It’s a rainy day in the city and the unanimous response is “we need it.” Yes, yes we do. This drought has taken the awkward weather conversation one step-further. We all now bond over how the crops really need water, the fires need to stop and how we want to return to the days of showers longer than 3-minutes.

The rain also brought out a heated confrontation on public transportation between a transgender, legally blind individual (all information this person voluntarily made publicly known) playing “ain’t no sunshine” for all to enjoy or not enjoy and another person who I could not see among the sardine-packed train. What they did agree on was to get off at Van Ness to hash it out. What everyone else agreed on was to embrace the tunes, maybe tap a toe or two to the Beatles now, and get on with their Monday.

What I enjoyed the most was watching people’s reactions to the commute-commotion. Some giggled into their lover’s shoulder, some rolled their eyes, some turned to social media and buried their nose in their phone. It was interesting to me how much energy people put into something that they could not control; most interesting how much energy these two people were putting into being angry at one another.

Was it worth it? At the end of the day, we all have to choose our battles. Maybe for those two on the train and the others who let it affect them, that was their battle of choice. Maybe for another person, a fight with a partner, heart-breaking news to a patient, their own inner demons. It isn’t really up to me to judge what some people choose to fight and what they choose to let go.

When I notice my desire to react to my surrounding, to roll my eyes, or shake my head, what am I really trying to prove and to who? I think it’s much healthier to try in that moment to find the person you want to be even and especially in moments of contention. Reacting to situations out of your control will only get your feathers ruffled. There’s no cheese at the end of the maze for having your opinion written all over your face.

The real triple-cream treat comes by staying true to your best self – on your commute, at work and all the time. If you’re even just trying to be your best, you’re already better off than letting your reactionary self take over.

November 1st has been a pretty monumental date these past two years. Last year, I moved into a place with 4 other girls, a re-acquaintance with being single and a search for some grounding to reassess and grow confident in moving in the direction of, well, me. This year, Halloween marked move #6 – a “me” move, the kind that you say, yes, this feels right and if for no other reason, that’s more than enough. A U-haul full of great friends, amazing new roomies and charming new place was a great distraction from a would-be-anniversary and the literal ghost of lovers past. Another great friend trekked her way through karl the fog to my new hood to grab sushi dinner. The spider that jumped out at every customer exiting the restaurant reminded us of what day it was as we thew our edamame up in fright even at the millionth robotic recoil of the 8-legged door terror.

It was truly perfect.

The first order of business for the first day of the month was pulling the french press and the coffee grounds from the top of a packed kitchen box (intentional placement? you bet.) and having a three hour chat with my new roomies in PJs. An inaugural rainy morning run with the roomies and our fellow workout buddies brought more giggles in our 6am delirium as we headed out into the elements only to be greeted by the cutest little dog. Wearing a vest. With a fur hood. Whose name was Raisin. It just doesn’t get better that that.

As I reflect on my sixth move in six years, I realize that each home holds a very special purpose and lesson and prepared me for the next chapter I’m about to write as I turn this new page.

So, J, (I’ve never refered to myself as “J” – it just seemed suiting as I pictured a self-pep-talk with a chummy elbow nudge) let’s take a peek at the packing tape and cardboard that led you to where you are now – sitting in your bed made with only a fitted sheet and two pillows:

2009: Your 100-year-old, zero-insulation rent-controlled apartment has a killer view but will keep you in a fuzzy robe at most (all) hours of the day because your room backs into one of the hills that make this city so damn pretty. You have a roommate that researches alarm clocks and other whose height-to-room size ratio is way off and who is more concerned withe how the toilet is cleaned than the rat problem. In case there is another 1908 earthquake, the outside of the house is well-equipped with non-perishables and you’re pretty sure the landlords drugged-out daughter lives in the garage below the unit. Welcome to San Francisco!

2011: You get your own place. Get it, gurl. A 15-minute open house leads you to the studio of your dreams with charming San Francisco details and good bones. You host a Friendsgiving somehow manage to cook a full-on three-course meal complete with turkey and pumpkin crème brûlée in the littlest of kitchens and find cookie sprinkles months later. You feel all kinds of adult, get a real job, put you first and somehow made it through with one chef’s knife.

