Plaid can provide great camouflage when hiding from menfolk.

So, life seems to have a way of bouncing you back in forth when you’re trying to move past something painful. Sometimes it’s hard to wake up in the morning knowing that every day can end up going either way. You could have an amazing day full of new beginnings, or something could trigger the pain bubble and send you spiraling to a point of minor despair. But if you get the courage to tumble out of bed and put your best foot forward, every day can yield a lesson. If you’re open to it, you can change yourself and change your behavior because of that lesson. Growth can only really happen if you make the decision to move forward and stay open.

I saw an episode of a sitcom the other day, and one of the characters made the point that you can do one of two things after a break up. You can throw yourself into work, bettering yourself and moving forward with your career. Or you can move on by getting back out there and playing the field. I don’t think that one way is better than the other, but I tend to agree that this is generally how people react after a break up.

At first, I really thought it was necessary to do both. I really thought I should better myself, heal, take my career to the next level, travel, study yoga and comedy, take care of a stranger’s home in a strange land and… date.

I thought that in order to move on, you had to start dating. I mean, when your ex moves on, you should too. And that means that you need to begin going on dates. So despite my real feelings about the whole idea of dating right now (I abhorred it), I assumed it was a necessary part of getting on with my life.

So I did it. I started dating. I internet dated. I went on dates with people I’d met in the real world. I went on a date with an artist, a yogi, a photographer, a student, and a software engineer. I was talking to several dudes that I never had the time to meet. My phone was blowing up like a call girl with an ad in Vegas newspaper. I was keeping busy, and it was all pretty exciting and then… Boom!

After a decent second date with a decent guy that ended in a decent second make out session, I woke up and tumbled out of my bed with the feeling of despair for the second time. This guy was great, but I kept getting this feeling that I didn’t want anything to do with it. I didn’t want to convince someone else that I’m worthwhile to date and hear all of the reasons why they’re worthwhile to date. I didn’t want to move past my baggage and his baggage. I’m just not interested. There are too many awesome things going on in my life right now.

My job is fantastic. I love the people I get to work with and the work I get to do. I love having the freedom to get up and follow my dreams and my whims, wherever they may lead me. So, I’m done dating and I’m moving on in my own way. Looks like that will take us into the mountains this time. More on that next week… Stay tuned!

 

 

 

Everything is perfect. It’s an early morning in Chicago and it’s, yet again, unseasonably warm. I wake up in what seems like a John Mayer music video, minus the John Mayer part, and I’m okay with that. I’ve been at this house sit for a few days and I’m trying desperately to get out of the funk that I was in last week in order to enjoy this to the fullest. I mean, looking around I can’t really believe that I’m here, just a few months ago, I was sitting in my parents place, afraid of where I would end up, afraid of being alone.

I stretch and tumble out of bed, ruffle the hair on Hayley’s head (the lovely house sit collie) and notice the sunshine pouring in as I make a pot of tea. I fry an egg and throw it on a bed of polenta and start taking pictures to test the light for future food pictures for my vegan recipe blog. It’s beautiful.

Hayley and I ramble around the neighborhood, snuggle on the couch. I read, enjoy the quiet, put on dubstep, dance like a crazy person. I wander over into an industrial district and climb the stairs to a light-flooded yoga studio. I stretch and hold and move forward and learn about my body and feel myself begin to mend. Then I sit down here and try to figure out how to put it all into words.

My ego was damaged last week. It hurt to be toyed with, but in the end, everything I felt last week, a few months ago, last night, I realize that I made myself feel that way. I made myself afraid. I made myself feel unwanted and unloved. I made myself  fear that I would never have a better existence than the dysfunctional one that I knew so well. But when I think about how lucky I am that I fell into this place at a time when I so desperately needed to heal, well, I can’t help but let all of my fear drop to the floor and become excited about the future. I mean, look at this place.

snow patrol:make this go on forever

Hola Inbetweenies! I’ll get back to my normal goofy and jazzed-for-everything-about-life self next week. Right now, I have some things to get off my chest. Is this going to be like that time when I listened to Sea Change and talked about living in purgatory? No… Okay. Maybe a little bit.

