I have no time.

I don’t know if it’s just the hubbub of moving, being in school, and working full time or what—but I seriously have NO time these days. Weekends are spent doing laundry, grocery shopping or miscellaneous apartment-related tasks; most weeknights I’m in school till 8 or at work till 7, and/or bf has to work till 9 or 10. Very seldom do I get to just chill out and unwind. By the time I get home it’s dark out and time to get ready for bed. I know I’m not alone in lamenting the lack of time in my busy, modern life, but it’s getting to the point where I feel tapped out. Short-term solution? Take a personal day or two, a vacation once I can save up the time (again—time—it’s so valuable and rare)! But over the long-term, what can we do to expand time so that we get to do MORE of the things we REALLY want to do?

I haven’t been to the beach yet this year. I haven’t taken a single walk in my new neighborhood yet. I want to go horseback riding this summer. K and I have a movie list a mile long and we haven’t watched a movie in I can’t tell you HOW long. (Granted, we do play some video games and watch important shows like Game of Thrones.) His family owns a boat and we haven’t been out on that yet. There are SO many things that there just doesn’t seem to be time for, that always get pushed to the back burner. I need my job, obviously, and I’m only taking one college course at a time for now. School is a priority and I shouldn’t resent it, but I do in a way, because it robs me of my free time. I’m so bitter about the timesuck of work, and all day as I answer the phone I think about all of the things I would do, could be doing, if only I wasn’t stuck at work. Then when I get out it’s task time—cleaning, making meals, getting ready for the next day of the very same grind. Oh my god, is this what being a grown up really is?

I thought that when I lived with my boyfriend and no longer needed to carve out “boyfriend time,” we would have more time together, and it would be easier to squeeze in schoolwork and other things as needed. It isn’t, really. If anything the days seem to be rushing past even quicker. Even though I see bf every night, when I come home to him it feels like it’s been centuries since I’ve done so much in between. I honestly don’t know how people with kids do it. It’s SO hard.
Guru/spiritual writer Gabrielle Bernstein made this video awhile back, and I’ve found it helpful to refer to in times of stress–she encourages us to turn inward to inspire us to get through our days more easily and energetically. Things to keep in mind…

Do you struggle with feeling like you don’t have enough time? What are your tips for “expanding” time? How do you carve out time to spend with your family, friends and loved ones, and still get everything done? Leave a comment and let me know! xo

adventures in cohabitation: the first two weeks

Moving in with the man of my dreams is pretty much something I’ve been waiting for over the last 7 years, all whilst I was holed up in a VERY small and dingy “one bedroom” (try broom closet) on my own. It was the only thing I could afford, and moving in with family/roommates wasn’t an option, so I slummed it for a LONG ass time. I had no space for my stuff and the landlord was HORRIBLE. I wasn’t going to move in with “just anyone” so I’m glad I waited for my Prince Charming to come along. He’s never lived on his own – just with his parents. I had concerns about this, of course (and still kind of do). Living alone, while challenging in many ways, is a life experience I think I’m better for. (However, once you’re no longer living alone, you’re presented with a whole new set of challenges and adjustments.) After much deliberation, discussion and apartment hunting (oh joy!) we found the perfect pad for us and actually made the move. Here are some observations, realities and lessons from the last two weeks.

#1. Moving SUCKS.

No matter how much we hear how stressful moving is, the concept is always a bit abstract until you actually DO it. When K and I first started discussing our move, I began weeding through my stuff. I would recommend this to anyone, whether you move or not. Make it a habit to comb through your closet/drawers at least once a year—the rule of anything not worn in a year goes is a great rule. I thought I had done well in my paring down process and I still feel like I’m drowning in STUFF. I especially felt that way on the day before and day of my move, packing and carrying heavy boxes in 95 degree heat (thank you, New England heat wave)!

#2. It takes longer than you think to settle in.

Almost 2 weeks later and we still have some boxes kicking around and pictures that haven’t been hung, and we’re not quite sure what we want to do with our combined MASSIVE DVD/blu-ray collection. It’s getting there though. Over the past week I’m still locating missing items that were tucked away during the packing process.

#3. We mesh, as I predicted we would.

We generally like the same styles of furniture/artwork and have a similar threshold of neatness/cleanliness. I’m definitely the slob in  this partnership, but neither of us is OCD clean/neat or atrociously sloppy. I’ve heard horror stories of chores not being done, and had some issues with that on my first go-around at playing house when I was 18, but this time around we’re doing fine at household tasks, at least I think so. I am very lucky to have a boyfriend who will scoop the cat box (my cats!) without being asked.

#4. There are some pitfalls/adjustments…also as predicted.

The first night I came home to K, I freaked out. There was loud music blasting and he was cooking dinner somewhat incorrectly. Something about the loud music and cooking technique jarred me and made me spaz out on poor bf. (Or I can blame PMS…) I called my BFF and she talked me down. Our little “differences” we’ve all been able to talk through. Bf will KILL me for putting this on the internet, but he isn’t exactly skilled in the kitchen (yet). Specific instructions must be given, or disaster ensues. (Maybe not disaster, but at least little discord; it’s always been this way, and I knew what I was getting into.)  I’m told by all the older ladies in my life – it’s a man thing. Sexist as it sounds, nothing can be done. And bf tries, and does a lot. He’s learning how to cook and task in a house, what products are used when. He’s also an expert at assembling furniture, which I know I would be rubbish at if I tried! (Honey if you read this, I love you!)

#5. It’s not all fun and games.

