Baby, I'm Back.

Oh hello, world. It's been awhile. Over a year, in fact. But, my need to write hasn't stopped. Instead of publicly facing, I have been pen to paper. Old school style. There's something about letting my fingers fly and the sound of the keyboard that has pulled me back

I'm not sure what I am going to write about, or the tone that this will take, but wanted to pick it back up. Because there is something here. Something that I can let out to the internet world, something that can make some sort of difference. Even if it doesn't.

We'll see how this goes.

peace, love, and realizing I come back here when things go haywire,
B

Local food for the soul

My brother and I went to Vancouver for a few days for a little vacation this past week. All in all, Vancouver is an awesome city when it comes to live-ability. We were able to walk or take the sky train anywhere we needed, nature & activity right in the city limits with beaches, bike lanes & hiking, tons of craft beer, and tons of food fusion options. Food in Vancouver, much like the overall history, is straight fusion.

We both typically rely on review websites to help us choose where to eat, no matter what city we are in, home or traveling. Vancouver was no exception. We started to realize, that with using the review websites (TripAdvisor, Google, Yelp, etc), we weren't making good decisions, because there are just TOO many options to choose from. The rabbit hole started to swallow us and when we got to the point of hangry, we made a few hasty decisions. 

After 2 mediocre meals, we went back to basics for our final dinner in Vancouver. We decided to come out from behind the 'black mirror' of our phones, and actually ASK people who live in Vancouver where to eat. 

Everywhere we went yesterday, the museum of Vancouver, Granville Island, & many breweries, we asked 1 question, "If you had 1 last meal to eat in Vancouver, where would you go?" It's a broad question- we both don't have any dietary restrictions, and if its good, we will eat it (yes... even bacon if its suppose to be THAT good). We didn't have specifications of type of food, no price limit, and were open to traveling anywhere in Vancouver. 

After the first few people, we started to notice that people LOVED answering this question and loved talking about their city. Anyone who overheard the conversation, also wanted to drop in their opinion. I realized that in traveling, the way to get people to chat with you, don't ask about the weather, ask about food. Its a topic that doesn't feel like small talk, but more like a connection.. I think it may be because it has a result- where you're going to eat. 

In the end, there was 1 restaurant, Ask for Luigi, that was mentioned 4 times and we decided we had to go. This restaurant never came up in any of our internet searches, and we would have never found it if we didn't decide to actually ask the people who know the city best, IRL (you know... in real life). We had an amazing meal, and even better, we got to know some people of Vancouver with our little game along the way. 

While traveling, instead of turning to the black hole of the internet for a 'local' option, I am going to turn back to good old human communication. It's better for the soul, and you never know what you might discover. For my brother and I, we discovered amazing pasta... so amazing that we may have ordered another pasta for dessert, but we will never tell. 

Peace, Love, and eating in Vancouver, 
b 

What are you at 29?

"What are 3 words to describe you?" or "What 3 words would you want written on your gravestone"

I freaking hate those questions. How am I suppose to sum up ALL of me into 3 words? How can I answer the question without making myself a basic cliche or just plain vanilla?

The typical thought process for me when I have been asked:

• Well, I don't like to be generic & do things in my own way and time, so I must be creative
• I like to be nice to everyone I meet, so I must be nice 
• I like to get shit done- move forward and make change, so I must be determined 

All the above qualities of myself are all great.... but overall, the 3 words, creative, nice and determined, don't quite answer the question for me. When giving these traits, I feel like there is something missing & I am justifying the use of each word with , "I must be..." 

Well universe, you have helped me figure out 1 word that I know describes me. A word that I 100% would want written on my gravestone: 

I am freaking Resilient 

How do I know, you may ask?  

How I know.... My shit is going wrong right now, all sorts of wrong. But,  I also really think that when shit goes wrong, sometimes, it turns out to be exactly right. My 29th year of life is turning out to be the most transformative, soul wrenching and reinvigorating year of my life... and its only been about a month since I turned 29. 

I am on the cusp of an adventure, possibly a grand one, possibly a dull one, but an adventure never the less. 

I'll leave you with this for now.....

