New Song: Beauty and Women

I've been songwriting a lot more lately, and last fall I began writing a song because of something I heard in my head when I sat down to write yet another love song: "You can't escape all the lies you create." For me, it's always easier to write about romance and heartbreak, the things that center around another person, and are always filled with so much emotion. 
I guess, when I heard those lines, I knew that I had something else to say that wasn't about being single or in love. Wrestling with my own insecurities, I began to write a song to women who struggle with feeling beautiful, worthy and like they'd never measure up to the world's standards. 
It is such a daily struggle for women, I can't talk for men, but our gender is constantly thinking about each move we make and how we will look because of it. And the truth is, we're all in this together, we should be encouraging each other and lifting each other up. This song is just as much of a message for myself as it is to others. 

I enlisted the help of my good friend Emily Drew, who helped me finalize the song. Then she threw in her rad harmonies and direction, and this is what we ended up with. Mirror's Mirage  https://soundcloud.com/nicolle-monico/sets/original-songs Verse 1: You can’t escape all the lies you create, all the stories you think are true Step away from the mirror’s mirage, I can see that it’s breaking you PreChorus Run and hide, scared of all that's inside Clutching your knees so tight Chorus: Open your eyes, don’t be ashamed Your beauty is truth, can’t you see what’s inside? Tear yourself down, bleed your heart dry Set yourself free, I’m by your side And you’re not alone Verse 2: They always said that you’d never live up Wouldn't be the girl that all the boys choose Brush it off, pretend that it doesn’t matter But you know that it’s killing you PreChorus 2: Run and hide to the demons you fight Clutching your knees so tight Bridge: You are always enough, find the strength that you bear Let me be the lighthouse that guides you home Let me be the fire inside your soul

Grace Learned From Change

Change is one of those things that generally makes me uneasy. It's also something I crave. After high school I started to condition myself to accept change every four years. First there was college in Orange County, then life in the Bay Area and now back down south to San Diego. Each move occurred exactly four years after the previous location. Consistent change.

November 2013 marked my four-year anniversary in America's Finest City. As luck misfortune would have it, it was around this time that two of my closest friends moved away. Then, the first week of December brought about a huge change, a poor choice that led to some unfortunate consequences. Suddenly my four-year itch began to creep up on me, I felt restless and lonely. Add all this to the fact that my 30th birthday was fast-approaching. I felt unprepared, overwhelmed, upset that 2014 was already shaping up to be a bad year.

If given a choice between dwelling on the negative under the comfort of my covers or going outdoors to resist my Debbie-Downer thoughts, well...truthfully, I'll typically choose the former (and did). It's a regrettable part about my introverted personality, and one that has been strengthened through years of practice. 

And then I turned 30, that magical number that many single women fear. It's the same one that has been said to transform us into better women; wiser friends, family members and girlfriends; and more self-assured of who we are. Of course I haven't mastered all those traits in the few weeks since my birthday, but something has been on my mind a lot lately that comes from growing up: grace learned from change. 

Grace for others and grace for myself when life throws us curve balls. Change is inevitable, so instead of avoiding it or running to it to leave behind a messy life, it seems much easier to welcome the benefits we get from it. How much smarter are we because of the mistakes we've made in the past? How much more accepting of other's faults because we know our own, the ones we've overcome and the ones we still need to work on. We're all just looking to make it work from day-to-day and some days are easier than others. But luckily some days are more amazing than others.

I'm thankful that I am not that 16-year-old girl trying to figure out how to get the popular girls to like her; that I'm no longer the 22-year-old who is so completely in love with her boyfriend that she forgets how to love who she is in the process; or that 27-year-old who was afraid to accept responsibility for her mistakes and wrong-doings that may have hurt others.

It occurred to me that grace gives me the freedom to acknowledge the good with the bad and be grateful for both. It's my hope that others would also view me in the same light. Grace allows me to be OK with not being where I want to be at the moment—whether it be with friendships, financially or in my desire to become a daughter that my Heavenly Father can be proud of. Life is moving and I am daily developing. And that, that's a consistent change that I will happily cling to. 

That's the Thing About this Love Business...

