the first day of many

i just returned yesterday from eleven wonderful days in new york. my trip was an excellent break from the monotonous routine of home and holidays, from the stresses of the past few months (and there have been many). i spent new years eve and the following week in the company of one of my most long-time friends. during this trip, i once again found myself browsing apartments for rent in my friend's new neighborhood, jackson heights, queens. when the time came to board the plane, i was actually ready to head back to north carolina -- i felt inspired, ready to write more music and move forward with the life i have built here.

this morning, my landlord unexpectedly knocked on my door. he chose today to tell me that he can no longer rent to me, that he needs the apartment for a sick family member who is moving to town for medical care. since i pay on a month-to-month basis with no formal contract, even though i have asked repeatedly to resign my rental contract (this is a lapse on both our parts), there is nothing i can do. i must move. he's giving me until march to find a new place. i am absolutely devastated. this loft has been my home for almost two years. it is my "new york in north carolina". i had intended to stay here for as long as possible, and now those dreams are dashed.

what a way to start a saturday morning. what a forced march towards something new. i suppose i could look at it as an adventure, but right now i can't see past the shock and pain. it is one thing to choose to leave when physically and emotionally ready, but it is quite another to be shoved out unexpectedly with no prospects in sight. the next two months will probably be rather rocky, and it comes at a time when i had just regained some semblance of footing from a rougher-than-usual autumn. all of this, with the smell of new york still lingering in my hair.

"our homes are our sanctuaries. they're our inviolate caves, the place we feel most safe and secure, where nothing outside can touch us."-PLR

and then some

well, i suppose it's common knowledge by now that i absolutely suck at keeping this journal updated, but i've run into some recent developments that definitely merit mention.

first of all, i'm days away from the six month deadline i set for myself, for a decision and possible move to new york. and no, i haven't been ridiculously busy preparing for a move -- i really do just suck at updating. i have still been combing through my possessions and getting things pretty well together for a move of some sort, but at least until the end of september, i'm here to stay. i still have several large pieces of furniture i'd like to sell, for sure -- my couch and my entertainment center, for sure. i've had no luck on craigslist with either of them, at a reasonable price, though.

second, as far back as mid-february, i decided that i'd much rather spend the summer hanging out with the preschooler i nanny, and with my newly-one-year-old nephew gabe, than jet off to new york with no prospects. i called up my landlord, and extended my lease through august 31st. we didn't even sign any paperwork -- my landlord has been absolutely amazing through all of my indecisiveness, and he was fine with a verbal month-to-month payment. my official lease terminated at the end of may, and i've just made my first slightly elevated month's rent payment. i'm feeling great about my space -- the more i personalize it, the more i enjoy it.

you'll notice, third, that i said i extended to the end of august in the previous paragraph, and the end of september in the first one. there's a reason for that. last week, my employers dropped a huge surprise in my lap, one i never would have expected. first, on monday, they gauged my interest in the idea, and by tuesday they'd signed contracts and starting nailing everything down. the news? the four of us (my nanny family, plus me) will be spending seven weeks in St. Maarten, a French-Dutch island in the Caribbean. the seven weeks ends on august 31, which would be incredibly impractical for a move, so extending my lease and buying extra time seemed to be the best option.

more big news? my landlord is interested in putting the loft on the market. he mentioned when i first signed the lease that he was interested in eventually selling, and would definitely consider me when the time came. now, i know i'm not terribly interested in or even able to buy a place, but both he and the realtor are very interested in selling to me, and they're willing to go to some effort to make that happen. so, tenuous though my financials may be, it at least bears consideration. scary!

so, that's what i'm processing right now. half a summer on a tropical island, possibly purchasing a future income property or moving into a new local place, and making peace with no (permanent) new york. i have this great feeling of "right place, right time" at the moment... but that doesn't mean i'm not already mentally planning my next new york vacation!