It just seems that every time I finally start feeling better, and I’m getting excited about the world that’s becoming my own, I get smacked with a new version of the old bag of tricks. He contacts me to say that he wants to forgive me, bury the hatchet; that he wants to say sorry, even though he never really says it. In the end, days later, when I realize I let him beat me down once again, I also realize that there is no fixing this anymore.

There’s no going back to the way I felt when I was that administrative assistant who fell in love with his easy charm. It’s time to surrender and step away. There’s no way a person who holds such anger for me could be a part of my life. Friends? Forgiveness? Love? These are just words. It’s apparent that we can’t live any of these things with each other.

Over. That’s the only word that fits right now. It’s the only one that feels right. We could spend weeks throwing around blame, but it’s just done. So let’s just let it be done. Let’s act like grown ups about it, and move along on our separate paths.

I’m open to all of the signs that are pointing the way while I walk in this new direction. I listen for truth and feel my way. I am present on this journey and I see the brightness in it. I never feel like I’m walking in the dark, because at every turn, things seem to become more illuminated.

I feel every step. I’ve taken the blindfolds from my feet and I see the path from the arch, heel, sole and soul.  And with every step, I gain more purpose, more focus. I gather goals and reset the course. With every step, I feel that this was the right thing to do. I made a choice to live my life in constant transition for awhile, and I live in the consequences. Some of them are beautiful, some of them are challenging. Once this is truly over, I know my steps will be lighter. When the past stops pulling at me, pretending to be the present, I’ll finally be free.

I had this thought this morning in the shower, after I sent the message that will finally end it all: I fantasize about the day when I see your face and can walk away. I’m smiling and so are you. I laugh and turn away. You laugh and let me go.

Perhaps it’s just a fantasy. Only time will tell.

yoga after climbing

New Year, New Yoga!

 

Hello In Betweeners! Happy New Year! This is so exciting! I’d like to tell you a little about my amazing New Years Eve experience. It was one of those beautiful days that will shape the rest of my year. Here’s what went down:

Yesterday, I headed to Chicago for my Second City orientation. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Second City, it’s a world famous sketch comedy school. It’s where Tina Fey, Jim Belushi, and Bill Murray (among many, many other comedic geniuses) have studied. Walking in those doors, I figured I was in for a sarcastic, joke filled, “pick on an audience member” kind of orientation. I mean, it’s a comedy school, aren’t they supposed to be all about making fun?

I never really thought about the term “making fun” but that’s exactly what they do at Second City. They make life fun. That place is about pure surrender and joy. It’s also about togetherness, community, and creativity. It just so happens that this highly enlightened group of individuals works within the parameters of comedy sketches. I knew I was drawn to this place for a reason, but I had no idea that it was going to jive with the path I was already on in such a meaningful way. I figured I would learn how to write a few jokes and that I would learn how to make fun of the world. I never imagined that I was going to be learning how to make fun in the world. Score!

Then, I went on to one of the most memorable and life enhancing New Years Eve nights that I have ever experienced. Instead of spending my new year drinking too much, kissing a stranger, feeling gross about it, and starting off the year with a massive hangover, I cashed in my chips and signed up for a NYE gathering at a yoga studio I had never been before called Turbodog Yoga. They teach Forrest yoga, which I had never practiced before. It’s amazing. It’s a practice that’s devoted to personal growth. The lovely instructors were very hands on. They use their hands to instruct the air in your body where to go and making a ton of adjustments while they teach you about your body. Double score!

After practice, we had an amazing pot luck picnic and moved onto an intention and goal setting ceremony that was out of this world. It not only aligned me with what I want to do in the coming year, it also gave me a new sense of power and joy that I’m really spreading around today. We used ceremony to determine our goals, their implications, the things that usually block us from achieving goals and we made concrete plans to fully realize our goals and intentions.

It was awesome! And I have so much more to tell you… but alas, we’re out of time again. Bah! P.S. Does anyone know how to make more time?

How was your NYE? What are your goals for the new year?

