Well it’s just sort of rude if she gets all dressed up and we don’t take her picture, no?
I consider the fact that my brain has stopped obsessing about the ex every minute of the day to be a major milestone. Seriously, I would roll out of bed and as soon as my brain fog would drop, the obsessive thoughts would creep in. I’d walk to the shower, “what is he doing right now? Is he sleeping? Is he up? Where will he go today?” I’d step out the door and walk down my stairs, “Where does he live? Is it a walk up? Does he hate his roommate? Is it a girl? Does his roommate hate him?” I’d walk to work, “Is he thinking about me? Does he care where I am? Is he working? How is he paying rent? What is he wearing?” I’d be at work, “zzzzzzzz” I would walk home from work, “This sky is the shade of his favorite color.” “Is he going out tonight?” “Does he flirt like he did when we were together?” “Are his friends so happy I’m gone?” “Does he get consistent knobbers each weekend from trashy immature girls?”
Now it’s nothing. When I think now, it’s not thinking the thoughts, it’s thinking how I don’t think them anymore. It was as if the switch got flipped and I didn’t know it. It feels like it happened over night, but it obviously didn’t. It is so weird. It’s no coincidence that this improvement in mood and brain function aligns with Spring. That first warm day, that first little baby green bud, that first walk to work where all I could smell were the cherry blossoms – my heart shook off another layer of hurt, and this I could feel.
And this is where I have to look back on some of the things I promised myself I would do to figure out who I am (or who I lost), the things I would do to improve my life, the things I would do to make myself happy, the things I would do to be kinder to myself, with the result being a more whole person with her own interests and life to offer. I think I’ve been pretty good to myself: I’ve tried to keep up with this blog, I’ve been shooting almost every day thanks to a lovely little friend who has a fashion/lifestyle blog. I’ve begun writing about food for another friend’s incredibly awesome blog that I will probably out soon enough. I’ve been going to church every Sunday, but not the church you’re thinking of: BOOT CAMP. It’s outside around NYC and it’s the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. A handful of us gather rain or shine and trounce around the playground that is Manhattan. It is taught by a great friend of mine whose brand is all about being good to yourself and your body. She doesn’t bark and abuse you into more burpees, she encourages and applauds. At the end of it, she instructs us to use the final run as meditation and focus on something that could be holding us down or holding us back – and through that run, we have to let it go. Release that weight and not let it back in. It may take a few meditative runs to shake it fully, but it’s an emotional moment.
I feel good. I survived the winter depression, I survived the big holidays, the lame holidays, the non holidays, my birthday, weekends, weeknights. I survived all of this and I’m happy today because of the most important goal I put in front of myself: To embrace my girlfriends. To spend time with the women in my life that mean so much to me (and to not waste time on people that don’t offer anything positive to my psyche) has been the most enjoyable and enriching change to my life.
Spring ahead indeed
These guys are so light and delicate it’s like they’re little princess flowers. They’re fragile, sensitive, sort of cold, but so deliciously pretty. Tiny pretty little princess flowers.
Click on the first image and enjoy NYC in Spring renewal. Allergies are going nuts, but the smell is blissful.
Spring decided to bust out all over NYC today. Delicate and beautiful, fresh and full of anticipation. New buds, sweet blossoms, so much promise for what’s ahead.
I was walking home at night and my eyes suck. I can’t see shit, everything is blurry. In the dark I might as well walk around with chain mail on my face. I approached the crotch of 7th and Greenwich Avenue and my eyes were fed with sparkles that went from warm red orange to blue as NYC blew by in yellow cabs, black slick Escalades, and a sqoinky Fiat or two. It was the chain link fence of Tiles For America and all of New York lit each tile up in stoplight powered surges. It was beautiful. I stood and shot and cursed as giraffe legged girls teetered into my shot. They, and the group of drunk Blutos broslapping the burritos out of each other, did not thwart my efforts. This was one shot of many that I am a little in love with.
I thought I was really fancy the other night walking home. And by real fancy I mean “I had a few glasses of wine and thought I was some sort of night shooting art pro.” I dodged between lamp posts, crouched near wrought iron garbage gates throwing long shadows. I barked at rats to get out of my shot. Needless to say, once I sobered up, I only kept about… well, these two shots.