A friend’s recent engagement really moved me. It wasn’t the actual proposal; however, it was the back story. Prior to meeting her now fiancé, my friend had shared with me countless times about her struggle to believe that she was going to find a husband. Like most single women, especially in their thirties, this becomes a regular topic of conversation. 

Will it ever happen? How will I know? Am I desirable enough? As any good friend will say, the answer to those questions is “Yes, you just will, and of course you are.” But to truly believe those things is a much harder task. We’d spent hours discussing dating, where to meet the right kind of man and how to avoid getting stuck thinking you’ll one day be a cat lady who will cuddle up to Fluffy and Snowball for love each night. Yes, these thoughts do come up regularly. 

My friend is beautiful, smart, incredibly talented and has a really great personality. She was always talked about in the highest regard and men were always attracted to her. Yet, she still found that no one ever seemed to fit. This caused a lot of hurt and self-deprecating talk usually followed. I hear these same thoughts in many of my friends as well as myself at times. 

But then, she met him. You never know where these things will go when you start them and it’s always a risk to get your heart broken. Yet, as the months passed it was hard to remember her ever being single, they worked so well together.

After her engagement we were able to talk about those earlier days where she’d say she was never going to find Mr. Right. Or how, like many of us, she was blaming God for her singleness. One thing that stood out was how she realized now that had she met her fiancé earlier in her life, she wouldn’t have been ready. They met at the perfect time and while the waiting was hard, she is confident that it happened exactly when it should have.  That’s the thing about all this love business. If it’s going to happen, it’ll happen and we don’t need to rush it.

These days stories like this make me wonder why we place so much value on finding a husband. Don’t get me wrong, marriage is a beautiful thing and I want it as much as the next person. But how are our identities so caught up in who we are dating in the moment or who we’re not dating? We’re not all going to get married or find someone, that’s just the facts. Is this really how we want to live our lives though? Waiting for someone to define us while we waste our days away, forgetting that we’re pretty cool just as we are. 

Her story moved me because I could almost hear a collective sigh of relief from friends who knew her story thinking, “Maybe there is hope for me too.” Which is almost silly, in a way. Of course there is hope, but let’s not forget that our end goal in life shouldn’t be focused around one person. There are way too many exciting things out there to explore, new restaurants to try and new hobbies to pick up. Travel through South America, take up acroyoga, read Dostoevsky and Faulkner. Be interesting.

Sitting around all day worrying when he’ll fall into your lap is only going to bring you wrinkles and probably a sore booty. If our purpose in life is to be the best version of ourselves and not the girl with the boyfriend/husband it seems like life could be much more fun. If and when love happens we will already be content with our lives and that person will be a bonus to the awesome life we have already been living.

(I’m reminding myself of this as much as any person.)

How To Get Along with People

THE TEN COMMANDMENTS of
HOW TO GET ALONG WITH PEOPLE

1. Keep skid chains on your tongue. Always say less than you think. Cultivate a low, persuasive voice. How you say it often counts more than what you say.
2. Make promises sparingly and keep them faithfully, no matter what the cost.
3. Never let an opportunity pass to say a kind and encouraging word to or about somebody. Praise good work, regardless of who did it. If criticism is needed, offer it gently, never harshly.
4. Be interested in others---their pursuits, their work, their homes and families. Make merry with those who rejoice, and weep with those who mourn. Let everyone you meet, however humble, feel that you regard him or her as a person of importance.
5. Don’t burden or depress those around you by dwelling on your minor aches and pains and small disappointments. Remember, everyone is carrying some kind of burden, often heavier than your own.
6. Keep an open mind. Discuss, but don’t argue. It is the mark of a superior mind to be able to disagree without being disagreeable.
7. Let your virtues, if you have any, speak for themselves. Refuse to talk of other’s vices. Discourage gossip. It is a waste of valuable time, and can be extremely destructive.
8. Be careful of another’s feelings. Wit and humor at another person’s expense may do more damage than you will ever know.
9. Pay no attention to disparaging remarks. Remember, the person who carried the message may not be the most accurate reporter in the world, and things become twisted in the retelling. Live so that nobody will believe them.
10. Don’t be too eager to get the credit due you. Do your best, and be patient. Forget about yourself, and let others “remember”. Success is much sweeter that way.

