This Modern Affair

wandering around in pixie dust

[thismodernaffair]

…thirty seven heading out the door, and i have no regrets.

i’m messy. i live deeply in my feelings. my world is slightly chaotic because that’s how i prefer it. and i’m constantly struggling between feeling like i’m too much and yet somehow not doing enough. i can’t promise you riches or much else, but i can promise living in my sphere will always be a good time.

time is a funny thing. when you’re young, 10, 20 years in the future seem like forever, they seem like they’ll hold so much in between. but then you get there and those years, 14 years seem like nothing and everything all at once. like it could’ve been yesterday, the ease, the way things fall into place.

the years string together, bulbs of light, some bright, some dim, but somehow they remain unbroken.

some moments only exist in these tiny spaces.

365 days around the sun saw 17 flights, 11 cities, and so much love and adoration.

i don’t know how the years will transpire, but it was lovely just to be in your presence.

here to forever.

[thismodernaffair]

[thismodernaffair]

I saw Snow Patrol at The Anthem a few months ago. We got tickets out of nostalgia, not that either of us were still listening to them. And I forgot, I forgot how it used to feel. I forgot how that time in my life felt. When everything was gold, until it wasn’t.

We were twenty-two, back then the heartbreaks kind of felt like the end of the world. It was sobbing in bars, in cars, on bathroom floors. I don’t think heartbreaks are like that anymore, are they? Now we’d just, pour ourselves into our work, into anything, just to move forward, because now we know, if we stopped, how it would be.

And eventually, we’d forget how it felt.

Time’s a funny thing. It can seem like forever, and yesterday all at the same time.

This was a harder year, in some ways. The pains of growing were evident. The moments that stand out came with a lot of truths and tears, it wasn’t all sunshine and ocean air. But sometimes, this is necessary, for growth, for forward movement - otherwise, we’d just, we would never get anywhere. It also came with a little bit of letting go, and hoping that the people you love will be okay, that they’ll make the right choices, that they won’t lose themselves in the falls.

We were sitting in one of our old neighborhood bars last week. We were trying to learn new things about each other, even after all these years of loving one another. "If you could go back, what moment would you change?” And yet, were we telling each other truths?

A decade ago, my billboard was: suffering from a delayed reaction on life, consistently romanticizing the past, disaffected with the future and an inability to care for the present. Somewhere along the way, most of that no longer applies.

I guess sometimes, the more years that pass, the more you know the difference between what people will tell you, and how they actually are.

At the end of my thirty-fourth year, I finally became sure of some things, that maybe forever isn’t a long time, that sometimes you still have to fight for the friendships worth keeping, that Snow Patrol was one of the best shows I saw this year, and The XX, because they reminded me of another time, of people I used to love dearly.

Sometimes I wonder if, the years piling on, only makes the space between us wider.

Sometimes people will love you to the end of this earth. 

Sometimes they choose not to. 

At this age, at this impasse, what are we supposed to do?

I remind myself of this often.

Oh, six years and some change, I finally quit bartending (last cameo shift, Nov. 9th). I no longer have to work 16 hour days to get somewhere. Going to miss having T-Pain’s Bartender come on like it’s my anthem or something. Perhaps we’ll meet again some day, this life is as long as it is short.

I spent part of this year requesting 1979 in bars because it still reminds me of Italy, and I’m glad, some things won’t change.

the former years. thirty-four. thirty-three. thirty-two. thirty-one. thirty. twenty-nine. twenty-eight.

[thismodernaffair]

[thismodernaffair]

i was always a night bird.

[thismodernaffair]

Earlier this year, I went back to London, to Europe, the first time since I left it, nine years ago. I found, I still loved you as much as I did then. And I was grateful, it still felt that way, that cities I used to love hadn’t lost their magic, that all the change that the years bring, hadn’t brought so much change that I wouldn’t love you anymore. 

I’m always afraid of that. That one day, I won’t love you anymore. Because sometimes that just happens, sometimes people wake up and they stop loving.

I keep saying this is goodbye thirty-three, when I should just be saying, hello thirty-four. I fully embraced thirty, and all of the ensuing years. The early thirties are great - you have money, you’re aging well, you feel great, your life oscillates from party to party to baby shower to wedding, and it’s all a little much, but there’s sense to it all, the easing of the transition.

But your mid-thirties? That scares me. Because it’s starting to feel like if I don’t do everything I ever wanted to do, I’m going to run out of time, and I already live like, I’m running out of time. And this not yet so wrinkled face, the years will catch up. I fear, my body won’t be able to keep up with my mind, no matter how much I will it.

