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Jul 07, 10 10:17am

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BIG NEWS: I’M MOVING TO LA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My landlord sold the apartment in which I now live, and I have to be out by August 13th, so I spent the past two weeks looking for apartments in Manhattan - but when I put a deposit down on one I really liked, something just didn’t feel right.

So after (almost) six years in New York, I’ve decided it’s time to, uh, mix it up a bit.

I’ve been thinking about moving to LA since October of last year, but inertia (and perhaps a bit of fear) got in my way. Plus, as much as New York drives me crazy, I love this city - it’s the only place I’ve lived as an adult, and yes, it feels like home, more than Chicago, more than DC, more so than any place I’ve ever lived. In fact, from the moment I moved here in November of 2004, it just felt … like me. I am, in so many ways, a New Yorker, with all that entails (good and bad!) and I can’t imagine not feeling that way.

That said, I need a change. I need new challenges, and I need to get out of my comfort zone. (Famous last words! haha) I remember moving to New York - with five giant boxes, two suitcases, one dog, an apartment I shared with two roommates I found on Craigslist, ten grand in the bank and no job prospects. I knew about four people in the entire city - and yes, I was petrified. But what I found is that being thrown into the deep end is the surest way of learning to swim … FAST. I wasn’t going to allow myself to sink.

So I’m throwing myself into the deep end again. I’ll probably be petrified again. That’s sort of par for the course with uprooting your entire life to move 3,000 miles away from everything you know.

But if I don’t try this now, I don’t know if I ever will. And I know for sure I would regret that. I keep thinking of this little piece of artwork in my grandparents’ house in Glendale, which had a drawing of a tiny boat with a William Shedd quote: “A ship in the harbor is safe, but that’s not what ships are built for.”

So I’m leaving the safe harbor of New York for the stormy seas of LA … and I hope you wish me luck. I’ll need it.

Besides, the harbors of New York aren’t going anywhere. ;)

Jun 10, 10 3:19am

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Flashback: My First (& so far, only!) Commencement Address

I ran across this tonight while doing research for a presentation I have to complete for Friday … and since it’s commencement season, I thought you might enjoy it. Wayyyy back in 2008, my then-intern Samantha asked me if I could speak at her high school, and I was honored to do so.

Anyway, I don’t think I ever posted it, or if I did, I don’t remember doing so. Then again, I rarely remember anything except that I really like dessert.

Mmm … dessert.

Commencement Address to Baruch College Campus High School
June 26, 2008
Julia Allison

[Samantha introduces me]

Thanks Samantha - that was sweet.

Of course, Samantha HAS to say sweet things about me. She’s my intern. In three months, when she goes to college and STOPS being my intern - THAT’S when she gets to say mean things about me. Obviously - because she’s a New Yorker! - for profit. She’ll get a top tier lit agent and auction off the rights for a tell-all “novel” called The Devil Thinks She’s Carrie Bradshaw. It will go on to sell three bajillion copies and Anne Hathaway will get to play me in the movie, except this time she won’t have to lose weight for the role.

See, graduates? Sweat-shop like indentured servitude ISN’T a waste of time after all!

And if that’s the only thing you learn today, it’ll be more than I learned from my high school graduation speech, where the speaker - a school board member - talked mostly about death. At least that’s what a classmate told me when I asked him about it on Facebook. I must have slept through it, which is surprising, because when you think “school board member” you generally think “riveting, poignant, hysterical, ridiculously good looking” - really everything you want in a commencement speaker. I can’t imagine what went wrong when they planned that.

So, yes. Commencement addresses. They’re funny, actually. I listened to a lot of them when I was preparing for this - Oprah, Steve Jobs, JK Rowling, Conan O’Brien, Ali G.

They all gave really good advice. Especially Ali G. (“You is the most cleverest students ever! You is the elite!” he told Harvard’s graduating class in 2004. Yes! Exactly! Great … advice … Put that on your resume! Who even needs internships??)

But the funny thing about really good advice - with the exception of Ali G’s - is that … um … how shall I put this? It’s all the same. Mostly they’re cliches that people repeat ad nauseam, but then don’t back up in their everyday lives. Cliches like LIVE IN THE MOMENT, TREAT OTHERS THE WAY YOU’D LIKE TO BE TREATED, TURN THE OTHER CHEEK, STOP AND SMELL THE ROSES, MATH IS HARD, WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS NOW IS LOVE SWEET LOVE … you know, those sorts of things.