(Credit Ann Landers)

Read this list last night, passed onto me by a friend. This past year I've been teaching myself to follow these guidelines. While the exact list may be new to me, the principles have been on my mind for some time. Some of them I have gotten better at, some of them I have failed miserably to observe. 

Either way though, it's a good reminder of how to be a better human being. Try it out, see how differently the world responds to you when you do. It's worth a shot, right?

The Born-Again Dater

You could say I was pretty surprised after the guy I had been dating the last two months ended things with me after a series of texts singing my praises the previous day. But the real surprise came a day later in the form of a new BMW Z4 convertible that he had purchased only hours later. And the icing on the cake? The new 25-year-old blonde who would be riding in the passenger seat. 

I don't think it's always appropriate to write about past guys (I'm looking at you, Taylor Swift), but then again, I've never been traded in for 3,000 pounds of metal. But secretly, as a writer, we live for these moments. It's only a matter of time now until I'm the next Lena Dunham.

My friend and I have been tossing around the word 'reinvention' recently. What does it mean for an almost 30 year old to reinvent herself? We're not talking about the "Who am I? What is my purpose in life?" type of questions. I'm fully aware of those answers. No, ours is a question of self-worth and an "others-first" mindset. Fighting our way through the awkward years of questioning everything, it is now time to learn how to be a good friend, a good girlfriend and a good self.

This same friend has a mantra for dating:  Never give them a reason to roll their eyes at you. This meaning, don't become the needy texter, the over-emotional date or the controlling girlfriend. Act with confidence but with respect.

It's interesting dating at this age. The old self would have been more preoccupied with how she was doing on dates than how her date was feeling. She would have text him the first day she didn't hear from him, just to reassure herself that he wasn't forgetting about her. And that old self would have beat herself up over the whys of the dismissal, permitting him to control her emotions. 

Not the reinvented self. 

Our initial dates (with the aforementioned guy) consisted of trying to put him first and consider his need for space and time. Still, being a girl, I allowed myself time to mourn (three days to be exact) when it ended. And then I went for a run, played guitar and got drinks with friends. Life rolled on. 

They say we accept the love we think we deserve. And if I accepted that situation then I'd be doing myself a disservice. We're not meant for everyone, thank God. We are, however, meant to love ourselves enough to guard our hearts and to love others enough to care for them even when things get messy. I missed some red flags because I didn't do the former. And I missed opportunities because I didn't do the latter.

In the end, it didn't work out. But, if he really looks back and thinks about our time together, I don't believe he'd have a reason to roll his eyes.

Just Another Stat?

My grandma had cancer. My mom had breast cancer. My aunt had ovarian cancer. 

Looking at my family history I can't help but consider my odds in the matter. If I was a betting woman, I'd bet against myself; place my money on the other guy, the one who won't be on the receiving end of the cancer stick. 

I'd recently discussed this topic with my friend who then asked, "Are you feeling ominous about it, or just pensive?" 

Both. 

"The latter sometimes creates the former," I answered. 

Cancer has been on my mind a lot this year. I've seen friends and family go through it. Each time a new case arises I wonder when my time will come. I wonder if I'm eating the right foods, exercising enough, praying enough, loving others enough, the list goes on. And, I curse the genes that make me just another statistic.

I'm not afraid of dying, it's the way of nature and life. But I am afraid of closing my eyes for one final time without having made a difference in the world.

I don't fully agree with the saying "Live every day as if it were going to be your last." If I did this I'd end up homeless on the streets of Spain one day having squandered away my money on quick, temporary pleasures. I do believe, however, in living as if you were going to die. Period. Simple.

We are not created to live careless lives with no regard to others. That type of inward focus leaves us unsatisfied and unfulfilled. 

But maybe if we begin living each day as it comes, accepting the good, accepting the bad; we can begin to let go of our constant worrying of what's to come. Because no matter how hard we try to steer ourselves in one direction, inevitably we will be sideswiped by some unseen event. I could sit around and wait for cancer to infect my body or dwell in fear tiptoeing through life as to not interrupt the chemical balance that is holding off the cancer cells.

