nothing lasts forever
some things aren’t meant to be
but you’ll never find the answer
until you set your old heart free
Filling up on chips and salsa and queso and then not having room for your actual dinner is totally acceptable every once in a while.
I’ll never be the girl with manicured nails.
…but my toenails will always have polish.
Sitting on an empty beach in the dark alone is absolutely perfect. Especially when you’re drinking red wine from a mug.
Change requires action. You can talk and think about something all you want, but you’ll remain static if you don’t do.
There is nothing like a runny egg on pasta. Or pizza. Or toast. Or steak.
Spending money on experiences is so much more rewarding than spending it on things.
I need to stop after one martini and transition to a different drink. Things never end well after multiple martinis.
Google is completely nutty for discontinuing Reader.
Vacuuming is so satisfying and by far my favorite chore.
Fresh flowers on my desk automatically make me a cheerier person.
I can measure my life in the thoughts that have absently consumed my mind.
In 6th and 7th grade, it was all about finding friends and fitting in. Moving to two new states during middle school will do that to you. In high school, it was all about doing well, excelling so I could get into the best college.
In college, again, it was about applying myself and finding the most kickass job once I graduated. Then, when I got that “dream job” and realized it was severely lacking what I hoped it’d be, my thoughts were all about my next move. When you graduate from college and are no longer tethered to such a structured environment, all of the options you have are overwhelming. At least they were for me.
In those years directly after college, I had a panoply of thoughts, trying to figure out what I wanted to be: A nutritionist? A writer? A chef? A nurse? A psychologist? A lawyer? In my mind, there was no limit to what I could do or where I could go.
So, for the longest time, my idle thoughts were self-focused and idealistic and driven. My mind was a ticker tape of aspirations and goals and ideals. What will be my next move? How will I get there? When will I go? Where will it be?
Then, gradually, something shifted. My confident, ambitious thoughts were taken over by thoughts of others. Thinking about this person, that person, why won’t they be/see/do xyz. Missing this person. Wishing I could be with this person. It’s fucking tiring. I’ve been annoyed by my thoughts for far too long.
I miss my scheming and plotting. I miss being overwhelmed by all the options I have in front of me, not being able to choose what I want for myself. I miss coming up with crazy life plans and then trying to figure out how to achieve them.
I’m so sick of this shit. Frankly, it’s embarrassing that I give so much real estate in my mind to persons who don’t rightfully deserve it. I miss me consuming my thoughts. I know I won’t have that luxury forever, so I figure I damn well should take advantage of it while I still can. Why am I wasting my valuable brain space thinking about someone else? I can’t change someone else. No matter how much I scheme and plot and wish it were so.
You know who I can change? Me.
So, godammit, Paige. Let your mind think about you again.
I’m just crazy about this song. It’s been on repeat for weeks.
Red wine stains laminate kitchens counters.
A Valentine’s Day that involves good friends, heart-shaped pizza, trashy reality shows, and pink champagne is all I need.
Sriracha is good. Sriracha plus Frank’s is better.
Galoshes are the best ever protection against rain and mud.
Drinking lots of beer helps you forget how rainy and muddy it is.
You should eat some food when drinking at a beer festival for 5 hours straight.
Going to bed at 8pm every now and then is glorious and completely restorative.
Emoji can be great fun…in moderation.
Electric toothbrushes are magical and how did I live for so long without one?
I will never have a good time at Hall’s Chophouse.
Mrs Meyers Geranium products smell heavenly and make doing the dishes by hand much less painful.
Living 2 blocks from the beach makes not having a dishwasher perfectly ok.
Bangs are bomb.
I had it all.
Someone who loved me, unconditionally.
He was smart. And good looking. Funny as hell.
As perfect as it seemed on paper, as perfect as it looked to everyone else – even to ourselves…there was something not quite right.
I knew nothing but him; he was all I knew.
Knowing, experiencing, loving only one person and assuming that they are your happily ever after is reckless.
Sure, it’s a fairytale.
But what they don’t tell you when you’re little is that fairytales like that, fairytales of the Disney variety, are few and far between.
Thinking that you are the fairytale is irresponsible; you’re probably not.
Real life fairytales don’t come easy.
They come after knowledge. After hard fucking work. After hurt.
Thinking you’re a fairytale when you are twenty-goddamn-two years old is silly.
What do you know about life?
What do I know about life?
Admittedly, very little.
But I’ve learned this much: what comes easy probably isn’t right.
What you fall into, what seems like it’s meant to be and looks oh so perfect…probably isn’t really.
It may take you months, years to learn, to admit this to yourself.
If I know anything, it’s that turning away from those easy, lovely looking, but not quite right happy endings…as much hurt, self-doubt, and lonely that it brings…is for the best.
Real life fairytales are earned.