Post-Hangover Musings on Life and Love

As the heat rises from the copper roofs of the shophouses around my balcony where I am sitting, nestled in an Ikea chair with my laptop on my knees, I sit and wonder about what happened to my motivation to blog. It's sort of non-existent at this moment, trumped by the demands and expectations of the real world, by the more pressing urgency to do anything else but update my blog.

A rare glimpse of motivation has caught me at just the right time today. A glimmering nostalgia for the times when I used to entertain myself by recounting stories from the night before, amusing myself with the comical or revelatory statements from myself or the people with whom I had interacted.

My life has been the most hectic it has ever been. In a good way, of course, professionally, personally and socially. In many ways, really, I don't feel 28. Is that bad or good? Maybe both.

I feel like I'm bursting with energy of a 21 year old on most of the days that I am not hungover, which is quite frequently actually. I feel like I'm hungry and ready to take over the world, I feel like things are going to only get better if I keep keeping on.

I've realized recently (maybe not so recently) that I've been quite a selfish person. I've realized that because I needed to deal with compromises in my relationship and those compromises have frequently bruised my ego. But selfish does what selfish wants and, on some level, it's dealing with this vice of mine and seeing how it works out with my dude.

I think it will. It's been good, really good so far. And just between you and me... I'm talking marriage material here. Maybe. Just maybe.

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What More

It's a bit hazy and groggy here; the sun is setting past the roof ridges of shop houses and I empty out an ice cold Heineken into a chilled glass. Ah, Thursdays. A necessary prerequisite to Fridays.

I've been living my life on a whim here, telling myself that this is my vacation without it being a vacation. Despite it being exactly one year since I've moved to Singapore, I am still treating it as an exotic, tropical country with beaches and sand and men who make it their business to invade my private beach naps a bit too often for my liking.

Yet, it's been a year and my friends back home are busy getting engaged and getting married and what not. I feel grateful that I am not feeling the pressure to settle down but I am also feeling slightly worried. Like, am I ever going to feel the urge to settle down or am I always going to be one of those people on the move, treating every new country as my personal holiday.

Not that there is anything wrong with that. It's just that, I don't know, maybe I am not getting any younger and maybe I should care about things like getting married?

I am enjoying this all too much though. My job, my life, my weekend subway rides to the beach. It's all so convenient, so resort-y, so detached from the real world. I am living in La-La Land and I'm fucking loving it. Even my boyfriend, for Christ's sake, is just too good to be true.

The question is: can I live like this forever?

Right now, I am not doubtful that I can. But what if one day I wake up and my vacation is over. What then?

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Love, When Life Happens

Eavesdropping is a no-no in my book, but when it helps to smooth out a situation, I think there can be a grey line that can be negotiated between the right the the wrong.

The other morning I was coming back from the land of the sweet, sweet dreams and opening my heavy eyelids to see the bright rays of a Sunday morning sun for the first time, when I heard The Banker, just in the room next door, talking via Skype to his brother.

Now, The Banker is a miracle of nature. He can drink like no other on a Saturday night (or retain an appearance of drinking heavily while maintaining his utmost composure), but he is up and running at 6am every Sunday morning.

I, on the other hand, like to savor the only God-given day of the week when I can actually sleep in so, whenever I am at his place or otherwise, I like to snooze it UP until at least 10am the next morning, hungover or not.

This particular morning I was stone cold sober and so my interest was instantly peaked when I overheard The Banker's conversation with his brother switch from the brother's girl troubles to the ever-cumbersome topic of The Banker's stay in Singapore.

"You know, I miss the US so much and the trip back home made me even more homesick.." I heard his voice trail off and pause, as it was, presumably, his brother's turn to talk.

"Yeah, to be honest, man, I don't know what I'm gonna do yet, but I plan on sticking around Singapore for a year or two more," he finally finished off his thought after his brother offered some advice (as I can only assume).

A year or two more?

Now that I can certainly take way better than just 5 months. That I can live with and spend the next year or two trying to charm the pants off this guy.

The truth is, when push comes to shove, I am not ready to leave this city. Feeling like a foreigner in a foreign land and being the minority (white woman in an Asian country) for the first time ever has actually not been all that bad and I am starting to truly feel at home here.