Or I could live as if I was going to die anyway, regardless of cancer. I choose this option. My desire to pursue my music is witness to this. My day job, the bills I pay monthly, my time volunteered at GenerateHope; they are witness to this. I've learned to travel when I can and take impulsive trips to music festivals in the backseat of stranger's cars for the weekend. But I also understand the necessity to stick with a job for longer than a year and the importance of fulfilling commitments with people, time, and money. 

This seems almost silly to list out and yet I am amazed at how little weight is placed on responsibility these days. We forget "Thank You's", we show up late to meetings and put off committing to anything until we know if there is anything better going on, forgetting to consider the host's plans. 

I may get cancer one day. And if so I hope to battle it with grace and strength as others before me have. Or I will live to be 100 with stories of travels from many different countries. Who really knows, maybe knowing this early about the women in my family is more of a gift. And the gift I've been given is an invitation to self-awareness. 



"I am. I am. I am." - Sylvia Plath

There's a Bluebird in my Heart

Spending time in front of a mic.

We Found Love - Rihanna Cover

OB Bathroom Sessions

"We Found Love"

To Make You Feel My Love Cover

Cinco de Mayo Weekend

Was a success.

Better at Walking Than Biking

I cannot ride a bike. As I am two years shy of 30, lacking this skill does not bode well for me. Yes, I consider it a skill. At 5'1" getting me onto a bike and expecting me to ride off into the sunset is no easy feat.

For starters, my legs are half the size of a normal human being. The first problem that arises is the seat height. After adjusting the seat to the lowest possible setting, I am met with my second complication. The bike is still too tall. So now I'm left searching through children's bikes decorated with purple and pink streamers. At this point I have no desire to continue. 

I've determined that my bike riding impediment started way back in my early years. Growing up a Latin American child in the predominantly Caucasian suburbs of Orangevale, California was challenging. This was mostly because I longed to be on the "other side." The other side being one of light-hair, blue eyes and milk served with dinner. 

An advantage to being on the other side? Straight hair. Straight hair that sat nicely on your head no matter the temperature, humidity or the wetness of your hair fresh out of the pool. Back in the day, flat irons were not a commonly used styling tool. This is how a picture like this, happens.

Such a pretty little ethnic child.

As a Salvadorian with curly-haired parents, I was never afforded this luxury. I have thick, black, curly hair and no one knew what to do with it. So my hair tended to resemble an authentic lion's mane situated on my head. As such, I took to ironing my hair with an actual iron and towel. In my own stranded-on-a-desert-island-scenario, a Chi flat iron would be one of the three items I'd take with me. 

I was never too interested sports. In part because I had no real athletic talent I could think of and in part because my family never stressed the importance of them. Sports were not a part of our Salvadorian household and that was fine with me. But while suburbia was out enjoying sunny days of little league baseball and football, I was inside learning all the songs to the classic Disney hit, Hakuna Matata. To this day I am incredibly uncoordinated and if balls are thrown my way, I duck.

My mom is a great cook. Her delicious recipes are made up of various ingredients typically thrown in by "pinches," "handfuls" or "un poquito de" (a little bit of). But, as you can imagine, for someone trying to appear to be just like everyone else in seventh grade, having pupusas and curtido hiding in my lunch bag was not ideal. Poo-Poo-Sas. Note:  If you want to be made fun of in school, make sure to introduce your friends to foods that sound like poo-poo when spoken. While other pre-teens enjoyed their Wonder Bread sandwiches and snack-sized puddings, I was opening up Tupperware filled with Arroz Con Pollo. In eighth grade I stopped bringing lunches all together.

Finally, the point of all this, my inability to ride a bike. During the summer leading into my Senior  year of High School I enjoyed a job at Rollingwood Raquet Club as a snack bar attendant. To get there daily, my mom bought me a bike. And I rode it, smoothly and confidently. From what I remember, that summer was the only time I allowed myself to feel the wind in my hair (under my helmet) on my two wheels. After that summer I have no recollection of my bike. I assume a caravan of gypsies stole it one night while wandering from town to town. If they're reading this, I hope you named it and loved it more than I ever could.

