fashion in hopes of being the next Anna Wintour or Carinne Roitfeld. I want to write stories that weave every aspect of pop culture together, past and present, and tell you how it all relates to what you're being told to wear and what you're actually wearing. Oh and stuff about meditating and getting spiritual.

*I'm not hurt because we broke up, I'm hurt because of what that means for all of the plans we made that I was holding on to. When you're dating someone you make plans for the future and our plans included moving out of Atlanta this year, getting married in the next two years, having kids, traveling the world and eventually growing old together. Those plans are gone...time to make new ones.

*I'm not over it, I'm not ready to fully forgive him, I'm not ready to move on and that is perfectly all good. People want you to get out of bed with one guy and into bed with another and that is sooo not normal. Breaking up is a grieving process and grieving takes time. One day soon I'll be able to say I'm completely. totally over it and send him lots of love but that's not right this moment...maybe later who knows. Until then, writing forgiveness letters, doing releasing meditations and the like is only me fooling myself and I'm not in the habit of fooling myself.

*I love 70s rock...that as nothing to do with anything but it's true.

*I like doing nothing, meaning I like siting back and giving the Divine time to do his thing while I do mine. As my Note From the Universe said this morning "Today, just do a little bit so that I can do a lot of bit."Word!

Lessons Learned From...Kim Kardashian

1. Tight dresses are a curvy girl's best friend.
2. Family means everything, especially when you have several business and TV shows together.
3. You may not be able to get rid of your ass but maintaining a career being famous for being famous requires you to work your butt off.
4. Louboutins can add almost a full foot to your height.
5. Jumping from one romantic relationship to another does not guarantee that you will find "the one". Actually, it only guarantees that you will go from one relationship to the next until you stop looking for love outside of you and realize that love and completeness comes from within.