Just Sit Down, Already

Fomo is very real & very dangerous

Thanks to my mom's handiwork, my immune system is top notch. I proudly dodge flu season like any daughter of a nurse would. That is, until this past month. While I'd like to blame it all on New York's super germ-riddled Subways, I know the real reason was my own damn self.

I spent my first month-and-a-half in New York working full-time, often coming home after 10 p.m., and commuting more than two hours a day. Looking for a city guide and grateful for company, I even entered the dating world. If I was invited to an art opening or rooftop after party, I was there. I missed nothing. It was thrilling. It was tiring.

I never once thought that I would move to New York to become a mum homebody, but I never planned on being out six of seven nights a week, either.

Then, the ultimate betrayal came. My throat started itching. Next: the sneezing and the aching. My voice turned raspy, and not the sexy Scarlett Johansson kind. I sounded bad and felt worse. As I was going through boxes of tissue and replaying my mom's warnings, I was thinking, "this could have all been avoided if I just sat the hell down."

I never once thought that I would move to New York to become a mum homebody, but I never planned on being out six of seven nights a week, either. There were days when I was only home to shower, sleep and walk my dog. FOMO is real, and it literally made me sick.

Knowing that new experiences were just a few subway stops away from me made it hard to accept that I could not simply spend nine hours at work, commute an hour home, do a rushed change and head back out for the night. But since being sick reduced me to a sniveling sob, I've come to terms with it.

For the sake of my health and well-being, I'll be saying no to more things. I won't try to squeeze a date in after work and before doing laundry, no matter how great that little restaurant in Park Slope is. I'll have to pass on that open bar, even though free alcohol is just what I need after work. And I won't, for the love of god, get that sick ever again.

One such night: Still sick, I'd worked all day, went to a concert and had dinner, getting home at 2 a.m., only to be up for 8 a.m. 

Making It Here

It's electric, it's brash, it's the city that never sleeps – It's New York, Baby.

I spent ten southern years plotting my way back to New York, and by god, here I am. I've had a few Mary Tyler Moore moments walking through the city, popping into my favorite bodega for fresh flowers and actually making my way around without getting on the lost on the subway.

But just beneath those really great moments is this: a pestering voice asking, "So you're here. Now what?" That voice, though condescending, has a point. I don't want simply moving here to be my greatest accomplishment. I want to do more. I came to do more.

It just seems that more is taking its sweet ol' time to get to me, or rather, me to it.

"I don't want simply moving here to be my greatest accomplishment. I want to do more. I came to do more."

Moving to New York was instant gratification. I wanted to do it, and with one plane ticket, I did – no depending on luck or time. It happened as soon as I decided I wanted it to happen. For someone who is as horribly impatient as I am, it was perfect. I'm only now processing that everything else about being here won't be that way.

New York is a hard city for many, and I try to remind myself of that whenever the voice gets too loud for comfort. I have a more than affordable place to live and a job – that's more than a lot of people can say for themselves when they first come here.

Since time seems to be my biggest enemy, it helps to look at things this way: I've been a college graduate for a month and I've only been an official New York resident for about a week. A little patience would do me some good.

2015 dreaming

I don't know when making New Year's Resolutions became a thing to make fun of, because honestly, I like them. The possibility for positive change is exciting. Who doesn't want to become a better person?

This year I'll be 24. That's one year away from 25, which is what I believe to be the true, bonafide age of adulthood. In anticipation for that, I need to get my s**t together. 

These resolutions (fingers crossed) will get me closer to that goal. Cheers 2015! 

                          2015 Resolutions, Goals & Dreams                          

career | graduate college  

Once I graduate this year, I feel like the world will open up to me. Maybe it's naive with all the poor job market talk, but I feel like my career is out there waiting for me.

health | regular check ups  

I am making it my goal to set up regular doctor's appointments, and not just go if something seems wrong. Our health shouldn't be taken for granted. 

health | better diet 

In 2014 I made it a goal to cook more and eat out less, and I did it. This year, I want to cook with more fresh and nutrient rich ingredients. 

 life | exercise classes 

Hands down, I feel better when I moving. I've taken a few Zumba classes, but not regularly. This year I want to try a cultural dance class, a yoga class or a burlesque dance class. Maybe all three!

life | move to cali 

I've always been open to moving after college, I just always thought it'd be back to New York. After visiting L.A., I can see a chapter of my life being there. 

travel | cruise & New Orleans 

Oh, to be out at sea, getting my tan on, sipping a mai tai with friends. As you can see, I'm ready for a cruise. I've also wanted to visit New Orleans for as long as I can remember. It's so rich with history, and let's not get started on the food.

life | general goals

These are some that I have every year: read & write more, have better time management, explore Atlanta with my friends, spend less & save more. 

_______

Overall, I really just want to see growth within myself. I don't want my life to be a passing of days. I want to have something to show for every day, month and year I'm out here in the world. I mean, if I'm going to have get older, I might as well be getting better, right?

photos by Kaye McCoy

long distance relationships

I've never thought I'd see the day I'd be the other half of a long distance relationship. I wouldn't even consider getting involved with someone if I couldn't see them regularly. But, in about a week, I will be losing my boyfriend to California -- an entirely different coast, time zone and world. 

Fun fact: California is 36 hours away from Georgia. That's 2453 miles. Driving would take about three days and a plane tickets costs about $500. What that means is that I am totally freaking out. 

I've looked at my situation two ways, trying to figure out what I'm getting myself into:  the optimist vs. the realist.