Years later, when trying to ride a bike again, I found that I could not stay in a straight line. My brain had no recollection of ever learning how to operate this piece of machinery. Underneath me, my legs quivered as though they were being forced against their will to take part in this absurdity. Numerous times I've been seen out walking a bike as if it were a pet. My friends are still trying to teach me this skill. So far, they have failed.

Well, there is always next year. The year of the bike.



By the way...as it turns out, I've become pretty fond of my own 'side' in my adult life. (I'll never get grey hair!)

I Am Online

I am an online dater. Correction, I was an online dater. My three month subscription ended this week.  During my time I realized that most of you are online as well. I know this because you are either a woman who opened up and shared your (many, many) online dating horror stories after learning I was also online. Or you are one of the men who popped up in my matches or on searches. Yeah, I saw you and you saw me. Now let's move along.

My feelings after it was over? Relief. Don't get me wrong, it was pretty entertaining at the beginning. My friend and I would scroll through my 'options' and discuss potential candidates like giddy thirteen year-olds. This pic is cute, oh this one is not, but these next two are. Aw he loves Jesus. 

I made her write my bio. It was strange for me to discuss myself in order to make someone want to date me. 

Waking up every morning, I wondered who had scanned my profile and been interested in me. This interest showed in the form of a virtual wink or a message from the bolder ones. Oh, five new e-mails this morning? Great! (Validation.)

This feeling, however, didn't last long. Mostly because many e-mails read like the ones below:

(These screen names are made up, but pretty similar to what's out there)

SDRadMan: I am not a spam although I know this is kinda like a random message to you. You probably get a lot of random e-mails like this so I understand if you don't write back but it'll be worth you're (apostrophe RE, if you know me, you know why this bugs me) while if you do. 

IAmThatCool: I think you should take me out on a date.. (extra period, maybe for effect?)

LoverOfLife: P.s. I can come with great references lol but can't tell them about the dating site because I'll never live it down lol (if you're wondering what he's laughing so hard at, I have no idea either). pps forgive grammer and spelling errors typing on my phone

and my personal favorite...

DoucheBag#1: I am a Christian but have no problem with premarital sex. It doesn't have to be right away, but if you are the no sex before marriage type, we probably would clash a bit in other areas as well. You still interested?

I was not.

I read "Downtown Owl" this weekend by Chuck Klosterman and a certain quote stuck out. "Society is so confused, Mitch thought. Everyone wanted to become the person they were already pretending to be."

To me, this is how I view online dating. Men who are potentially normal in the 'real world' created overactive personalities that made me uncomfortable. Others boasted of daily workouts, their love of travel, an appreciation of art and their great humors. The ones I did go on dates with were far from what their profiles and e-mails suggested. 

Of course, I was no different. Me? Oh I sing, no, correction, I love to sing all the time, I love to travel, I love to laugh, I love love, and whiskey makes the world go round...the list went on. Of course I do enjoy these things but what you don't see on my profile? My highly introverted self, my inability to communicate with new people without being incredibly awkward or the fact that I can't stand Iron and Wine. That confession alone just cost me a few music friends.

We all desperately try to be these people we create on social networks or dating sites. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, we are all guilty of it. I wonder what our networks would look like if we posted honest evaluations of ourselves. Probably not as picturesque. But then again, please don't take away my dreamy pink and yellow hued photos on Instagram that make me look incredibly artsy. No seriously, please don't.

So what now? My guess, is that as a shy 28-year-old my options are starting to diminish. Looks as though I'll have to give the old fashioned way a shot again. Meet a man, flirt, do that thing with my eyes that says I'm interested and hope I see you again somewhere. But maybe this time when I meet you, I'll hand you a business-sized card with my likes and dislikes and maybe a few extra photos of me (doctored to make me look artsy). 

Fingers-crossed.


Or there is always arranged marriage.

Guest Post - Joyce Huang's Gratitude Journey

Yoga is, for me, one of those activities that looks really good on Pinterest boards and sounds fun to talk about. When I actually do it, though, my mind starts to wander a lot, and I tend to start feeling hungry for my next meal. I doubt very much that I'm doing it correctly. 


My friend Tasha, God bless her, has tried her best on me while finishing her yoga teacher training practice. She's held bootleg classes on her rooftop and at the beach while practicing on myself and our friends, and she's made significant progress on her confidence level, I might add. However, while I enjoy the social hour and the skyline from the top of her house, yoga makes me feel distinctly how I've been generally feeling in life lately: that I am missing the point. Around the fourth or fifth chaturanga dandasana is when I start thinking about In-N-Out.

Chaturanga Dandasana Sequence

I do love Tasha, though, and I was glad to receive her invitation to the final "graduation" class of her yoga training, taught by herself and her fellow trainees. I always enjoy Tasha and just about anything she does, because when we're just hanging out, sprawled on her living room couches, she has an uncanny ability, with her slow Texan drawl, to inject wry humor into very astute and matter-of-fact observations. We can spend hours talking about work, the ups and downs of dating, the psychological makeup of our various friends and co-workers, all while self-medicating with frozen yogurt. We're both easily crippled by uncertainty and indecision, and often feel the need to discuss many things in minute detail. We're both Christians who know God is holding the steering wheel, but we are also backseat drivers with a number of suggestions. 

When Tasha is teaching yoga, however, everything about her changes. Her body straightens and her voice rings out clearly and calmly; she owns the room, she controls the pace, the tone, the music playing on the speakers through her iPod. As I sat in her class on Saturday, breathing in and out with my eyes closed, I listened as her voice washed over me: "Helen Keller once said, 'The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart.' I encourage you all to pay attention to what your heart is telling you during this class." I wanted, instinctively, to do better, to pay attention. 


My body had felt tight like a spring all week, holding in the stress of work, and the feeling that what I was doing in life lately wasn't enough, and yet also the fact that I was running on fumes. I listened closely to my body. During the class, I felt the trainees' hands on me, adjusting me, radiating warmth into my tense muscles. I felt myself engage, my shoulders relaxing, my body both stretching and resting. At the end of the class, one of the trainees intoned, "Happiness does not create gratitude, but rather gratitude creates happiness." 

Tasha's Yoga on the Beach

In the last few months, I had not only forgotten to be grateful, but I had also forgotten my God to whom I am meant to be grateful. I go to work everyday, focused on what I don't like about it (but grateful for employment, she hastens to add), and then I go home too exhausted to do anything but eat dinner and watch TV, feeling vaguely like I once had interests and hobbies, and indulging in self-pity that I was too tired to do them. 


Concentrating on the lives of my friends, enjoying their company, being fascinated by THEIR hobbies, being concerned about their problems, has been my way of dealing solely externally, never addressing the dissonance inside. This weekend, I took time to remember my God. I took time to read the Bible, I thanked Him for all that He had done on the cross, and for my many, many blessings, I sat quietly and enjoyed His presence. I took time to remember that life without Someone to express gratitude is empty indeed. And, I resolved to engage in a fuller life, and not forget so often to be thankful.


In short, when someone asks me what I did this weekend, I can finally and honestly say, "I did some yoga."

Tasha (left) and Joyce (right)

Written by Joyce Huang

Musician's Daughter

As I finished up my vocal exercises tonight, I opened my computer to find my friend's new blog post. Reading her journey through her third album tugged at my heart. She spoke of a truthfulness in her lyrics and described a vulnerability in her songs that she had not known she could produce. And through all of it, she has found her love of music once more.

With the same feeling of love, I've come to realize my own potential in my music. I've been taking vocal lessons this past month for the first time ever. Repeating scales, exploring "guh's" "gah'" and "nah's", while adding "dumb cries" (as my vocal coach calls them) to my songs, has my voice responding to me in a way I've never experienced.

And through it all I've fallen in love with the voice I didn't know existed. Just like any other art, learning to sing well takes practice and discipline. It takes frustration over the high notes that I still can't seem to reach, and, heart-pumping joy when I hear a sound come from inside that is rich, strong, and all mine. 

Singing has been a passion of mine since I was young and I'm thankful daily that I was created to sing. Every inch of me loves music and while I may never sing for large audiences at Carnegie Hall, I am still just as excited to pursue the depths of my voice. Singing has always been just for me and never for others. It's a place I go to make sense of life and to praise the good times.

As I write, I feel embarrassed to write so candidly about my own voice. I do not mean to decorate my voice or its abilities, but rather to celebrate the way singing has made me see beauty in myself. Many times we focus our attention on the things we want to change about ourselves or the negatives we see. But tonight, my words are open and free and without abashment.

I am thankful to the One who created me and for His own love of music. I am a Musician's daughter. 

C.S. Lewis

Forgotten Places

In dreams you visit.

This day you sit amidst a crowd,

The years have matured your brow.

Quietly you listen to a man speaking of our God.

Our eyes meet beyond the doors.

A heavy tone fills the blue.

But love beseeches to color your view.

“Blessings!” you shouted

“Release me from your grip,

For our years have been counted”

Free from his rule,

Unwinding from its tightly wound spool,

Your heart races through forgotten places

And familiar spaces.
Until you find me once more.

Under the shelter of the tree

With letters on a page, your love spills free.

In that moment I awoke.

An echo of words you spoke

Fill the empty room.

Close my eyes again

Wait for your return.

Sunday

There was a boy.

And a $20 bill.

There was a smile.

And a spark.

Does fate exist?

I hope so.

Madrid, My Secret European Romance

You know those times you're showing off pictures from a recent trip to your friends and with each image you try to explain the vastness of the image or the intensity surrounding the image? And you try and try to make it appeal to them in the same way it hit you when you first laid eyes on it? And then you ultimately realize no words can describe what you saw, experienced or felt? Yeah. That's where I am with my post-Europe blog.
 

I've written this blog a few times, thought it out in my head while listening to "Medicine" by Daughter (on repeat), flung my legs up in the air while laying upside down on bed being certain this act itself would cause the words to immediately spill out of me. Ten minutes into this activity I realized the words flowing from me were actually in the form of blood to my brain. Flip. Blank slate. Again. There is no chance I'll be able to successfully explain my feelings about this trip but it's still worth sharing.

For those looking for a brief overview of my trip, the next few sentences are for you. It was wonderful, it was tiring, it was scary and exciting. I visited Paris, Florence, Venice, Rome, Barcelona and Madrid. I ventured out alone, got lost along the streets of Italy and explored local bars in Spain with another California native. Madrid was my favorite of all the places and Spanish men...well, they were also a favorite. Swoon. It was an experience I'd love to do again and one that I am beyond blessed to have been able to experience.

Now, for the long version. I'm a shy girl, I never know how to initiate conversation with strangers, I blush when I talk to men (all men), and I have no sense of direction. So of course a trip to Europe alone sounded liked a brilliant idea. I'm scared of many things but I have held true to at least trying things once, facing fears even when it makes me want to throw up all the butterflies in my stomach. So on November 9 I left San Diego with a backpack the full length of my body and my passport, ready for whatever came my way.

I had a lot going on life before my trip and it came at just the right moment. I needed an escape. Arriving in Paris was surreal. The lights, the crowds, the language, it was so beautiful and I instantly felt small. There is so much of the world that I want to see and so many cultures I want to be a part of. At least in France, I had friends that eased me into the new journey. Paris led me down streets of cobblestone and through sights like the fog-covered Eiffel Tower, the Lourve, street cafes with foamy cappuccinos and a Brazilian bar where we worked on our dance moves.

Italy proved to be more of a challenge as I entered the country without knowing a single person. In Venice I found myself longing for a friend to speak with about the sights I was seeing, I felt lonely. I imagined my whole trip would be like a solitary journey, one where Kerouac and I could reminisce about our time "On The Road" but you know...without one-night stands and {less} whiskey. In Florence I made my way to the sights and enjoyed some Italian pasta and wines along the way. And I met a friend, through her I was reminded of the reason I agreed to this trip in the first place. I wanted to prove to myself that I was not my shyness, that happiness was not determined by the amount of friends I had surrounding me at any moment.

In Rome, I regained my enthusiasm. The architecture, the culture, the foods. How can you not love a place where the Colosseum sits? The Vatican City, the Sistine Chapel, the Pantheon, every building, every vespa that sped past. It was overwhelming to be in such a beautiful place. Italy won for the best wines of the trip.

Finally, in Spain, I fell in love. I had wanted to travel to Spain for years, considered packing my bags and moving there a few years back. Barcelona was breathtaking. The Gaudi buildings made my heart race and I was speechless at the sight of La Sagrada Familia. The delicate details that went into the construction of it, the stories behind the images and the light that made it's way through the stained glass windows of the cathedral flooding the white pillars with rainbows of color, these images will last with me forever.

My last stop landed in Madrid. I had hoped to like Madrid as much as Barcelona but I hadn't expected it to surpass my love for Barcelona. Immediately upon arriving in my hostel I was able to meet my roommate Jessika who was from Fresno traveling alone. From that point on, we walked all over Madrid together drinking cappuccinos and cafe con leche. Jess had a notion of wanting to look like a local which meant me shielding her from anyone walking by as she searched a map with directions on where to go next. 

We spent a few hours in a little cafe chatting as we hid from the dropping rain outside. We explored Spanish bars and were bought drinks by men much too old for us inside a quaint, artsy bar reminiscent of Vesuvio's in SF. And I danced, with no cares and reckless abandon. If I had a choice, I'd have set up shop right then and there in Madrid. During my time there I had the feeling of a new love in my stomach. It was as if I had recently discovered a new crush and the butterflies would show themselves around every turn and with each new encounter. It was my own secret European romance.

And now I'm home. I'm still shy. I still blush when I talk to men. I still use my GPS to get places in San Diego. But one thing has changed, I found that I could survive on my own without the comfort of friends, family or a home and be just fine. I'm ready to take on new countries without fear.

There's a chance I will find the spirit to write more in later posts but I am still trying to figure out how I was changed from this trip, how I stayed the same and how I felt about the new chapter in my story. It seems like one big tangled mess, so for now, I'm settling for getting out some initial thoughts before it all becomes one big blur. 

Safe travels.

Madrid

Venice

Paris

Cappuccino

Discovering The Quiet

There is so much noise in the world. So many distractions and colored chaos. We crave it and at the same time loathe it. Filling up our schedules, we throw out words like "too busy," "no time," and "can't." We feel a need to have plans and calendars marked with writing on each day. When we finally choose to be alone with ourselves, I think we tend to forget how to just "be", in the quiet. 

Our thoughts jump in unannounced and bully their way into our silence. It's not long before we begin to feel uncomfortable. Bored. Restless. It feels as if our generation (specifically) doesn't know how to entertain themselves without the help of modern technologies. With so much stimulus surrounding us it's hard to accept our down time as productive. We believe we are being lazy if we spend a whole day doing nothing.

A couple of weekends ago, a group of us headed to Joshua Tree for some camping and the peacefulness of nature. On our way home, we stopped in at a diner for breakfast. As we sat, one of my friends noticed she was feeling overwhelmed by all the noise, gadgets and chatter of the people. The feeling was mutual, we all felt a little more tense. Sometimes it takes us getting away from all the noise to realize how important the quiet can be for our souls.

In ten days I'm headed off to Europe. It'll be just me, a backpack, some books and my journal. I'll be alone, I'll be unknown. Being an only child, I've learned to not only deal with doing things on my own, but have come to also enjoy my alone time.

I look forward to this trip for many reasons but mostly, some renewal. I've been in San Diego for two years now and have had some amazing moments and some spirit breaking moments. It's time to step away and reflect on what has been accomplished and what my goals will be for the next year here. 

I'm longing for the quiet. I've been imagining this image of the "me" inside of me. She has on boxing gloves. With fists shooting out in front, she fights the world, fights daily struggles, fights money issues, fights insecurities. 

I'm ready for the escape. My own Eat, Pray, Love...the EP. Here's to discovering the quiet.

Bon Iver - I Can't Make You Love Me / Nick of Time