I keep telling myself I'm going to take time to write, but this is apparently a lie I've been telling myself over and over again. I went from once a week, to once a month, to quarterly, and this will be one of only three posts I've written this year (and it's almost December — oy vey...).

I had gotten into a pretty good groove for awhile — my "mojo was workin'" and work/life balance was solid. I was exercising regularly, cleaning often, and cooking a lot. I was learning new songs here and then to beef up my gigging repertoire. And most importantly, I was taking the time to take care of myself and enjoy where I live. Then there was the wedding, which ate up a lot of my time. It was a beautiful wedding and everything was even more amazing than we had even planned or imagined, but the stress leading up....oh girl...Anyhow, it's been almost 5 months since Will and I tied the knot, so why do I still feel like I'm so freakin' busy all the time and never have time for anything?

Well, the reason I keep telling myself is that I honestly just don't have the time. To be fair, I am a pretty busy lady these days. I work full-time (sometimes overtime), I gig at least twice a week (sometimes I fill in for other people), and there's just a lot going on right now in general. But despite all that, I shouldn't be completely ignoring what I need, which is all the stuff I mentioned before.

On a good week I'll exercise 2-3 times, but it's rarely a "good week" and I really should be exercising more like 4-5 times a week anyway. I'll cook a few meals, but then I'll come home after a particularly frustrating day and just say "screw it." I have this running list of songs that I've been wanting to learn and I just keep putting it off, so consequently I'm getting bored with my repertoire. And granted, it's been uncharacteristically cold for my little island lately, but I can't remember the last time I ran on the beach or enjoyed the pool that's literally right outside my back door. I've become lame and old, and I keep making excuses not to do the things I know for a fact will make me feel better. My mojo needs a kick in the butt...

Part of my problem is relinquishing control...My husband is not a "domestic," per se, but he's always willing to help out around the house — he just needs a list of what needs done. "Honey dos," if you will. But for a long time he was way busier than me, so I was the one cleaning, grocery shopping, etc. Plus, I'm fairly OCD when it comes to things like that, so I want them done a certain way and at a certain time. It's not uncommon for me to rip around the house like a tornado of cleaning psychosis, which scares the sh*t out of Will. He always tries to get me to calm down and I'm all like, "CAN'T STOP!!! MUST CLEAN FAST AND MUST CLEAN NOW!!!" Now I'm the busier one and things have shifted. Not that he's not busy — don't get me wrong. Fall is incredibly busy for him because it's marching season, but that's over now and he's all like, "Hey...ummmm...I can help if you'll just let me..."

I hate to admit it, but it's hard for me to let those things go, even though I know I would have more free time if I just let him do it. I think that makes me a little crazy...I mean, I'm going to let it go, your know, for sanity reasons and stuff...but it's still hard. I've always been so domestic and now I barely have time for those things — it's really weird. He did the grocery shopping for the first time this week (and again, not for lack of trying, I just never let him do it until now...because I'm that OCD), and I caught myself "checking his work" and seeing if he got what we needed. He did — I'm just crazy and controlling, apparently. I felt so bad when I realized what I was doing. He's such a good boy!!!

As far as work, I just need to take more ownership of my time instead of letting others pull me into stuff that's really not my problem. Not that I don't want to be a team player, but there's a difference between me helping someone out and me doing their job for them. I need to take back my lunch hour and squeeze in mid-day workouts like I used to. That way if I am exhausted by the time the day is over, I can go home and relax instead of feeling guilty that I didn't work out.

There's also been a lot of sadness lately. Two people who have been incredibly important in my life have passed away and I'm having trouble processing it. I've been insanely lucky not having to really deal with death up until now. I'm 30 years old and I just now am experiencing it in a real way. You're never really ready, are you? This has created a dark cloud that looms over everything I do, which makes me want to curl up in a ball with a glass of anything alcoholic and just shut out everything else. I've never been like that, so it's a weird feeling. I guess it's part of the grieving process...figuring out how to deal with your shi*t and ultimately letting go of the things you can't control.