From the balcony at Luna's

Happy Solstice everyone! I reeeeeally reaaaally reaaally want to talk about what’s going on right now, but I’m a charming, sweet and lovely lady of my word so I’ll carry on with ye old Panama Update. I’m going to have to figure out how to either slow down time, or be less awesome in the future, because we’re weeks behind on real time now and I’m already onto new things that I’d like to talk about. C’est la vie. Let’s do this.

So, when we left off, we dropped the super eccentric Linda at the airport to fly back to Georgia for the holidays. I still had 7 days in Panama City to play around with, so I headed over to the enchanted Luna’s Castle to see what was up with the whole staying in a hostel thing.

I don’t know about you, but when I was young, I dreamed about backpacking around the world, staying in hostels, and lying around in hammocks all the live long day. But I never did it, until I took this year off. That’s what this year is about folks, making dreams come true.

Like most dreams and fantasies, it was everything and nothing like I imagined it would be. In a nutshell, it was:

  • communal living
  • falling in love every four hours
  • meeting fantastic people
  • taking fantastic spur of the moment trips to tropical island raves where bonding with said fantastic people took place
  • too short
  • exhausting
  • warm
  • rainy
  • beautiful
I know that’s a cruddy nutshell telling of the tale, but hopefully we can loop back around to it later in this year. Maybe something will make it relevant to tell a tale from the journey. We will see.

I’m realizing every day that this year off, isn’t really a year off in the truest sense of the word. I’m not relaxing for months at a time. I still have a few responsibilities. But I took off for a year. I quit my old life. And I did it for the same reason that most people do it, to find myself, to understand who I am and what I need to do in this crazy world.

It’s more about doing the most with the hand I’ve been dealt, exploring the land around me (wherever that may be), growth, understanding, realizing my dreams, developing my vegan food blog, and love. Mostly about love. I’ll wake up every day just to fall in love with every moment of it. If it turns out that I’ve missed the point, I’m okay with that.

So, I’ve found Chicago. It was right under my nose the whole time. I’ll be here for a few months this winter taking classes at The Second City and learning how to make people laugh. It has one of the best online colleges for clowns and misc. jokers, but I decided to do the whole thing in person. While I’m here, I’ve been hanging out with an amazing Chicago comic artist and catching up with some old friends. I hope you all have some amazing and relaxing holidays. See you next week!

 

 

It seems like there’s too much time in between these posts. The last post was about the flight to Panama. I touched down safely on American soil a few days ago and I’ve been settling back into winter and home life.  That’s a huge gap.

So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to give a quick update that includes every single thing that happened in the last few weeks from the time the plane landed in Panama to this very moment (okay… I’ll just give you the highlights). I’ll try to come back to highlight the highlights and explain in detail how amazing/relevant/fun or enlightening they were in later posts, but this year is moving so quickly I’m not sure if I’ll ever have a boring week to get reminiscent in… here’s to hoping.

  1. First day? Flat tire in Panama City at 3 a.m.
  2. Linda. Oh Linda, there’s so much to say about this woman. Linda deserves a post of her own. That one is going to happen next week. Possibly tomorrow. For now, I’ll just tell you that Linda’s the kind of woman whose 19 year old cat rides in first class on international flights.
  3. Peanut butter and banana sandwiches. That’s pretty much what I lived on for six days. It’s way more awesome than it sounds.
  4. Stayed next to Nombre De Dios which is where Columbus ran into the Americas. It translates to “Name of God.” Linda said that when Columbus hit Panama, he took one look around and said, “What in the name of god is this place?” I’m sure that’s totally historically accurate.
  5. Meditation and yoga on the beach for 6 days. Seriously, you have no idea how long I focused on the left upper corner of this rock…  Or how long I sat on this stump with my eyes closed… 
  6. Worked out of a screened in cabana on the beach. Fudge. That was awesome. Here’s a picture.
  7. Pomeranian guard posse in the jungle. There were about ten of them that would gather on the roof when anyone walked by… Here’s a picture of that too. 

Panamas jungles are green. The air hangs about you during the day and it smells like warm mixture of pine, palm and marijuana. When you’re on the equator, you’re pushed up to the heavens. You’re literally closer to the sun, moon and stars. There’s something about this area that both roots you to the earth and pulls your mind to the sky. In the quiet rhythm of the sea, I was able to experience mental silence. In the thin veil of wet air, I was able to exist without thought. With my feet scraping up against the dead reef, I was able to become mesmerized with the space in between the stars, instead of the stars themselves.