I would love to continue my journey with The Banker, but the truth is, no matter how heartbroken I would be if he left right now (and believe me, I would be sort of devastated), I would still pick Singapore for a whole slew of reasons (which I might talk about in more depth later, but these reasons are mostly career-related and mostly kind of super awesome)

Number one, though, being that I think I finally found my home, and I do mean home, here in Asia. At least for a little while.

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Ask, and You Shall Receive?

My life might be close to being shambles in many different, sometimes completely unrelated areas, I might drink too much, I might be home sick, I might be guarded and suspicious that my dude will never commit to me the way I want him to, I might be afraid, slightly insecure and a little bit angry.

But yesterday I took charge of one area of my life. I did something absolutely terrifying that took a lot of guts on my part. I did something terrifying and was (finally!) rewarded for it.

After six months of working at my company, I asked for a raise.

I was afraid to hear a negative answer. When my boss called me into his office for a chat at the end of that same day I sent him an email with my raise request, I was fully prepared to keep my face as straight as possible and not let any disappointment seep through to the surface.

He is always an intimidating dude when it comes to discussing serious financial things. He is the type of a person who has the "fuck you" face even when he says yes to something. I nearly crapped my pants at the thought of going into his office and sitting down, one-on-one, to discuss all matters concerning my personal financial security.

But I heard something entirely beyond my expectations. I heard that I am probably the best employee they currently have at the company and that even though it is typically not within the company's policy to give employees raises so soon after their hire, that I was absolutely worth being dangled a proverbial monetary carrot in front of.

And who was I to disagree?

Granted, the raise, as I was told, would not be a great amount. And I would not see the increase in my paycheck until the end of January...

But I did it. For the first time in my life, I asked for a raise. And for the first time in my life, not only did I received it, but I was also validated as a kick-ass employee that I always suspected I would grow up to be.

And, damn, it feels good to be rewarded!

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Today.

What prompts us to decide that 'TODAY' will be the first day of the rest of our lives?

Could it be something monumental, like a realization that the way we're doing things is not really working? Is it a promise to ourselves to live lives differently, to change those things that we dislike about ourselves, to try harder to get to the goals we've once set?

To me, it's a refresher and renewal of a vow that I have to do persist with my goal to something big, while I am still on this planet. So, today, I woke up and decided that 'TODAY' is going to be the first day of the rest of my life.

It has to start with small steps... trying to work even harder at work (I've got a big museum meeting tomorrow where I plan on dazzling the senior curator with my knowledge), trying to get some writing gigs (I so desperately want to be a legit writer some day), trying to sort things out on a personal side (which might be the trickiest thing of all).

And I am already getting myself ready for my first big reward (something that will keep me motivated). My first Christmas ever that will be spent away from freezing temperatures and parkas and next to or right on some of the most pristine beaches in the world.

I will be dropping it all in December and going to Thailand for a beach lounging, elephant riding, cocktail drinking, deep-water diving adventure. I mean, how can you go wrong with a view like this:


Forget money troubles, men, drama. Forget everything because this, ladies and gentlemen, is my ultimate version of paradise. And if I can get this piece of heaven for ten days staight... well, I'll take it with a cherry on top.

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Trabajando

80 hour weeks leave me no time to sleep, let alone update my blog.
Leave me no time for love life, if I were to have one.

But this weekend I get to buy myself a fabulous new pair of Marc Jacobs shades.
And really, that fact alone makes up for all the late nights at the office...

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To Tan or Not to Tan

I now am back to living at a very close proximity to Jersey - the home of the Snooki poofs, padded bras, long nails in all shades of neon and, yes, bright orange tans. And while I know that I am not the most fair-skinned white girl out there, I definitely enjoy avoiding having my skin appear to be bluish or greenish in tone, especially on those days when I get less than a required amount of sleep. Or those days when I am painfully hungover, when my skin pretty much decides to turn gray.

For those three years that I lived in Cincinnati, I was a paying member of a tanning establishment but my trips to the cancer beds were few and far in between. Mostly, I would go and tan after a rough week of exams and final critiques, when I would feel the need to just treat myself to some pampering and/or when I would see the need when I looked in a mirror and saw a zombie-looking flesh glaring back at me.