2013: Move in with a boyfriend. Yes, it means giving up your own place, yes, it’s a biggie but where you may question other decisions, this one is a no-brainer. The place is beautiful. Finally, hardwood floors, french doors, a new neighborhood, a favorite coffee shop and sushi restaurant and growing together.

2014: You learn the hard lesson that growing together may also mean growing-up and finding out what you stand for and what you want. It’s hard, probably the hardest thing you’ve had to do. You gain clarity on things you’ve never had to question, you learn what it’s like to love so deeply and not to discount your life-vision as shallow. You move into a pretty neighborhood with a bunch of girls who take you in warmly. Even if just a transition, it feels right and you think you can move forward here and you do.

2015: Having found your ground and a reinvigorated place in the city, you go to a neighborhood you haven’t explored yet with new friends in a beautiful place with lots of laughter and turquoise. You weren’t looking to move but this just feels right and puts you on a path to live the life you want to lead. You have a bay window again and karl is your intimate neighbor.

Next November may bring a whole other kind of change. No matter what, it will be fall, a literal turning of a new leaf. And pumpkin everything. So there’s that. As a little girl, I loved being home, change scared me and uncertainty made me very unsettled. Today I’m creating change, welcoming it, seeking it even. The little girl in me wants to think I’m crazy, wants me to press the panic button and reassess, question and second-guess everything but the adult in me wants to say go for it, give myself a high-five and walk head-first into the fog that I get to wake up to every morning in this new place and new space.

There’s something extremely sexy about a guy that can rock lounge wear. For me, it’s right up there with a solid, fitted black tee or a white button-down collared shirt.

Take note, men. Bring back those basics. As much as I love a good suit and tie, there’s just something about a guy that can bring the cool factor even in soft cotton ordering-in Mexican food (real events). Also, men’s lounge clothes are by far more comfy than women’s. I’m not sure who decided this but my instinct tells me it’s women’s marketing in general scheming over a way to sell that “boyfriend” look. “Your own tee” just doesn’t have the same ring, does it?

Maybe I’m particularly biased toward lounge wear because I feel like I have been doing the opposite of lounging. A fifth move in six years is on the horizon and I have to say, I’m actually pretty okay with it. I’m more than okay, actually. This is a move for me. A move a bit further out, sandwiched between some of my favorite places and still adored with the requisite coffee shops and bakeries. Sunsets from my bedroom window, San Francisco charm and space to sprawl (in lounge wear, of course) are in my very near future.

The boxes, recruited help and tireless packing hours await. What I have learned to love most about moving is that it forces me to evaluate possessions, start with a clean(er) slate and have a fresh start. And wear lounge clothes.

I’ve learned that it’s invaluable to feel at home when you’re home. To feel like you can return to your own space (perhaps in your “boyfriend tee”) and not constantly feel like you’re walking into or infringing on someone else’s. Pretty soon, I’ll be able to put on my lounge wear and kick back with a glass of wine at sunset and feel settled, at ease, and at peace.

Lately, I’ve been feeling resistant to a lot of things I’m usually all in for. Take last Wednesday for example. I was resistant to going to bed at a decent hour. My alarm sounded too soon and woke me to me wanting to namaste in bed. I then felt super resistant in a meeting where we were talking in circles and not getting to the heart of the issue (perhaps a bit more valid but I had much less patience than normal).

Ironically, I decided to name this post pièce de résistance which means an outstanding item or event but that’s exactly why I liked it. Often times, when I resist something, I need it the most and maybe not admittedly knowing it at the time. What I’ve needed to take a look at is why I resist something. Is my resistance telling me that deep down I really don’t want to do something, or is it that I do want to do it but am standing in my own way?

