In two hours’ time, I will be leaving my house to go to John Wayne Airport to fly out to my new home in New York. It’s interesting to hear friends who have known me for many years tell me, “You’re finally living your dream! You’re finally going to your dream city! You’ve been dreaming of this for years!” True, some people grow up dreaming about finding the perfect husband or having the perfect job. For me, my ultimate dream was to live in New York City. Plain and simple. That’s all I could talk about, write about, pray about, think about.

To say that New York is still my dream, in my heart, feels almost like an insult to the life I have already. I would argue that whether it is intentional or not, to categorize this new journey I’m about to embark on as my dream is to categorize my present life as second-rate and of lesser value. When I was younger and New York was the dream, I would have instantaneously admitted, “I’m unsatisfied with my present life and I want to leave.”

I’m looking forward to my new life and the new lessons and experiences that God has in store for me. But, as clichéd, lovey-dovey, and chick-flicky as this will sound, I will sacrifice my dignity to say it anyway: I really am and have been living the dream. Friends who love me and have taught me the meaning of love and forgiveness, family who pummel me to my wits’ end but will be there for me no matter what, an always-growing relationship with Eric that has given me renewed hope in love between two people, and a loving Father who is always so gracious, merciful, and just.

In literal terms, the French’s farewell phrase adieu means à Dieu: to God. So, rather than signing off with, “This isn’t a goodbye, but a see you later,” which is a promise that I ultimately have no real control over whether or not I can keep, I leave my home in the Golden State and life as I know it with this:

I bid you all adieu. Goodnight, California.



I didn’t want to want to do this.
(no, that is not a typo)

My pride told me, “Everyone creates a new blog dedicated around a new location to which they’re transporting themselves. I don’t have to make my move to New York such a big deal. I’m just begging for attention if I create a new blog and advertise it for everyone to read, as if they were dying to know the intricacies of my life.” Then I went ahead and paid for my own blog domain.

Writing in a public blog is quite frightening. It’s so easy to become caught up in writing for others. To take on whatever voice I feel like is most appealing to the general audience. To decide against writing about a certain topic or experience that I actually do care about, but feel like it might scare off/bore off some readers. I have a graveyard full of blogs that died premature deaths due to a cancerous disease called IWAS, short for I Want Attention Syndrome, may their original intentions and identities rest in peace. Quite honestly, I’m not sure why I’m doing this. I guess the only legitimate explanation I can come up with is that I miss writing. Tumblr was not exactly the best environment to find inspiration in writing, although it did rekindle my love for cats. So here I am. I guess this reason will suffice, and probably should be the only reason for my being here:

to write.

“How can one weigh and shape dialogue till each sentence tears the shingles in the bottom of the reader’s soul?” – Virginia Woolf