One week left...

I am sitting on the futon in our living room in St. John. It is the same futon I sat on four months ago crying on the phone with my sister. I had just arrived and, if you remember, I was not adjusting well. I remember thinking I could just get a ticket home. It's what my sister told me too. "If it really doesn't work out, you can always come home," she had said. 

I felt like I was back in spinning class in NYC. Upbeat techno music blasting in my ear as I sat cycling in an uncomfortable seat. An instructor shouting as loud as he or she could over the music: "Yea, alright, let's go, you can do it, faster, stronger, come on girl you got this." My legs burning in pain and not believing "You got this." Except my bicycle seat was this futon I am sitting on right now, and the instructors were a lot of you. 

I remember people telling me "You're so lucky!" when I gave them the news I was leaving Manhattan for the Virgin Islands. I'd be exchanging my view of the back of another building to one of the ocean - of course I could understand the immediate jealousy. However, at the time, this was not my train of thought. I was thinking less about how I could sit at the beach on a Tuesday in February and more along the lines of "WHAT AM I DOING?" I was uprooting my life and it was terrifying. I stayed on that futon the majority of January, being depressed, sad, scared.

Then a few weeks went by. I adjusted. The city of ants that lived in our kitchen no longer fazed me. I learned how to sleep through the roosters hourly wake-up calls. I met amazing people. I saw amazing things. I received so much support. Of course the scenery helped, but what really helped me was most of you. The knowledge that there were people back home that believed in me pushed me through those first two weeks. People I didn't even know who had taken the time to write me a message after I announced I quit my job to tell me I inspired them. 

I couldn't let them down. I couldn't go home right away because I was scared or overwhelmed. I had to stick it out. For myself. I had to try and inspire the people that weren't ready to take the leap of faith yet themselves. I had to prove myself to my support system of people back home. I had to keep cycling. 

And now it's one week until I leave. I'll be back and forth between here and New York over the next few months. I have no idea what I'll be doing by next fall. I have no living arrangements. And it's ok, because I'm not scared anymore. Overwhelmed at times, sure, but not scared. (Ok, that's a lie. I am actually still scared of one thing in St. John: FLYING COCKROACHES. I can handle a roach on the ground that I can smash with a shoe. I cannot handle a roach that flies into your perfectly blown out hair as you walk into the room with your cell phone in hand. Because I will scream like a five-year old and punt my phone to the ground like a football after a touchdown.)

My point of this post (besides informing you that roaches fly if you didn't already know because I most definitely did not) is to say thank you. Thank you for supporting me. Thank you for showing me so much love. Thank you for following my journey this far.

I came across an amazing website the other day and read a few words written by Ashley Ambirge that have really resonated with me. I just thought it fitting to end my last post before leaving St. John with them:

"For everyone out there thinking to yourself that it’s unrealistic, YOU ARE WRONG. 

For everyone out there shackled by fear, telling yourself that you could lose everything, YOU ARE RIGHT. 

And for everyone out there that, despite that knowledge, is still willing to risk it by fighting for something more out of this fleeting speck of time we’re granted here on earth, YOU ARE THE ONLY ONES WHO WILL TRULY SUCCEED. 

Because at the very least, you know that you did everything you could. 

Not many people can say the same."

Dangling off the cliffs on the Tektite Trail:

Views of the trail:

Sunset from the porch:

Salomon bay:

Cocktails at Caneel Bay:

Sunday fun days!

A Holiday Engagement

I'M ENGAGED!

To quote Clueless, and my childhood idol, Cher: 

"As if."

Anyone who knows me knows two very important things. One, I am nowhere even close to getting married and two, today is my favorite holiday. 

There are two holidays I wake up early for: Christmas and April Fool's Day. Ever since I was young I have loved this day - an entire day that justifies being a total pain in the ass to all of your friends, co-workers, and family members. Of course, after years of lies and pranks, my family members along with many of my close friends do not pick up my calls anymore on April 1st. (I am slightly concerned that one of these years I will have an actual emergency and I will be the boy who cried wolf and no one will be there to help...I will wonder if the years of hilarious pranks and evil lies to the ones I love most all worth it?) 

Of course it was worth it. It was funny. For me, at least.

I do have to admit though, I have hit what one would refer to as rock bottom in the April Fool's world. I have trouble with the line, in that I cross it. Often. It was two years ago when I hurdled that line. The prank was flawless, a perfect prank one might say. One might also say a friendship ruiner. Against all of my holiday morals, I began the prank a week in advance. I do not usually believe in doing such things but since the particular prank recepient  had gotten me pretty badly a few years back by beginning a week in advance I thought it was justified. April Fool's Day is a singular day, not a week. You really should only begin and end the prank on the actual day, but as I said earlier, this was a special case. 

