Elizabeth Gilbert Brilliance...

My favorite author, who wrote "Eat, pray, love." Also, this book her extremely wealthy, later turned into a mediocre movie.  She says this in her second book, "Committed."

 "People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.


A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave.


A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master..."


Couldn't have said it better myself.

Quarter Life Un-Crisis

So, I’m 25.  And the other day I felt overwhelmed with all the changes coming my way...much like the breakdowns we have when we turn 50, get divorced and remarried, and start researching hair plugs. And then it occurred to me that this is not crisis mode…it’s UNCRISIS mode.  As it should, moving my whole life to Boston is causing a bit of anxiety in my normal, care-free life.  Actually, that is partially inaccurate…I’m only care free sometimes.  FINE.  I’m care free never…that sure does feel gross to say.  

Anxiety, and a whole lot of uncertainty.  My bosses seem great, but have placed the solvation of world peace in under a month on my plate.  (Literally, they just called to tell me to take as much time as I needed because i'm about to not have a life.  Excellent.)  I don’t have a car but know I will drive at LEAST a couple of hours a day.  I’m moving back in with my parents, whom I havn’t lived with since I was 14.  My siblings lives are absolutely jam packed, and I have two friends there, and let’s just say, they know eachother.  Friggen fantastic.  Every once in a while I remind myself how hard this really could be…

Instead though of defeat, I’m kind of excited to fight with my dad.  Dysfunctional?  Probably.  I can’t wait to be the manager of a club where it’s quite possible I’m hazed, and not liked.  My new boss is probably a giant doucher, and could make my life a living hell.  I will probably drive a car whose door is a different color than the body, and will break down on my way to work, and I’ll be too poor to afford AAA, and my dad will be four hours away in another state working and I’ll be stranded in my broken, 2-colored car.  “How to lose a job in ten days” will be the title to the next blogpost.  Either way, the likelihood of me crying myself to sleep for two weeks is promising.

Above is a fantasticly funny story I've told myself.  None of it is true...I can’t waste another minute not living ever remaining minute of my life from a place of possibility and generating my very soon coming success.  Everyday I don’t: write, explore; make time for a good friend; give unselfishly; hold back because of fear and insecurity; or push through the discomfort, I’m being just like every other average jane with “potential”. I don’t fall in the middle of the pack…I lead the pack.  I am unafraid.  And that’s just that.

Nancy Drew

Big girl wine nights are my favorite…I get so excited because one could never predict the direction our conversations will go. You can imagine the build up when Wendy texts me a couple of hours before we meet on her porch…”I have something CRAZY to tell you.  I have knots in my stomach.” The best part?  I have NO idea what to expect.

Fast forward…porch sitting, wine glasses in hand:

Me: Wendy, do tell.  Is he gay?  Does he have secret children?  Drug dealer??  So, what is it?

Wendy:  No, are you crazy!  Nothing like that.  I’ve been a sleuth. 

Me:  A sleuth?  Lol, what do you mean? 

Wendy:  Well, I was awake last night when he snuck out…it was 1:54 am.

Me:  Youre convincing me your psycho right now, but this is gonna be good.  Go on.

Wendy (shrugging, and in the most casual possible way, she then says): Lol.  So, I got outa bed, ya know, brushed my teeth and washed my face.  Then I got all dressed in black and followed him.

Me: SHUT THE FRONT DOOR.  Now…I’m convinced, your nuts.  But go on.

Wendy: Well, I just wanted to see if he went to his store like he said he did.  So I went to the store, and he wasn’t there.

Me:  So then you came home…

Wendy:  NO!  Then I went to his house, and his lights were on…but those damn blinds! I couldn’t see anything!  And I had to be careful because they have an alarm system…

Me: And it’s a good thing they do, to prevent you from sneaking in through the windows!!  You mean to tell me…you’re crazy ass got out of your car??

Wendy (again, in a completely casual and I-do-this-shit-all-the-time kind of voice): Oh its not the first time I’ve gotten out of my car and inspected his house before…

Me (now big eyed, and laughing hysterically): Of course you have wendy….

