Magic Marfa

Last weekend, my little fledgling family made the tedious trip from DC to Atlanta to El Paso to a little art town in the middle of nowhere, Texas, that you've undoubtably heard of by now, especially for the Prada installation that was recently defaced. Marfa. Look it up. It's literally in the middle of nowhere. The flights were long, the drive was long, and it takes about a solid 400 hours (give or take) to get from the East Coast to this dusty and run down place. 

We stayed at El Cosmico, basically a prettified campground, run by the same lady who owns Hotel San Jose and Hotel Saint Cecilia in Austin. That fact alone should tell you that it's pretty special. Tents, teepees, and trailers are available to rent there, and we got to stay in an adorable Vagabond, which was ideal because A) it was really cold at night and B) it came with its own tiny indoor bathroom, perfect for a spoiled city girl like me.

The desert landscape was impressively expansive underneath the infinite sky, the quiet was deafening, the city (town?) was crumbly and empty on one side of the tracks and interesting and beautiful on the other, the air was crisp and fresh and light, there was only one flashing stoplight, and the pizza and donuts were delicious. 

It has to be straight up magic for me to have been so enamored with glamping after turbulent flights and an endless drive. There must be magic for someone who hates being dusty/dirty and is typically unimpressed by nature to have been awed into silent wonder by the distant hills and enormity of the horizon. Marfa is magical, in a quiet, creeping, heaviness that settles over you as you drive on the unimpressive road toward the single blinking stoplight. You don't know why, but suddenly, you're in love. 

The Joy of Exercise

...I don't have it. 

To me, the "runner's high" that people supposedly get is pure fiction, and to hear someone say that they "love working out" because it "makes them feel good" makes me want to pour hot coffee on their shirts (even though I don't even really drink coffee). When I see people running around the beautiful city of DC, either pre-dawn or post-sunset, I get the urge to push someone into the dirty water of the Potomac. 

This week, I tried a new gym/studio by my office, partially because there was a Groupon for it, partially because I'm vain and probably have some sort of body dysmorphia, and partially because I love and live with a man who likes to tell me that most of my klutziness and random body aches could be solved by living more healthily. So, for the first time in my life, I tried TRX, Barre/Pointe, and Stability ball classes. They were challenging, different, and made me feel like a balloon filled with pudding afterwards. No, I still don't like exercising. No, it's not really fun. 

But, I can see how the sense of superiority that people feel for having done something active and difficult during their day could keep them going back for more. That, I get. Whatever works, right? 

Minimalist Hoarder

In some respects, I am a super minimalist. I wear the same things over and over again, and when I like something, I'll buy it in multiples so that I have replacements ready when the originals get worn out or messed up. The color palette in my home generally consists of 4 colors: black, grey, brown, and white. I try not to get too sentimental and tend to donate/throw out things that have piled up every six months or so.

In other ways, I am a hoarder. Oh, do you need a shopping bag? You can take your pick - just leave alone these that I brought home with me from Europe. Have I ever used an empty shoe box? Nope, but there are 3 stacks of them in the spare closet, just in case that ever comes up. How many reserve Glade plug-ins does a 900sqft apartment actually need? We have 9. Thank you, Costco.

Spring cleaning is a sickness and I have it. I just want to go home, throw away anything that's not actually being used, and live in a clean and simple environment. But I honestly don't know how I'm going to just get rid of those (neatly stacked) mountains of Kinfolk and New Yorker magazines that I haven't even actually finished reading, yet. And what about this basket of throw pillows...does a household of two really need 12?

Don't even get me started on my closet.

Playing with HTML

What always looked like a cat had tripped (do cats trip?) over the keyboard is starting to look...fun? Thanks to my snail's pace self-study of web design and basic html coding this month, I'm finding myself fairly excited when I manage to figure out a tiny piece of how to make my humble little web presence slightly prettier. Next up, learning how to use my camera! And then we'll start with the actual good stuff - adventures and stories and other lies I've told that I liked.

Adventures of Myself

It's hard to pick up a pen again, so to speak, after being out of practice for so long. Especially if, for so long, the things that you were writing were from being broken and suffering and confusion and...lost. And now that you're not broken anymore, but happy(?!) and content (?!!) and working for something better, it's hard to put things back into that introspective perspective that you once used as a tool to survive. Because what if you look too deep, and you find that you're actually still broken and suffering? And what if all this happiness and contentment and forward-striving-ness goes away, as all good things are wont to do?

People always say you're supposed to face your fears head on, which is a little silly if you think about it, since what else would you face your fears with, your ass? But regardless, here I am. Ass in this seat, head facing the screen, fingers on the keyboard.

And the truth is, I am happy. Maybe things aren't perfect, and maybe there are still many what-ifs and the feeling that all this is still pretty temporary, but being happy isn't about being surrounded by perfect situations or being perfectly sure of your future. Being happy is, and it's been a long road to figure this out, a choice. A real struggle every morning to wake up and go about your day and your business, and even if the circumstances are crappy or just not what you expected, to choose to get through it and be happy with your lot in life.

Deep stuff for my first real foray back.

I like it.

I'm gonna keep going with this.