Now back in Philadelphia, I am feeling... and, don't laugh... but I am feeling like I am under so much peer pressure to tan more. For example, this week... I went tanning twice, but I went two days in a row - which I had never done before! And on the radio, just the other day, I heard a Hollywood Tan ad where the voice proclaimed, however erroneous the claim might have been, that a "healthy glow" makes you look 150% more attractive. Now, that's a WHOLE lot of attractive!

I know it's not the healthiest thing that I could do to my body, but it really does appear to take away the slight black semi-circles from all those restless nights right from under my eyes. I am feeling the burn, but my skin has acquired that healthy glow that everyone seems to rave about so much. My face looks fresh, my body looks like it's been kissed by the loving rays of sun and, ultimately, I can't help but admit that I've gained an additional level of confidence.

The frequent urge to tan is also coming in handy as of late. Like, tonight I am going to this Singles Party - an event that I, inadvertently, assigned myself to when I won the VIP passes for myself and a friend by calling into a local radio station at just the right minute. And, I gots to say, I feel like my tan is giving me that edge, that... je ne sais quoi... and I feel like I'm gonna be a bit of an It girl at this singles soiree. An It girl in all ways but bad, I hope.

I must add that I am still a long way from looking orange. And, I know, I know... the bottom line is that tanning causes cancer... I'll limit myself to one tan a week. Deal?

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Southern Salvation

The waiter, a quite remarkable Wayne Brady look-alike, smiled at me as he brought me my second glass of wine and nodded at my empty plate, as if to confirm that I was done picking at the bits of garlic fries stuck to the plate's bottom.
"Will you be having any dessert, ma'am?" he asked.

"Oh no," I involuntarily rubbed my belly in a gesture of complete and utter fullfillment, "No, I really don't believe I have any room left for dessert."

"Very well, the wine is the dessert then."

I took a sip of my Chardonnay - it cost me a pretty penny but was well worth it. Without being a wine connoisseur, I could tell from the first moment the alcohol touched my lips that it wasn't just another measly $12 dollar bottle of white wine I had grown so accustomed to. This was the kind of wine they invented the word "palette" for - all of my senses were alive and present for the tasting. Taking another sip (more of a gulp really), I looked outside at the passerbys on the street.

I heard a medley of Southern accents, I saw a variety of cowboy hats of all sizes and colors, I heard banjos being played by the street musicians - melodies mixing with the sounds of Ray Charles coming from the jukebox of the restaurant I chose for dinner. I felt the urge to capture every moment, feeling immense happiness for having experienced the joy of this Friday in Nashville and the sadness knowing that I would never be able to share this precise moment with anyone else. This experience is solely mine for the taking.

These are the moments, when I am away from everyone I know, exploring a new city - these are the moments that I wish I could share with a lover. These are the moments that find me the most vulnerable but also the most stripped away from all pretenses, with my guard taken down and with an almost child-like thirst for adventure. This is the side of me that doesn't come out to play too often but it is the part of me I would love to share with a significant other... when the time is right.

It is cities like Nashville, cities that are full of heart and soul and history, that I visit from time to time that make my heart skip and beat and make me believe that I can really trade the comforting anonymity of a big city for a welcoming embrace of a Southern music town. It is cities like Nashville that make me want to trade in my power suit and Marc Jacobs shades for a simple sundress and a pair of cowgirl boots.

It is cities like Nashville that convince me, again and again, that as long as I live I will never settle for something that doesn't make me happy. Even if not settling means searching for happiness for the rest of my life, I would rather die trying than give up and become complacent with the mediocrity of the every day.

Just let me pause for a second and finish this glass of wine. Then, I am back on the road again until I can walk no more.

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May Be Lost/But Not Forgotten

Ya know what? I like this. I like being in love. I got a hold of myself shortly after I broke down like a little school girl during the last post and was finally able to evaluate the situation with Mr. January after clearing my head with some sobering thoughts:

-Chances are that Mr. J and I will NOT end up together. Does that bother me? Yes. Am I coming in terms with it? Somewhat. Am I letting it stop me from enjoying myself and the way my heart feels at the moment? Absolutely not.

