Pacific Renewal

So it’s week two of working and it’s also day off number two of this week. And since yesterday was the day of laziness and oversleeping, today is by default a day of introspection, reflection, and regression via the viewing of some of my favorite romantic comedies from high school.

Currently showing: How to Lose A Guy in 10 Days, featuring the incomparable talents of Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey. Probably each them consider this the highest moment of his or her career.

….or not.

Still, this movie has a special place in my heart. You see, when Mom and I moved to New York, we transported the contents of a five bedroom, two-level house into a one-bedroom apartment. Thankfully the place had 11 foot ceilings, because we literally had to pile the boxes clear to the ceiling. The couch was on its side for a week and the day we found the television, we celebrated. Of course, we had no place to sit and watch said television. But as soon as we were able to put the couch down, we decided it was time to watch that sucker. Of course, this also presented a problem. The walls were still all blocked so there was no way to hook up cable or even try to get a signal on an antenna. Plus, while we had found the DVD player, we couldn’t find the DVDs. Quite a pickle.

Thankfully, walking down Broadway that Sunday, I saw that the new release, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, was on SALE for $10! (Clearly they knew that it was gonna be a big seller.)

So over the course of the next week and a half before we finally found the box of DVDs, I must have watched this movie 20 times.

It truly was a magical time in my life.

So, anyway, as I’ve been watching this movie I’ve been thinking about that summer, when I was in New York, with my mom in a one bedroom apartment in a strange city. I knew no one and I had three months before I started school at what I hoped would be a dream come true.

This prompted me to pull down my journal from that first summer through that first year. As proven by my blogging abilities, I’ve never been the most consistent diarist. But reading this diary just brings back all the feelings I was going through at that point and how uncertain I was. And I don’t know what to think about this, but the similarities here are kind of eerie. New place, no friends, one bedroom apartment with my mother, uncertain possibilities, and most of all an overwhelming sense of being at loose ends.

My dreams, of course, have changed. My diaries from high school are filled with angst about agents and auditions, weight and hair color, scales and monologues. The dreams I held at that point were very clear: Broadway, musical theater, fame. Now the dreams are way more vague. Something in theater? Something creative? Moving to Oklahoma and pursuing my dream of becoming Ree Drummond? Honestly, at this point, I just want to perfect my smoky eye technique.

But at least this time, even though I don’t have any friends here with me, I do have plenty of friends in far away places supporting me. And they, as I have recently been told, are wishing “kickass” things for me. So that’s definitely a step in the right direction.

Also I have a puppy. This makes all things better. And even if I may need a little bit longer to settle into this new situation, she seems to be fitting right in, as I discovered last night when I walked into my mother’s bedroom and found all the other residents of this apartments conspiring against me:

99 boxes of books on the wall…

So here’s the thing.

I have a lot of books. I don’t think you can end up at Harvard without reading a lot of books, but there’s a lot of books, and then there’s me. I have a sick amount of books. This was made clear to me when I had to ship 22 BOXES OF BOOKS to my mother before moving here. Alex and Carrie are officially saints for helping me pack and ship them.

Those 22 boxes were AFTER I had sold or donated 8 huge bags of books. So, needless to say, I was already feeling like a bit of a bibliophile when I got here.

That was before I opened a closet here and saw an ominous stack of boxes labeled “Olivia’s Books.”

“Mom,” I said, apprehensive. “These are just boxes you repacked, right? Like, there’s just a bunch of blenders and socks in these…?”

“Oh, no! Somehow those ended up here when I moved out from Massachusetts. I figured you’d come get them eventually.”

“So they’re books. Like, actual books? Like, my books?”

“Yeah. You can’t have had that many at your apartment, could you? There’s so many here!”

If she only knew…

So, all told, there are over 30 boxes of books here. They range from nice little eight-pounders to boxes I’m sure my mother had to get two of the movers to carry. And now I’m supposed to find a place for all of them. Have I mentioned that my last apartment was lined in built-in bookshelves? And that right now, this apartment has one $30 Ikea bookshelf I bought two days ago, in a fit of delusional optimism?

Help, someone. Pretty soon I’m going to look like this:

 Maybe not so ironically, this image courtesy of the Monroe County Library, where I first started taking home an unhealthy amount of books

Anybody want some books?

No, wait, actually I will sleep on them. I will hide them in closets. I can’t give up my books. It’s like that Ke$ha song (and yes, I put the dollar sign in there because it is all part of what makes her AWESOME), only my books are my drug. But they don’t have a beard.

And if you don’t get that culture reference, we are no longer friends.

Last season on Blonde Redefined…

Hello friends! Are any of you still out there?

…probably not. Whatever. Hello, Internet Cosmos! I am now writing to you because everyone else has moved on to bigger and better things! We’re going to get along great, Cosmos. Pretty soon we’ll be braiding each other’s hair and taking friendship oaths in a tent in the backyard.

But since we’re just getting to know each other, let’s do a recap.

The last time I wrote on this blog, things were going great. I had this new puppy, Maisie. I moved into a new apartment in ohsochic Somerville. I was working on this uber-cool theatrical production and collecting props and boiling bones and all sorts of fun. Life was good.

bone boiling: tons of fun 

But, Cosmos, like any good tv drama, things could not continue in their cheery way. As the heroine of this tale, I had to endure the requisite hardships. All good things must come to an end, yadda yadda. Neither shows nor relationships can last forever, and let me tell you, heartache does not sit well on this blonde. But I ate lots of chocolate ice cream and did a lot of soul searching and after relationships had ended and shows had closed and I had tutored my 700th SAT, I came to a startling revelation: I had very little money and very little reason to stay in Boston.

So I write to you from a new locale. I have left the cushy comforts of my luxurious Somerville apartment and moved to the rustic wilds of Washington State. Time to move on and move up. I mean back. I mean forward. I mean, what? Directions are hard for me.

Maisie, Mom, Tuffie, and I started out on an epic cross country road trip on April 1 and after several detours and Super 8’s, we arrived in Lynnwood, Washington on Friday.

It’s kind of like moving back in time. Back in a one-bedroom apartment with my mother, Tuffie, the cat Cappuccino, and the added bonus of Maisie. Next step: unclear. But the point, Cosmos, is that I’ve started a new chapter! And though the drama of the last chapter was so sordid and tawdry that I couldn’t BRING myself to write about it, (plus I just got lazy), it’s time to come back to the soothing calm of the blogosphere. (Fun side note: “blogosphere” totally passes my spellchecker now. How very modern!)

SO, I may not have a job, a purpose in life, or a current goal. But I have a blog. So we’re cool, at least. Right Cosmos? Right?

And if you really have been paying attention, here’s your reward: a picture of Maisie in the car. She’s ready for new things too.

 are we there yet, mom?

‘Til I have something else to write,

 

Olivia