Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost

So after much preparation, and absurd last minute drama, I finally embarked on my journey to Spain. In the year preceding my decision to move abroad [2011] and the last weeks leading up to my move, however, I felt incredibly lost. In both these instances it felt as my life was in endless turmoil. With respect to year preceding this decision, I felt that every decision I ever made was wrong, and despite my best laid plans, the world insisted on stomping them into oblivion. In the weeks leading up to the move, the significance of my departure started to weigh on me like a ton of bricks and there were three tearful breakdowns. The first at my going away party, the second and most physically significant being fueled by a massive amount of vodka, courtesy of table service at my favorite strip club, and the last was brought on by a series of unfortunate events, including, but not limited to Kona being incredibly sick the day of our departure. As I sat in the vet's office that morning, giving them my tearful permission to run whatever tests were necessary, it was in that moment I was convinced that packing up my life and moving to a new country was the WORST IDEA EVER.

Even after leaving the vets office $200 poorer, with a bag full o' medicine and poodle on the mend in tow, I wasn't so sure that the energy that I was expending to speed to my mom's house in New Jersey where I was supposed to have been the night before, was worth it at that point. What was supposed to be the most exciting experience of my life, had morphed into the nightmare that wouldn't end, that kept getting more expensive, and invited everyone in the WORLD to tell me I was going to meet  a Spanish man, fall in love and get pregnant. On the day of my departure, I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and stay there forever. But instead, I pressed on.

Jump

I haven't got much time to waste, It's time to make my way

I'm not afraid of what I'll face, but I'm afraid to stay

I'm going down my road and I can make it alone

I'll work and I'll fight till I find a place of my own 

Are you ready to jump
Get ready to jump
Don't ever look back, oh baby
Yes, I'm ready to jump
Just take my hand, get ready to jump

-Madonna, Jump, Confessions on a Dance Floor

  
I love Madonna, and this one of my all time favorite songs of hers. Part of the reason I love this song, is because it's the background music in the montage scene in The Devil Wears Prada, where Andie has clearly gotten her shit together, and is seen sporting several fierce winter coats [and I have a growing obsession with outerwear]. And the other reason I love this song, is because it's motivational anthem, which for the past 3 years, 11 months, and 15 days, has often been necessary to get my ass out of bed and into my office. It's a song I've played often in order to invoke that sense that "I've made it"and as an educated, gainfully employed, independent, and occasionally awesome grown woman, and I'm totally living some version of 'the life' ".

Not.

As I've talked about many times on this blog, I was never really feeling it. So I decided to do something about it. I thought, a new job, a new city, an amazing fellowship could all be mine with some perseverance, prayer, and the hardball determination. But that all turned out to be a bust, and some of my closest friends and my family can tell you, I did NOT handle it well.

So I withdrew to recoup and mourn the loss of what I thought I wanted. In the process I made a few bad choices [retail therapy, an epically bad dating experience, more retail therapy] and one phenomenal choice. I didn't realize at the time that that one decision would lead to a moment of sharing, and that the result of both would alter the course of my life.

But here I type, life course completely and forever altered.

It's finally happened y'all.

Time Flies When...

You're prepping for your next pole competition! And you spend 90% of your time thinking about said pole competition, mostly because you spend 60% of your time at your sucky job, and therefore can only utilize the remaining 40% of your time to do everything else that life requires of you, which includes, but is not limited to: physically training for said pole competition, obsessing over and spending plenty of money on my costume for said competition, caring for the three animals with which I now reside [obvi my roommate and I split these responsibilities, but either way, it's a package deal, there's no way I can feed/walk/play with/scold one pet without doing the same for the other two], eating pizza/chipotle/scrambled eggs, & whey protein shakes because I no longer have time to cook or grocery shop, "studying" various pole techniques at establishments where women get paid to dance on poles as well as workshops with professional pole artists, sleeping , and some other stuff I can't really remember.

And then your pole competition comes and it was marvelous and terrifying and before you know it, it was over. I didn't place, but I didn't expect to. I was more honored by the fact that I made it to the finals, I had a LOT of fun, and I've got lots to learn/work on for my next competition, whenever, or wherever that may be ;-)

Wildcard

I'm not the type of person who does things with explicitly clear intentions. In general, I tend to do things [or not do things] because the mood strikes me to do so [or not], and the outcomes of such actions or in actions are often not major concern.  I'm not sure if it's one of my biggest flaws or strongest attributes, #kanyeshrug. That's not to say that I'm reckless. I'm probably one of the biggest squares you'll ever meet, so activities of an illicit or "poor life choices that will land you in a starring role of a lifetime movie" nature don't appeal to me. I just felt that I should clarify.

I mention this lack of clear intention for my actions, because this past Saturday evening was my pole competition, and before the show started, my fellow contestants and I were required to fill out a brief bio for the MC to read to during the show: Name, occupation, length of time pole dancing, and last but not least, "why I want to be Miss Xpose Fitness". As you can probably imagine, I had absolutely no idea how to answer this question. 

30 Before 30. An update

¡Hola Lovers!

¿Guess what I'm doing el sábado próximo [next Saturday]?

I'm crossing #17 off my 30 before 30(+3) list, and performing in the Miss Xpose Fitness Preliminary competition! Holy shitballs!

I'm kinda freakin' about it at this point. I haven't performed in any capacity since I was like 23. And I've NEVER performed by myself, let alone scantily clad, wearing hooker heels, and twirling around a pole. And my mom is going to be there. I just fessed up to Linda this Christmas what exactly I've been up to at my "women's gym" for the last two years...and she's wasn't thrilled about my extracurricular activities. So yeah, I'm freakin' out.

And with 9 days to go, I'm still making big changes to my routine, impatiently waiting on my performance shoes and accessories to be delivered, still searching for silver booty shorts that aren't indecently short, and have developed what is likely to be tendinitis in my dominant arm. #freakingthefuckoutrightnow.

Such is my life. I may or may not get to post before the competition, and since I've stacked the audience with many of my friends and family, I'm hoping to get a few good pictures from the event, which I will of course share with you.

Until then, I'll leave you with some pics that would surely horrify my mom :D

The Most Interesting Woman in the World

The Dos Equis Man may very well be the most interesting man in the world, but where is his female counterpart? Actually, during my pre-move, "must clear off my DVR before I move marathon" of Oprah Presents Master Class [among other shows], I concluded that Condoleezza Rice is a strong contender for that title. While I almost entirely and vehemently disagree with her politics, I still find her to be profoundly fascinating and, dare I say it, an inspiration. That revelation acted as a tipping point of sorts. You see, throughout this 2xth year of my life, I've been pondering "what the fudge have I done with my life?" and "how exactly am I going to take over the world? what am I supposed to do with the rest of it?" ad nauseam. Damnit, it was suppposed to feel good to be a gangsta! But I've been feeling neither good, nor like a gangsta. What happened to me??! But Condy's riveting story and life lessons planted a seed in my head, and gave me the push I needed to acknowledge what I do want out of life, and then to go for it, full steam ahead.