What else am I missing these days? Nobody writes anymore. It’s incredibly ironic. We used to use this space to really say things. Remember when everyone had a blog? And real things were written. You learned real things about people, about one another. This was a space where good things happened. It all started out so real. And these days, everything’s so... Well, you know how it goes. Real things are far and few inbetween now, in the place where too much honesty used to live, now it’s only for the best versions of ourselves. And sometimes one layer under those best versions, lie the things we’re scared of most.

We used to talk, we used to talk for hours. 

An observation. So, I always knew not everyone would find the love of their life. The odds just don’t add up for it. But what I guess what I hadn’t accounted for was, even for the ones who would find the love of their life, it didn’t mean they’d end up together. These days, it seems, everyone just makes these choices, and that’s all it really is. They weigh all of the things that matter to them, and then they make a choice. It’s incredibly interesting, and makes me feel a bit sad. It was never supposed to be about lists or what makes the most sense. It’s like we reach this impasse and we just make these choices, we make trade-offs for things that we want because we think we can’t win them all - he chose to marry her because he wanted kids, she chose to marry him because she didn’t want to feel like a failure. 

So, what did thirty-three bring me? 

CASH MONEY. Lol. No, I’m not rolling in dough, but for the first time in my adult life, I finally feel like I won’t be poor forever. Like, having two master’s degrees is finally worth something. WORTH. something. Like, maybe I’ll be able to afford that ocean view home I’ve always dreamed of (one day). For the first time, I feel like it’s not impossible, that I won’t ever get there. And that alone, I’m so thankful for. I’m so thankful that I won’t have to work two jobs forever just to get the life I want. That one job may be sufficient. 

I’m probably always going to love late nights, early mornings. I think some things you don’t grow out of because it was never about growing in or out of something, it was just how you always were. This was the year it really became apparent that I have more energy than most people my age, or maybe it’s just more drive - I hate missing out - because I gotta tell you, I’ve been tired since before I can remember, and as easily as I can work a sixteen hour day, I can just as easily sleep for fourteen hours straight.

A last note. I will always hate how, I can’t keep everyone I’ve ever loved. What is that about growing up? Even though we may not speak as much, I just want you to know that, I’m glad for times when we do. I don’t expect you to check in or to remember things like my birthday (lol), but it means a lot when you do things like that. It means a lot. Those are things I remember. 

Thank you for reading. Closing out thirty-three. 

z.woods - so into you (on repeat).

[thismodernaffair]

From here, it all seems possible.

[thismodernaffair]

I loved you so much then.

[thismodernaffair]

Life elsewhere.

[thismodernaffair]

Thirty-three you say. 

Birthdays were always a sensitive time for me. There was  always an amount of self-loathing. I have no friends (i.e. no one is coming to my party). And, what am I doing with my life? 

I don’t write anymore. I used to write a lot. When I was unemployed, during bouts of insomnia, during bouts of depression. I used it as therapy. Those words were worth something. 

But the past year or so, I’m wondering what these words are worth now. What the heck do happy people write about?

I guess I’m happy. Don’t get me wrong though, I still have days, many days when I feel like I’m walking around with a rain cloud above me. And some days, where I wonder, if this is it?

Isn’t it funny, we always want more than what we already have.

So I guess I’ll write about what thirty-two brought. I co-founded a nonprofit, entitled Me & You. We’re legitimate, officially recognized by the IRS as a 501( c )(3). I founded a fricking company. This was not in my plans. Sometimes I astonish myself. Our apparel is also being sold at a brick and mortar store, Steadfast Supply at the Yards in D.C. I always wanted to create something out of nothing. And I did just that. On this, we’ve got big plans, and it’s terrifying, and it’s exhausting and it’s stressful but it will all be worth it because it’s all been worth it. For the first time ever, I actually feel like all my degrees are more than pieces of paper. 

On that note, with payments the size of rent around here, I’m due to pay off my student loans before my 40th birthday. Ha. Hopefully sooner. We shall see. 

These days, I’m still afraid of losing people. It seems, as we settle into our thirties, and life does what it does, it gets harder to keep up with all of the organic relationships that once were easier to keep. And I know, this is how the story goes, apparently we can’t keep everyone we’ve ever loved. I’ll never stop being sad about this.

