I missed writing on “Watch Me Juggle” so much over the last two weeks! Things have been crazy on the home front. For a start, I’ve spent the majority of 2014 on the other side of the world. Where it was summer. (Boy! It’s cold here!) But coming back to my little home, I’ve wanted to give the passing year the nod of acknowledgement it deserves. On December 31st, I noticed an awful lot of clichéd, reminiscing posts going around. Don’t get me wrong, I adore nostalgia as much as the next person- I was actually the self proclaimed queen of nostalgia, at one point. But I’ve decided that what I want for 2014 is to be a little less nostalgic, and give myself to the present a little more. Pardon my French, but sometimes you just have to say “Fuck it!” and just live. Instead of thinking of the things I did or did not do, people I met, or troubles I had, I’m going to leave off with this bit of wisdom I learned:
Thanks for that 2013. For the resilience. I can say that I’ll miss you greatly, and that you were a good year that taught me many things. I’m going to shore-up my restless self and keep moving forward. All I want in the future is a cup of strong coffee. To keep seeing and being inspired by beautiful people and things.
I just wanted to wish everyone a lovely Christmas & happy holiday season. I’ve enjoyed a lovely family brunch, and am taking a few moments to myself, next to my tiny tree, to watch Elf and get ready for tonight’s big Christmas dinner. It’s altogether too warm outside to feel entirely Christmas-y, but I’m still wearing my beanie and furry boots everywhere. Because I can!
Hope you all are having a wonderful Christmas, and enjoying time with family and friends.
Hello All! I feel like it’s been so long since I posted, but it’s only been a week! These last few days have been ridiculously busy for me. Busy, but exciting. As is evident in the picture above, I’ve brought a little holiday fun to my last week of classes at Dance Arts. Can anyone say holiday sock class? (Yours truly is wearing the black and red holly socks.) One of my last classes had almost 25 dancers in it. We barely had enough space to fit on the barre:
On top of a bevy of classes, I’ve been working some extra hours in the city this week, as Smuin is starting it’s Christmas Ballet run in Yerba Buena. I so enjoy being in that theater, and being able to see the show from almost any seat in the house, and as much as I want, is an extra-large perk. I’ve also been getting used to the commuter lifestyle. It’s fantastic for people watching, but it also reminds me just how many crazy people there are out there. Unfortunately I don’t mean clinically crazy people, I mean people who apparently have the world’s largest chip on their shoulders and want everyone to know it. Bah Humbug! My commute also does provide me with a fantastic excuse to visit new little stores and coffee shops on my way to work, and of course, perfect the art of the Muni selfie. See below.
(Alternative to Starbucks on my way to the office: Ma’velous. Don’t know if you can see it, but they have a little turtle mascot stamped on their to-go cups. The turtle himself resides in a tank to my left. They get bonus points from me for doubling as a wine bar.) I did also happen to pass Veer & Wander the other day, and saw to fabulously stylish ladies in the middle of a hair appointment, cracking open a bottle of champagne. I do believe I stopped and envious eyes at them through the window. It was the kind of glamorous moment that you don’t expect to find at 10am on an ordinary Friday morning.
In all the scuffle, I somehow ran out of time to have a little Christmas to myself, so just this morning, I made a decision to get up a bit early, grab a tree from the lovely neighborhood nursery and do a quick decorating job. I would show you a picture, but I have a number of presents that I have yet to wrap under the tree. And we all know that would spoil some surprises. Until next time…
I’ve been thinking quite a bit about work. It’s a strange creature, really. Simply by labeling something as “work,” no matter what your profession, it automatically downgrades even the most fun task to something banal, mundane even. More on that later.
When I came to a point in my life where I felt it was time to stop flitting about, taking dance classes, and pursuing more creative opportunities (read: being poor dancer), I managed to talk myself in to taking a job grossly out of my field. I struggled, and, admittedly cried the first two weeks straight. I was in a world of profit and productivity, and all I wanted to do was to write an eloquently worded email, hoping someone would notice that I was bright, trying my hardest to fall in line in some place I didn’t belong. I gave myself a year, and 11 months in, I had a meeting with a colleague I was working with at the time. He seemed off, but I brushed it off as overworked, just like the rest of us. It wasn’t until he started blurting overly personal information out at me for no reason that I became concerned. His kids didn’t know him. His wife hated him. He hated his life. I, in turn, told him a completely unrelated story of my good friend, who was unhappy at her job, subsequently quit, and traveled. His involuntary candor unsettled me, but what unsettled me more was that I might be in his shoes one day, no matter where I worked. I left almost a month after that.