So I guess the bottom line is that I need to let go of some things, especially the things I can't control, but also the little things that others are willing to help me with if I'll just let them. And I need to cook more, learn new music, and write more, because it makes me happy dammit! Time for [Jamie] to get her groove back! Plus, I'm a good cook — Will is a very lucky man. I'm pretty lucky too...he's really one of the only reasons I haven't completely lost my mind. I'm really glad I have him to adult with.

The entire reason I started this blog -- which for better or worse has become a thing I do just whenever I feel like it -- was because of the concept of "adulting" and how I "adult." As I approach my 30s this concept becomes even more convoluted to me. I'm starting to think that "adulting" is just something you make up as you go -- that we never truly figure it out. There are many moments where I have no idea what I'm doing. I act like I do, but really I'm just quick on my feet and know how to google things. Much of my adulthood has been spent learning how to do things on the fly and hoping for the best. ​ 

​I've been an adult for awhile now, so now that I'm approaching 30 I'm starting to get really annoyed with one question in particular, which is always asked by "adultier" adults (aka older). "So what's next for you?" Well, I just figured this part out, so why don't we see how this goes for awhile......mmm'kay?
What's next??? That's something you ask someone about to graduate high school or college. When you're about to graduate high school you have this "plan," which makes the universe laugh at you and go, "okay, ha (*pats your head*), no," but nonetheless you have a plan. It makes you feel better about your life, albeit temporary. When you're about to graduate college, you mostly just want to be done with classes and have no idea what you're really going to do. Again, you may have a plan, but this time you have to rely on other people to hire you so you can make enough money to pay off that expensive school you just went to. Despite all of that, at those phases in your life you generally have some sort of plan or idea of what you want to do.

My experience is that once you actually get out there in the real world there is no such thing as a plan. You have to roll with the punches and figure out how to be scrappy, otherwise you will drown. You'll drown in debt, lack of self-worth, and lack 0f self-realization, among other things. Apparently your 20s are where you are supposed to figure out how to keep your head above water, and learn how to act your butt off in order to deal with the political BS and the crazy personalities that will inevitably flood your life.

The silver lining is that you do learn. Sure, I still have to make things up as I go on occasion, and I may not know "what's next," but I've learned that life is not nearly as complicated as we try to make it. I've learned that career and money aren't everything -- that people and the simple things in life are what are truly worth living for. I've learned that you shouldn't let what other people think define any part of your life, and if you live your life to please others they will suck you dry -- so don't.

There is no dummies guide for how to be an adult, and no one can tell you the "secret" to being happy and fulfilled in life -- because there isn't one. You have to figure it out for yourself and find a way to filter out the noise. One of the most important things that I've learned is that what happiness and fulfillment looks like for you is not necessarily what it looks like for me -- there is no "one size fits all." I've learned that yoga, long walks on a beautiful day, sunshine, the coastal breeze, a clean house, clean sheets, playing piano and singing, learning new music, potatoes, cupcakes, coffee, Jameson, good wine, good conversation, pugs (especially Mozzie) and Will make me very happy. 

It's okay to make plans, and you probably should to a certain extent, but as we all know....things generally don't always go according to plan. It's also okay if you don't know exactly what you're doing all the time or what's next -- you'll figure it out. The bottom line is that you will never stop learning and you will never know all the answers. Sure, things like google can help from time to time, but you won't always find the content you're looking for. Turns out that "adulting" is just living life the best way that you can.

​Let's talk about cleaning, shall we? You're super excited -- I know. Just try to contain yourself.
(Some of you actually probably already X-ed out of this post. Apparently you don't like things to be clean.)
Why did I choose this odd topic out of all the things I could be blogging about? Well, I care about it, for one, and regardless of my work situation there never seems to be enough time, which drives me nuts. But actually the main reason is because my cleaning habits, like other things in my life, have evolved over time.

I'm the kind of person who likes clean sheets on the bed each week, bed made every morning, no clothes on the floor -- everything put away in it's "proper place," everything dusted, any sign of unwelcome life (aka bugs) removed, floors swept and mopped (especially now that dog hair is involved). and absolutely no dirty dishes in the sink or on the counter. Granted, most people enjoy all of these things, but not enough to take the time to do them on a regular basis -- mostly because they're too damn busy and don't have the time or energy. I'm not as bad as I used to be, but I'm more likely than most to stress myself out by trying to cram all of those things in -- even if they can honestly be put off for a bit. It's the OCD.