Lately, it’s felt like paradise lost. I spent much of my twenties on red eye flights to cities that I fell in love with. And in those days, I never once had to worry about all the terrible things that could happen to them. It’s not the case anymore, and this, this fact. I guess this is how older people feel when they say things like,  I don’t want my children to grow up in a world like this. 

I guess, this was thirty-two. I’m still making mistakes. I’m still not showering as much as I should. I’ll never be a morning person, unless I move to Hawaii, for some reason 5 a.m. wake up times on that side of the world comes with ease.

Thank you for loving me, even with your busy lives. Thank you for thinking of me, I always appreciate it. And lastly, thank you for reading. It always meant a lot.

The former years: thirty-two, thirty-one, thirty, twenties.

[thismodernaffair]

It’s not like we’ve got big plans.

[thismodernaffair]

What’s the matter with you? Generally. You seem restless. Not just now, but in a kind of permanent way.

[thismodernaffair]

you will forever, be one of my favorites

[thismodernaffair]

You know, from up here, it seems anything is possible.

[thismodernaffair]

to the new year, that book that i never wrote, and all that you will bring

So, how did the year go? I saw more sunrises than I’ve probably seen collectively in a decade. We were falling asleep by 9 p.m. and waking up in the dark hours of the early morning, when the clouds still hung low in the sky. We were catching flights, surviving windy, narrow, island mountain drives for a chance to exist above the clouds. At 10,000 feet, the trees grow taller.

Montreal is cold in March. The snow covered cobbled streets of the main city bore resemblance to Europe. That place where we came to know one another, came to know ourselves better.

We were falling asleep in yurts in the northern California mountains, where there was zero cell reception for 60 miles, and the only spotty wi-fi signal we could get was in the communal bathroom. We fell asleep under the stars. We didn’t need any drugs for this kind of high. We drove 600 miles down the Pacific Coast Highway through Monterey, Santa Barbara, Los Angeles, to San Diego. It may be forever one of my favorite drives.

  Blurry nights at Omnia with some of my favorite humans, wondering why it’s always so hard to order late night pizza in Pacific Beach. No matter how many years that will pass, you will always take my breath away.

  I’d never been to South America before. The air in Cartagena is so hot and humid that you’re perpetually sweaty. Something I don’t quit mind. The sight of the sun setting, the way the light hits the Cathedral of Saint Catherine of Alexandria, and the juxtaposition between life inside the walled city and life elsewhere.  

  Ever since Laguna Beach, we'd say, one of these days guys, we’ll get to Cabo. I guess, if you stay together long enough, anything can be realized. Of all the constants, that are no longer, I’m thankful for these girls and daylong lounging on rooftop pools overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

  I didn’t love Paris the first time we met. I haven’t been back, but I think sometimes, at different points in your life, things, people, cities, will fit differently. On second chance, Miami fit better. As did the Texas sky.

  I still think about the ceviche and the sanguche de chicharron. The latter being fried pork shoulder stuffed in a French roll with onions seeped in lime juice and slices of sweet potato crisps. It’s all I think about when I think of Peru. And that time I climbed the Andes, and didn’t even realize it until the next day when we were in a museum reading about Machu Picchu. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The train ride from Cusco to Aguas Calientes, which by the way, reminds me of so much of parts of Europe, is perhaps, the most breathtaking thing. And from the top of Montanya Machu Picchu, there it was, a civilization tucked into the middle of nowhere.

  So, how else did 2016 turn out? Some things wouldn’t be mended, and there would never be any answers. I learned that, if I kept moving, even if I had no idea where I was going, that the pieces would eventually fall in the right places, that good things would happen. At thirty-two, I’m starting to really worry about wrinkles.

  Why are you working here? I’ve been asked that question so many times over the last few years. When I was working as a hostess, and now as a bartender. People can’t seem to understand why. Some people even feel sorry for you. It’s these reactions that perpetuate shame in certain people over working certain jobs. I don’t think that anyone is ever too good for any job, no matter where they came from.

  On a note for you. When my parents die, or any other close family member of mine. I would appreciate it if you came to the funeral. Please don’t expect me to invite you. That will not be one of those times. Please be there, even if you have no idea how. I will appreciate it.

  He was moving for love. Only now am I realizing, the beauty of your late twenties was that some things were a constant. Even when you’re wandering around those irresponsibly lost years, not knowing what you were going to do with your life, all of your friends were also lost. So, no matter how much disappointment you felt in your life, how much things weren’t turning out how you had expected, there was still this ever constant – everyone else was also trying to figure their shit out. There was a comfort in that. Well, in your thirties, people stop being so lost, and they start finding ground in things, in people. And suddenly, those constants, aren’t constants anymore.