have guitar, will travel

sometimes i forget that i lived a life before this one, that my expression has evolved many times to make me the person and artist i am today. while cleaning out my closet, i unearthed my guitars. there are three. the first, a purple electric, was a gift i begged for when i was thirteen years old. it was more the idea of being a guitarist that i wanted, and so it sat for at least two years before i ever really endeavored to play it. a dear friend taught me some chords, which turned into songs, which pushed me into playing shows with my original material. throughout high school, that was my identity, my art. i lived and breathed my music, craved the outlet. i wrote song after song, played shows to tiny packed-out coffeehouses. they were simple songs, simple expressions of the chaos of my teenage life.

moving into my early twenties, i made my first relocation. the city had a bigger and better music scene. it was more difficult to break into, and i lost my nerve. instead, i began to enjoy listening to music, attending shows rather than enduring the pressure of playing them. i tried to keep up the practice schedule and writing sessions, but my previous desperate need for it was no longer there. during college, my heart got ripped out of my chest in a multitude of ways. for catharsis, i started writing lyrics again, and found myself singing songs under my breath again. after one particularly tumultuous semester and the decision to drop out of school, i decided to enlist as a summer camp counselor. i knew i wouldn't be able to take my electric rig with me, and thus i purchased my second guitar, a black acoustic.

that guitar traveled everywhere with me. its case still has homeland security tape and airport claim tags attached to it, from my very first airplane trip. because it's the first guitar i bought for myself, it's more special to me than the third guitar (a white electric i bought while trying to revive my music mini-career for all the wrong reasons). it's that simple black acoustic that called me from its case, interrupting my organization progress. i picked up my old friend, and played a few songs. some were my own. some were songs of others i like and sing particularly well. of course, my voice is not in shape and my fingertip callouses have faded. i couldn't play for too long without it hurting in various ways, and without being reminded of old hurts, as well, the catalyst behind so many of my songs. when i sang my last note, loud and strong, it lingered in the room, bouncing off the walls of my loft.

in so many ways, i'm still that girl with the black guitar who nervously stepped onstage and could barely sing loud enough for anyone to hear. i am still self-conscious and self-critical, and i still don't believe i have the guts to follow my dreams. the echo of my own voice, so much stronger than it used to be, tells me that i am also a new sort of girl, a girl not afraid to lay her soul bare and take chances with her life. i'm still self-conscious, but i don't let it hold me back. i'm still self-critical, but i use it to make myself better. i DO have the guts to follow my dreams. they're just different dreams, now. they will always evolve, as will i. i wonder how long i will carry the black guitar with me, how many more airport claim tags it might accumulate, and from what cities. how many more songs will i write on her strings? will our next time together find me stronger or weaker? will i ever sell her? will i ever be able? after all, i am still the girl with the black guitar, only now i carry her, instead of her carrying me.

defining my style

i just took an online quiz i found at [sproost.com]. it was fairly comprehensive, and involved me looking at a LOT of photos of rooms and rating them. much like rating one of my journal entries, i had to choose whether i hate the room, don't like the room, think the room is just okay, like the room, or love the room. i could choose to single out various elements that i like or don't like, but for this, i just examined the room as a whole. below are my results, with words and phrases i truly identify with italicized. seeing it all laid out like this, i can see the cohesion!!

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40% Vintage Modern

Flea Market anyone? You know you are drawn to modern furniture and interiors, and yet you really don't like a space that feels cold and sterile. And who could blame you? And that's why Vintage Modern is so appealing to you. Though the backdrop of the room, the walls and windows, are many times white or monochromatic, the furniture and accessories have the color, shape and texture to bring the warmth into the space. The great thing about Vintage Modern is ease of mixing different styles in the one space. You can have a new modular sofa mixed with a great pair of chairs that your grandmother purchased in the late 1950's and the new and old work appear as though they were destined for each other. What's great is that even if you don't have time for swap meets and garage sales, so many of the pieces from the mid-century were so great that they have been remade and mimicked year after year.

