I mean, looking at that paragraph, it’s no wonder that many young, unmarried folks aren’t spamming friends and family with their life news, in the typical holiday fashion.
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And I had a similar “come to Jesus” moment, as I stood at the bottom of my 5th-floor walkup (it’s called the 4th floor, but the steps don’t lie y’all. Who caught this part of Emily in Paris?), armed with a sideboard that needed to land in my living room.
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So, literally, I may be a few days away from my dream home. But if I’ve learned anything from this past month, it’s that home has nothing to do with an address or a name on a mailbox (though having my name on the mailbox of my new place is something I’m quite looking forward to).
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I’ve noticed that no matter how heavy the clouds are, these three steps always help me find the sunshine.
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That life will only happen if I push myself, and force shy Emily into those situations where she doesn’t know a soul and doesn’t have the option of standing in the corner engrossed in an IKEA poster.
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I only wish that I would’ve learned this a few years earlier and expanded my circle in New York. If you’re willing to take my word for it, please know that putting in a little extra effort…
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And in case that wasn’t enough to put a few things into perspective for Tuesday-grumpy Emily, here are a few other things that have been happening lately:
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And in this moment, as I passed the storefront of my favorite bakery in Hamburg, I realized I’m not the rebounding, eight-week serial dater version of Emily that I once was in New York.
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I’m a person who wants to excel, chase my desires, and live a life that’s full of experiences that make me a better person. None of that happens without a dash of insecurity, whether I like it or not. Luckily, I’m starting to learn what my ABBA songs are in these situations
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They’re trusted. They’re respected. And they’re doing a damn good job.
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So I started being proactive about my blog again, just as I was proactive about getting a performing job that fulfilled me, and living in a place far, far away from the United States of America. And you know what happened? My phone rang the other day with an offer.
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This lovely, Portuguese cabernet (Quinta da Alorna) and I are cozying up to a computer screen displaying the raw evidence of my nasty, American habit that almost ruined my relationship.
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