There is still a picture of my ex on a couple of my social media platforms and I’m resisting taking them down. Fear of moving on? Yes. Does it then help make the break official? Yes. At the same time, seeing it constantly isn’t helpful either and I am reminded of a history that took some serious emotional pain to move forward and to be where I am today. Yes, I’m still hurting but am I being honest with where I am at by condoning this staying stuck status or should I help myself get un-stuck by taking down physical reminders of ouch? I’m not removing them all together. I will always have these photos and the memories, but how we represent ourselves in our social media lives are in today’s world an indicator of what’s present, where we are (almost too much so), what we’re doing and who we’re with.

Enough with resisting getting to the bottom line 😉

When you notice yourself fighting something or even someone, take a look at what’s really going on. For me, I needed some down time, some time to recharge. I also needed to notice my impatience and frustration and take a step back to communicate my needs. Expectations are largely at play in defiance. When our expectations are realistic and communicated, they are more easily met and things flow. Setting unrealistic expectations or keeping them to yourself (but maybe not allowing you to realize them) creates struggle.

A block is just that. Something you can move past just by acknowledging this block. Hey, block. Yeah, I see you there. Mind moving out of the way there, Buddy? No? Well alright, I’ll give you to the count of three and then I’m going to climb over you. Cool?

Think on it for 1…2…3…the goal being to identify the stuck and then move on with a new direction, a clear path and little insight into where you are emotionally, physically, energetically. For me, I get unstuck when I practice yoga. It’s funny that even getting to my mat was a challenge that morning. Once again, it was something to take a look at.

We’ve all heard what resists, persists (and if you haven’t, feel free to hold onto that nugget of wisdom) and goodness, it’s true. Not addressing our patterns in resistance means we have not yet addressed the source of the issue.

So, friends, be kind and true to yourself, notice when you’re not and what might be holding you back. You have every right to be the best version of yourself at all times and when something is getting in the way of it, take a peek.

I’ve been feeling down on my own power lately. I didn’t quite realize it until a man in his 60s walked up to me during a community volunteer reconstruction of the labyrinth at Eagle’s Point at Lands End in San Francisco. In the chaos of eager helpers, on-lookers and photographers, he looked to me for direction. I gave him an answer that I felt would be helpful, we’d go off to complete the small task, and then he’d return to me for the next step.

As far back as I can remember, I’ve been a natural leader, finding myself in positions where I am looked to for guidance, advice, and direction and I’ve never quite understood why. I guess I get whatever that little trait is from my mom. She’s the kind of person you meet and you want to tell her about the best day of your life and the worst day. She’ll look at you the same either way, give you all the time in the world, smile at you with a sparkle in her eye and nod empathetically. If I have even half of that quality, I’d call myself quite lucky.

The things is, is that I don’t know that we’re aware of this first-hand. When that internal light is recognized, I walk a little taller, smile a little more, and that stride in my step makes a huge impact on everything I do and who I interact with. That little acknowledgement makes me realize that how I show up impacts others and how they feel they can be.

Besides the man who wanted to know if he should start another pile of big rocks to facilitate the re-build, a fairly new acquaintance-turned-friend simply said “we should really hang out sometime” and I would love that. I had always felt connected to this new friend and to hear that the bond was mutual, made my guard come down, my smile broaden, and my own power, realized.

It’s about time for gratitude list because why not and my mom said it’s a good thing to do. Based on previous findings, mom is right. Always. So here goes:
organic farmer’s market spinach is a lovely thing (anti-gratitude because I get one: the insanely long stems that make for eating at the desk or in front of anyone, well, embarrassing.)
pasta made in house. nothing quite like it.
the power of laugher and family. especially when those two are synonymous.
pictures. sorry i’m not sorry for taking a lot of them.
music. it’s been setting the tone for many of my experiences lately. pick it out mindfully and intentionally, notice how you feel in that moment.
the older man in a suit reading the score to a play.
my voice. having one, and using it. it’s scary and it’s worth it.

We all have a power, and yes, it’s a super-power. The power to make someone laugh, make someone’s day, make a paper airplane. Whatever it is, and whenever you realize it, hold onto to it and use it. The world needs it.

When I’m feeling blue, I just remember this bag of indigo. I think we know who comes out on top here.