I learned so, so many things at my previous job. I’m proud and glad I did it. It’s given me a perspective that I wouldn’t otherwise have had. You could say this about all experiences, really, good or bad. This brings me back to what I wrote about in my previous post: choice. There is something so powerful in choosing how you let experiences affect you. When I wake up in the morning, I choose to be happy. I choose to be hopeful, and to see the possibilities for good in other people and situations, even when past experiences have taught me not to. There’s a great deal to be said about being able to decide how your day-to-day life goes, and to know that the world doesn’t owe you anything, and that that’s ok. I could go on and on about this, but I’m really just beginning to understand it myself. I also came across this earlier today:
As the description says, everyone needs to see this at least once. It’s especially useful for those hard days when everyone and everything is just plain awful/annoying/rude/hurtful/creepy/scary. So don’t just default, don’t sit around and let life happen to you. That’s just too easy.
I’ve been MIA for a bit, I know, but I wanted to get a quick post in before heading off to work! The freezing cold here in the bay area seems to have slowed me down temporarily, and I’ve become quite the hermit lately. In other news, my house is quickly becoming spotless, thanks to my spontaneous cleaning jags. I’ve joined the world of commuters shuttling themselves to and from the city; I can’t imagine doing the time-consuming trek for a job that I don’t absolutely love. My trips on BART and Muni have provided me with some prime people-watching, and I do enjoy watching the San Francisco bustle (as well as a shameless opportunity to take selfies, in the rare moment that I’m the only one the train). It’s almost like a living, breathing thing, transforming every day. I’m always amused when I pass by the new Twitter headquarters on mid-Market, as the culture clash there is quite hard to ignore. I’ve been trying to give myself permission to not run my life at a continuously hectic pace, but I always seem to kick myself at opportunities I’ve missed, classes I didn’t take, books I haven’t read yet. On a more profound note, I’m trying to teach myself that, just like love, happiness can be unconditional too. You have to give yourself permission to be happy, whatever the circumstance might be. Just a thought.
I hope you had as lovely of a Thanksgiving as I did.
I ate all the things.
Most of you know that I’ve spent the last 4 years’ Thanksgiving celebrations down in the lovely city of San Luis Obispo, with some of my favorite ladies. It’s a trip I look forward to every year. Also known as “Orphan Thanksgiving,” it’s our own version of the holiday, and we do it right. This year we even had a centerpiece…wait for it….with pumpkins from the garden out back. We also had 3 different kinds of homemade pie. One of my favorite things is adding to the tradition every year. So far, this includes horrible made-for-TV holiday movies and a post-meal parade around the block. Our latest celebration featured the newest member of the tribe, Mr. Ewan, in his own Thanksgiving day attire. I’d like to think that he enjoyed the sweet potatoes as much as we did, at least the ones that made it in to his mouth. In other news, congratulations are due to the lovely Perisho family, and their newest member: Cooper James. I was obsessively attached to my phone, awaiting the news of his arrival most of the weekend. I see a trip to Seattle in the near future I can’t wait to meet him! Cheers to many, many things to be thankful for this year, and to good friends.
alternately “On Purses and the Secrets They Carry”
I recently was given the suggesting to post a little something-something on the obsession relationship women have with their purses. When I write, relationship, I mean relationship. It’s something that’s almost inherently built in to us from the beginning. I remember playing with my little cousin, at the ripe age of three, who was toting around a purse. She wanted to show me all the wonderful things she had inside. What could a three year old need a moment’s notice? Puzzle pieces. As amused as I was, I couldn’t help but wonder what poor soul she had pilfered the pieces from. They will forever wonder what happened to them, unable to complete their chunky puzzle because a toddler needed something to fill her purse with.
As you can see, I have fully disclosed the contents of my most current purse above. Thus far, it’s pretty generic. I have my beloved sunglasses, keys, wallet, my iPod, a variety of lipsticks, and a brand new little tube of concealer. Yes, those are tea bags. You never know when you might need these things. Not pictured are a handful of receipts and my iPhone. I’m unfortunately the worst hoarder of lip products within a purse that you have ever seen. Once they go in, that’s where they stay. Hence the growing collection:
If you’re wondering, I do need two almost identical lipsticks. A lip balm (for more casual occasions), a high-end lipstick for when I’m feeling fancy, and a lip gloss. These are all different, I swear. Ask any woman who wears makeup on a regular basis. The most embarrassing behavior I exhibit with my purse, however, is treating it like a trash can. Not sure where to put that crumpled up tissue? In your purse! Tired of that gum you’re chewing? Stick in an old receipt. Where?! In your purse! Tired of holding things? Put it in your purse! It’s magic.