Of course I knew this, but it’s true. We both work, and I attend evening classes. There’s plenty of work to be done when you first move—unpacking, organizing, etc. The cats have developed some odd behaviors with the move and I feel bad that K has to do some feline cleanup—but we both knew that was coming. Even though we see each other every day, we kiss goodbye at 6:30/7 am when he leaves for work and often don’t see each other again until 7:30-11:30 pm, depending on our schedules. And in a weird way, I miss our nightly phone calls to each other, even though we get to “touch feet” every night these days, I will always treasure our pre-cohabitation days. Pining for each other was romantic.

Overall though…so worth it.

I love our apartment. It’s huge compared to my old place, in the cutest little town. We have a deck that overlooks trees/rocks and a Little League field, which we have set up with patio furniture. Almost every night we eat our dinner out there together and get to unwind. We can shoot zombies together on Xbox and watch our favorite movies and shows. Our relationship hasn’t really changed that much. We still laugh and play a ton, and we get to have sex whenever we want (which is ALL the time, lucky us!).

I find it hard to believe that there’s still much of a debate about couples living together before marriage. In my opinion, it’s foolish not to. Yes, it’s a big risk if it doesn’t work out, but it’s important to see what it’s like before getting contractual. Not everyone who shacks up may have marriage as their end-game, but we certainly do. It’s important to talk about that before moving in. I’ve read other blogs where women have moved in with their men and haven’t talked about marriage/kids prior. If you’re sharing a space, that should be on the docket for discussion. K and I have always been very vocal about what we want—and yes, we do want to get married, someday. It’s nice to know where things are (hopefully) going…and even nicer to come home to him. ❤

set on you forever – a tattoo story

I’m commitment phobic. Totally always have been. My style evolves constantly, my tastes, my interests. But I’ve always toyed with the idea of getting a tattoo. I grew up in a small town and was raised by very conservative parents with old-fashioned values – many of which I think are great to have. When it comes to “body modifications,” however, I’ve always been fascinated and curious. I never saw many tattoos growing up, until I hit my twenties, and every other boyfriend was heavily tattooed. Over the years I’ve had three piercings other than my ears (belly button, nose, and a medusa), each of which my mom flipped out over. I’ve always admired tattoos on other people, when they’re well done. I think it’s probably been about two or three years that I really, really wanted to get myself inked – for real.

I was always apprehensive about the idea of something being on my own precious skin forever and ever. I would obsess over it. How could I commit to the idea of having an image set permanently in place? What if it came out badly? What if I hated it? What if I needed to cover it up for work? What if it affected my job adversely? All things to consider. Which is why I took great pains to do my research, select my artist based on his portfolio, and sit with my design for a long time. I wanted two birds – one male and one female, one holding a key in his beak and one with a lock set in her belly. Flowers. Girly. Pretty. The “meaning” I guess, if you insist on it, is kind of obvious – one having the key to my heart and whatnot. (I used to be stuck on the idea that every tattoo had to have a very profound meaning – ain’t so. Get whatever you like. Just make sure you like it a lot.) Initially I wanted to get them done on my forearms. When my apartment was burglarized in November, I shelved my tattoo indefinitely. I still held the idea in the back of my mind, though. (And continued to fill up my tattoo savings account!) Six months later, I still wanted the birds, but decided to have them placed on my upper back instead. I was freaking about the visibility and commitment level of a forearm tattoo.

I booked a consultation with my artist (J.M. Wulfe at Grim North in Portsmouth, New Hampshire). As soon as I talked about it with James put the deposit down, I knew I was ready. So. Fucking. Ready! I’m a tattoo obsessor. I stalk blogs like Sometimes Sweet for its Tattoo Tuesday posts (Danielle Hampton has some gorgeous ink) and Decorated Skin is another of my favorites. I watch all “Ink” shows (with a grain of salt, those shows are highly stylized). Good tattoos, man. It may sound silly but I have just been dying to be tattooed for so long. I kind of always suspected I would be someone who would wind up with a bunch of tattoos, but I was also at war with my conservative background and mercurial nature. “What ifs” plagued me – until I finally mentally committed.

Two weeks later, I committed in ink. I brought my friend Kyle with me to the tattoo studio and had an amazing three hour session with James – lines and shading are done. The design is beautiful and more than I could have hoped for. It’s unique to me and James did so well with bringing what I had envisioned to reality. The pain wasn’t bad, either. It wasn’t a cakewalk, but it almost brought out a certain toughness in me – you know it’s going to be worth it in the end, so after awhile you get in this zone and you feel sort of invincible. It was emotional for me, too (although I held it totally together like the cool cat I am) – getting something you’ve deeply wanted for so long and taking a plunge into something I know I’m absolutely into. I got my first “nice ink” from a stranger in a gas station. I feel different, even when my tattoo is covered by my office appropriate clothes. Sexier. I can’t stop looking in the mirror. It’s beautiful to have something that moves with my skin that can never be washed off, can never be stolen from me. I just love that.

In progress of course. James’ photo is better than mine which were taken on my iPhone, and it’s hard to take pictures of my back. But yes. It’s healing gorgeously and I go back for colorrrrrss on June 2! If you have any ideas, be sure to post them. Oh yes… and I’m already planning my next big piece. 😀

live the questions

I often find myself waiting/searching for answers or trying to manipulate the outcome of a certain situation, obsessing over how things will eventually end up. Life is fickle and uncertain, but that’s part of the joy. We must remind ourselves that in order to fully experience the beauty of life we need to relish the unknown and live our own questions. So today what I’m meditating on, as I often do, is one of my favorite quotes from German poet Marie Rainer Rilke from Letters to a Young Poet.

“…I would like to beg you dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”

– Marie Rainier Rilke, 1903.

Live your questions.

my long weekend in pictures.

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