Dos.

The debut of 'OZ' was this past weekend and I hear it's all about how James Franco became the wizard of OZ. Yesterday marked my two year anniversary of when I found myself in the Emerald City as well, although not in the capacity of a wizard [some may beg to disagree and I'm okay with that]. My route didn't entail a yellow brick road, but it did involve courage, heart, smarts and the realization that there really is no place like home.

Okay, enough with the Wizard of Oz metaphor.

Moving is difficult. Especially when most of the people you care about are within a 15 mile radius of you. How conveniently spoiled I was to be able to get to one side of town to the other in 30 minutes or less in Portland "traffic." Ahh, I do miss what is considered traffic in Portland. So why remove myself from the coziest of comfort zones? I didn't move for a job, for a relationship or any concrete reason that most people that move have, except that every single day I woke up and did the same thing, I wondered what else I could be doing if I were somewhere else. After four years of feeling that way, I did something about it because pretty soon, I knew I wouldn't. 

So I did. I realized my fears that I had before moving wouldn't disappear; I'd just have to do things that challenged me which I wasn't really put in the position to do before. Here I was in a city where I had just as many friends as I had fingers [maybe less at the time], so I had to make an effort to involve myself. Or to do things alone. Not always did I want to have solo dates, which have been commonplace for me, but sometimes there wasn't an option. If I wanted to go try a new restaurant and my contact list of 5 had been exhausted, I 'd go alone. And what I realized about this is the silliness of what some of our perceptions are of being alone in public. Some people deeply fear the notion of having a sit-down meal by themselves. A book can be some of the best company [much better than someone sitting across from you that is more involved in their relationship with their Facebook application than in considering the conversation that you're having with them]. "Awkward" has become one of the most overused words in the English language. Maybe that's because we fear any scenario that is the slightest bit uncomfortable that we chalk it up with the word awkward and avoid it like Bloomberg does 16 ounce sodas. But I believe growth can come from discomfort.

One of these times I found myself in an unfamiliar environment, was when I voluntarily took a ballet class with my non-ballerina bod at 26. I hadn't taken ballet since I was probably 6 or 7. At that age you haven't developed your soccer thighs or much of any body, so it's much easier to maneuver yourself.
I had decided this class would be an excellent idea as it was marketed as an introductory ballet class, but when I walked in on the first day to a 96 pound Asian girl with her right leg held straight up in the air as her left foot rested on the ground, I knew this was anything but. This is one of those classes that people use as a 'warm-up' before their super-advanced night class, I thought. Needless to say when class started, they all broke into the "routine" while I fumbled in my new slippers I had sewn the night before and tried not to trip on any lose thread or an unexpected strap from my poor sewing job. It was an awful first day, but I went back every week to continually make a fool/improve my ballet game. By the last class that fell on my 27th birthday, I knew that damn routine.

There were actual lousy times where I had legitimate reason to be angry, like when my first apartment flooded 6 months after I moved in and I reconsidered everything. Seattle obviously hated me so much it wouldn't only rain outside, it would defy the very definition of shelter and rain inside my apartment to kick me out. Well played, Seattle. But I have more game than you and the Sounders [Go Timbers! Go Sounders? I'm so confused on my alliances].

I found a little place where I was sold by the rooftop view of the city. This is where I probably should be. And it was done. I'd found a new home and I love my little corner of the world. I love that I can greet it in the morning or evening with a skyline view or take my run down to Gasworks Park or walk somewhere for dinner or happy hour. This was the city life I had wanted.

[Home]

There are no greater messages here; no hypodermic theory that applies for all. There's nothing extraordinary about this story as I know people who have moved much further from their homes either willingly or forcefully. However, I do know that life is too short to wake up everyday with something weighing on you and consistently asking yourself "if." If you are staying a part of something for comfort and comfort only, reconsider. There is great beauty in taking risks and believing that you are awesome enough to seek and succeed in doing something new. It's even greater if you have people on your side that encourage and support [and visit!] you through a transition.

There is no place like home. And in case you hadn't noticed, Seattle can't be spelled without
'T-E-E-L-A.'

Fallabulous

This past month has been completely and utterly wonderful. Busy and stressful, but mostly wonderful.

...I had the sincere pleasure & honor of standing next to one of my lifetime girlfriends as she said her I do's to her guy in the most glamorous affair.

...I went to NYC to visit a couple of my fabulous girlfriends from college.

...I moved.

Oh, it should be noted that all of these events transpired within 10 days time. I'm pooped but still relishing in each moment and reliving them through pictures.