My OCD cleaning habits originated at a young age (shout out to Dorothy -- I got this from you) and grew into a monster of a problem by the time I hit college. You may be wondering how being a clean freak could pose a problem. I'll explain in a minute, but just to give you an example...........at two different points in my life I had a falling out with two separate friends related to my cleaning OCD. It was actually about much bigger issues and us not being supportive of each other's life choices at the time, but the cleaning stuff was sort of the straw that broke the camel's back and initiated the fights. Regardless, when I was younger it was fine. It just meant that my car was clean, my room was clean, and I helped around the house.


The college years...........

Freshman year of college wasn't so bad. My freaky cleaning OCD hadn't truly taken hold, and I also happened to be paired up with an equally clean roommate. The next several years got progressively worse though.

Come sophomore year I was that a-hole that wrote passive aggressive notes on our shared white board (displayed on the outside of the triple dorm room). When you're in a shared space like that, it's hard to keep your little corner clean if someone else's stuff starts to expand beyond their area. So needless to say, I was frustrated, but I was also a dick about it.

Junior year was a completely different animal. We were in an on-campus apartment and there were four of us. Fortunately we had our own rooms, but there was a living room, dining room, kitchen, and 1.5 baths that made up the common space. This was my first living situation that wasn't living at home or in a dorm, so I was really excited to have a kitchen and have that first experience of "being on my own." I wasn't really, but it was a fantastic simulation. 

Anyhow, the kitchen and the smell of the apartment in general became points of contention between me and my roommates. Once a week I would deep clean the common areas and I put air fresheners in probably every outlet I could find. My friends appreciated it, but also found it super annoying and excessive. And it turns out that they were right. 
The biggest sore spot was always the kitchen. I was of the OCD mindset that dishes should be done immediately and nothing was to sit in the sink overnight. Two of my roommates didn't necessarily agree, but would eventually do the dishes. One roommate I don't think had ever touched a dirty dish in her life.........or done laundry..........or unclogged a toilet.............you get the idea. Sweet girl, but man.........her parents should've made her do some chores. She was not at all prepared for real life. 

There were so many fights about such stupid things, and for what? Because I thought I was teaching my roommates life lessons? Or because I couldn't just calm down instead of letting insignificant things like dirty dishes stress me out? Whatever it was, it was dumb. And fortunately my friends forgave me for being such a psycho. I mean, they did like having a clean apartment, but to them it wasn't worth it if I was going to be a nazi about everything. I learned a lot from that. 

Funny side note about the air fresheners: Years later over drinks, my one roommate admitted to me that she replaced the liquid in my air fresheners with colored water. She was sensitive to them, and I wanted them cranked up to 11. We actually got in a "taping" war" with the air fresheners. She kept turning them down, so I'd turn them back up and tape them there. Then she'd remove the tape, turn them back down and tape them.
Back and forth and back and forth. Psycho.............But I about died laughing when she told me what she had done. I have to admit that that was brilliant. Props, man......props.

As I've gotten older I've calmed down when it comes to cleaning. I still like things to my OCD specifications, but I don't get my panties in a twist if things aren't done perfectly or within the time frame I had planned. I do have my occasional tornado of cleaning if things have sat for too long (or if the mood strikes me and I have time). Will stays out of my way when that happens for fear of being trampled. He tells me I move way too fast and it freaks him out. I'm being "domestic." But he has clean sheets and clean clothes, so he can't complain.

Rounding back........just like with other parts of my life -- be it body image, my outlook on life in general, my priorities, etc. -- my cleaning OCD has evolved. I have realized that other things are more important, and it's okay if something else takes precedent over making sure the house is clean. Having things clean will always be important to me, but I won't be at the level of Danny Tanner. Who has time for that?
Sometimes things get messy, and that's okay...........as long as it's cleaned up in a timely fashion. Just kidding............well, sort of. 