Today I woke up and started September off on the right foot, or butt cheek. I meditated for the first time in a while – the start of my personal goal to mediate every day this month inspired by a friend of mine with the same goal.

So the morning started with ease, slow and steady, no rushing, moving with my deep breaths, relishing being up early enough to not only have time to reflect inward before dealing outward, but having time to straighten a little and decide if I liked my new purse that arrived in the mail. I like it.

What I didn’t like so much was arriving to a pretty grim, empty floor after an office-wide move from uptown to downtown. Somehow seniority doesn’t scream window seat and wooden table but instead, pedestrian aisle, masonite and coffee-stained desk. Oh yeah, we also can’t find your chair. See if there’s an extra lying around somewhere, will ya?

A frustrating scramble for a plastic spoon, passive-aggressive group roommate email and a much needed walk to my favorite coffee shop later, I was online completing the application and 135 questions to be considered as a flight attendant. Talk about needing a change of scenery.

What I really wanted was to return to that 10 minutes on my velvet pillow, to center myself, to focus on my breath and to tune in to myself. It’s one of those days that from a bird’s-eye view would not be all that terrible, but combined and continuing, built up like a snowball rolling downhill. The moment that ball crashed and all was dispersed was when I could find myself on my mat again later that evening. A yin and yang practice of heating and cooling to restore me to a state of being I had found 12 hours earlier.

Perhaps the expectation that a day would go smoothly if I gave myself 10 minutes in the morning threw me off as well. It’s not so much “I did that meditation thing – things are supposed to work now,” but more of a “here is a tool I can use when I have days like today.” After all, it is a practice, not a perfect.

Today, Wednesday, has been a bit more sober in the sense that it’s gone less haywire. I even had classical music blasting out of a 5th story building as I walked peacefully back to the office with my coffee. Granted, there was also a homeless man shouting outside a Burger King across the way, but all in all, Wednesday wins.

I think it’s time for a gratitude list of this week’s other little victories:
Successfully made caramelized onions
Amélie soundtrack on repeat
Bought light bulbs for salvaged lamps
Chocolate hazelnut butter. That’s it.
Context-appropriate emojis
Starting Aziz Ansari’s Modern Romance
Watching a new Hugh Grant film in 4 parts
Cavity-free dentist appointment
Retail therapy after said dentist appointment
Returning home to a made bed
Rain machines to put me to sleep
Coffee. Err’ day.

Hope your hump day goes without a bump! And if your day has hiccups, tell it to go home, it’s drunk. Start anew, start with the breath, and maybe a bum shouting over classical music will bubble up some levity when small things have us weighed down.

It’s only 11:22 in the morning and my mind is racing. It’s been such a heart and tear-filled morning, and as if my emotions weren’t high already in the gratitude, love, and happiness I’ve been lucky to experience these past few days, this morning was just the icing on the cake.

Though I did not know her, I learned of my friends’ friend who passed away not long ago. As we finished our Friday hill run, tears filled our eyes as we acknowledged the delicacy of life, the value of connection and the impermanence of things great and small. We sniffled as we took a moment to soak it up and most of all, to remember to be kind to one another. What was to be a mad dash home to more dashing around the house to get ready for a full day turned into a slow saunter to Tartine Bakery where I met a new friend. It felt so wrong to head home without taking a moment to live in the moment. So that’s what I did. I got ready for the day with a different intention and a lot more patience (seems to be a theme this week for me). I arrived to work an hour later than usual and as one who is usually the first one in the office, I figured I owed myself this time to spend a morning exactly as I wanted – listening to another’s story, make meaningful eye-contact, light-hearted laughter about date deal-breakers, and enjoy a good cup of coffee.

Last night, I met up with two friends who made me laugh real laughs. I got a text from Date 2 (yes, still going strong!), who I will here on out just call ‘dat date, okay scratch that (been listening to a lot of hip hop this morning)…how about “Date”? Date texted me a sweet message, I ran into a friend from my running group, and enjoyed a Helles beer on a warm San Francisco summer night in a biergarten. With a backseat filled with deconstructed furniture and potted plants, we piled on laps in the car to head home well past my self-set bedtime to wake up semi-rested to my 5:15am alarm. I did not go to bed at a reasonable hour, but I did have blast and wake up in time to run in the dark morning to meet fellow runners en route to our to-be-tackled-hill. Do I get the half-point for being a responsible adult?

