Last night was the first night I have felt grounded in a very long time. I stood on my yoga map and insane. Then I exhaled. And I repeated for an unknown amount of time. If I could guess, it was about fifteen minutes.
I am almost positive other people who saw me on my roof just standing there could imagine a myriad of explanations as to why I was standing there. Stark. With my eyes closed. But last night my feet really felt grounded. Last night the feeling of the mat beneath me was comforting. For the first time in a while— I felt at home. And it felt good. Wherever I go, I always bring a yoga mat. My yoga mat. It’s old and purple and from an ex-boyfriend that existed too many years ago to count. But like my practice of yoga, I use that mat every day and it holds a dear place in my heart. As I get ready to travel again I was thinking about getting a new mat. Now a days Lululemon has folding mats for traveling. I am, however, not sure that it will be the same. At all. The weird texture of my mat is like nothing else. It is rubberized, but with little waffle indentations. I am not sure how else to describe it. It smells like sweat and feet and dirt. It has scuffs from my falls or a time when i dug into it with my fingernails because I. Was. Just. So. Mad. But it’s awesome. I love that it is plain and it is mine and that no one else wants it (if I were anyone else, I would not want it). I don’t think I have been on this earth long enough to have anything else that really brings me personal sentimental value. Something that I have had since it’s beginning. A rough beginning because I am almost positive my ex-boyfriend and I broke up very soon after the gifting of this mat, but the beautiful thing is I don’t care. I want all of the memories associated with it. The good and the bad. I think as a young person it is important to feel a connection like this. Not to be materialistic, but to appreciate something because of the memories associated with it. it is definitely part of growing up. The longer I have my mat, the more I grow to appreciate it. Last night was a good night. I got to watch the sunset while I saw in silent awe of the temporary home I have had in Baltimore. As much as I love it, I know I will have to let it go soon. I think I am okay with it. New chapters are exciting.
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I woke up this morning and I thought the kiss of death was upon me. I had forgotten to bring my blinds down to cover the windows and protect me from the penetrating rays of sunlight.
There was a serious moment when I thought I was going to cry. I had a marathon of drinking on Saturday. Definitely not one of my proudest days, but I love being with friends and having a great time. There is something to be said for acting your age and loving the stage of life that you're in. It all started at brunch at 11 am. We ate (kind of) and we drank (mostly). We then proceeded to parade around Canton to find the nearest liquor store. Definitely the best decision for the moment. A few friends of the people I was at brunch with were having a crab feast, so naturally we come with what we contribute best to society (in my case, it was Half and Half Twisted Teas). The procession continued and we spontaneously decided that going to see the Orioles was the right idea for the time. This was not before we all took a 20 minute power nap. Whether or not that was a conscious decision is something that is not to my knowledge. The night continued, and I found myself at a bar that got too loud and too crowded for the amount of alcohol that I was consuming (which at the time was a sip of Natty Boh every few minutes-- nursing, if you will). So I retired. I knew in the morning I would awake with a quickened heart beat, the urge to puke, and a headache that felt as though a small child was jumping up and down on my head. And I was correct. The welcome addition was that at 6 AM sunlight came streaming into my window. So my morning from hell began. I deserved it all. Every second of pain. So I got up, managed to gag down a few sips of water, and then made myself a kale smoothie. I would like to think I am the best at being able to combat a hangover, but if we are honest I am waaaaayyy in the amateur leagues. So the morning continued. I watched Sinefeld and laughed on my couch and wished I had made better decisions. I did my laundry and other functional necessities that must occur when living independently. I made my way over to Fells Point and ate at a coffee shop called Pitango that I had been wanting to try for a while. It was everything my hangover needed. I ate in slow bites and savored every flavor. The fresh mozzarella, the basil, the perfectly ripe avocado. I was also doing my best not to throw up in public. Priorities, really. I then began a walk around the harbor, only to have it cut short by the realization that I was profusely sweating and severely dehydrated. But, I got out for the day, so I considered that a win. After a nice nap wrapped in some cozy blankets, I decided to go grocery shopping. I am still debating about whether or not I should go get Chipotle for dinner-- it really is up in the air. My current go-to dinner is tuna strait from the can covered in buffalo hot sauce. I am really not a cook at all. It just always seems like so much work and it is so overwhelming. I also started to read a new book called 'The Opposite of Loneliness'. I have to say, so far I love it. It is candid and fresh and relatable. It has also reminded me that I need to write more. When we write down feelings and emotions, part of you becomes alive. Sometimes, and for the past month, it has been pushed to the wayside for me. Tomorrow I am going to get a new notebook. One of those that can be fit in my purse and carried everywhere. I had one, but it became primarily for to-do lists, which is fine, but also not its primary purpose. I am excited for the prospect of writing more. I also hope to bring more candid play-by-plays of my life to this blog. I love the idea of really writing and reporting my life and what goes on in my head. The beautiful thing is that I don't have to pretend to have a style that is not my own, be an age that I'm not, or hold things back. I love being inspired on a Sunday. In my opinion, it is the best day of the week. I got to thinking this morning as I was doing my make up and listening to a great Spotify channel (Soul Coffee House, if any are interested). I was walking around my room and humming, drinking my blonde roast with soy coffee (which coincidentally is my guilty pleasure). I realized in that moment how happy I was. I got to see a gorgeous sunrise over the harbor, I got up and made my bed and made coffee. It was the morning to overcome all mornings because it was everything I could have asked for.