Just a few things I thought I'd share:

1) The DMV will always be a pain in the butt........no matter where you live.

Patton Oswalt has a bit on his newest special about how the DMV doesn't make things difficult, but that we do because we don't follow directions. So he's mocking someone who gets the registration renewal letter in the mail by saying, "I got a letter, and it has an eagle on it. Do I get an eagle? Because I can't take care of an eagle."
It's actually pretty funny..........check it out.
He's right. It's not the DMV employees' faults that things are difficult and there is so much red tape. They didn't make the rules, and if they seem annoyed, it's because the rules are stupid and they have to deal with pissed off customers all day. Regardless, Patton is specifically talking about the annual registration renewal. That's easy. You get a thing in the mail that tells you what to do, and you can even do it online now. Easy. 

Transferring a title, registration, getting a new license, and doing it all in a new state with different rules, however........turns out it's a giant pain in the butt. There may be an instruction sheet for registration renewal, but there is no clear "guide" for any of the other crap. No matter how much reading I did leading up to getting all of this getting taken care of, the rules and the forms I needed were not clear. Some of the form links were broken on the state website, which was awesome. I had to guess on which forms I would need, and I even printed off ones I thought might be relevant -- just maybe -- just in case. One of them I didn't need, but one of them I definitely did. I found it by accident and didn't even think it was totally necessary, but it was. It even had to be notarized. (That piece of paper in itself was a whole other pain in the butt.......I had to pay twice to get the damn thing notarized -- long story.)

Stupid, stupid, stupid.........

​3) Will is awesome.
​
Will has been crazy busy between band camp from 8am-4pm and writing what seems like all the drill in the world. He's been writing SO much that he's been working what would be the equivalent of pulling 5 doubles in a week. Why? Well, there is a lot of work to do, but he's been working overtime so we can have Friday night and an entire weekend day together. So he's been busting his butt to spend quality time with me. 

I had a bad day last week. It was the epic DMV day where I walked into the same place 5 times trying desperately to get everything done (and called 3 times), plus I got three job rejection emails. Getting rejected is never a good feeling, but this was infuriating, because the reasoning was that I "didn't meet the minimum qualifications." I was definitely over-qualified for each position, in every way, but those were the emails I got.
There were some other dumb things that happened, but I'll spare you the details. It was just one of those days where things keep compacting, until something really small pushes you over the edge and you have no idea why you're crying.
Oh, Mozzie was also being a giant a-hole that day. That dog had gone NUTS. 

Regardless, Will had a ton of work to get done that night, but instead, he took me to dinner so we could have some time and talk about what was bothering me. 

I'm fairly certain the conversation went something like this:
Will: So what's going on?
Me: (*trying to fight back tears*) I'm just.....having...........
Will: A rough day?
Me: (*sniffle*) Yeah.
Will: Okay. Well let's get you some food. You always feel better after you eat. Are you hungry?
Me: (*sniffle*) Yeah.
Will: What do you want to eat?
Me: (*starts crying*) 
NOTE: I'm very indecisive when it comes to food. I was clearly overwhelmed at the moment, so the thought of making a decision about freaking food made me cry. Oy.........
Will: I'll find us something. Don't you worry.
He gets me and knows how to deal with my crazy. He's awesome.


​The DMV and applying for jobs have got to be two of my least favorite parts about adulting, you know, besides paying bills and stuff. But speaking of adulting........spiced rum is cheap down here for some reason, limes are DIRT cheap (seriously, I bought 10 limes for $1 today), and I've been in a Cuba Libre kind  of mood. To cheap rum!!! Huzzah!!!
​

So we made it to Texas. Holy crap was that a long drive............9.5 hours the first day. 10 the second day, and 5.5 the third day. I never want to drive again. Ever. But we're here.
Well, technically we made it on July 11th, but I needed some time to unpack, decompress, and sleep, which is why my writing has been on hiatus for a bit.
For the love of God.........sleep............it's such a wonderful thing. I've been missing it SO badly for the past month or so.