The optimist says, "This'll make your relationship stronger. There are plenty of ways to keep in touch.The time difference isn't so bad. People do this all the time. It's not that big of a deal. Now you'll have more time to spend with your friends! You won't be sad and lonely nearly as much as you think. Plus, absence makes the heart grow fonder."

The realist (okay, pessimist) says, "Long distance relationships never work. Will your schedules ever align? How do you know what's really going on? What happens when you want to cuddle (this is a legitimate concern, btw)? What if he meets someone? What if you meet someone? You're so young anyway. Maybe this is a good time to take a break and figure out more about yourself."

As you can see, it's a real battle in my head these days. 

I've spent the last four years of my life being secure in my relationship and enjoying the small, daily moments. My comfortable routine will be gone. I'm not sure what it'll be like, and really, I think that's my biggest fear. I don't know what's going to happen. Period. 

I'll just have to wait and see how things unravel. If you guys have any words of advice for situation I'm in, please, help a girl out. 

get it together

Being outside is good for you, (or so I've heard) especially on a day that's in the mid-70's and sunny. On one such day, I decided it was the perfect time to pick back up my dropped "workout regimen." I found my way to picturesque town square and was able to kill 3 birds with one stone. I bought a pair of shoes that I'd been drooling over from one of their shops, got a hold of the best frozen treat in the world,  and finally did what I went there for: burned some calories in the great outdoors.
 

While I was fast walking (I don't run) laps on the trail of the square, I took the time to do some people watching. There were families on the green picnicking, a couple making out in a hammock, giggling children running through the fountain and groups of friends lunching. This was their life.

And there I was. Walking around a track, watching on, headphones in, smiling like a creep at the children who would jump out in front of me. My immediate thoughts were: I want this to be my life. I want to feel like this all the time. I need to get it together. 


I wondered, what do I have to do to make it to this point in life?  Do I just need more money? How do I get that? Do I just graduate college and get a job? Is that getting it together? Is that how I make my life feel like this sunny day in the park?  I was really wracking my brain for answers. I still sort of am.

The one thing I concluded though, is that everyone's path to getting it together is different, but the outcome is the same: happiness.  Now I just have to figure how to get it together, for myself. More to-do lists maybe? Maybe doing my research project before the day that its due is start? Or how about not skipping out on my daily walks, perhaps? Help me out here.

the quick & dirty

I'm gonna cut straight to the chase here: I'm Audrey. And, I'm also Lulu Linden. And no, I don't have multiple personality disorder (not clinically). And yes, I have definitely had a blog before. But, I got bored with it. Well, mostly with the idea of being a "style blogger." Don't misquote me here, though. I love style -- LOVE IT. But as a growing human being, I learned that on any given day I could be interested in a number of things. Not just what shoes matches what purse, ya' know?

And that realization is what birthed this new blog. 

Best believe there will be shoes and purses, but there will also be musings on juice cleanses, long-winded rants, new books, failed DIY's and general glimpses into what life's like for a girl trying to become a Beyonce in world full of Miley Cyruses. (No shade, no tea, she's making money). 

So there! That's the quick and dirty of it. The nitty-gritty. The official intro to what I'll be blabbing about on your social medias from here on out. Be prepared (sing that in the voice of Scar from the Lion King)!

head vs. heart

It's a battle as old as time, the one between head and heart, primarily as it concerns romantic relationships. Luckily for me, I settled that particular battle a long time ago. When it comes to matters of romance neither organs have a say. I decide on using what really matters - a calculator and a checkbook.

Ha. Just kidding guys. I wish I had the wiring to be a gold-digger. Life would be void of love but filled with things! Oh, the glorious things! Where the real fight between head and heart happens for me is in the tricky realm of future aspirations. Simply put, what is it that I want to do with my life? 

What will be my verb? "Hi, I'm Audrey and I'm a _______________." You know when you're young and what you believe you have the capacity for is limitless? "I want to be a ballerina! I want to be a zookeeper!

I've noticed that the older I've gotten, the more I've limited myself. And that's not just me. It's a lot of us and we all do it with the reasoning of being realistic. Our heads love to steer us towards realistic goals luring us with the idea that they're safer, better. All of my decisions made under that reasoning leave me feeling half-fulfilled.

I've always wanted to write. If you were to ask 9-year-old Audrey what she wanted to be, after yelling "a Spice girl," she'd say "I want to write!" And between then and now there were a few deviations: a fashion designer, an interior designer, a psychologist, a social worker, until I finally settled on journalist. 

I chose journalism as my "verb" because I figured it was the most realistic application of what I really wanted to do - write. And I loved it. I still love it. But the fact remains that my head warped what I really wanted to do into something else for the sake of safety (which is kind of funny because journalism has been called a dying profession, so there goes my safe job).

Our hearts are risky little devils. They yell at us to do things that our brains absolutely do not understand. And our brains are conditioned by the world to want to keep us safe, so you can't be so angry at the little bugger for trying to keep you in a safe bubble. But there's destruction in allowing our heads to always win.

The more we let our heads override our hearts, the less our hearts speak up until one day we're not really even sure of what it is we want anymore. And that is the worst. I'd rather be a person sure and passionate of the fact that I want to do something risky than someone who is absolutely undecided and therefore settles for the first average option that presents itself. Or so I've recently discovered.

I can't say I came upon this grand epiphany on my own though. Two summers ago a older man in a Goodwill recommended that I buy The Alchemist when he saw me eyeing the used books. While it freaked me out that this stranger was talking to me, I bought the book and only ended up reading it this past summer.

So to that guy, thank you. And to you all (all 5 of you who will read this) pick up the book and start letting your heart win.