  I was sitting in my car a few weeks ago, and I suddenly realized that this moment in my life was a series finale. You know, that sitcom about twenty-somethings, hanging out until the sun rose, over 4 a.m. pizzas, waking up on each other’s couches, regretting everything and nothing. These days it feels like there’s a sense of permanence in all the change.

  Here’s a toast to 2017. That book I never wrote. And all that you will bring.

[thismodernaffair]

I have this poster that I got when I was in college. It’s a man in a suit, standing in the lobby of an office building, except the lobby is the ocean, and he’s staring at this giant escalator. It’s one of my favorite images. It’s kind of how I’ve always felt about life. 

So on the cusp of my thirty second year, why don’t I write anymore?

Therapy through the written word was my way of cleaning out everything that was lost in the compartments of my brain.

And at some point, maybe I’ve somehow been cured.

The verdict’s still out on that.

At almost thirty two, I'm perhaps more comfortable with myself than I've ever been, I learned that having a love complementary to your worth is possible, that actions will always speak louder than words, and that at a certain point, I began to understand that you losing me was not my fault.

And, after all these years, I’m still candid to a fault. And I don’t say to a fault as something negative. But as a result of my candor, whether it’s on social media or the not so slight expressions on my face, sometimes I'm perceived not how I meant to be. 

I’m aware, most people don’t love me when they first meet me. I’ve always been okay with that. I'm an awkward extrovert. Emphasis on awkward. I’ve never been good at keeping acquaintances. I falter at moments that aren't organic. Unable to perform well in fleeting moments. I'm the kind of person that grows on you. But really, you've simply stuck around long enough to get me.

In all my thirty almost two years, I haven’t really been bothered by these facts. But some moments stood out to me this year, some harder than others, and they all came back to this - perception.

On my thirty first birthday, I was offered an opportunity to write a piece for the Washington Post. Aside from the New York Times, I couldn’t think of a higher honor. And then there it was, the judgments from strangers, from editors, from people I was a degree separated from. I somehow became the topic of useless Facebook rants. Well not me. But how I relayed the way I had chosen to live out my twenties. Perhaps I should’ve taken more care in how I wrote out my life. But I never set out to write for the applause of others. I could sit here and produce all the necessary spreadsheets on how I figured out how to get through my twenties broke but still living a life so full, and not on my parents’ money. But that would be futile. So I will leave this here. And close this door.

“You know, you guys are pretty easy to get along with,” he said. 

It was January. We were on Oahu, on his pullout couch after a long day, about to go to sleep, when he suddenly said that. We didn’t know each other too well, only hung out in group settings through mutual friends. But he was generous enough to let us stay with him while we were visiting. 

“What?” I had said. But I knew where he was going.

“Well you know....Facebook...,” he trailed. I guess from our posts, there was some perception that we were endless partiers who were also difficult to get along with? I wasn’t sure. 

“Perception,” I replied.

“Yea, I’m sorry. You guys are actually pretty chill.”

A few months later, while I was at happy hour catching up with an old friend. He randomly said, “You know what, I want you to know how great of a friend you are. Someone was saying something recently and you came up. I said no, she’s the kind of person who would take you to the airport without hesitation.”

So, on the eve of my thirty second year, here I am, posting testimonials about myself.

Sometimes people will love you to the end of this earth.

Sometimes, they choose not to. 

At this age, at this empass, what are we supposed to do? 

In other news, I finally realized I've been doing what I wanted to do with my life all along. The only thing I ever knew was that I wanted to make a difference in someone else’s life. And now here I am at the end of my thirty first year, the co-founder of a non profit organization. I never would’ve guessed that. I still don’t have anyone addressing me as master, but I guess we can’t win them all.

xoxo

The Former Years: Thirty-One, Thirty, Twenty-Nine, Twenties

[thismodernaffair]

How do I make you wanna stay?

This was the year, I learned, you don’t have to settle. That had always been my belief, but never before had I witnessed it. This was the year that I found, as close to, probably ever, what I’d been looking for. And I figured out how to keep it, without letting the insecurities consume me. You’d think at this age, we’d be over the insecurities that were so abound when we were younger. And in some ways, it’s true, in other ways, maybe it’s a human thing.

I still have a bad habit of saying, you can leave if you want.

It was like this endless test that wasn’t really their fault.

I’m not sure what to attribute to, if anything.

But I always felt that, no one ever really stayed.