After graduating college a few of my friends decided to create online dating profiles. They would go on a few dates with men they met online and from their stories, it never really seemed to work out. The men never seemed to be who they said they were in their profiles, or look like their pictures. (Shocking!) So the week before April Fool's Day, I decide to create the perfect man. His name was Brad. He was beautiful. In fact, he was a TV star on a show I knew my friend didn't watch. I googled his image and found one that looked like it was taken with a phone and cropped his friend out for his profile photo. He loved traveling. He loved Italy. He loved food. I connected him as much as I could with my friend in his likes and dislikes. Since it was two years ago and the profile is long gone, I can't remember enough to get too specific but I think you get the idea. 

Day one. I "winked" at her profile. That's a thing apparently, online winking. Similar to the creepy but entertaining Facebook poke. Then I waited for her call, which came that night. She told me about the guy and gave me some background information. I told her he sounded great. 

Day two. I messaged her. I told her she seemed fun and asked her if she would want to ever meet. She responded quickly, she wanted to meet. Then I got the call, "He wants to meet!" Her excitement almost broke my heartless April Fool-loving heart, but I stayed strong. I told her to send me his picture and she did. I told her he was ridiculously good looking, he honestly looked like an actor. (I mean I was basically giving it away here…) She still did not realize he was actually an actor. We began to plan her outfit. They were meeting ON April Fool's Day. She did not notice the irony of the date Brad had set either. Things were going swimmingly. 

Day three. I created a fake e-mail account. Then I e-mailed her. I explained I don't really like messaging on dating sites and felt like e-mail was a little more formal. I told her to meet me at 7:30pm at Bertucci's. (For those of you who don't know this restaurant, it's a delicious and affordable Italian restaurant with the tastiest rolls I've ever eaten. It is also the reason for the fifteen pounds I gained in college.) She responded to my email and we were all set for our date.

Day four. April Fool's Day. She called me to discuss her outfit, I confirmed it was perfect and told her to call me BEFORE she walks into the date. 

7:30pm: no call.

8:00pm: still no call. I have texted her three times. 

8:05pm: She texts me "I don't think he's coming…"

Apparently she had forgotten to call me before and walked into the restaurant where she silenced her phone and had two glasses of water and a roll before taking her phone out to check messages. The waiter had gone over three times to see if her date was coming. 

My original plan had been to confess prior to her going inside and getting a table. But she never called before she went in like I had told her to. It was the first and only fight we have had to this day. It lasted 45 minutes. It began with her hanging up and hating me after I told her "April Fools!" on the phone. She recovered quickly but it was still an eye opener for me.  How far will you go to really mess with your friends? Me? Too far. Luckily we can laugh about it now.

The last April Fool's Day I took a break. I wasn't as excited and motivated since it was the one month anniversary of my favorite fool victim passing away. I can still hear my mom screaming at me upstairs because she figured out I smeared vaseline all over the toilet. I can vividly see her face at the kitchen sink the year I had wrapped my black hair elastic around the spray nozzle. When she turned the water on it sprayed her immediately. Her face was priceless. Every April Fool's Day was celebrated growing up. I think that's why I love this holiday so much. It inspires insane amounts of creativity and imagination. The kind of creativity and imagination that came so naturally to us all when we were so young. It reminds us to laugh. It lets us act like a little kid. 

Being an adult is exhausting sometimes. I find it way more fun to channel my inner 5-year-old self. I think if you let yourself do the same today, you might agree.

Green drinks for the roommates on St. Patrick's Day:

Green smoothies & the parade:

The coolest bar I've been to yet:

Brunch at Miss Lucy's with my roommate:

Perfect Sunsets:

Happy Hour with one of my favorites:

Sushi date with Lizzy:

Denis Bay:

Beach & Brunch day with some friends:

Denis Bay:

Adventure & Tragedy

Two weeks ago my father came to visit me. It was perfect timing since it was the one year anniversary of my mother moving up to heaven and I really didn't want to be alone. It was a fantastic week full of cocktails, relaxation, and father-daughter bonding. On his last day we woke up early, had our coffee, and headed off to the ferry. To spend every last minute with him, I took the ferry over to St. Thomas and then hopped in the 40 minute shuttle ride with him to the airport before finally saying goodbye. Minus trashing the house a few times in high school and backing my sister's car into his truck on Christmas morning a few years ago, I really am a good daughter. 

