Now that I have a ‘website’ which doesn’t really belong in air-quotes, because I legitimately have a website. I’ve had a general level of anxiety about writing. And so. I haven’t been writing.
My friends who are married (which are pretty much all of my friends), a lot of them tell me about how the day after weddings, can be a bit depressing. Like 8 hours ago all the friends and family we’re in one place, dancing with no shoes on, Uncle Joe was organizing tequila shots at the bar, freshman year roommates were stealing microphones to tell the adoring crowd of being nearly arrested in small towns. Everyone’s dancing. Everyone’s singing. Everyone’s making out.
NO ONE is doing the YMCA (organized dances make me want to die) side note: I am FOR dancing, all types. (salsa, the cha-cha, most of what you see on dancing with the stars, and some of which you don’t, such as: the shopping cart, the robot, and the worm (god bless the man who drops it on the ground to do the worm at a wedding, I will certainly try to make out with you) but I am so NOT FOR organized dancing of a large scale (YMCA ,Macarena, the one where you jump 6 feet to the left, gangeam style) oh god I get the tingles just thinking about this. Side note, ‘the tingles’ or ‘the tings’ as shortened, is the feeling you get in your body when you are embarrassed for what’s happening around you. You may also know this as S.H.E second hand embarrassment.
And let me tell ya, I have it more than I’d like.
The next day the evidence that’s left, is some cake, and someone’s shoe from someone who took the dancing very seriously. And who was just drunk enough to reason that ‘one shoe is just finnnnne’ (just my friends?) ps. you should invite my friends to all weddings.
At any rate, having never experienced the vow of holy matrimony. The feelings I identified with my friends that shared what it’s like ‘the day after’ are somewhat similar.
‘we got depressed, and so we left the hotel early, drove 4 hours and bought a French bulldog’ – Betty.
‘we know we were supposed to freeze and save the cake, but we were sad, so we ate the cake in bed, and looked at FB, but this only made us more sad’ – Amy.
‘I couldn’t find my shoe, do you know where my shoe is?’ – Kristen
And me. The day after realizing I had committed to something for the rest of my life, sharing on a public platform.
‘oh shit. there’s no going back now’
The night of my launch, I spent the evening drinking champagne in my best buddy Leah’s kitchen with my favorite girls. We cheers’d (a lot), and opened multiple bottles of things, I walked 1 mile home with a coconut. (that is not a metaphor for I picked up an idiot at the bar) I literally walked home with a coconut, and my sweet friend Becca, waving the coconut in the air the entire time. Organized awards? Nah, no need. I’ll take your groceries, thank you very much.
A week went by, and I thought to myself, it’s been a week, I’ve written nothing.
‘I should write’
But everything just felt not-important. So instead.
I bought a bar-cart. Because every once in a while I get a desire to stake my claim on this earth as a grown-ass-woman in her 30’s. And I love love love, old pieces of furniture. I walked by an antique shop on my way to coffee, put my hands on this baby, and it was like it was whispering sweet nothings to me. 3 hours later, after a spread sheet analysis, I was wheeling it down the street up to my apartment.
‘should I write about the bar cart?’
I didn’t. But I walked to BevMo with my neighbor and bought some gin and bourbon to accessorize said cart. And experienced the true delight of seeing moose in a shopping cart. Final touches? Sunflowers from the local farmers market.
And then, just this past weekend, I went up. Way way way way up. 5000 feet to the top of the mountain at Yosemite.
Guys, it was f-ing phenomenal.
I was so small on this mountain.
So gloriously small.
The view just didn’t quit. I warned my friend who I went up with. ‘Listen, when I get up in nature, I don’t talk a whole lot’ and I didn’t. I said like 8 sentences the whole day, because really. What the hell is there to say. How are you going to add anything to THAT.
And. As someone who now, has put themselves in a place, where others now look to…to ‘say something’ cause you know. I have this ‘website.’ I know, that I just have to go back to the source again and again and again.
What I’ll say about this past weekend.
Get out of what you know.
I mean it. Like get in the car, get your ass on a bus, a train, call an Uber, I DON’T CARE.
Aren’t called to go to the mountains?
Okay, no prob.
Think the ocean is cold and kinda dumb?
Okay, I’ll forget you said that and offer other options to you.
You’ve never left America except for that one time you took a carnival cruise line trip to the Bahamas?
I cant lie, I am judging you.
Get out. Get out. Get ouuuuuuuttttt!
Here’s what I am so so aware of. Not everyone desires to spend a day scaling up a mountain, or getting on an airplane to the unknown. I am so compelled though to be the catalyst of the conversation of ‘what is your mountain?’
(someone remind me to get that www.)
Meaning, what does scare you?
What’s the view, that makes you realize, oh my god, there’s so much more out here. (note, this view might be a person, place or thing)
When was the last time, you actually let yourself be uncomfortable?
What do you desire to do.
What conversation do you need to have.
What do you want to be known for.
What is your mountain?
Where is the humble pie that brings you to your knees and reminds me, of your place, in the beautiful, chaotic, heart-breaking, heart-making order of things?
To this life that continues to serve me humble pie from the most beautiful teachers.
Ps. No matter what, you better believe I’ll always be taking my humble pie. Ala-freaking-mode. Cause life’s too short to pass on dessert.
I’ll keep writing. You keep sharing. And someone, for gods sake, get me the number of any hot men doing the worm in a tuxedo.