And there we are. Once again, I’ve been too wordy to fit it all into one post and we’re out of time. I need to get back to work. What do I do? I’m a CIA agent. What? You thought I was a smelly hippie? How. dare. you. I might just hunt you down and challenge you to a dual. And when I slap you with my fair trade, hemp mitten, you sir, will be sorry.

So stay tuned for next week’s Panama post. We’ll head over to Luna’s castle, meet some amazing people, and then we’ll impulsively hop in a car with a bunch of strangers to an electronica festival on a tropical island. For reals.

 

One beautiful flight, one flat tire, one day later, and I was delivered to this place.

Hello everyone! I’ll probably end up posting all of this after the fact, because I’m in the jungle and the internet out here is suuuper spotty. I finally made it to Panama after talking about it nonstop for weeks. It’s like nothing I could have imagined and this trip has been truly beautiful. Unfortunately, I’m going to stretch this out a bit, because there have been so many amazing things about this trip that I can’t fit the past four days into just one post. This week, I want to share the plane ride down to Panama with you. I know that you usually don’t talk about the plane ride as part of the journey, but it had the grandest element of what I’m calling, “serentripity.” It’s like serendipity or fate, only it happens when you’re travelling. New words!

11/30
I walked onto the plane and made some jokes to myself about communism and human trafficking and how similar those things are to flying Spirit Airlines. My ticket said 8A. It was a window seat and it was occupied by an old woman who wouldn’t look me in the eye when I stopped to figure out where .

A lovely young man accross the aisle asked if I would like to sit next to him instead, and seeing how he was a gorgeous latin dude with a huge smile and easy demeanor, I figured, “Hells yes.” But I didn’t say that because “hells yes” sounds so… well it sounds like you’re saying “hells yes.”

An old man sat down beside us and introduced himself as Frank. Well, maybe he didn’t introduce himself then, but we came to know him as Frank somewhere along the way.

I know that David didn’t introduce himself right away. It took awhile for us to get to that point. We started talking about everything and nothing and I soon realized that there was something going on beyond airplane small talk. David is surely young. He looks like he’s just out of high school at a ripe 21 years of age, but he’s a beautifully intelligent and well traveled soul. He was originally from Venezuela and spoke English, Spanish, Hebrew and a number of other languages if I remember correctly. Frank revealed later that he was 85 years old, which is unbelievable. The man is so lively and incredibally sharp. He can operate a smartphone like it’s nobody’s business.

Both David and Frank’s eyes sparkled when they spoke about anything. It seemed that they were both passionate about everything. It wasn’t hard to realize almost immediately that there was something different about this journey.

David sat between Frank and I and he helped call the stewardess over so that Frank could get some Coke and M&M’s. He then took the blame when the stewardess annoyingly told him that there was no need to press the call button. It was a sweet moment.

David kept asking Frank questions and after a short amount of time, Frank was regaling us with stories and jokes for the rest of the plane ride. This was my favorite story told from Frank’s perspective:

When I was young, I played hookey a lot (we explained the phrase ‘play hookey’ to David). And one day I went to school and the teacher, she asked me, “Frank, who wrote the Declaration of Independance?”

And I said, “I don’t know.”

And she kept on and said, “Who wrote the Declaration of Independance?”

And I said, “I don’t know.”

She asked me three or four more times and I still didn’t know, so she said that I had to bring my father into the school the next day so that she could speak to him. I went home and explained to my dad that he would have to come to school, or they wouldn’t let me come back.
The next day, my father came with me to school and the teacher said, “Sir, your son says he can’t tell me who wrote the Declaration of Independance.”

And my dad looked at me and said, “Son. We might be poor, but we’re not liars. If you wrote that thing, you better fess up!”

We all laughed, and laughed, and laughed. I still laugh as I write it down days later. It was just such a sweet moment. More than that. It was a collection of many sweet moments.