Tangent. Queen of those.

I guess what I’m thinking a lot about is how fun life can be when you let it. How it’s super important to be gentle with yourself, and to be gentle with others. You never know what lay behind someone, what lies ahead. All you do know is what lies here. Make it good, make it meaningful, make it anything but fleeting.

Favorite fruit meets favorite foot-wear. Inspired my Michelle’s sock and sandal look, this will be me breaking in my flats. Missing Morocco…

This week has been about little victories.

An endless hunt for black flats started with a failed cyber-search, climaxed at a customer-service-inept Aldo store and ended in the clearance section at DSW with a Calvin Klein pair just my size.

Another cyber-search for the perfect lamp – nothing too grandma’s-couch but also not light-suspended-by-oh-so-chic-contrasting-cord-minimalist either, please. I hop off muni to find not one, but two beautiful (read: heavy) lamps that match the Parisian flair of my room, each with an extending, industrial arm and a beautiful layered base.

I carried these heavy beasts, one in each hand like a human vintage scale walking in my to-still-be-broken-in black flats. Okay so, half-winning. Half in complete pain.

I realize that I often expect things to go right the first time. I expect too often that the black flats will fit perfectly end of story. That even though I found two gorgeous lamps on the corner for free, am bummed that they were missing lampshades. I instead get flustered that this only adds to my to-do list: #127: wear socks with flats around the house to break in shoes and #128 buy/make lampshades #129 figure out how to make a lampshade

The big picture, however, is lost. One of my greatest qualities is that I focus on the details. One of my biggest faults is that I get lost in the details. Very much like my strategic 2-block walk with two lamps and hurting shoes, it’s all about balance. Balancing the joy of discoveries, the happy coincidences, the happenstance events and bringing their downfalls to light with patience and even a bit of humor. I’ll tackle to-do list items #127-129 soon enough. And when I do, it’ll feel great.

The pressure and expectation I put on myself for these things to be as close as perfect as soon as possible take all the pleasure out of the luck of the size 8.5 sale section and the miraculous corner of a beautiful neighborhood. Instead, I’ll dabble on Etsy or meander into a Target in socks-with-flats. It’ll be on my own time, when it feels right and most of all, it’ll be fun.

I may have a few of you out there interested in an update on all things dating and happenstance.

So what’s happn’n? happn.

Funny concept it is to look down at your phone for someone you “crossed paths with” who you could meet for reals in, oh say, real life. The reality of today’s popularity with dating apps (the new dating site) set in when out with some wonderful ladies last night, the first thing out of my friend’s mouth upon entering a bachelor-clad bar was “This is analog tinder.” Is that really what meeting people organically has come down (or swiped right) to? These dating sites are now our reality and the meet-in-life is merely a distant matchmaking great-aunt. Funny even more is that we often chat for a little while (or not, you know who you are) before actually meeting the old-fashioned way for an old-fashioned.

I do think there’s still something to that natural meeting, reaching for the same ripe mango in your local Whole Foods, the guy behind you at your usual coffee place who says “make that two” and then lets the couple-y metaphors ensue before a lifetime of perfect foam and an epic story only to find out he didn’t even really like cappuccinos.

With that said, I’ve had revised thoughts on Date 1 and Date 2 (remember them?). Date 2 “ghosted” me (I learned this word from my mom…thanks, mom. I also got to use the word out-loud for the first time in previously mentioned girls-night to which I received nodding heads of understanding. Guess that’s a thing.) Bummer about Date 2 – a one liner wouldn’t have killed the guy would it? Moving on…

Date 1 and I are going out tonight. This guy really knows how to suggest a date idea that leaves it casual in tone but with the promise of the night being awesome. I’ve been really impressed so far at the diversity and destinations of our dates and getting to know him all the while has been really enjoyable. At the risk of me openly divulging my blog’s website after a cocktail (that’s all it takes these days coming back from Morocco), I’ll leave it at that for now. More to come.