-I am still allowed to flirt with other sexy guys out there. Granted, I was never much of a flirter - I hardly ever giggle and bat my eyelashes and act a cute little fool in front of a guy, unless I am on a DATE date. Granted that when I am infatuated with someone (ahemmrJahem), it is very hard for me to notice someone else, even if it is Ryan Reynolds walking down the street shirtless (okay... maybe i'd notice Mr. Abs-of-Steel-Reynolds.... but he's one in a million). And this is coming from Miss Wandering Eye, as I never miss an opportunity to silently drool over a hottie if he happens to cross my path. No, no, when I am infatuated with someone, he is the only guy who occupies all of my thoughts - there is no room for any other hunky poster boys. Nevertheless, I need to remind myself that I can still enjoy being single, regardless of my feelings for Mr. January

-Mr. J is just a reminder that there ARE wonderful guys out there who are cute AND smart. I mean, I am so continuously refreshed by the fact that Mr. J has the looks and the BRAINS. As I get older, I am becoming increasingly intolerant of guys who have nothing intelligent to say or have no personality. I remember this one time I went on a date with this guy who didn't know who Sarah Palin was, and that was right before the election!!! I wanted to smack him silly and shake the boy to his senses. What a waste of a human being it is when a person does not possess a thirst for knowledge. What a mistake it is to think that someone who loves books and learning needs necessarily to fulfill the stereotype of a nerdy geek and be dull and boring in all other aspects!

-Mr. J is studying to be a lawyer. That means 80-hour weeks of work - hardcore, grueling hard-as nails work, but the truth is... I need someone like that! My passion for my profession is tough to handle by those who are not passionate about their jobs themselves. I seek to find an individual who can work hard, be happy about the work he does, and carry that happiness over into other aspects of his life. I want a guy who pulls long work hours like me, comes home ready to kick off the night in style, takes me out to an amazing restaurant to savor the irresistible flavors of French, or Italian, or Russian, or Japanese food, then comes back home with me for a night of mind-blowing love making. Though I am 25, I still have the energy of a 15 year old and I'd love for a guy to share my indispensible love for life with me, instead of moaning and groaning about work and being a couch potato.

All in all, my rant's purpose here is to motivate myself to embrace the love that I am feeling right now, to not be afraid of getting hurt (if heartbreak is in the cards). The truth is - I am thankful for Mr. J, however fleeting his presence in my life may be. He reminded me why it is so good and healthy to love and why opening up my heart is always worth it.

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Turning 21... Yet Again

I usually celebrate my birthdays with lots of booze at a bar with a bunch of friends - but this year... this year will be different. Don't get me wrong I will still be drinking it up at some point next week in honor of my big two-five, but the day of the anniversary of my twenty-first birthday will be spent at a classy, quaint restaurant with my rents. They are flying in all the way from Philadelphia to spend the weekend with me and I cannot relay how much I appreciate that gesture.

When I lived with them, there were many of times that we didn't get along, although I never lost the sense of how lucky I was to have parents like them. They have always been there for me, through my awkward teenage years, through my trials and tribulations of college, through my stupid alcohol induced car crash a few years back, through the biggest heartbreak of my life, through my journey through grad school. I could always count on finding peace and understanding in that little house at the intersection or R Street and J Street in Northeast Philly suburbia - no matter how many miles separated me from the place I will always call home.

Sure, ideally I'd like there to be a special guy to surprise me with flowers, take me out to a lovely dinner, and do the whole birthday wine-and-dine thing. However, I feel that if I was in a relationship I wouldn't have been able to achieve what I have thus far in my life. And though love is important, I am patient enough to wait for it. As long as it takes, baby, I will be here.

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Good Days Taste So Sweet

1. I got a second chance. Plagiarism is the thing of the past. I am allowed to continue writing for the web site. I even got an advanced payment on my most recent (not plagiarized) article.

2. I got a second part-time job at a high-end boutique, selling women's clothes. I cannot wait for my employee discount to kick in so I can FINALLY buy my summer wardrobe, as well as a new cell phone, new headphones, new Coach bag and a really awesome T-shirt fom Lady Gaga's web site.

3. I was offered an opportunity to put together a biography and a presentation for the next recipient of the 2009 Athena Award. I am elated to get a chance to write about a guy who's considered to be a near-legend in some academic circles.

4. I got a guy's number. Or to be more exact, he got mine. A friend of mine and I were happy-houring at this restaurant downtown and this guy was there with his work buddies. We locked eyes a couple of times. Then I went to the bathroom, and as I was walking out, he was in line to use the men's room. He immediately struck up a conversation with me and, as it turned out, he just moved to Louisvillea couple of weeks ago for a job, just like I did. He asked me for my number and I asked him skeptically, "Why?"