I love drinking my coffee, picking out my outfits, and putting my make up on. I love taking my time and understanding every detail of my face. Treating it well and doing what I consider makes me beautiful. It's not that makeup hides my face, but it's a form of art that I love because it is an amazing form of self-expression. While I was smiling to myself and humming along (off-key, mind you) I was thinking about what makes a young woman sexy. What she does, how she does it, and how she loves. I put together this obviously objective list from my own experiences and good vibes from this morning. The following are things that I think are sexy attributes young women should have in this day and age. Also, these are goals and aspirations that I work towards to make me my best self.
That is all for today, friends. Have a great Friday. Yesterday I was looking into replacing my acne medication. I usually bother my mom when I am running low to order some more, but I figured because I am both big and bad (also known as a working member of society) that I would do it myself.
Take the ease off of her. To switch gears, I have recently started to really see how much my mom does for me. I used to never be thankful for the role she played in my life, and am beginning to see now in my old age (just kidding) how important she has always been in my life. She may have never been someone I considered important, and this makes me so sad. Anyway, back to the acne medication... I figured that this acne medication would be about thirty bucks. Not a huge deal, just one of those things that is a life expense. I went to go look up the brand and the specific type, and I spit my coffee out. My mom had been buying me $200 per bottle acne medication for ten years. Now, people, I go through these bottles aggressively. I hate how my face is still acne prone, and I really go after it. But when I was younger I would just screw around with the medication. Not use it right.. Or use it at the wrong times. And my mom didn't kill me... I would kill me. She never complained, never uttered a word. She just supported me and always encouraged me to try new things to make my acne go away. On a bit of a serious note, it's been a hard time with my acne. It used to cystic and horrible to look at. It has definitely gotten better, but it still isn't great. My mom had always been the one to give me new things to try, suggestions, and just words of encouragement when I didn't feel beautiful. I'm tearing up thinking about it. You're the best mom, I am sorry I ever took you and your willingness to go above and beyond for me for granted. And thank you always for the acne medication.. Now that I've been using it right I think it's really starting to work. I miss South Africa today. Typically I never think about places I have been. Not in their truest form at least; sometimes I will think about memories or feelings attached to things done or seen in that place, but never the place.
In my mind, once gone, there should be no looking back. But I find myself thinking about South Africa a lot. This morning when I was doing yoga I was envisioning my runs through the Cape Town historical district: the government gardens and the old parliament buildings. With the homeless camped out on the edges, beautiful flowers blooming everywhere, the birds singing, and table mountain hovering in the background as glorious as ever. I miss the humidity. I miss the adventure. I miss being in the city. Cape Town is like no where I have been before. So much history, tradition, and even suffering all processed into the good and bad that is Cape Town. When I think about South Africa as a whole I always process the good and bad combined. There is poverty, and townships, and problems, but there is also beauty. Natural beauty and man made beauty. The lay of the land with all of its complications and people is fascinating. Many people speak all 11 national languages. ... How do they keep up when I can barely learn one? I pride myself in spending time there, but I yearn to go back. I would love to live there. To wake up every morning as I did almost a year ago and run. Run and then write and then read. I could work. I would find something to do. I would get frustrated with culture and traditions, but I would love every second of it. Cape Town is a place unlike any other. If you have not gone, I suggest putting it on the top of your list. You will not be disappointed. If you open yourself up, you will learn more about people and their attachment to place than anything before (#justgeographythings). I crave the air and the feeling of living in a new place. I am craving a change of destination. This morning hit me like a bus.