Point being, this whole happn dating thing, though I want to bash it and make some over-arching statement about how it’s promoting disconnection from our surroundings and the people we could potentially encounter by looking up not down (and to some extent this is true, I will also say that if happn is finding ways to connect you with people you cross daily, why not create that liaison and meet someone you may be passing on the other side of the sidewalk unknowingly. Maybe that right person is just a turn-style away – only two seconds ahead to catch the earlier train, but you never meet (you probably catch the later train texting your best friend about a previous happn date – just me?)

Fun to think about, really. And fun to write about, let me tell ya.

I’ve got to figure out what my style is, how I choose to connect to people and what I’m looking for. In the meantime, this stuff is fun, it’s getting me back out in the dating pool (new app idea? or reality tv show? ew.) and in the meantime, life happns.

Taking a bit of inspiration from my favorite tutu-donning, does-single-right lady, Carrie Bradshaw, I thought I’d take a moment to reflect on this weekend’s happenings and try my hand at blogging with rhetorical questions and big-city wonders.

Having recently re-entered the dating pool, my entrance was like a slightly over-ambitious, well-intentioned swan dive that overall had great form with some room for improvement. Let me elaborate.

For the sake of privacy, we’ll call these guys Date 1 and Date 2. Date 1 besides reaching an all-time record for patience and understanding, was the kind of date where the time passes without you knowing it. A weekend before after having my phone stolen, I did not show for our penciled-in date since I had no way of confirming time and place. A bit of a belly-flop impression but he agreed to a do-over. We witnessed both the setting up and taking away of table candles not once checking the time. We hopped in Ubers and agreed to ‘do it again sometime.’ Bonus points for a driver who was the most smiley and complimentary man, introducing me to the Polish couple in the backseat and informing me that they had only been in SF for 5 months. I was happy for them, I really was. Not to mention a whole lot happier in general after being asked to feel James’ energy when we shook hands goodbye and after a 5-hour date that gave me a little hope that I could do this whole single thing after all.

Date 2 walked into a bar I had wanted to visit since moving to SF five years ago right away exuded a friendly disposition I knew I’d connect with. Here’s where the swan dive created a bit of a splash. In one date, I had managed to be his first ‘high-five’ and elbow nudge in the phone-app dating world. There goes my nerd-preservation. The fact that he could point this out to me and make fun of me in a cute way made him a bit more attractive and me a bit more red in the face. Could I tone down the quirk just a notch or two? Nah. It’s okay though, I think I made up for it by ordering a drink off the “Spirituous” menu consisting mostly of bourbon which I think held its own next to his gin and floral concoction.

Though my week felt more like a cannonball into the dating world, hitting it off with a splash and entering into it pretty quickly from the sidelines, I think the judges give it 4 stars! With a heart still mending, we’ll see where this swim takes me but it is nice to dip a toe into the water again. I couldn’t help but wonder, how does a fish out of water navigate the tides again? Are we done with the swimming analogies yet?

It dawned on me that dating and all the stuff that comes with it: over-analyzing everything text messages, ambiguity, emoji decoding and that fuzzy line between casual and genuine interest feels a lot like apartment hunting. I don’t text my landlord thank goodness but there are definite parallels in the search, competition, seeking mutual interest, not settling, and ultimately finding that perfect place for wherever you are in life. Sometimes all I want to do is bake cookies and leave them on the doorstep then think better of it (and probably resort to a high-five to show how cool I am. Subtle). We question the deals lost, maybe we’re outbid, maybe all signs point to yes then something falls through last minute, and then maybe one day it’s a perfect match – or at least the perfect match for right now.

If nothing else, this week’s experiences have made me have a little more faith in the prospect that there are other fish in the sea (did I just do that?) and opened my eyes to the possibility of connecting with someone else again. I’m trying to have fun while most importantly, staying true to myself.

Self-five.