"So I can call you up and we can hang out, of course," he smiled.

It's great to feel like I am worth something - professionally and personally - and be able to back that feeling up with recent accomplishments. I'm flying high and I am grateful for every second of it.

What a good day.

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Time to Make a Change

Vote, vote, vote. Vote with passion, vote because you care. Vote because there are things that are worth giving a damn. Vote because we are only given one life to live and having a choice is truly a privilege.

I am voting because when I feel hopeless and disillusioned, I can still feel like I can assert myself. I can still say that I have a voice. My decision is mine and mine alone. My decision is as simple as deciding to get up early in the morning and show up at my voting location.

I am voting because I need change. I am voting because I am homesick. I am voting because I am overworked. I am voting because I feel discouraged. I am voting because I want to establish my presence. I am pouring my passions and frustrations into something that I think will make a difference. I am voting because I still believe in the right to choose.

Vote to choose. Choose to vote.

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Flaming Wordly Posessions

I picked up swimming again recently.

It was sort of a spur of the moment type of thing.

"Here are your keys. Hope you enjoy your new apartment," a girl with bangs covering half of her face and a slightly crooked but lovable smile said to me last week after I handed her my rent check, and just like that I moved into my new pad.

It took me two days to realize that the indoor pool was on the first floor, right next to the gym. Usually, I'd make tired excused to not work out, like, "Oh, I don't wanna walk/drive to the gym. It's too far. I'd rather sit around here and pointlessly stare at my computer screen all afternoon instead." But now I was out of excuses because, well, all I'd have to do is change into workout clothes and descend three flights of stairs and , boom, I'd be right there. Ready to work out. Yay.

I've always enjoyed swimming, though. I liked being around water and ever since I was a little kid, my parents always lived next to a river, took trips to a sea or an ocean. During my teenage years, I remember being jealous of my peers whose parents' had a pool in their backyards. I knew that the thing I'd miss the most when moving to Ohio for grad school would be the ocean. I was right.

But now I've got my own place, and a pool that comes with it. And last night around 10pm, just for the hell of it, I changed into a swim suit, grabbed a towel, and went down to the pool for a late night swim. Swimming is like riding a bike. No matter how much time passes, you never forget how to do it - but you do need a few laps back and forth across the pool to feel every muscle of your body come alive again.

I was blissfully unaware when my phone began to buzz by the edge of the pool, informing me of the phone call from The Neighbor. At that moment, it felt good just to swim. At that moment, it felt like home. Michael Phelps, watch out.

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Tomorrow

For the past five weeks I had barely had a chance to step outside of my house. To relay how swamped I was with work, I will just say that at more than one instance I contemplated skipping a meal so that I could have more time to spend on my projects. And several times, I was so engrossed in my work, that I did skip a meal or two, without intending to do so.

But all that's fun must come to an end, right?

...

All I gotta say is that I feel lucky to still be somewhat alive and breathing. I have never worked this hard in my entire life and, hopefully, my final projects really showcase the amount of dedication I poured into architecture.

There was no social life for a while. The only human interaction was with my fellow-sufferers in architecture studio who I've spent many sleepless nights with, my worried mother who would call me every other day to make sure I was getting enough sleep, and the New Guy who, no matter how bland he may be, apparently cares enough to inquire about my well being.

Would I do this all over again, knowing now how hard this was for me? Probably not. But I'm glad I didn't know it was going to be like this, because going through this experience made me tougher, for better or for worse. I pushed my limits, and I've reached the finish line.

And now... Now I think I am fairly ready for my last exam tomorrow morning and after that I will be ready to reemerge into the world. Perhaps, a trip to the mall will be my end-of-quarter celebration, or maybe a midday nap.

I am coming back to life, maybe even considering dating again. I am looking forward to going on a week-long vacation to the wonderful city of Philadelphia to visit the fam and my crazy and wonderful friends. I feel life being pumped into my still lifeless arms, and heart and brain.

Tomorrow I am picking back up on my work-out regimen. Tomorrow, I am coming back with a vengeance. Tomorrow is a new, beautiful day. All in all, I am honored that I will get to live to see tomorrow.