Frank started talking about one of his favorite old sandwich shops in Chicago and it turned out that David lived right above it. So David asked Frank out the next time he was in Chicago and I invited myself along. We exchanged information and I rushed off to meet my connecting flight to Panama City. David went off to a meeting in Miami. And Frank went back to his home in Fort Lauderdale. I wonder if they all thought about our encounter in the moments after.

I know I did. As we lifted off, I watched the light from Miami pouring over the black coast and into the sky. Rising above, I stared down at the grid of lights and tried to put everything into a place in my memory. As we reached the hieght of night, I realized that there were too many special moments, too many things that David told me to write down, too many fables and tips from Frank. So I picked a few and allowed the rest to dissolve like street light absorbed by the night sky.

Next time on A Year In Between: Jungle, beach, Panama City, stuff, things, travel, etc… Stay tuned.

Hello Everyone!


This is my first post on the road (kinda). I’m really thankful that I switched up the soundtrack last week, because it’s made a world of difference in my outlook. Right now, I’m back in the place that I used to call home and I get the opportunity to see it in a whole new light. This weekend, while I’m visiting my family for thanksgiving, I’m trying to do all of the things that I used to love doing in Fayetteville and I’m also trying to pack in all of the things that I always wanted to do, but never accomplished.


So far, I’ve hiked on my favorite Ozark trail, spent time with my perfect and beautiful nephew, and I ordered something I always wanted to try at my favorite restaurant, where they only serve different types of grilled cheese. I had tried every single one except for one and now, I’ve got them all under my belt. Now that you know that, you totally “get” me. It’s true. I’m a most of the time vegan that suffers from an intense grilled cheese addiction.


When I started writing this post, I glanced down at the menu in my favorite coffee shop in town. I scanned it, I saw it, and I knew what I had to do. I had to order the Dean Martini. I had no other choice.


Now, for those of you who don’t know, I’ve become sort of a health nut lately. I don’t drink very often or very much and I most certainly don’t drink when I’m alone or when I’m writing. I also quit smoking awhile back and I’m really enjoying my new lungs and healthy body. I know that smoking is awful for you. And I know that drinking can be lame and unhealthy. But, you don’t understand. I have ALWAYS wanted to try the Dean Martini.


You may be asking yourself, “What is the big deal about this Dean Martini?”

Let me tell you about it. The Dean Martini is more than just a drink… It’s a Bombay sapphire martini served with a book of matches and a Lucky cigarette. It is certifiably the most bada** drink that has probably ever existed. It’s an idea. It’s glamour at it’s finest. It’s been staring me down every time I’ve been in this coffee shop and I’ve been saying, “No, you’re too expensive/not good for me. I’ll regret you. I’ll order you some other time.” Screw it. I’m doing it.
Okay, now that I ordered it, and it’s sitting at my table, I realize that it’s really just a strong drink and a cigarette. But  I’m going to enjoy it. And I’m going to make sure that I don’t regret it. I’m loving every sip of gin soaked goodness and I’m going to enjoy every puff on the cigarette. Even if it’s not quite worth it ($10 for a drink and a cigarette?! That’s a night in a hostel), at least I’ve tried it and now I can move on without wondering.


Oh man, that’s a year in between lesson if there ever was one. There’s such a thing as self-control, but there’s something else too. There’s the balance between that and discovery. And you know what? It feels good.


What’s the one thing that you know is bad for you but that you’ve always wanted to try? Perhaps you’ve been dreaming about a tattoo? Maybe, like me, you’ve been seduced by a menu item that’s been calling to you… tell me about it!


As always, thanks for stopping by!


-Corinne


p.s. It was totally worth it!


I was right about that first sentence of that last post. It is a BAD idea to listen to Sea Change in the middle of the evening, especially in the early winter when the sun is setting too soon and cold creeps in your room at night, and you feel all alone. So alone, in fact, that you begin grasping in front of you for something that’s already passed you by. So it’s time to make a key change, to switch the soundtrack. I’m going with my old faithful uplifting album: Wookiefoot’s Be Fearless and Play.