But we're here...........and it's beautiful. The condo is exactly like the pictures and the pool that always feels like bath water is a two minute walk away. There are palm trees everywhere and the beach is within walking distance.
There's a catch though..........turns out the beaches in Laguna Vista and Port Isabel aren't for swimming and such -- they're for fishing. So we can technically walk to the beach, but not the right kind of beach. So we have to drive a whole 25 minutes to get to the beaches on South Padre Island.
Ugh. Life is so hard. (*sigh*)

If you want to punch me right now, I totally understand. I'm not really whining about having to drive to the beach, just for the record. I just felt like being an a-hole. A 25 minute drive is freakin' awesome. And we're finally going to go to the beach today. Yay!
​If you still want to punch me, I also understand. I think this is where I say "neener neener neener." Or something to that effect.

Everyone has been incredibly nice and hospitable so far. Our neighbors are great and everyone in our community waves at you, even if they don't know you. Things also seem to be slower paced down here, which is actually a really nice change. The stress of the constant "go, go, go" mentality was starting to wear on me. Granted, we've only been down here for 2 weeks, but the vibe is just different. You can feel it. It's nice.

So while I'm looking for work, I'm getting back on the exercise train and enjoying the sun. I fell off that train so hard while we were packing and moving. I think I gained about 10 pounds through everything. Stress, fast food, not enough time for exercise, and drinking with friends................I drank more beer during the month leading up to moving than I have in a long, LONG time.
Case and point, I am certainly not beach ready. But I feel like I'm sort of on vacation at the moment, so I don't care. Everyone will just have to deal with my extra 10 pounds and my pasty northern ass. Imma enjoy the beach in my bikini as I please -- thank you very much.
I actually have already lost a few pounds since we've been here, but it's probably just the sun zapping my water weight, which is cool. Regardless -- definitely getting back on the exercise train. Woof.

Fun thing I discovered................
Want to know how to make an already needy dog even needier? Move. But before you officially move, confuse the hell out of him by crashing at a friend's place for a few days, then going to a cottage on the lake, then to your future in-laws' place, then to your parents' house for a week. But if you REALLY want to top it off, put him in a car for 3 days, sprinkle a couple hotels in there, and then stick him in an unfamiliar place with crunchy grass and palm trees.
BOOM. Needy dog becomes the neediest of all dogs. Mozzie is my freakin' shadow. I can't pee without him following me into the bathroom. If I try to go without him, he scratches at the door and whines. If I leave for an hour to exercise..........oh my god........the way he acts when I come back.......you would think he'd been alone the entire day. It's insane. He's real cute, and I love him to death, but he's definitely confirmed that I am not ready for children anytime soon. Whoa.

I digress.

Anyhow............more on Texas later. Imma go to the beach, son! Jamie out. ​

This is the front of our condo. There is a palm tree right outside the front door. It's awesome.

This week I write to you from Portland, Oregon. I'm attending a conference for work as sort of a professional development trip. It's really cool. It's really weird. I think this is what adults do. Maybe.

It's fun to be traveling for work, especially to a place I've never been, but it's also super weird to me. It feels like such an adult thing to do. I've traveled by myself before, so that part I'm cool with. But it's definitely weird to be in an unfamiliar place with a bunch of strangers, by myself. No safety net. No one to whisper inappropriate remarks to when I find humor in something that I probably shouldn't. I guess I could still say those things to someone, but they may not appreciate it and I may have to leave as a result. Then I would spend the rest of the conference avoiding that person because they think I'm weird. They wouldn't be completely wrong........

I told Will on the way to the airport that the thing I was the most excited about was getting good sleep in a nice bed. Does that make me officially old? Probably. Or lame at least. And it also means we need a new bed. Although we wouldn't need a new bed if someone hadn't decided that they wanted to attack me like a giant flying squirrel. Ugh.

It's actually a pretty cool opportunity. I get to travel and stay in a nice hotel for free, eat for free, learn a bunch of stuff, wander around a cool city, and also have a little bit of me time. Not a bad deal. But again, it's weird because it feels so freaking adulty.