The Snellebration.

One of my favorite girlfriends said 'I do' to her guy and became a Snell on 9.10.11. Even though she's been with him for 5 years, it's still a bit surreal to me that it finally happened. When the name change was made official by ways of Facebook (forget the law, FB is really where it really matters, right?), I thought I had accidentally accepted a friend request of some distant classmate from high school as I had a lapse in putting 2 & 2 together. Like I said, it's been a crazy past week & a half.

[right before THE moment in the green room]

Everything was spectacular. She transformed this space at the Gerding Theater into an absolutely gorgeous wedding, which was expected, as she has no limits to the imagination and can create anything. This wedding was made even more special by the fact that most of the wedding party have been friends since childhood. Mrs. Snell, if one day someone is brave enough to enter the bonds of holy matrimony with me, guess who will be called upon to plan it?

[at the rehearsal dinner]

There was dancing.

There was the red velvet cake from heaven.

There was the teaching of the dougie.

And to the couple's surprise/enjoyment/shock, a few of us in the wedding party serenaded the couple with a karaoke sing along of 'Don't Stop Believing.' Yes, you most definitely do want me at your wedding.

The Empire State.

To say that New York is one of my favorite places is an understatement. I absolutely am infatuated with this city. I say infatuation instead of love as I don't think New York loves anyone back in the same way we adore her yet we keep coming back for more. She can be cruel and abrasive to her residents and visitors, but at other times, can be surprisingly kind. Hmm, so maybe in fact it is love after all.

Since I've been to New York a handful of times before this trip (literally a handful-5), I didn't have much tourist ground to cover and wanted to focus on the theater. My friend Carey and I have a shared affinity for musicals and because she loves me so, she even agreed to go see "Spiderman: Turn off the Dark" due to (a) my love for superheroes and (b) my obsession love for the actor portraying Spiderman, Reeve Carney. Note: The picture I've included doesn't quite do justice to him. You must hear his voice and then you'll understand. With my luck he's probably gay. And yes, his sexual preference is obviously the only thing standing between us being together.

[Throwin our webs; Reeve Carney AKA Spidey & me!]

The show did not disappoint. It was Cirque du Soleil meets Broadway. After seeing it, you understand why so many were injured in creating this blissful piece of art. It's intense. At one point, I jumped as the Green Goblin came soaring at me in the audience right before Spiderman jumped on his back and takes the villain down. Spoiler alert. I'm certain Carey has bruises on her forearm from my incessant grabbing and loud whispers of excitement. It was that awesome.

We also spent an evening at the Imperial Theater at "Billy Elliot." If you want to feel as if you have accomplished nothing by your late twenties or whatever age you are currently occupying, go see this show because these nine, ten, and eleven year olds will make you feel inadequate. Or at least will give you that invigorating feeling of fearlessness that allows you to take risks and believe anything is attainable. At their age I was proud to be reading a few grade levels ahead and being semi-good at running around on a field chasing a black and white ball. One of these kids was this adorable actor who played Michael. He must've been about 9 and was already a fantastic actor and tap dancer. We watched as he exited the stage door after the show, waved to a few of his adoring and age-appropriate fans (Carey and I would probably not be included in this category), reached up for his mom's hand and walked anonymously home. It warmed my heart. To be nine and already on Broadway. How fabulous.

We also took a trip to a free fashion exhibit at FIT (Fashion Institute of Technology) of a collection of Daphne Guinness' (heiress to Guinness) personal pieces, spent a night in the Lower Eastside with co-eds that made us feel much older than we are, celebrated a bachelorette party in SoHo, and enjoyed a Frozen Hot Chocolate at Serendipity. Wondering what Fro-Hot-Choc is? It's a really good Chocolate milkshake with little ice shavings in it, covered in a blanket of homemade whipped cream.

[the menus here were astronomical. I feel like everything about this place was inspired by Lewis Carroll as you were meant to feel a bit small with the portion sizes]

[Gracie & me on the LES]

However, our very first stop of the weekend was an emotional visit to Ground Zero where 3 days earlier we had marked the ten-year anniversary of 9.11. It breaks my heart, but I visit every trip I take to New York. It is indescribably humbling and incredibly sad to walk on this street where so many suffered, but I think it is important to mourn and celebrate these heroes.

[Memorial across the street from Ground Zero & The Freedom Tower]

The move.

I returned from NYC on Monday evening, moved Tuesday morning, and here I sit Wednesday night/Thursday morning writing from my new digs in Wallingford. I've unpacked every box within 24 hours and just have a few more things to place, nail and hang along with a [very] large trip to Goodwill and the recycling bin. It's starting to feel like home.