I am trying to overcompensate for that misery that I felt this morning by sitting outside to write this evening. Having a rooftop deck is a very good thing. I definitely struggled through the day-- wished it was Sunday morning again; wished I could just drink my new cinnamon coffee (Cinnamon Dolce Letche by Starbucks), watch New Girl, snuggle in my fuzzy blankets, and take a reaaaallly long time to put my makeup on once I finally decide to get out of bed. Who am I kidding.. I do this almost every day anyway. I love waking up early for the reason that I can get some serious shit done. I also decided today that I should probably stop eating food that is terrible for me after this weekend. Let's talk about ice-cream and fried food and hamburgers. The finer things in life, really. So I packed a salad and greek yogurt and things for basic girls and super healthy people-- I was basically just short of doing a juice cleanse. So naturally I got gelato on the way home. Salted Caramel. It was out of this world. And then I went home and ate a burger. Healthy living, am I right? It's funny, when you're living the workday, it feels like the longest time of your life, but when you look back on it it seems as though it passed in the blink of an eye. I also stopped at LuluLemon on the way home from work. Since you guys don't know me, I have a love for LuluLemon and their attire. I bought two pairs of pants and am still cringing at the idea of spending that much money on two pairs of pants. The reason why I hate it the most is that they always fit well and they're well made and they make me truly feel awesome. I am not a materialistic person, but I truly believe in buying things to wear that you feel confident in. When I wear things I love I feel like my best self, and I am addicted to that feeling. Please excuse my rant. As I finish up this post, I can't help but think that almost half of my time in Baltimore is gone. Done. And I have loved every second of it. As I sit on my roof being able to look at the inner harbor, the buildings, the sea gulls, even the people. It all makes me smile. Tonight is the perfect evening. I woke up this morning with a start. Sometimes morning anxiety attacks can come when I am in my last phase of the sleep cycle, causing me to wake up with an irregular heart beat, sweaty palms, and hyperventilated breathing.
Definitely not easy like Sunday morning (even though it's Monday, it is also technically Sunday). In my state of panic, I typically get up and do something. Whether it be clean, run errands, or even paint sometimes. Today I chose to head to the grocery store. It was the perfect time to go because it as before 8 am, meaning I could hop on over in my sweats with my face not even washed. Classy, Allyson (I know). On my drive there and back I got to thinking... Moving to a place or into a neighborhood that you know you will only be in for a short while equips you with a different mentality than that of a planning-to-be-permanent-resident. It can either isolate you from the community: not motivating you to indulge in it's unique charms or offerings; or it can motivate you beyond normal boundaries: this is the case where you get involved in everything. Sometimes, too much. I have found myself in the former. I don't feel connected to the neighborhood I moved into. This could be for a few reasons, but I think a lot of it is that where I am living is comprised of mainly you professionals with families. Basically, where I should be in about ten years-- okay, let's not push it... where I should be in about 15 years. I am most likely a martyr of the their previous college life; one that has so far escaped them except for the occasional night that they gather with other 30 somethings and drink two beers. It is at this time where they exit stage right and return to their young child, pay the baby sitter, and wake up the next morning full of regret. I have to say, I am not looking forward to that lifestyle. I am not ready to embrace it, and seeing it all around me makes me want it less. It's not that these people are not well-educated, hard-working, or fit (they're ALLLLL fit). But, it's a very settled lifestyle, and to be honest it makes me uneasy. I love the city, I love Baltimore, and I love my job. But I think if I were to move here for a more permanent time, I would live in a different part of the city. Most likely one that fit my identity, my needs, and my position in life a lot more readily. The other funny thing is, my boyfriend who has been temporarily relocated to Texas, feels almost the opposite. He is also surrounding by young people with families, and he has said that it makes him want to identify with them more. It makes him excited for the future, instead of petrifying him. It's not as though I don't love it here, I do. But I think I would love it here more if I was 15 years my senior. Also, I think I would love it more if I was around for the start and end of the city's recreational sports leagues. That is definitely something Baltimore has done right. Anyway, I am going to find something else to do to entertain a cloudy and cool July 4th. I can't believe it's July already... And I can't believe it is going to stay in the 7-s all day with a breeze. How unpatriotic. Have a great day everybody. |
Author: Allyson DitizioGeographer, yogi and occasionally creative writer. Archives
September 2016
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