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Turning Pages

On the cusp of being 24, I look back to where I was a year ago, and at everything that had changed since then. The last year was far more adventurous, dangerous, risky, and exhilarating. Last year was a year of making changes, taking steps forward, and improvement. It was also a year of set-backs, repeating the same mistakes, and falling for douche bags. Luckily, the positives outweigh the negatives by far.

A year ago, I was in love. I fell for his advances and let his sweep me off my feet with elegant dinners and glitzy late night martinis. I let him pay for everything and I convinced myself that he was the most wonderful man in the world.

A year ago minus 3 weeks, I had my heart broken and I felt the pain I had never felt before that moment. I must admit I was messed up and confused for a brief moment, trying to figure out what happened. However, I walked away with dignity. He never found out just how deeply he hurt me. He never will.

Eleven months ago, I moved out of my apartment to briefly set my residence at my parents' house. The comfort of a childhood home was soothing. For just a few weeks, it felt nice to be cooked for and cleaned after. It was my brief regression to an earlier stage.

Ten months ago, I was at the Jersey shore, laying out on a beach and listening to the ocean waves crash against the sandy shore.

Nine months ago was my last day at my old job as an architectural staff member at a historical preservation firm in Philadelphia. The goodbyes were bittersweet - it was the best job I have had to date, but I knew that I had to leave in order to pursue bigger and better things.

Eight months ago I moved to Cincinnati with nothing but a car full of clothes. I knew no one and the city felt so small the minute I moved here. I knew it wasn't the city I was going to love, but I didn't know that just in a few days I would meet the most fabulous people who would slowly evolve to be my new family.

Seven months ago, I was busy settling down and exploring the new city. I began getting a hang of a demanding curriculum of my school that was "trying to be like Harvard", in the words of one of my classmates, who eventually decided to drop out of the program.

Six months ago, I had an interview with a firm that two weeks later would offer me a co-op job in their hospitality department.

Five months ago, I drove back to Philadelphia for a Christmas break and spent an amazing three weeks, visiting my old friends whom I haven't seen since that summer and spending quality time with my family.

Four months ago, I began my job at the fabulous firm and started dating a new guy. I visited Nashville, and, surprisingly enough, loved its country-music charm.

Three months ago, I got my first architectural review approved for being featured in a magazine. I was now officially a published writer. I also went to Vegas for the very first time, fell in love with the city and vowed to come back for a visit again.

Two months ago, the guy I had dated for 2.5 months abruptly decided that he didn't want to pursue things with me any more. And to think, I was the one who initially doubted if I should pursue a relationship with him. I also faced rejection from an acquaintance of mine, who I could have sworn liked me at least half as much as I liked him. It was a bad month in my personal life.

One month ago, the fabulous firm notified me that they would like me to come back and work for them this summer. I gladly accepted. I also went to Boston for the very first time to a Harvard leadership conference.

Today, I am on a cusp of being 24. I don't feel a day older and maybe just a tad wiser than I had a year ago. I am still clueless when it comes to men and dating, but I am gaining more and more knowledge and confidence in my profession. I still see my future as an open book, but I have clear direction to where I want to go from here. I am no longer wishing on stars, I am taking steps to making my dreams come true. I am still afraid, but I am hopeful. Above all, I am still me and no one can take that away.

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Oh my goodness, I've been absolutely swamped with work! Who knew that grad school was actually going to be so challenging and time-consuming? But I'm surviving despite it all, and even finding an occassional minute or two to go out around midnight on Friday nights with some good friends who are beginning to become my family in Cincinnati, since we spend so much time with each other in and out of studio.

A few people actually dropped out of the architecture program this quarter during the midreview time. Why? Because the work load can be too much to bear sometimes. As evident by my recent lack of posting, I don't even have time to write a decent blog entry, or for that matter, time to breathe.

The boy situation? Well, it's been pretty much nonexistent, ever since the indirect blow of rejection I received from the Artist a little over a month ago. Though I still think he's the hottest thing since sliced bread, I am willing to let him go and now that school work might be slowing down for a quick second, I am willing to explore my other options as far as dating is concerned.