The women I love and admire for their strength and grace did not get that way because shit worked out. They got that way because shit went wrong and they handled it. They handled it a thousand different ways on a thousand different days, but they handled it. Those women are my superheroes.

- Elizabeth Gilbert

Peace, love, re-energizing, 

b

Things that can be done on my phone...

Let's be honest, I have sucked at posting. I can try to make excuses, but what's the point? Life happens like that.

But gold has been discovered! A light bulb went off, I can write from my phone. Might as well do something productive on this little handheld gadget other than look at instagram, snapchat, and Facebook (all which I find pointless- but when I'm bored... all 3 are there to make me feel like I have something to do...even though the 'something to do' is..well.. pointless).

I have been going through some rocky things personally and professionally  recently and was told that maybe creative writing will help clear my head. Get all my thoughts down in one place. And where do I turn to when things get rough to find refuge? You, my trusted blog. So, maybe this time it's real, maybe I'm lying again. But for now, I'm back baby. I'm gonna blog away- recount my stories from living in this crazy city, that I can truly say I am madly, deeply in love and obsessed with.

Yep- that's right NYC, you complete me (well you and my man T, don't want him to get too jealous).

Want to start small for now, set the bar low for myself on posting to stretch my fingers for the first time. So here it is- this is me, trying to sort through life. They (not sure who they is), but they never told me or prepared me for life to get confusing. There should really be a class in school titled, "how to deal" I'll be the first to teach it AND create a way to get a master's in life.

Peace, love, and using my phone for good,
B

Where did you come from, 2015??

I just don't understand. Where did 2015 come from. Out of the blue, 2014 was great, trucking along, having a great time, and then out of nowhere- 2015 just comes and moves right in.

Maybe its because I am getting older, but the years are starting to go by SUPER fast. I am not complaining, as I am having a great time- just weird to think that 5-8 years ago, the years went by so much slower.

But how are things with me, you ask? Things are great. I have been doing great at work- working hard. Traveling, seeing things, making memories. Planning on traveling much more. Gotten rid of  a massive debt this year- making traveling a little more of a reality. T and I have been laughing, a lot. My dear New York City and I have been having a steamy relationship- its getting serious. Took me some time to come around, but I might be in love, not the forever type of love, but a love that will stand still in time- and I am not ready to break apart from just yet. Family is good- bother graduated, my mom is making waves, my dad is doing what he should be, and Putter, of course, is playing with toys, as well as destroying them. So all in all, life is good.

I can only hope that 2015 is just as good as 2014. One thing that 2014 taught me was that to determine a successful and good year, a few criteria need to be met: Is everyone healthy (ish)? Is my family and T doing ok, happy? Am I healthy, and doing what I can to stay that way? If those answers are yes, then all is good in the hood.

Peace, Love, and I haven't forgotten about you, my dear, dear blog,
B

Ok, its fin'e now

It's been a few weeks since the hair cut. I finally shipped my hair to be made into a wig, and I am getting use to my hair. Its still not my favorite. But the short hair is turning more into a symbol for me than anything else. I gave apart of myself to someone else. I gave some of my happiness to someone else who needs it (or at least eventually). And short hair or not, that is more than I can ask for in my life. 

All I ever want is for everyone to be happy, we all have that right. Not to get all political, but when I say everyone, I mean the people who love others, that are just trying to be happy, love their families, and exist. Over seas, all the women, men, and children who just want to live their lives are being stripped of their right. And it does not sit well with me. It should not sit well with anyone. How did I get to be born here, with all the possibilities at my fingertips, and someone else was born in a country where basic human rights are stripped from them before they have the chance to explore?

I have all these thoughts about others, but come to a roadblock, what can I do about it? I can talk about it, I can voice my opinion (freely I might add), but outside of that, what can I do? I volunteer, I help people here, but it seems not enough. 

This is a common struggle in my mind- and I am sure will continue... but thats life, finding how I can make a difference in this big world we live in. 

Deep thoughts for this Friday.... Maybe more to come later. 