Wendy:  Lol, what?!?! Just a modern day Nancy Drew.. (I can’t make that shit up…she really said that…)

Me (now laughing too hard to speak….)

Wendy: WHAT?! You would have done it too!!

Me: no, not a chance…but I’m not judging.  Dude, you didn’t think this one through, wen.  What if you had gotten caught?!

Wendy: Oh!! Well, here’s the crazy par-

Me: THERE’S A CRAZY PART?!?!

Wendy (still laughing..) Well, I had printed out the information for Go Green Arlington and was going to pretend to be a door to door girl…you know, trying to convince them to, ya know, go green!!

Me:  Of COURSE.  (My head is now shaking in my hands…and if in this conversation I was speechless, I’m now that, times 10.)

Wendy: What?!!? If that’s not thought out, I don’t know what is!!

Dialogue went on for some time.  The truth is, our modern day nancy drew here is one of my favorite people in the whole world.  She’s resourceful and while this story might convince you otherwise, she’s highly intelligent. AND she’s beautiful.  She has a billion guys following her around all the time, hoping that they will get that chance to tie her down, but she’s kind of un-tie-down-able.  It’s my personal favorite, when she invites all the men in her life to a party, and they all show up, thinking their with her.  She has the imagination of a 7 year old, yet last night we celebrated her 30^th birthday. I personally hope that she never, ever grows up and will always remain my modern day “Nancy Drew.”

The kitties move to NH. And me too.

  My dad and eldest brother Josh just drove my entire, meowing life away in a 5 X 8 U haul truck.  I’m not sure what condition my remains will be in when they arrive to its newest destination, New Hampshire, but I guess I should have thought of that when it was neatly displayed in my apartment.

   I really don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into.  Moving to a new job, in a new state, in a new home.  It all feels a little bit on the unreal side. I can best describe the feeling by looking into the eyes of my complete mess of a feline; who nearly took my dad’s face off as we jammed her in her car carrier…the fear that’s always in her eyes, now circumstantially heightened, is striking.  People ask me all the time why I even bother with her, which usually in turn renders me speechless.  (I technically inherited her from my roommate; an evil, evil barn cat.)  In truth, I guess I kind of detest the little thing.  She has a serious attitude problem, she’s a straight up little bitch who knows she’s just pretty enough to be kept. She has a knack for turning her charm on when she’s done particularly bad things, like pee on my roommates clean clothes or unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper…again.  And for two solid years she thinks that she is the center of all worth…WRONG.  She is quite undeserving, at least as far as kitty’s go, she couldn’t be any more opposite of my other perfect cat.  (Enter second cat…perfect.) In fact, I have a few friends who call him Jesus.  I wish I could lie and say I’m kidding…but I’m not.  Handsome is the Savior of cats….WWHD…what would Handsome do.  Should be on cat collars with a picture of his sweet face; coming soon to a cat near you…

   In an uncanny way, I am just like the little bitch-cat.  She is in fact a cat version of myself; scared, seemingly narcissistic, and over-confident, to name a few of our dominant flaws.  I do think, though, that people would hold in high regard my “keeper” characteristic amongst my many, many downfalls, even if they can’t figure out one single reason why to “keep” me.   I have no idea why I keep her!  Many times have I considered “accidentally” opening the doors and chasing her out. But I, too, hiss at people when I feel defenseless, and symbolically claw for my own life when the outcome is out of my control.  I wouldn’t let you shove me in a cage without a vicious fight where I try to rip your face off either (sorry, face.)  I would most certainly cry for an hour or two at the mere suggestion of such bull shit.  So sadly I watched her today act out of pure survival, and realized I keep her for her near humane qualities (or my ridiculous bitch cat qualities…whatever.) Most prominently, I wonder if people see the apprehension in my eyes as clearly as I did in hers.

   I keep her because someone’s got to love and look out for the impossible bitch “Lindsey’s” of the world.  This version happens to be small, have fine graying hair, and requires allergy medicine on occasion.  She’s also unfortunately expensive…typical.  (WHAT?! We have good taste.)  She is needy, overly curious, catastrophically messy; a tragic cliché of a cat.  She is everything people hate in cats.  Am I everything people hate in women?  Fuck.