I actually have a date this Friday and I am keeping my fingers crossed, hoping it all goes well. But really, I am not going to put all my eggs in a basket. Right now, all I am hoping to get out of it is a nice dinner, some pleasant conversation, and if sparks fly - so be it. If they don't, I have other things to worry about in other aspects of my life.

Honestly, I've been able to put my life on hold without a problem or a single regret. Sure, dating is fun, but I am looking to advance in my career. While school has been tough, grueling, challenging and exhausting, it has also been incredibly rewarding. Knowing that this is what I want to do for the rest of my life helps me stay on my path.

Boys will always come along the way. I am not worried one bit.

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To My First Love

First loves can be tragic, they can be mistakes, they can be gateways into other relationships, they can be extinguished as quickly as they were ignited. My first love? It was great.

Well, it wasn't perfect. Far from it, really. He was 17 and Iwas 16. We were egotistical, hormone-driven, rule-defying teenagers. And though he told me he loved me several times, we never officially dated and he had the audacity to date other girls around the same time I professed my love for him. I couldn't sleep sometimes because I was on the verge of tears, hell, I was balling my eyes out because the newfound emotion was too intense to contain in my twig-skinny 16 year old body. It was actually pretty wonderful.

Almost eight years later, we still keep in touch, tell each other how great we are, how proud we are of each other's accomplishments. He's all grown up now, as am I, or at least I like to think so. He's been married for the past 3 years and happily so. We both had other loves since our loves drifted apart from each other and our hearts had moved on. We both remember fondly the times we were absolutely crazy about each other, because, whether or not I was his first love or if he had ever truly loved me at all, we shared a very deep connection.

I want to proudly say this though - my first love was and will always remain a wonderful person, and though at times I wondered what would happen if he didn't live so far away from me now (oh, and if he wasn't married), I have no regrets about any of my feelings for him at any point of our relationship and friendship.

Right now, feeling stressed out from school work overload and priorities and responsibilities of my adult life, I am ever so grateful that I got a chance to talk to him today. If he were ever to read this, I would tell him that he is a wonderful friend and that I am so thankful for every kind word he had for in times of need and despair.

Thank you, my first love.

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Football, anyone?

I am going to my very first football game EVER tonight. Isn't it crazy? I've never been to a single football game, college or pro. Perhaps, it's because the school I went to for my undergraduate degree did not have a stellar football team, but then again, I should have went and showed my support anyway, right?

Regardless of my past wrong doings, I am going to make it all right tonight and show my loyalty to my new home - the University of Cincinnati and the sports team that everyone worships here - the Cincinnati Bearcats. I even bought and shirt with the team logo on it.

I just wish I wasn't still recovering from last night's drinking and carousing. But I swear, I shall gather all my strength and be the best college football fan I can be. Go Bearcats!

Now if you excuse me, I must go straighten my hair, cover up a blemish with my concealer and birghten up my face with a moderate amount of blush. For you see, a certain guy is going to be working at the game tonight, and if I run into him ("accidentally", of course), I want to make sure that I am the prettiest Bearcat fan in his immediate vicinity.

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I Can Handle This...I Think

(it's official. This is my future home.)

I am basking in the glory of the mid-Monday afternoon sun. Content with the realization that in less than five weeks I will be essentially starting a new life, I let the waves of panic and urgency subside. It's all going to be okay. I've been longing for a change for some time now, and not just a tiny change.. but more like a life-altering experience, because, to be honest, no matter how good I feel my life is right now, I've become bored with this city, with the same people I keep running into wherever I go. I need something new. I need something better.

I didn't go away to college five years ago like many of my peers did. I stayed and home and commuted which was a rather dreadful experience. I always regreted not living on campus, not participating in a campus life, and now I get a chance to live out my dream. My time has finally come and I am very excited. Who will I meet? What awaits me as I move to this new city, knowing absolutey no one, with a car packed full of my favorite outfits, an ironing board and a handful of architecture books?

A few years ago I wanted to get a tattoo of a word "BREATHE" somewhere on my upper back to remind myself to stop, take a moment and do just that - breathe - once in a while. Then, I found out that Lindsay Lohan got the same damn tattoo on her wrist. How edgy of her. So today my body is still 100% ink-free and I know now that I don't need to make a Post-It note out of myself to remind of what I need to do. Now I am taking a time-out here in my parents' quiant little backyard, taking time to reflect, calm down, and most importantly, to breathe.

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