Two Weeks Notice.

You may have noticed that I haven't been posting lately. I have, however, been writing - though there was a paucity in volume, am expanding to different formats. I gave my notice to leave my job. It's probably one of the most difficult decisions I've had to make. So - I did it. After a considerable time of reflection and consideration, I came to a decision and revised my letter of resignation (this was the writing I was telling you about).

Fresh off a weekend holiday in DC, I cleared my head. I felt ready. It was time to move on and finally jump off the diving board instead of tiptoeing on it and thinking about it. Amazing what a few days away from work and with some dear friends and family can do for you.

Finally, I can move forward. I'm leaving Los Angeles. Maybe I'll come back. Maybe I won't. One thing is for certain: I'm leaving my life open to possibility. Change can be a really good thing. This was the 'Restart' button I was talking about. It was a long time coming.

What next, you say?
I decided to move abroad. For a year, maybe longer. I gave it a great deal of thought and weighed my options, did the whole agonizing life re-evaluating, soulful introspection cycle. I'm not married and I don't have kids, and I may not have the opportunity to gallivant across the globe later on in life. This would be a decision made from the Life-is-Short school (which you may also recall from this post). I'm trusting in God. I'll just go wherever God takes me. There really is no telling for certain where I'll end up. So far I'm just planning on taking a teaching course for a month, and then pretty much a free agent after that. Perhaps I'll begin freelancing.

New chapter. I'm unbelievably excited and nervous. Why do I enjoy making decisions that have to be terrifying and exhilarating at the same time? Would have saved my family a ton of grief if I kept to the beaten path.

Why, you ask?
The catalyst for all this was a mundane occurrence: my leasing agreement ending. The owner of my apartment deciding to sell.  A buyer was found pretty quickly, and things kind of sped up from there.  I just didn't have the desire in me to move and go through the whole rigmarole of finding yet another apartment and committing to a 12-month lease.  To sum up, I just didn't feel like moving.  Didn't want it badly enough.

Oh, jobs.

Raspberry Rush Lipstick.
Today I wore my Raspberry Rush lipstick to work. I wonder if anyone noticed. Probably not. Most people are wrapped up in their own bubble of work, family, and friends. Or, sometimes just themselves. I hope I am at least in the work-family-friends school.

But, I wonder what people remember about you after you leave. Is it your shade of lipstick? Certain idioms you frequently use? Interesting how often people never see themselves the way others see them.

Then again, maybe I could try the Lady Gaga lipstick.

Big Sticks, Suspect The Old Lady, and Touch-ups.

Big Sticks
Some old dudes carry long sticks or thick branches while they walk along the trails that I frequent @ Griffith Park. I never really gave it much thought, other than, hey, old dudes kind of like walking sticks, I suppose.

While on a rare phone call with my tersely versed father, I mentioned to him that I had started going on regular jogs at the park. He immediately went into overprotective-of-my-daughter-mode. What did he say? He asked if I saw dogs at the park, and I replied, yes, I often see people walking their dogs at the park. He then informed me that I should be going on my runs with a big stick, in the event that I get attacked by a dog.

I shit you not.

My Dad gets more paranoid as time passes He even surprises people, with new, unexpected sources of paranoia that you should definitely consider, apparently.

Always Suspect the Old Lady (or Man)
If you were planning on seeing Devil in theaters, be forewarned of a spoiler. So - went to a screening of the horror movie, about a handful of folks trapped in an elevator in a busy Center City office high-rise in Philadelphia. Who's the guilty one causing all this ? The devil is none other than - spoiler alert! - the harmless-looking old lady. Yup - that's right - suspect the old ladies.

Scene: Urth Caffe in West Hollywood on a late Friday afternoon.
My friend and I catch-up over some lattes. Little did we know, an old man in his 60s was eavesdropping on our entire conversation, taking it upon himself to rise from his status sitting at a table solo to rude old dude nosing his way into our conversation and abrasively questioning and analyzing the facets of our friendship. After a few minutes, we went from slightly interested to annoyed at the rude tenacity of the senior citizen. Nobody cares, we're not interested, find some other women that are younger and more gullible and actually have time in the world to give a shit. 'Cause we ain't them.

Touch-ups.
I'm sitting on the floor of my living room, an opened bottle of OPI's Blue My Mind resting nearby as I touch up the polish on my toes. I wonder for a moment who has the job of naming nail polish colors, because that would be such a fun gig.

Lately I've broken out of my usual Ugly Betty mold - the daily rush to the office and the no-frills attitude of an individual who just doesn't care how she looks and goes for substance over style and whatever's convenient. So, my attitude which stemmed from high school of not caring about what people thought of how I dressed and being on the casual/sloppy side, now being a young professional, now correlates to pure laziness when it comes to getting dressed. And laziness is quite possibly the biggest turn-off ever.

People actually noticed. I just wanted to add a little spring to my step, a refresh, another push of the 'Restart' button. Amazing how monumental effects can result from minor moves.

I've pulled out the dresses and skirts from the forgotten corner of my closet, cleared out the items I would be embarrassed to be wearing in a car accident, and dusted off the make-up compacts and eye colors. No really - I mean DUSTED OFF. I wonder if Tina Fey does the same thing.