I’ve decided to skip that whole waiting part, because my heart and mind agree that it’s just not something that works for me. Putting my fate in someone else’s hands just doesn’t feel right. Come on, this year is about fearlessness. It’s about strength. I’m not going to start it out being afraid of being alone, because I have to admit, that’s what last week’s ‘episode’ was really about. And I’m certainly not going to wait around for someone to figure out if I’m worth it. I’ve never been more sure of my own worth than I am right now. And that’s some independence and self reliance shiz for you this morning!

But I’m not alone. I’ve got peeps. I’ve got hella peeps. I love new peeps who allow me to be the person that I’m becoming. I love old peeps who know my roots and have stopped trying to figure out why I do the odd things I do. I love the peeps I haven’t met yet (especially the peeps at Luna’s Castle… they seem like some cool vagabond peeps). I love the peepsyou put in the microwave until they look like full sized chickens.

That’s enough about peeps. I’m deep in the thralls of preparing for my Central American journey to Panama. Well, deep in the thralls is a little overboard. I’m putting a toe in the water. I’m going to set some pre-travel goals and in the next post, I’ll let you know how well that went.

 

  1. Get as physically fit as possible in the next few weeks.
  2. Learn the basic mechanics of the Spanish language. Maybe there’s an online course that will teach me fluency in two weeks flat. I’m sure those exist.
  3. Get a backpack.
  4. Get a Spanish phrase book.
  5. Get a money belt.
  6. Work, work, work, work. So I’ll have some extra time to pretend like I’m Dora when I’m in Panama…. What do you mean Dora, who? The explorer. She has a talking backpack. She speaks Spanish.  Ooh, that gives me a good idea…
  7. Watch Dora the explorer to learn important Spanish phrases.

Alright, I’m going to get on all of that. What do you do when you’re getting ready for a big international trip?

Let me know. Again, thanks for stopping by!

-Corinne

It’s usually a bad idea to listen to the Sea Change album by Beck in the middle of the evening. It’s usually reserved for late night, post-breakup, crying jags. But I just downloaded it again and pushed play without thinking. I promise you all that I’m not really the negative Nancy type.

This blog is about what I’m doing, and since I’m not doing anything at the moment, I’m going to make it about how I’m feeling for just this one post. This might be the post you want to skip. I understand that. Skip away. I’m just going to take a moment to talk about that space in between the end of the relationship and the moment when it’s really over or when it comes back together.

A huge part of my year in between is influenced by the fact that me and my boyfriend just took a trip to splitsville and it doesn’t look like we’re ever going to make it back. A huge part of me wants to give it another go. But another part of me is okay with the fact that it probably won’t happen.
I’ve got a trip planned to head back to Fayetteville for a few short days, and those days will be telling to say the least. They will be life changing, at any rate. Either we work it out, and I head back to Arkansas and make that my home base once again, or we don’t. In which case, I’ll probably jet around the world and back in an attempt to clear my mind and start moving forward. It’s going to be a tough one to get over. I say that because I feel it more every day.
Fortunately for me, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’m armed with Beck, Bon Iver, Eliot Smith, Ray Lemontagne, Fiona Apple, and a strategically planned trip to Panama. I’ll be headed out two days after I get back from seeing him. If our relationship doesn’t work out, I’ll be off to a tropical environment filled with sunshine, cheap beer, five dollar manicures, creative tattoo artists and free pancake breakfasts. It sounds like a place of new beginnings.
If it does work out, I’ll tie up my loose ends, find an apartment and head back down. Either way, this is the way I look at it: I’m going to be in love again. It will inevitably happen. But this period of not being able to detach or reattach; it’s the most gut clinging, soul spitting, esophagus burning feeling. I just want it to be over. I want it to be over now.
Unlike Beck, Bon Iver or Fiona Apple, this isn’t necessarily the best creative jumping point for me. I’m just a sad sack with a shrunken vocabulary and wounded ego. This purgatory is so much worse than any kind of hell. If I were in hell, I could adjust and get used to the heat. But I’m hanging here in the balance, knowing that a change is coming. Waiting. Waiting. Hanging. Wondering. Waiting.
At any rate, it will be over soon in the scheme of grand things, and I will know what will become of this mess. Until then, I’m beginning my year in between in the place in between. Perhaps it’s fitting. I’ll let you know at the end of the year.
-Corinne