The problem comes when you have said purse, now full of trash, that you’re forever carrying around. So you do what I do: buy a new one! Then transfer the essentials and marvel at how clean it is. As I tend to rotate my most used purse every year or so, many of my discarded “receipt holders” do get cleaned out and shown some love again. It just takes me a little while. Until next time!
As many of you know, I’ve made quite a few changes to my life recently that I’m very proud of. I said goodbye to my corporate, “Big Girl” job. Goodbye to early mornings, OTD stats, and health benefits. I’ve found myself another job (!) for a fabulous company I’ve long admired and wanted to be a part of. I bought myself a plane ticket to somewhere I’ve never been before, possibly the farthest away from home I could physically get. I’ve started this blog, which has, on many days, lifted my spirits more than you can imagine. (Thanks for reading everyone ♥)
Also, I’m sort-of blonde now.
Despite all the active steps I’ve taken to improve the general quality of my life, there are some things I have to admit. Like the fact that I suck at not working. I mean…I’m really bad at it. As much as I would like to believe that I’m a free spirit that can do anything and go anywhere I please, I need some structure. Lack of structure and lack of coffee make Eva very cranky. Like they say: A body in motion tends to stay in motion. A body at rest, tends to stay at rest and shove its face full of popcorn in its pajamas all day, apparently. I find it almost easier to pack as many things as I can in to my day and forcibly make room for the important things, than have a leisurely open schedule. Which I know is completely nuts. Complications tend to arise from occasional bouts of anxiety; I’ve been experiencing and managing them since before I can remember. The one way I can think to describe it is how one swaddles a newborn baby to comfort it. Used to being in a confined space, it has no idea of what to do with its arms and legs suddenly flailing about out in the world. Sure, being wrapped up like a burrito doesn’t sound or look comfortable to us, but it works. And, admittedly, I have many days where I wake up, go about my morning routine, and suddenly find myself failing. All of my plans and errands seem erroneous and self-defeating. “Just relax! Read a book. Go for a walk.” Yeah, NO. That took about 10 minutes of my day. Now what? The irony that exists here is that I often need time to myself to regroup and find a sense of ease in life.
It’s amazing how many “guides” and how much witty commentary is out there giving advice on time spent alone. (This is one of my favorites.) It’s reassuring that so many people are still learning how to just “be” on any given occasion. I’d like to think that I’ve gotten a pretty good hang of it so far, but need a reminder every now and again. A think a lot of my anxiety stems from the thought that I might miss an opportunity to appreciate a fleeting moment in my life. Nothing is a guarantee. So you have to make the most of it. Even when sitting around in your pajamas.
A fantastically flattering question I get asked often by my students:
“Miss Eva….Are you a kid? Or a Grown Up?”
Considering I still do things like eat cake for breakfast, I can see where the confusion comes from. In additional news, I still do not know how to answer this question properly.
YES. Yes I am a grown-up.
(???)
Because I do things like write checks, shop for insurance, and figure out my taxes. I also own a vacuum and can cook a whole turkey. I feel this is a socially acceptable definition of being “grown-up.” Nevermind that one of my teenage students had to explain what a mortgage was to me the other day. Do I need one? No, no I do not. Problem solved.
I’ve lived on my own for the last 2 years of my life, and have managed to not yet set anything on fire. I love my apartment and my purple bathroom. I know things about wine, own original art and many tubes of lipstick. I am a grown up on paper, and as much as I like the idea, I’m glad I’m not one.
I have almost zero responsibilities, except the ones that I choose for myself. I haven’t settled in to anything, as nice as that sounds, and relish the idea of being able to reinvent myself whenever possible. I don’t really have to answer to anyone- I can buy as many pairs of impractical shoes as I want. And if I want them to live on my bookshelf, they can. And, in defense of single gals everywhere: just because I enjoy having fun, special things in my life doesn’t make me vapid or less of a contributing member of society. I have a tremendous amount of respect for those “grown ups” out there that can find the value in young people. Even better, those that haven’t let the energy of being a total kid get away from them. I hope to be like them someday.
In moments of doubt, I try to remember what a good friend of mine said: “It’s okay. We’re cooler than a lot of people.”
Watch Me Juggle 