---

After any big event or vacation, I find myself in a slight funk from being overstimulated and dropping from 150 to zero. In this case, I had been at about a 300. I missed my friends. I missed the city. So yesterday evening I took about 30 minutes to breathe and to allow myself to absorb all of the goodness of this last week and a half. I did this from my new rooftop with a cup of coffee and this breathtaking 360-view of a twilight Seattle. That did it.

And it's now officially fall. Which is my favorite.

The needle has been found.

The most amazing thing happened to me today.

I rummaged through the haystack and it wasn't as easy to find as the obvious 1960's needle that pokes through Seattle's skyline. Apparently you can't type "fabulous apartment in my price range and in an ideal location" into your GPS system to lead you to "home." And funny enough, there is no yellow brick road to take you to Oz in the Emerald City.

But I found it anyway without Liza (my GPS voice) or Dorothy.

I found a place to live.

About 5 weeks and 1 day ago, I made a decision to leave my beautiful hometown Portlandia for another city. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed Portlandia’s company; the times we’ve had together are innumerable and priceless. It’s just that I want to see what else is out there. It’s not you, it’s me. I promise.

[Note: This sign now reads "Portland Oregon" but I have sentimental value with the old way. After all, this reads true for me. Minus the "Old Town."]

This move wasn’t “planned” per se, but the bed bug of moving has been biting me for the last five years ever since I graduated undergrad. And boy is s/he a bitch. Maybe that’s the culprit of my insomnia.

I started looking for jobs elsewhere and a Master’s program fell into my lap. Not to be one to say no to free schooling, I took it.

Two years later, thesis written and defended, I searched nationally as well as locally and was offered a job in a private business in Oregon. Not to be one to say no to good money and benefits in a failing economy, I took it.

When that economy took its toll on my company, I again was on the hunt for a job. That’s when OSU rang like the orange & black fairy it is and asked me to teach. Not to be one to say no to my awesome alma mater (+health care/benefits), I took it despite its required 150 mile commute, 3 days a week.

You see where this story is going.

In these 4 years where I kept Oregon as my home, I’ve scratched at said bug with an inordinate amount of travel. New York x4, Palm Springs, Vegas x3, Disneyland, Boston, Philly, DC for Inauguration, Park City for Sundance x2, Hawaii, Whistler, Cabo, and a couple cruises. But I still come home tossing and turning. [For the record, my bed is incredibly comfortable and free of bed bugs. Maybe not the best of metaphors given that these creatures have become somewhat of an epidemic].

Fast-Forward January 2011. Over a delicious brunch of French toast in Bridgetown, one of my fabulous girlfriends and I were discussing changes and moving as she is moving herself come March. I gave her the same response I’d been giving myself for years, “What about a job? What about money?” She told me to just do it.

I come home from brunch and my roommate informs me that our landlord is in the midst of selling our condo and they want us out sooner than our agreed upon lease and are offering a very nice “incentive.” Well, one of my excuses is nil. There’s the money. Timing, you’re funny.

There was still the whole issue of having employment, the chances of finding employment in an unfriendly job market, and quitting my 2 jobs when most have none. What sense did this make? Apparently enough. Being the planner that I am, I like for things to be predictable or at least have a relative sketch of my foreseeable future. I made the very unsettling decision to move without a job. Enter extreme anxiety.

So Seattle, you’re it. Some refer to Seattle as Portland’s brother city…I wouldn’t dare, as it seems inappropriate to leave one family member for another.

Five weeks and two days later, I’m with JOB and a home. I’ve seen the worst of Seattle and then I walked into my home…apartment number 10 that I saw to be exact. It was the first place I felt it wasn’t necessary to pinch my nose to save my body from communicable diseases it could possibly get from invasive aromas and that I could lay in the middle of my living room and fall asleep there watching Friends. This is imperative.

After gleefully signing a lease and sharing hugs with my mom and granny (my apartment hunters of the day), I called my dad who has been supportive but I also believe to be secretly hoping it doesn’t work out so I’ll stay home.

Dad: Wow, you’ve got a lot done in a month.

Me: Didn’t think I could do it?

Actually, I really didn’t think I could do it but I thought if I kept envisioning it happening, then maybe it would become reality. I never give myself much credit for getting anything accomplished as there are always items running into tomorrow’s planner checklist that I wanted to get done today, but today, I am giddy with delight.

I feel like calling for Penny Lane and yelling, "IT'S ALL HAPPENING!"

Exhale.