I got into the shuttle with a hot dog and strawberry daiquiri I had purchased at the ferry bar (Remember when I used to be healthy?) and squeezed between my father and a nice blonde woman. As I dissected my hot dog the woman next to me noticed the tattoo on my hand and asked me what it was for. I told her it was my mom's handwriting and I had gotten it after she passed away to feel like she was still holding my hand. The woman started to tear up and immediately apologized for being "so emotional." I told her not to worry, I was a very emotional person myself. A few minutes later in the conversation the woman told me she had lost her son five years ago. He had been killed after being deployed in Afghanistan. She told me about an amazing organization that was started in his memory called "Small Steps in Speech." Her son was engaged at the time and his fiancée was a speech pathologist. Before he had passed away he had ideas of her starting her own private practice with this name and after he was killed they decided to continue with the vision. The organization provides grants for children with speech and language disorders for services aimed to assist in their communication abilities. I told her a bit about The Grattitude Project and how I had used it as a crutch for going through my own loss of a loved one. Helping others have a more positive view on the world was helping me too. We talked the entire ride to the airport. Towards the end of the ride I asked her what her favorite part of her trip was and she said the day she went kayaking. She told me the kayak guide looked and acted so much like her son who had been killed and how it was even more crazy that he also had the same name as her son. Once hearing the name I told her I actually knew who she was talking about - he was one of my first friends on the island. I also knew he had been through his own family tragedy and we talked briefly about that. I couldn't believe the amount of connections we had made in such a short period of time. When the shuttle pulled up to the airport we got out and she gave me a huge hug. Then she stepped back and put out her hand for me to shake and said "By the way, I'm Mary." 

A few days later I went out for a drink in town with my roommate. Since she was mid-cleanse, I was doing the drinking for both of us. After throwing back a few cocktails I happened to notice a bride and groom at the bar and figured I would go congratulate them quickly. Naturally, this turned into us all taking a shot of Fireball whiskey and having a heart to heart for the three hours following that shot. I found out that both of them had tragically lost family members. The girl had lost her sister after a freak accident when she fell out of a window and the boy's brother who was mentally ill had murdered their parents and then killed himself. I was left in shock. I couldn't believe how sweet and kind these two people were after hearing what they had gone through. I sat there in awe as they were able to focus on how lucky they were to find each other and how much love they still had to give despite everything. It was inspiring.

Two weeks before I left Manhattan I went out on a random date with a boy. It wasn't so much that I had time to be dating, or that it was realistic to start seeing someone before I move, but I just love dates. Something about getting to go out with someone who doesn't know anything about you and just tell stories all night is so much fun to me. I know a lot of people hate it, the idea of having to "start all over" when they first go out with people after just getting out of a long relationship. But not me, I love it. I love meeting new people and I welcome distractions. Halfway through our date he had to use the bathroom and when he left I noticed the girl next to me was also alone waiting on her date to return from the bathroom also. We made eye contact and she asked me what I had gotten to eat. We talked a bit more before she noticed my tattoo. A few minutes later I found out her mother had also died of breast cancer last March. We ended up all talking more once our dates got back. I felt instantly close to this complete stranger because of this shared knowledge of life after you lose a loved one, especially your mother. 

Despite the few difficult humans I have encountered in the last year of my life, the majority of people I have met seem to all share a connection. I honestly think that the universe lines things up in a way for us to meet certain people. Every person I talk to lately has a story, a tragedy. Whether it was a family member or friend, and whether it was cancer, murder, suicide, or accident, I have seemed to engage mostly with people who understand loss and understand how important it is to live. People who know what it feels like to have a little piece of your heart removed...forever. 

There is a quote that I love: "Be kind for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle you know nothing about." I think we should always, always remember this when we meet people (especially the people at the DMV). We don't know what anyone has gone through, we know nothing of their battle. We might get frustrated because they were a little short with us but we don't know what they just went through. It's best to always be kind. Or if you're me, and you're a lot more like you're mother than you usually realize, you talk to them. Talk to strangers. Connect with them. Find out their stories. Because in the end, it's the most comforting thing in the world. In the end, you find out you're not alone.

Dad's visit!

Dad and the roommates - Liz & Liz

Day trip to Tortola!

 Cocktail hour on the porch! 

Farewell Dad!

Roomie night out:

 The amazing married couple I met:

 Sunday hike:

Another gorgeous sunset from the house:

 Roommate's dinner night:

Homemade rice wrap lunches:

Last day with Koa before he moves out!

End of a gorgeous work day on Kekoa!

Adventure day!

Ate lunch in the middle of the ocean on this rock:

End of a great adventure day: