One day

**If you're my parents - read at your own risk**

We just have so many days in our lives. And we're never going to know how many that is. I just told my mom today, "you only get one day at a time, you can't take them all together." And that is the truth. But we plan our lives in chunks. We plan that we're suppose to get married and then we'll have kids and then we'll buy houses and redecorate them and buy new cars and a lawn mower. But we never really know what to expect. And yet we all get disappointed at some point or another when things don't "work out" the way we expected our LIVES to go. So I've been nibbling a little at this notion of days. And it kinda feels good.

The truth is - it feels kinda good to be bad. And tomorrow I'm going to take 1 day out of my life to spend with my ex. To have sex. And rather than imagining the days of turmoil that it may cause after, all I can think about is that moment in time. And yes, it might not be the healthiest thing I could do - but I have certainty, something fierce, that it's the right thing to do. And since I've been thinking about it, I have managed to feel more alive and in the moment for a whole 24 hours longer than I can remember. Suddenly I'm living my life day by day. Who knows what's going to happen?! (Don't say it -The bliss of hormones and adrenaline is just what this body needs to create temporary amnesia (or insanity) of what "could" happen after our rendez-vouz.) I swear to god it's love addiction. It's true. Love is addicting. It makes me feel like anything is possible and life is grande. Lines blur and nothing exists but today.

Crazy or love obsessed or not - I'm holding on to my day to day revelation and letting it all in as much as possible before my brain gets chunked back into the grind of our social outlines - or my heart is crushed into a million pieces when endorphines subside and that asshole turns back into the pumpkin he is. I'm getting fucked damn it and then life goes on.

I'm amazing...boo hoo

I can't keep doing this to myself. My mind goes down this path of past relationships, innocently enough. And then I catch myself thinking about them and think, I wonder if they ever think about us? and then I quickly stop myself and think probably not, because they are now in happy healthy relationships and the only reason I'm thinking about this is because I'm not and so I have time to "think back" and reminisce...And then I compare my old relationships to my last relationship and think What did I do wrong?? It must be some inability to make someone happy, maybe I'm too demanding, maybe I'm too this or too that and a shame spiral swirls in my brain.

I just get so angry about it - well, a bit angry. It even happens when I'm giving myself accolades - I'm excited to think that I could possibly buy my own house within the next couple of years and then my mind says I bet your parents are so excited, they probably never thought you could do it by yourself - or would have to do it by yourself - or you thought you would do it by yourself. And then I think Wow! You're going to buy a house BY YOURSELF and how sad that is.....

Oh WAH Kyla! Honestly. You are so privileged in so many ways that you have to sit here and have a pity party for yourself about it.

My sister keeps telling me, I could be married if I wanted to be. Like it's my choice to be single. And to some degree it is, I'll give her that. I could live in Australia and be married - and without my family and unhappy. Or I could be married to a stranger and just "see how it goes" or I could be married to a man who doesn't want children and therefore wouldn't have children. So, in a way, yes, it is my "choice" to be single - because I want more than what those options can afford. And it is my "choice" to buy a house as a single woman. I mean, technically, I could save my money and keep renting until I got married - but who wants to rent until they're 108 years old? I won't let my tax filing status get in the way of what I want for my life right now.

And who cares about a few people you aren't compatible with compared to the tons of wonderful people in your life who love the shit out of you.

Living the dream

I did it. I'm totally fucking sleep deprived, but I did it. I have just completed the first portion AND WAS PAID FOR an interior design job. I started out on this little journey of mine when I was 16. It was the first time I had seen Sally Fields prattle off a list of furniture specs for a hotel project on Mrs. Doubtfire when I realized I wanted to be an interior designer. I'm not sure if it was the combination of history and art or the ability to create space so fluidly from her mind but I was like, that's what I want to do. And today, 13 years later, I can say, I did it!

I went to college and got my bachelor's in Interior Design, ya ya ya, but that is school. They teach you how to create design presentations and source material. What they don't teach you is - how to ask for what you're worth, and how to create a contract or why it's important, or how to know what someone is really asking for or how to deal with it when someone says, that's not what I was thinking. Fortunately for me, today, my client LOVED everything I selected. We shared moments where she was like, I LOVE that rug! And I was like, I KNEW you would love that rug. Ah. Those are the good moments when I feel like I was made to do this.

Right out of college I had my first "freelance job". I think I asked for about $10 over minimum wage. It was BEYOND apparent I had no real "residential" or freelance experience. We selected paint color - she ended up buying (and painting the room) an off variation of what I suggested. She got the sofa, and drapery I suggested, but slightly different. In fact, everything was slightly different than what I suggested. But, looking back, she did everything I suggested, I just had no idea what I was doing. I thought after that experience (when I was 22) I could never do that again. I was suppose to design restaurants and hotels! right?

Well, I don't know how many lily pads I hopped from, but at the ripe ole age of 29 I finally had - not just a freelance customer - but a client for my OWN business. It was the family room head to toe and not only did I select the wall color and every piece of furniture in that room, but I laid out the furniture, made the invoices and created all the drawings for the space - and she LOVED IT.

And, I got paid for it.

Next step is ordering the furniture and getting everything in there. That is a whole different animal in itself. When that is complete I will have a new revelation on finishing a project but for today, I can say, I designed a room, head to toe, presented it, had the client LOVE it and then got paid for it. It felt pretty fucking good.

thank you to everyone of my friends and family for asking/allowing me to help them with their house projects and keeping me motivated and practicing interior design. It's just something that I love to do and now, it's something I get paid to do. It's called, living the dream. Amen.

Making it

a lot of my friends are happily settling in with their significant others. If they're not married already, they are engaged or quickly approaching, counting the years of courtship on a whole hand if not more. Some have children while some are still energetic about the wedding bells ringing. My older sister who is one year older than me has two children, both of them needing both hands to count their age, 8 and 10. My older sister has been married for 11 years, she just graduated college, got a brand new car, a full time job teaching and just bought the house of her dreams. She told me recently that when she moves into her new home, she will have finally made it. I quickly asked, "if you've made it - then where the fuck am I?"

Just seconds ago, I read a facebook post by another friend who said the next four years was going to be great - she is buying a house and traveling and getting new ink and dying her hair pink again. Once she moves in, she'll be volunteering and walking her dogs everywhere.

I tried to gleam some of this optimism and started to post my status update of things I will be looking forward to within the next few years. But I stopped when I realized, I was writing a blog post - not a status update (woops). Oh, that and I got kinda pissed about the fact that I have of late, felt a little slapped around with this idea of "making it". And, how it could have something to do with having a partner. Period. I suppose that is my idea of "making it." Because when you have a partner - come what may, you have that knowing smile to come home to. That person that knows whether you've made it home or not. That person to split bills with or have them cook dinner when you've had a hard day and the last thing you can do is take care of yourself.

And it's not just because I'm going to be 30 and the thought of that number next to single knocks the wind out of me and involuntarily makes my eyes a bit leaky. No one knows what to do with 30 (who isn't 30 already) and it would just be nice to have someone to not know with. Josie totes doesn't count because she knows everything and mocks me with her secrecy.

So I need to change this idea of "making it". Like, right now. Because, I am making it. I have a fucking awesome job, and a free lance DESIGN client who I'm designing a family room for-- a PAYING client. I have a personal trainer, friends in Palm springs and New York and Japan asking me to visit. I don't have to have roommates, I own my car and in 6 months (if I can just stay on the wagon) I'll be credit card debt free! I have awesome friends, fabulous sisters, the best nephews this Auntie could ask for. Plus, I live in Portland. I'd say...I'm making it. In order to have "made it" my ultimate goals now are buying a house. A very very similar goal to my older sister. I guess timing is everything.

It's just facebook anyway.