There are a lot of big things coming up that are making me realize just how much of an adult I really am now:
1) We're getting a pug puppy this coming Friday. I'm just a little excited. And by just a little I mean, I'M GETTING A FREAKING PUPPY!!!!!!!!!!
2) Will and I are coming up on our 5 year anniversary, which is crazy to me. SO much has happened in those 5 years.
3) Building on #2, I will have a shiny piece of jewelry on my left hand in the near future. Will and I tell each other everything, and he's not good at lying or keeping secrets. Not even a little bit. So I don't know exactly when, but I know it's happening and relatively soon. He keeps saying that he's dying to tell me his plan, and that it's SO good, but can't. Well yeah, because that would ruin the surprise, like completely. So don't do that. And also, stop talking about it since you can't actually tell me! He's adorable........

It's crazy how different my life looks and is soon going to look compared to 5 years ago. I went from dating questionable people, working several part time jobs (including waiting tables), trying to figure out what the heck I was going to do with a degree in music, and trying to find myself in general.........to meeting my soul mate, getting an MBA, getting my first "big girl job" with benefits and normal hours, and soon a puppy and a monumental moment in mine and Will's lives. I also feel like I know myself much better now.

I haven't "arrived" yet -- there's still more to experience and achieve -- but I think I'm off to a pretty good start. I may be an adult, but I'm still pretty young. Although some days I don't feel like it.......doesn't help that I work at a university where the majority of people are still babies. I do get mistaken for a student from time to time though. I will ride that train as long as possible. Oh yes.​

So I'm in Portland. I'm an adult. I guess it's pretty cool.

I'm 27. I'm not old, I'm not incredibly young.......okay I'm kind of young........and I am as lost as ever. I have a BA in music (go ahead, judge -- I judge me) and an MBA, my 9-5 is working as a grants coordinator, and I'm a musician. Some days I feel accomplished and other days I feel like I'm wasting oxygen. Regardless, I'm an "adult," or so I've been told. 

The term "adulting" has been thrown around for quite some time now. I found it entertaining when I first heard "adult" being used as a verb. It's definitely become a staple word in my everyday vernacular. But the more I think about "adulting," the more I realize that I am 27 and still don't feel like a true adult. 

According to Urban Dictionary, I am indeed an adult:
Adulting (v): to do grown up things and hold responsibilities such as, a 9-5 job, a mortgage/rent, a car payment, or anything else that makes one think of grown ups.

According to Mirriam-Webster:
Adult (a):
- fully grown and developed
- mature and sensible : not childish

I suppose I'm "fully grown and developed," and I would like to think I'm a fairly sensible person, and have actually always been considered mature by most. But you get to that part of the Mirriam-Webster definition that says "not childish" and I know that that is undoubtedly false about myself. I am incredibly childish, which I know sort of contradicts my claim to be mature, but I feel these things can be separate. I can certainly compose myself in a mature way in the majority of situations. However.........the word "butt" somehow became freaking hilarious to me again, in my late twenties, when that ship had initially sailed sometime in elementary. Maybe the reality is that I was mature for my age in high school, and have regressed since then. This is highly likely. I'll own it. 

Booping? Also hilarious. Not a day goes by where I don't boop my boyfriend. Judge me all you want, but try booping someone on the nose and actually saying in a high pitched voice, "boop," and try not to laugh. 

Alcohol is technically a form of "adulting," since you are supposed to be 21 in order to consume it. But I suppose it's also the opposite of being an adult when you don't drink responsibly. I have done my fair share of partying, and probably somebody else's as well. I'd be lying if I said I don't party anymore, but I don't party as often and I drink higher quality stuff......generally. That alone makes me more of an adult, right? I am economical, so I rock the Old Crow and diet root beer more often than I'd care to admit, but when I can afford it I immediately reach for Jameson and good bourbon. Why? Because I'm an adult, dammit. 

I'm going to make myself sound like a complete lush here.........but when you work a 9-5 in a field that you never expected to end up in (at a place you swore you'd never step foot in again), you're considered to be highly educated but make less money than most people who stopped after high school, everyone around you is married and/or having babies, and you want to decompress..........whether it's a Tuesday or a Saturday, hand me the Jameson, Bulleit, Knob Creek, cabernet, or hell, even Old Crow. At least I have good friends and an awesome boyfriend to share it with me. This is adulting.