   Is it weird that I see myself in a cat?  Perfect.  Love me or leave me…us.  In the state of New Hampshire, we are now officially a two-fer.  (*If you are not from DC, do read Lindsey’s dictionary definition: two-fer: noun; word attaching two objects; two for one deal.  “Now that Lindsey spent $300 dollars in unnecessary shots and has fed her faithfully for over two years, she and her cat Luci are now unfortunately considered a two-fer; leaving Lindsey likely single until the death of said bitch-cat.”)

Into the soul of an addict.

I have known for years that I have an addictive personality.  I wrote an entire blog post about how much I hate change…I am first and foremost, addicted to what I know.  In all openness, I really have lived a very harmful lifestyle, and I’m sad to say that that is all I know.  I know waking up and falling asleep with espresso in hand, and using that in between time to kill myself trying to tackle an impossibly long to-do list full of unnecessary shit.  I make myself feel so guilty for not getting it all done, for not using my 24 hours that day most efficiently.  The first thing I cut into is sleep…I mean, who could sleep at a time like this? There is dishes to do, a blog to contribute to, trails to run…so clearly, I’m unkind to myself.  I offer compassion to everyone and ANYONE except for myself.

I realized the other day that what the world needs is not another highly functioning “do-er.”  Who I am being is somewhat of a chaotic tornado that thrives on caffeine, to-do lists, adrenaline rushes and bodily and intellectual  torment.  A good friend pointed out to me the other day, “Lindsey, who told you that the real you wasn’t enough?” Wow.  Right on sister.  But, for some reason, I’ve felt that my best self is the girl who bounces off the walls, never tires, and always says yes.  And now that I’m saying this out loud, I realize the dysfunction.  There is no inner joy in this nor is it remotely sustainable.  There are moments of success, in fact there have been a lot of them in my life.  This lifestyle works for me, and has created a huge level of achievement.  But my heart is vacant and when I let myself come down from this caffeine high…I realize, I’m a fraud.  That is not me.  I’m out of integrity with myself.  The world doesn’t need any more frauds. 

So, I have made the decision to give up caffeine.  Ok, I’m giving up coffee for a short while, espresso probably permanently.  I want a life of true freedom…free from needing to “be” anything other than what I am...ultimately free from addiction.  I can’t be free if my life revolves around a cup of joe, sometimes more than one.  Maybe underneath it all, I really am tired, and I want that to be ok.  Maybe I’m sad, and MAYBE I’m really quite delightful at my core, but none of us ever noticed it because I’m too busy babbling off stories of what is next on my list.  Maybe I’m witty and maybe I’m slower to respond.  I have always wanted to be “sweet”, and maybe I am if I am not distracted with some said goal needing accomplishment.  Perhaps I’ve been afraid of what actually sits underneath it all untouched.  Oh well, regardless, it all is coming out, like it or not.  Here's to being real....

Two days later…Decaf sucks reeeeeal bad, and did not trick my body one bit.  This addiction thing is no joke…thank god it’s not crack or something ridiculous…this is hard enough.

Five days later…I’ve been in bed for two days with a ridiculous cold.  My immune system apparently isn't as convinced as I am that I don't need caffeine.  However, I am tired earlier and get great sleep.  This is good news!

30 Days of Gratitude...DAY 2

So, last night, circa 11 pm, my phone rings. It is my amazing father...

Cliche, maybe, but my dad is a superhero. Again...it's not something that he did for me recently that makes me think this. To anyone else, he's an ordinary, honest, hard working, middle class man. We try to talk a couple of times a week, but since he gave me the gift/curse of an incredible work ethic, we often times go a week or two without talking, due to being held up at work or just crashing from exhaustion as soon as we aren't on the go. And while our relationship has gone from one extreme to the other, I believe that not having him for a bit makes me appreciate him that much more.

I am the younger, female version of papa Norse. We have the EXACT same humor that it's gross....we both like running the same one joke into the ground, because to him and I, it's STILL funny and will never get old. Everyone around us wants us to die, both while we're telling that joke, and then following our telling of it, when him and I are the only two so inconsolable from laughter that everyone else has left the room but him and I....still laughing. We might have rewinded a few parts of Napoleon Dynamite to get a second dose...and both laugh hysterically every time a teenage boy movie comes on, even though we both say how stupid it is, and that we're probably wasting brain cells watching it. Also, when my dad laughs his lunatic laugh, I can't help but laugh with him, even if I don't want to because I don't even know why I'm laughing in the first place..it's like a God damn spell was cast on me...what can I say, the man is hilarious.

He has no idea how smart he is. He is sensitive that he never had the opportunity to finish school. But in actuality, he always has intelligent answers to major life questions, and the profundity from which he speaks has inspired me on MANY occasions. He is one of those rare people who speaks from his experiences, his heart, and his brain...which is far more valuable than any degree out there. He is not simple...he is always expanding his knowledge and is open to new ideas. He is the only person I know that reads the paper everyday, starting with the obituaries and the sports sections. I guess he kinda needs to be a little crazy and open minded, because with a daughter like me...you can't exactly be narrow-minded.

He loves and gives his love when he believes it is a good cause. Obvi, I'm a great cause, and so he loves the hell out of me. I remember him and my step-mother "adopting" an underprivileged family for christmas one year, and my step mom later told me they overspent because he didn't want to put back any of the things he had picked out. (He was in charge of the dad and the little girl!) He loves all of his kids, and even when he's frustrated with one of us, he would never outrightly give up on us or walk away. He doesn't throw his hands up at us, even though we have countless times done that to him. We can always come home. We all know it, and we all, at one point, have taken him for granted. Somehow, he still loves us and is proud of every one of us, and never misses a chance to highlight our accomplishments or forgive our shortcomings.

Last night, dad was tired. He felt (though he didn't say this) that he was spinning his wheels, working so hard to get by and was just exhausted by the every day bullshit of life. I can't wait until my dad and my step mother are able to retire, and sit and appreciate the people and environments that they helped create. I can't wait for them to never have to worry about anything except for staying healthy so they can live long into their grandkids lives. I am impatient for the day that they live next door to me...I lived the first 25 years away from them, and I kinda wanna spend the next 25 all up in there business, driving them absolutely fucking crazy. Get ready guys...I am moving home soon, and you won't be able to get rid of me. :-)

Best memories of my father:

-I was 13, desperate for a pony. He took me to my horsebackriding lesson every saturday morning, and read the paper and drank his coffee, and watched me through the glass windows. He took me to see one that was being sold, and then entertained the idea of actually buying it, going through the magazine of equipment we would need for this pony, along side me at our kitchen table. I was practically putting together a business proposal: why dad should buy me a pony and how much it will cost. I never got a pony. Instead, I had an empathetic and sincere father who wanted for me to have a pony. Better...

-Never a christmas or holiday goes by that he didn't give me a sentimental piece of jewelry that I have saved. A locket, a sun/moon charm that I had put on my charm bracelet which was later another dad/laura gift...a beautiful bracelet he sent to me when we weren't talking. I have yet to have a boyfriend buy me anything that remotely compares....

--The time he visited me at college and took me and my friends mini-golfing and screams out when we're getting our equipment.."I want the blue balls!" ...of course followed by his lunatic laugh. Gross dad....but hilarious.

--When we couldn't find parking, so he parked in handi-capped and grabbed his broken golf club out of the back of the truck and tapped it on the street, pretending to be blind....

--They day I watched him marry the love of his life, and felt happy for him and jealous at the same time...

--Watching him play with his grandson Luke, because Luke is under the same spell I am, which is...

Extreme, stupid, overwhelming admiration and gratitude for all that makes up our better half, Dennis Norse Sr.

Aesthetic Intelligence, 101

Walk onto a train on the metro and ask each person why living healthfully (via decent nutrition and exercise) is important, and I can guarantee you would receive very different answers. The first issue here is that we would all define “living healthfully” quite differently, but there is also another issue. Most of us are unwilling to admit our deepest desire for our physical health: to be jaw-dropping, crowd-stopping, whisper-worthy…beautiful. Another issue, even the “pretty” people of the world are the first to point out: their oversized nose, their skinny legs, their receding hair line. To arrive at the intersection of Beautiful and Confident really is a long and twisted route with no signs and lots of driving against the traffic…

It’s why my girlfriends’ hair appointments are treated with the same urgency as that of a heart transplant. It’s why cosmetic surgeries are no longer an anomaly for movie stars, but an absolute consideration for just about EVERY housewife in America. It’s why we buy certain jeans that promise a fabulous behind, or buy specific sneakers that promise to “tone and sculpt.” Are you kidding me? I know we all do it, but entertain me for a few minutes and lets get real: True physical beauty lies beyond what society teaches…we must begin taking personal responsibility for our own beauty, and just like our parents tell us after our first horrendous hair cut when you’ve locked yourself in the bathroom, crying, begging not to go to school that day…. True beauty comes from the inside.

It starts with answering the question: what does a physically beautiful person look like? Maybe they have a full head of hair. Perhaps they have broad shoulders. There is a potential chance that they do not have any muscle definition, because you find this feature to be too masculine. It could be taller, shorter, leaner, or have “more to love”…blond, brunette, a ginger for goodness sake….you get it, the options are exhausting. If you were Mr. Potato Head and got to pick your body parts like accessories, what would you pick? Mr. Potato head doesn’t have a body (hence his last name…“Head”) but if he did, what would he look like? I think all of us would say, that personality and character adds to our view of beauty, so don’t leave those out!

The scary part, where are you now? Get real with yourself…consider throwing out your Skecher shape ups and maybe even, stop going to pilates just to say you did. Once you bring your complete awareness to where you currently are…write down what you would choose to be, given a blank slate. Obviously, some of these things you can change (ie…muscle defenition) and some things you cannot (ie, your height). Look at that unchangeable list, give it a glance, then rip it up and throw it out. Seriously, spend not ONE MORE MINUTE looking at it, because 1) you’re the only one who thinks it’s a bad thing and have labeled it “wrong”, and 2) you can’t do a thing about it, so stop dwelling on it. If you accept you for who and what you are, then that is ALL the permission those around you need to do the same.

Second, recognize that everything on your changeable list is all yours. Achieving it comes when you put in the work; and putting in the work is the easy part, but only when you prioritize the time. START THERE. Get out your schedule, and right in all of your commitments, as is. You have 24 hours in your day like Bill Gates did when he decided he was going to conquer the business world; like Mother Theresa did when she decided she was not going to back down to the most influential leaders and speak against their political stance, only to get applauded by well respected presidents whose entire campaign ate same previous ideas (and people who believed them) alive. Mr. Gates and Mother Theresa never lost sight of their end goal, and while both were far from perfect, they trudged ahead full steam. We all have 24 hours….lets start DOING something with it!

We must begin believing in the process. If fulfilling a mental need requires reading a good book, then you must prioritize time to read like you would eating a meal, and then follow through; only then will that need be met. If you have a spiritual need to go to church or have fellowship with other believers (whatever it is they worship), then you must organize a gathering or go to church, just simple as that. And so it is with physical fitness. I had a client whom, after our initial interview, insisted on starting the plan I created for her “next week”. She wanted to “start fresh.” This is a very common misconception. Friends, “next week” never comes. That is something fancy we tell ourselves to get us off the hook of stepping outside of our own comfortable and non-sweaty world. If it were easy, we’d all be models, elite athletes, or experts.

I would argue that true beauty is hidden beneath the balanced lives we strive for. It’s in between 8 hours of sleep and 16 hours of equal servings of a hard-day’s-work and communion with family and friends. It’s between a short spurt of endurance training, and a long and slow yoga class. It’s between Caesar Salads and cupcakes. Our aesthetic beauty lies somewhere between our muffin-tops and our inherited and unaltered, perfectly straight set of teeth. It lies right alongside your giving, compassionate heart and a deep and profound awareness and acceptance of the things that you cannot change. You might not be there yet, but with a commitment and belief in the process, you will be. Since the only moments we ever really possess are the present, don’t wait until “next week”, be real with yourself right now, and for all the “nows” for the rest of your life.