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Materials

The other great thing about Vintage Modern is how low maintenance it can be — fabrics such as cotton, microfiber or ultra-suede and leather all look great and function even better. So whether you are having a cocktail party with friends, or kids are in the picture, the room and the furnishings can handle it. Because the style harkens back to the early twentieth century, the innovative developed during that time are very popular: acrylic, plastic and fiberglass, chrome and steel, and molded plywood. Concrete floors, countertops and furniture are also very popular and lacquered finishes are very common.

Colors

When it comes to color, walls are seen as backdrops for the room. Neutral tones of gray, white, beige and brown are very common and black is a common accent color. Pops of color on the art, furniture and accessories can vary dramatically based on the person, however very common colors are teal blues, army greens and yellow as well as deep oranges and bright reds.

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40% Cottage Chic

Who says that cottages can't be modern and chic? Who says that they have to be floral and cheesy? Not you! You love the carefree spirit that the cottage interior inspires, but you are also serious about your appreciation for modern art and hip treasures. You love old and new alike, and love to highlight them all to expose the uniqueness of each. What better way to show off these treasures than with a light background?

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Materials

You have a great sense of humor when it comes to design and even like to make fun of the style itself. Which means that you will throw in a toy boat or a vintage life preserver to keep the mood of the place just like the color: light! The fabrics are natural (cottons and linens) and are light in touch. Much of the furniture is wood or wood framed (the lighter the better, think driftwood!) and as long as it's used sparingly or with modern lines, you even throw in a wicker piece here and there.

Colors

Your true inspiration (whether you know it or not) is the sea... the colors found at your favorite beach: white and light beige of the sand, a variety of blues for the ocean and sky, and greens and pale grays of the sea glass... but the key is white! Your space should feel light and airy and give off the mood one has when at the beach: laid back! The key with Cottage Chic is balance; in one corner there could be a rustic wood table that looks like it could have been found rather than made, but it is offset with a modern vase while another corner is adorned with a modern Lucite piece.

Space Planning

The furniture is comfortable and the layout is cozy. The more it encourages intimate gatherings the better! Just watch out for the red wine spills on the new white sofa! The color throughout is light and airy - and though you love to accessorize with fun colors (the sky's the limit with a white background), the main color seen and felt throughout the house is white or very light versions of colors so that they feel almost white.

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20% Rustic Revival

You can take kid out of the country but you can't take the country out of the kid... or is your theme "you can take the kid out of the city, but you can't take the city out of the kid?" Either way you play it, you are one of the unique individuals who loves a mix of modern and country. The clean lines of the modern softened by rustic /vintage elements is the perfect mix in your mind. And can we blame you? You've taken the best aspects of two popular designs and mixed them in a manner that appeals young and old alike. A subtle background of white or light colors provides a nice canvas for all the wonderful flea market, eBay or garage sale finds as well as the classic modern pieces that you love.

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Materials

The material palette for urban country runs the gamut because of the two extremes being mixed. On the countryside you see a lot of wood, woven rope, canvas and linen, rustic metals and wrought iron, cowhide and vintage leather. On the more modern side, you see acrylic, satin and polished nickel and chrome, glass, faux fur, refined leather, fiberglass and sleek woods. It's the mixing of these elements that makes the style work so well. Seagrass and other natural woven materials are often used for floor coverings. Concrete and natural wood floors are very popular, and work really well together.

Colors

When it comes to color, think light, casual and airy. White, pale gray or beige, khaki and sage; all of these colors make nice, subtle backdrops for Urban Country style. Think of the colors of natural linen, concrete, and if you'd like to go dark, use the dark brownish-black of iron or the deep burnt orange of rust. The key is to keep the spaces feeling open (go modern!) and yet warm (yay for rustic!), and by going light on the walls and major pieces and more color on the accents and accessories you can achieve this mix really well.

the furniture isn't fulfilling me anymore

as i've previously mentioned, i've moved a lot in the past few years, usually once every year. after never moving, not even once in my childhood, it was definitely a big change. there's a scramble to pull together furniture and other possessions to make your home look like it has enough. this, for me, has been a huge trap. first of all, you can't satisfy yourself with possessions. you can only make yourself slightly more comfortable. second, stylistically, i've never really been forced (or even thought about, quite frankly) to define myself, my style. this has lead to a lot of collecting, of keeping objects that don't really "fit" with my space, because they now hold emotional value. i'm starting to learn to pull from those things to find a cohesive style.

my first home was one of four bedrooms in a third-floor apartment. for a while, my only furniture was a twin-sized mattress (on the floor), a navy butterfly chair, and a waist-high black wire shelving unit. all of my possessions fit into four plastic bins. i accumulated slowly. i bought a silver metal loft bed with an attached desk underneath (to date, the most expensive piece of furniture i've ever purchased). i bought a black metal futon, and shoulder-height black wire rack. for a while, the room seemed perfect: a place to sleep, a place to work, a place to lounge, and a way to organize. they all coordinated, by color and style, using basic materials. it was simple but held the necessities, small but light-filled, and i was happy.

there is a lot of emotion involved in purchasing, for some folks, and i guess i'm one of them. as i moved into progressively bigger residences, i acquired more stuff (furniture, clothing, decorative and personal accessories). i thought, somehow, that a nice house filled with nice things, would make me a more whole and better person. think again! my unhappiness with myself would grow, and i would feel the need to escape. my friends would help me pack, and schlep my stuff to the next residence. the final culmination of this insane thought process lead me into leasing a house that was far beyond my means, and far larger than one person should ever need. the sad part is that i didn't need to BUY any more furniture in order to put something in every room. every room doubled in size, but the furniture from my previous place still fit, in perfect proportion. when i left that house, i left behind a lot of emotional baggage, and donated almost two carloads of previously important possessions.

it's taken me nine months to come to terms with removing some of the rest of the dead weight, but with my furniture on the outs, i felt lighter, ready to move on. after a long week of work, i began to sort through my walk-in closet, an even bigger emotional minefield because it's tied directly to my body. i sorted items into several different categories. one group is clothing that i love and absolutely must keep, the essentials of my style and items i find myself washing once a week because i can't comprehend not having them available to wear. another group consists of items that fit and function, but that i either don't love or haven't worn more than a few times in the past year -- the maybe pile. there's a third pile of items that would be great and i would wear more often... if they were slightly altered (those of you who know me, know i often alter clothes temporarily on my own, but these are headed for a professional). the final group is the sell or donate pile, items that don't fit my body or my style. there's also, in my head, an entire line of conceptual clothes -- items i can't find in a particular color, cut, or fabric, but would love to own. thus, i recently bought a sewing machine in hopes of making them myself.

even still, the contents of my closet is cumbersome: there are long-sleeve layering tees and short sleeve layering tees, wear-alone tees and tank tops. there are dresses for hot days and hot nights, and skirts for when i'm feeling girly. there are low-slung leg-hugging jeans, and comfy cargo pants. there are shorts, for summer. there's even a floor-length dress, but i think i'll have it shortened to knee-length (impractical, in the city). there is a lot of clothing, and somehow, there still isn't enough. there aren't enough light-weight structured jackets for milder weather (though there are plenty of sleeveless tops needing them). there aren't enough of this one particular top that i wore so much last summer, that it's wearing through and getting pilly. there are never enough jeans that fit my ever-changing body perfectly. at least, now, i am starting to realize that clothing is just another of my artistic expressions. some works of art may be an immediate success, and some need additional work to become their best. some are just meant to be kept close for comfort (my favorite pajamas), and some are meant to display for all the world to see.

in the sell or donate pile, there are many items that no longer have a place. they were bought with a particular outfit in mind, or in an effort to be someone whom i'm not (that silk, pink flower-covered dress... or shimmering tops for nights on the town). some of these items are emotionally charged -- they embody a part of my personality (i can occasionally be girly and sweet), but they don't work for my actual body (a clinging silk dress? why did i buy that?!), and their presence is just a burden. shoes are the same... the two pairs of sling-back heels are only cute if i'm not going to walk for ten blocks, and the four pairs of suede boots make me stalk the weather forecast for an unusually precipitation-free day.

of course, you don't have to get rid of everything you love... you just have to decide what's worth schlepping across the country. what means enough that it's worth the sweat from my own brow? it's easy to hang on to things when someone else is shouldering the burden, but when you're doing it yourself, there's a certain amount of pretense that goes out the door and straight to the nearest donation center. beyond that, i'm sure, at some point, i'll end up repopulating my residence with encumbrances that make feel good. i can only strive to make sure that those items aren't trying to fill some big emotional hole in me, instead of the physical space where a couch should be.

sorting it out

the freight elevator in my building has been out of order for a little over a week. most of the furniture was meant to be gone by now, but instead it lingers and stales the atmosphere. for the first time, my urgency to sort my possessions has taken a brief recess. lack of physical progression, though, has never seemed to halt my mental movements. my brain grinds at a frequency at which sometimes even i marvel. it tends to make me internally analytical, sometimes overly so, when i'm actually paying attention to it (as implied, i DO tune it out occasionally -- a girl needs to sleep sometimes). it also tends to make me wordy.

unlike my usual late-night insomniatic wonderings, my newest contemplations gripped me in the middle of the day: an undeniable case of the what-ifs. my what-ifs are particularly tricky because i'm fairly logical. i try to consider all of the possible outcomes, and along with that comes the dreaded worst case scenario. i won't elaborate on my own personal nightmare here, because even the thought of it is enough to make me stop in my tracks, paralyzed with fear, desperate for escape from a plan i've put in motion. of course, in considering the bad, i've learned i must also consider the good; not just of what could come, but what HAS come. looking back over the past year, i have made huge leaps and bounds in my personal emotional health. recalling that information, writing it all down, has helped to clear some of the cobwebs off of my dusty life plans and allowed me to make some new, revelatory conclusions.

for the first time in my life, i don't feel like i'm running away from something. i have been running, emotionally, for a long time, which is almost comical to me because i really dislike physical running. running for its own sake just seems pointless to me, and can even do damage to your body if done improperly. running, emotionally, does a different kind of damage. i've been pounding that pavement for years, in order to get far enough removed from my myriad of problems (distance equals self-control) to clear my head. i haven't been trying to escape, per se... just gain perspective (by the way, this is called denial). in reality, running from something bigger than you (life truths) doesn't make it go away -- it just means that it will eventually catch up with you and tackle you while you're breathless and unprepared.

i hadn't been weighing the potential outcome of willingly taking the hit, that it might make me stronger, not destroy me. so, i took a chance i've never previously taken -- i stopped running and stood still. i let grief and loss catch up with me. instead of the tackle i expected, it was more like high tide; not one, but continuous unrelenting waves. i thought, for a moment, that i'd drown, but instead i learned to float, then swim. when i finally hit the shore, for a few moments, i even wallowed in the shallows. i had grown accustomed to the tossing waves, the gasping for breath. it didn't feel right to stand on my own feet, to breathe unencumbered.

okay, enough of this big distracting metaphor -- flowery prose aside, in the past year, i finally faced a LOT of issues from my past. i really dug into myself and started to examine my intimacy issues and insecurities, about why i behave in certain ways, instead of only making excuses (such as "it's just who i am"). it's easy to focus on negative behaviors when you're self-critical, and difficult to see the good in yourself, especially when start attributing much of your entire being to external stimuli, and when so much of that stimuli is negative. fortunately, i've figured out that, as a result of the trials in my life, i'm a fairly strong person and not entirely dysfunctional -- i have the ability to actually examine myself and improve.

yes, i can see the events of the past through a much clearer lens, but i've also been able to think about the future in a way that is neither full of absolute denial or abject fear. i know that it's coming. i've even planned for it more than a few months in advance. i've made big life decisions and found something that that fits, for me, for now. it doesn't mean i don't still have fears about how my decisions will play out. what it does mean, though, is that i'm more prepared. of course, i'm still a little near-sighted, can't always see things completely clearly when they're very far away, but i can see vague shapes. looking ahead to my life six months in the future, i can see this giant looming in the distance:

it's entirely possible that i need to contemplate all of these major changes, in order to realize how beautiful my life has become. my life's beauty, much like new york's, is in its realism. i am human. i am subject to external forces, both good and bad, some of which i cannot control. however, i can control my reaction. enter, one of my oldest favorite quotes:

""i guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. and maybe we'll never know most of them. but even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. we can still do things. and we can try to feel okay about them."
 [charlie, from 'the perks of being a wallflower' by stephen chbosky]

the beauty of my humanity is something i can carry with me regardless of where i lay my head. it doesn't need a suitcase or bookshelf. it isn't reflected in my number of possessions, whether great or small. it is reflected in the value of the life i choose. it is reflected in the fact that i actually HAVE a choice, instead of just letting life happen to me.

the freight elevator is finally working again. the furniture is still waiting to be removed. it's an encumberance that can't remove itself (though i very much wish it could), but requires a vehicle to move it to its next destination. maybe moving to new york will be the next vehicle my life needs. or maybe not. maybe just the contemplation will be enough.

skylines, sidewalks, and subways

it's 2011. my name is liz. i'm twenty six years old, and i'm moving to new york city this year (at least, that's the plan). speaking of, i don't plan to be brilliant at this blog-writing venture. mostly i just need a way to get my feelings out, to document my journey in a way i'll be able to easily search later. since this is my first post in a new journal, i think i'd like to talk about firsts.

in my adolescence, i was a small-town girl with an affinity for skylines. standing in the footprint of a skyscrapers in medium-sized southern cities, i felt small and insignificant -- not a part of, but apart from the world. as i struggled to find my place, cities made frequent appearances in the poetry and lyrics i wrote. i met a boy during college who took me walking downtown and made me fall in love with it (and him). something about the tall buildings and winds whipping soothed us both, gave us a place that we made our own. we often sought solace in these downtown walks, and dreamed of visiting new york together (why there, i can't recall). we eventually fell apart, hard, and our somewhat childish dream was too painful for me to consider alone. months passed, and unexpected motivation came in a passing conversation -- a one-shot deal for a weekend trip. before the day was over, tickets were purchased, friends who lived close offered accommodations, and plans were made. we would fly out in less than two weeks.

here's an excerpt from a journal i wrote on the day we booked our flight:


"you know, for a while, i thought my enthusiasm for new york had faded. it was a plan i'd made with someone i'd held very dear, someone i've since lost, maybe irreparably. it's something i sincerely wanted to share with someone i love, and the loss of that had kind of dashed my hopes against this huge rock wall. now, though, with new york steadily looming on the horizon, i've come to realize this: the excitement i had for going to new york never really left."

i'm always on the wrong side of the airplane, the side that gets clouds and colored sky when we bank for a turn. we flew in near nightfall, so my unfortunate luck meant missing the new york skyline in all its glory. then came changing into warmer clothes in a stainless-steel airport bathroom, and a hurried car ride from newark to hoboken. at the time, i didn't even realize that hoboken was NOT new york. i just knew we were heading for the city. oh, how naive that sounds, in retrospect.

i first entered new york via PATH from hoboken on january 26th, 2007, three amazing friends at my side. i already had a giant maddening crush on the idea of new york, but the proximity was even more intoxicating. i fell head-over-heels for every tiny detail -- the rush of force when the light rail train pushed into the station, the crush of people heading up the stairs for a night in the city. emerging onto the sidewalk, i had no clue where i was going and nothing was familiar, and i loved it. i slipped my arm into the arm of a friend i knew so well (and so little) and stepped out into the streets with tiny bits of confidence i didn't know i possessed. i breathed in the biting air, and new york raced into me. it hasn't since left.

this first new york was, in my eyes, small. i didn't have the whole picture, didn't understand the concept, couldn't grasp the enormity of the city. it dissolved into moments for me, moments that i can only now go back and analyze with clarity (knowing now that we were near rockefeller center, or in the village). i had no idea that i was standing on an island with millions of other people. i had no clue how to navigate, a flailing baby bird in the nest. luckily, no one was pushing me out of it -- that, i would have to do myself.