virtue...

when i was 10, i played virtue, one of reno sweeney's angels in the cole porter musical anything goes. at the time, i hadn't a clue what a virtue was, and no idea how to be one. ha.

these days, patience is the virtue that i struggle with the most. you see, it doesn't come naturally to me. maybe because i am an only child. maybe because i am a leo who has red hair. maybe because i am a peacock. or maybe just because.

though, at work, in my management role, my patience is strong. i was telling jordan some choice stories from my day and he said i don't have enough patience to deal with this shit. you tell me these stories and i just want to shout at everyone. which is probably true, but also loaded. he and i have such different jobs. so when he tells me stories, i have almost the same thought. so it seems plausible that we learn the patience that we need. the patience to get through the necessary and relevant parts of the day.

my growing virtue seems to be the big sister to my listening skills and my ability to react without emotion... i'm almost a real adult, y'all. it's a little bit nuts at times, and i almost don't recognize those parts of myself. the parts of myself that listen to the four agreements. the parts that don't make assumptions and those that allow me to do my best... even in trying and unfamiliar situations.

it seems reasonable that these components of growth will spill-over into my personal life too. and, at times, they do. but, doesn't it seem fair, just a little bit, that there are times i don't want to try so hard at being a good person? times when i can feel the rebellious nature rise...

attention, i'm being impatient! on! purpose! at the end of the day, don't i/we deserve some outright groundless, preposterous, unjustifiable logic to balance out all the good head nodding/tilting with thoughtful mmmm hmmmms and i absolutely validate and honor what you are sayings... sometimes (read: always) i want what i want when i say that i want it. but shit, it's frustrating. because as it turns out, not everyone wants to deal with this behavior from me nor do they move at the pace i want, at all times.

reasonably so.

and even though i know it's totally irrational to have these indulgent and over-reactive moments of losing my shit and being downright bratty... it's as though i need them as reminders. layla, chill out. you can be patient and still be a red-headed, leo-peacock who loves to feel and live passionately. (i mean, i did tell my boss today that i think periods (the punctuation mark, not the moon cycle (though sometimes that too) should be outlawed and we should only use exclamation marks!) (in response to her asking me to re-write something so that it didn't appear quite as emphatic... bleh) but boy, i tell you... it's a balancing act.

i got hit by a car tonight. my physical body. i'm ok. mom, i'm ok... don't worry, i'll call you tomorrow and tell you all about it... but, it was pretty ridiculous. i used my very strong self to block and propel away from the dumb-ass driver hauling ass backwards down 16th street and then shouted many many many profanities. what? i know. i love you. i stole these pictures from jordan.

all this and heaven too...

last weekend i was in the adirondacks. you've heard me rant about new york before.

but this new york is different. we flew into syracuse and had to drive two-ish hours north/north-east to get to the town where jordan grew up. the house he grew up in. the school he went to... it was pretty magical. which, i find so interesting, because he currently lives around the corner from where i went to high school. in my city. he can hear the bells that signal passing period.

but anyway... what i found so magical is the very deep rooted and true love that his family has for this part of the world. the north country. his father and brother, especially, kept remarking at how beautiful everything looked. and they live there (well, sort of... braden lives in ithaca, but for a native californian, like me... it's almost the same thing). they see this everyday. i admired, so much, each of their ability to stop, and take it all in. again and again.

braden and i were sitting at the (most incredible vintage diner-style-complete-with-vinyl-covered-chairs!!!!!!) table, looking out over the lake, when he said, this is heaven to me. he's a pretty poetic guy.  really? i asked. and without skipping a beat, he asked where my heaven is. i had to skip so many beats. i stumbled and stuttered before asking for more time to think about it... 

and i've thought about it so much since i left the north country. because, in that moment... sitting with this gorgeous home-grown mountain gang, that could very well be a heaven. 

i have so many heavens.

anywhere with tony and louise.

anywhere with jordan.

brown ledge.

sarah lawrence.

hawai'i.

hana and john's front yard.

the ocean at the end of santa ana avenue.

l.a. in the sunshine.

rome.

nice.

i'll take the universe as my heaven, please.

do-over...

do you ever wish you could have do-overs? in elementary school, we did it all the time. the playground had a constant echo of voices shouting interference! and do-over-do-over-do-over! and back then, it was so easy... a bird flew to close to the batter, a kickball rolled into the handball court, someone looked at someone else sideways... there was always a reason, and do-over was always an acceptable response.

i wish it were still acceptable. and though, in some cases, it is... my brain always goes to that place of infinite do-overs. where time travel is available and totally plausible. in the vein of if i knew then, what i know now... it would all be so different.

i would go back to high school and and tell myself to relax a little. breathe. don't follow all the rules. i would have told myself that he was not the right guy to make such adult decisions with. i would have told myself to trust in being comfortable with exactly who i was. no need to try and conform. because the trying didn't really work, and i was always in a state of in between.

i'd go back to some of those appointments in the chair and say do not get that haircut. your head will not support that style. hello flock of seagulls, roxette and the ever popular straight bangs with permed hair. and no matter how hard i want it, i will never look like siena miller with that short hair do.

there are times that i think about going back and doing college and grad school all over again. with the sensitivity that i have now. with more technique and reverence to the craft. with the knowledge that i have now, as to not appear quite as wide-eyed, amazed, baffled and with that feeling of who decided to let me be a student here? and when are they going to realize i'm just faking it?!

i'd go back and rsvp to all of the weddings that i didn't go to because i was worried about all the money that i never seem to have.

i would have never started that fight with craig that i'll never be able to take back.

i'd erase my entire last relationship.

except. well, that's not really reasonable is it? at age 30 i still want do-overs for today's behavior. i'd be really happy to erase much of last night's phone conversation and be settled by having all of the secret information of the eventual outcome.

where would i be if i did everything exactly the way i wanted, in hind-sight at least? if i had no major scars on my emotional record, what kind of street-cred would i actually have? and while i spend (far too much) time thinking about these things... i anticipate that it's what makes me as self-aware as i am... and trust, i am still really working on being better at this. i promise.

the desire for do-overs is what leads the many many many conversations i have in my head on a daily basis, when i'm figuring out how to respond, how to act, how to be. and i need to remember that i always want t a do-over, so maybe, layla, you could try and give yourself a do-over... in the moment. you know?

i ffffound these images here.

names...

fyi... jordan and i are notorious for getting ahead of ourselves. always. and regularly. i think it was the first weekend he came to visit and i was driving him to the airport... he said, this was pretty great right? right. we should probably just get married. yep.

......

when i was little i always experimented with writing my name with someone else's last name. ok, with whoever my handsome boy-crush at the moment was... his last name. sometimes a boy from science class and sometimes a celebrity... layla taylor-thomas (remember jtt?!). 

at any rate, a few years ago when i was in a relationship that made me think about our future i realized that i didn't want to change my name. if i got married, i wanted to remain layla guest. and to be honest, i didn't really like my boyfriend's last name. not a very good reason, but it sure did spawn a lot of thought on the whole issue. and thought, of course turns into conversation.

the number of men and women who had emotionally charged reactions to the idea of name change really surprised me. 

-no, i don't want to be labeled as a man's property.

-yes, it's the only way we will feel like a family.

-how about hyphenated last names?

-why doesn't the man change his name?

-yes, it's tradition.

and, of course, there are hundreds of blog posts dedicated to this subject... from hundreds of points of view. and that's the interesting part... point of view.

last night jordan and i were skyping and i asked him how he would feel if i changed my last name to his, allen. he said that would be fine. and when i asked him how he would feel if i didn't change my name he said that would be fine. and then he said something interesting... i would want our children to have my last name.

interesting.

when we talked further he mentioned the desire to carry on his family name. so, i told him i wanted to carry on my family name too, so maybe one child could be allen and one could be guest. he didn't so much love that idea... and well, i was stirring the pot a bit (on purpose, of course).

then i mentioned that i though about the idea of changing my middle name to guest and my last name to allen. he really didn't like that idea, stating that nicole, my middle name, was one that my parents gave me. that it was a first name and i could never get rid of it! which struck me. and, of course, i had to point out... nicole is a name i rarely associate with. i think i only use it when i answer those silly questions about finding your star trek name by adding the first two letters of your first name with the first four letters of your middle name, then multiply it by seven and add the second syllable of your third pet's name but only if that pet lived on the first street you lived on, or whatever. 

but, it's not a problem to just up and get rid of my last name altogether?!

so here's the thing. my parents gave me the name layla guest because they (probably big red more so than tonyguest) thought it would look good written in lights! nicole is more of an afterthought, because, well... i needed a middle name. and the thought of changing my middle name was more significant to dear jordan than changing my last name; the name that i say (yes, guest. like a house guest. or a guest room. no, i'm not asking you to guess my last name...) at least 14 times per day. 

point of view... ours are so different. all the time... but it makes for great conversation.

though, in the end, i think he got my point.

but, i still have no idea whether i will change my name someday. i guest i'll just keep you posted (see what i did there...?!)

image found here.

mexico, i love you...

crap. i love mexico. i mean, what's not to love? it's so hot even my knees sweat. so, plunge into the playa... that'll cool you right off. done. it's totally reasonable to wear a bathing suit as an undergarment at all times. no mascara needed, ever. i could easily exist here for quite a long time.

but, i really should learn spanish. it's embarrassing actually. i'm putting it on my list. take spanish.

our first evening here, when we still stunk of airplane, airport and sweaty customs lines behind the russian gymnastics team (??????) (who did not have the proper paperwork, 'cause they were having a helluva time getting into mexico), we ate at a small cantina called le petite paris. neither one of us could figure out why. there was nothing remotely parisian or french about the joint at all. we stumbled in because of an unannounced downpour.

a gentleman resembling napoleon bonaparte (in garb only) was sitting at an outside table. (maybe this was the french connection?) the drink menu had a photo of napoleon tucked away in the specials category. only, it was labeled as jack sparrow's specials. jack sparrow is not french. totally bizarre, but really, we just needed a beer and some chips.

today i watched a lighting storm over cozumel, the island that lies 10 kilometers east of playa del carmen. i sat in 83 degree sun, while i heard thunder and watched lightning in the distance. shit. get it now? i asked jordan if we could move here... he hasn't responded yet. but, he generally doesn't when i ask him things like can we move to mexico/vienna/geneva/london/anywherebuthere, etc...

i also intend to eat my weight in ceviche while i'm here... adiós amigos.

seriously. do not drink the water...

vacation is hard.

it's been a lot of sunning by the pools and the playa, walking around town to find coffee, fruit and sunscreen, trying on bathing suits and eating great dinners accompanied by copious amounts of margaritas or cervezas. yep. that pretty much sums it up.

hannah and i are asked on a daily basis if we are friends? that's code for lesbians in traditional catholic mexican culture... just in case that wasn't abundantly clear already. where are the boys? huh? two single ladies??? we tell them the boys are at home doing the laundry and this generally makes the waitstaff laugh their heads off, as they have, unknowingly, crept closer and closer to our table to hear the answer.

this is usually followed by shots of tequila, on the house. ooff.

yesterday, i made another new friend. cristobal. he's lovely, though he listens to crap club-house-dance-electronica-diskotecka music that makes my eyes cross. he does, however, make the most delightful juice-smoothie concoction i have ever had. orange/mango/guava/mint juice. throw it in the blender with some ice and voilà... wait, ummm... is that ice from filtered water...??? but, i can't bring myself to ask the question, as i will not be that kind of american in mexico. it is what it is... and we'll just have to wait and see...

good news friends. if it was tap water, i've got a digestion system made of steel. back to sunning by the pools.

¡olé!

mother/father...

today is big red and tony's wedding anniversary! nice job you two. i woke up nice and early to watch the sunrise just for the occasion...