Peace, Love, and bigger than myself, 
b

Devil with Flowered Hair Scissors

Let me start this off by saying I did a great thing today. I have been growing my hair out for the past 9 months to donate to Beautiful Lengths, a charity that makes wigs for cancer patients. I needed to grow 8 inches or more of hair from the top of a poney tail holder. Yesterday morning, I got out of the shower, asked Trevor to measure, and finally, I had enough hair. What great timing, my mom is in town, and it could have been a great memory to share...

Well... after all the trauma of yesterday, and a few tears shed, it is a memory.. but not all great.

Now heres what happend.... Cutting my hair yesterday was traumatizing, and caused by some 40 year old woman that might have well been the devil. I went to a salon up the street from my house, $35-$45 for a hair cut, depending on the length. It was a pretty fair price, so I decide to do it. I walked in, told the receptionist what I was doing, and asked if there were any openings. There were, she called the woman over, and off I went.

Well, now thinking about it, I should have stopped it right then and there. This woman looked like she just got out of the 1980's. Red lipstick, frizzy hair, horrible highlight job, and overall, she looked like a mess. Lesson #1, if they have horrible hair, do NOT let them touch yours. But, seeing as I did not want to judge a book by its cover, I went with it.

My hair got washed, and it was time. She pulled my hair back into a poney tail. Secured it with an elastic at he back of my head really tight. Picked up her scissors. Went to make the cut. I Jerked my head and said, 'WAIT. you have to pull the poney tail down. Its 8'' from ABOVE the poney tail.' She said oh, of course. Lesson #2, was she drunk? Did I not explain this? I should have never let someone near my hair that didn't listen to a word I had said near my hair. Again, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. She pulled down the hair tie. I could not see how far, but figured, 'ok, I told her how I wanted it cut, I told her 8'', how can she mess up at this point?'

Oh, how wrong I was.

She cut. The damage was done. With 2 snips (yes 2, because her scissors were not thick enough she had to cut the wad of hair twice) of her small flowered scissors, she had destroyed my hair. There was plenty of hair for me to donate now... because she cut '11 inches off my hair, when I told her no more than '8. I freaked. Stood out of the chair. Looked at her, and said, 'THIS IS NOT WHAT I HAD TOLD YOU'.

She told me I was in shock. I wanted to slap her. Yes, cutting off that much hair is a big change, but I was prepared. What she did was put my hair into a lawn mower and turned it on. She said, 'You have done a great thing.' I told her I knew that. I wanted to slap her. The damage was done. There was no turning back at that point. I walked around the salon, trying to regain composure. No luck. I wanted to slap her, but there was nothing I could do. The hair cut had to be finished.

So, I stayed in the chair and let the disaster begin. She kept cutting. With every snip of her flowered scissors  I wanted to slap her even more. I have never been the type of person to get upset by a hair cut. It's only hair, it grows back. Its not like I ever had one stylist that I would let touch my hair. I figured, i had enough of it, it'll grow back. I guess up until now, I have never had a bad hair cut.

I told her no shorter. I told her to keep the bottom at my shoulders  and do what she could to save her disaster. She kept cutting. Told me she was layering. Layering my ass. After 10 minutes of her layering. I officially freaked out. I stood up midcut and told her to back off. To get away from me. I was pacing. This was not the emotional trauma I had signed up for. I sat back down and told her to finish as soon as possible, because I couldn't take it any more.... She was about to make another cut, and another stylist came in and saved me.

She asked to take over. She took me to her chair and told me she was going to do what she could do to save my haircut. Well, didn't that just make me feel like a million dollars? She was going to SAVE my hair, not finish the cut. great.

While all this was going on, my mom and Trevor were watching from the store front. Watching me freak out. Trying to help, be supportive, be positive, while the devil with scissors kept cutting.

In the end, everything is fine, of course. I donated more hair than I had thought, someone will get a great wig who deserves it. Someone will get to feel beautiful in a time when they need it. I feel good about that, giving part of myself to someone else. No matter the journey to get there, at least someone will get a smile out of today. Even me.... and I learned a valuable lesson. If their hair sucks, dont let them near yours.

Peace, Love, and short hair, dont care,
B