An 8-Year Relationship, Condensed

Year 1 

“Last night I made out with Chris, David’s roommate. He’s cute. He dances. We danced a lot. We made out a lot. I’m not all too interested in actually dating him, he was just cute.” 

Year 2

“I just feel like I’ve met a lot of guys, liked a lot of guys, interacted with a lot of guys, and have had ‘things’ with a lot of guys, and Chris has been the best of them all. He’s so easy to be with, so natural and unforced. We don’t have to try hard to get along, we just work well together.” 

Year 3

“I feel like though this whole situation with Chris has been really trying and difficult, I really do think it has been and will be for the best. I have my own life and my own friends and my own interests and talents. I can now wake up in the morning and not revolve my daily activities around Chris’ schedule.”

Year 4

“My boyfriend is such a fucking goddam idiot sometimes.”

Year 5

“Sometimes it’s hard to fathom how it’s possible to love someone so wholly and completely. Even after being together for almost 5 years, I feel like Chris and I are still discovering each other, still sharing new things with each other. It’s still exciting to see him and be around him, and I still look forward to spending new moments with him. How are we so good together?” 

Year 6 

“I feel like a lot of this can be traced back to Chris. Being loved is so empowering - like hey, I’ve been able to turn this typically difficult thing (dating, long-term/long-distance relationship) into a big success, I’m confident I can be successful in everything now.” 

Year 7

“By this point, I fucking know Chris. And I know that he’s been really fucking weird recently. And you know, fucking FUCK that. I’m either a priority or I’m not. Whatever, fuck Chris.”

Year 8

“While we’ve had our issues, I still enjoy hanging out with Chris, even now, almost 8 years later. He still makes me laugh and catches me off guard. What we have is better.”

Happy 8-year anniversary, CJY. Here’s to another 8. 

Sons et al. // Misshaped Mouth

I almost never have time to write these days. Or read. Or create. The months pass and I have to remind myself that time will never magically manifest, it only evaporates, slips right past my fingers before I can even register that it’s there. 

I feel like I’ve been tricking myself into believing that more time lies right around the corner. I just need to get through this big pitch, or this big event, or this big trip, and then there will be time, waiting patiently for me on the other side. This, of course, is a lie we all tell ourselves. Time never waits, we only wait for more time. 

On the rare occasion that I have an opportunity to pause and reflect, I realize that oh fuck, years have been passing and I haven’t finished any of the projects I picked up and then put away, saving for a rainy day. And now, here I am, wasting away in a creative drought. 

What remains of my creative bent is a graveyard of discarded hobbies - books I bought and never finished, magazines I subscribed to but never flipped through, a Bamboo tablet I’ve never used, and most disappointing of all, empty, barren journals. It’s only April and I can already feel the end of this year descending upon me, a weight of disappointment around all the New Year’s Resolutions I failed to keep. I want to take this rare moment of clarity to rededicate myself to investing time in the things that bring me personal satisfaction, the things that define me, not as a working professional because fuck that, but as a person. 

I want to: 

  • get back into journaling on a consistent cadence
  • work out 3-4x/week (yoga and cardio and maybe climbing and maybe hip-hop dancing)
  • build a website 
  • save up to buy a house 

This is the year I do the things I love. 

TV On The Radio // Will Do

Big, big things happening. 

While I still spend most of my time living out of a suitcase, hopping from one city to the next, I feel like I’ve settled better into the routine of it all. It now takes me 30 minutes to pack (sometimes less), and I’ve become a pro and getting through airport security in less than 5 minutes. I’ve perfected the science of short-distance traveling. 

It still sometimes wears on me to feel like I only exist in the distance between cities, but I’m learning how to adapt to this new life and the new opportunities it provides. I’ve started working at Cross Campus, a coworking space in Santa Monica populated with LA creatives and tech professionals, and it’s been a welcome change of pace to spend my work days surrounded by humans again (contrast this to just myself, at home, with no pants or makeup, circled and barked at by an exuberant, adorable puppy who insists on treating my fingers like moving chew toys).

While I still have yet to meet very many new people or friends in LA, it just feels good to be outside and to be seen, to receive confirmation that I exist through the validation of wandering eyes. I’m not just a ghost floating aimlessly through this wide, expansive city. 

On the work front, there are some really exciting things on the horizon. Even though I’ve been working really late hours over the last couple of weeks, tonight included, I know I’m working towards something tangible, something really milestone-setting, and that this “something” is something I can be truly proud of. So I’ve been powering through it, grateful for the support of my team (of 6 people!) that I’ve built over the past year. Sorry to be so vague, but with nothing set in stone yet, I’m hesitant to jinx everything by being so bold as to write about it. 

I have to admit that this life still surprises me; I never imagined that this is what my mid-20s would look like. When I think about my present life, I can’t help but parallel it to the fictitious “future” invented by my 16-year old self - a life without an address, filled with volumes of writing for various publications.

It’s sometimes hard not to feel like I’m being disloyal to my previous self, that I’ve somehow betrayed the ideals that at one time defined me. But I’d like to think that if my 16-year old self could have foreseen the true future, could have seen the person I would one day become, she would have approved, and pat me on the back for being a boss ass bitch.