And that’s not really anyone’s fault. It’s hard not to be cliche, only because once you more or less figure out life - inasmuch as anyone can really figure it out - you realize that there are only, like, three Really Big Lessons. The rest is just God being all “creative” and paraphrasing the originals.

You’ll hear - and ignore - these same three lessons in hundreds of permutations before you finally repeat them to your kids, so they can hear and ignore you. It’s the Circle of “I Told You So.”

Lesson #1) Yay for Failure.

Every commencement speaker in the history of the world loves to talk about how awesome failure is, and how they’re pretty much the best at failing, ever. Except Ali G. He mainly talks about the size of men’s feet, but we really don’t need to get into that.

Their point, of course, is that failure teaches us things. As I read in O - the Oprah magazine (where I get all my spiritual guidance) - “Life will give you whatever experience is most helpful for the evolution of your consciousness.” To translate for future college students: “When you lose at beer pong, you WILL learn to not to fill the cups with vodka.”

Okay, so maybe that’s not the (only) kind of profound lesson that failure can teach you. The fact is, failure is really fun to reminisce about when you’re far, farrrr away from it. JK Rowling, who everyone knows was practically homeless when she started writing Harry Potter, talked about this to Harvard grads last month. “You will never truly know yourself or the strengths of your relationships until you have been tested by your adversity. Rock bottom became a solid foundation upon which I built my life.” That’s inspiring!

But not a great consolation when you have to call up your parents and explain, like I did when I was a junior, why you got an “F” in your Intro to Film class. (Who knew you needed to actually WATCH the assigned movies?) I’m a very creative thinker, so I told my parents that the registrar automatically fills students’ transcripts with Fs until the professors send in their REAL grades, and mine was, uh … late … with my “B.”

My dad’s still waiting for the updated transcript.

That, of course, wasn’t the only thing I failed at in college - just one of the most pathetic. I was also rejected as a Georgetown tour guide two years in a row, kicked off of Kickline and fired from my school paper for telling the editor that I wanted my dog to pee on one of his conservative editorials. Clearly, I’ve always been a bastion of maturity.

The thing is, it’s not failing in and of itself that’s so fantastic. You can’t be like “Okay, I’ve failed! Now where’s my SUCCESS, damnit??”

As Oprah said in her address to Stanford’s class of 2008 this month, and probably to your moms every weekday at 11 am for the past twenty-five years, “Ask every failure - what is this here to teach me? And as soon as you get the lesson, you get to move on. If you really get the lesson, you pass and you don’t have to repeat the class.”

Here’s the key - something Oprah forgot to mention. The real lessons are ALMOST 100% LIKELY to be TOTALLY DIFFERENT THAN YOU EXPECT. What do I mean by that? Well, if you fail on a test, you’ve been taught to think that the lesson is study harder, right? Um … no. It’s not. (Your parents are glaring at me right now.) It’s not “study harder” or “get a better GPA” or “go to more discussion sections” or even “stop flirting with your one really hot Intro to Chem TA,” although probably that’s a good idea.

So what’s the real lesson? It depends on you. On a small scale, maybe that failed test means that you’ve prioritized something else - you were up all night talking with your roommate and what you learned in that one conversation far outshone anything you could have learned from studying. OR - maybe you failed that test because, despite the lingering belief that all human beings should choose between business, law or medicine, you actually are much better suited to being a Professional Hipster - um, I mean, artist - living in Williamsburg, listening to bands which are so cool they don’t even exist yet. Who knows?

You might just have a very different life path, and the only way of getting there is to FAIL off the one you thought you’d be taking.

Which brings me to the second theme commencement speakers loooove to harp upon, which is, of course:

#2) Don’t listen to anyone else.

Your parents are having a heart attack right now. Hold on, hold on!

Let me clarify - or allow Steve Jobs to clarify. In his famous 2005 commencement address to Stanford, he said, “Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become.”

And here’s the most important line: “Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life.”

Sounds so simple, right? Duh? You’d be shocked (but your parents won’t be) at the number of people who forget that they’re not living for what other people think.

You’re about to leave your homes and embark upon this new adventure. NOW is the time to begin finding out what YOU want to learn, what YOU want to spend your time doing - not what your parents or guidance counselors think is appropriate.

Because by the time you hit your mid-thirties you’ll have over a decade of people telling you how and why you can’t do things. If you’re like most highly ambitious people, you’ll try to screen them out - but after all those years, the “can’ts” build up, like plaque in your arteries.

And that’s when you really start losing your youth - it isn’t the wrinkles or the sunspots or even the extra cellulite on your thighs. It’s the loss of hope. The loss of optimism. The loss of the attitude that says “screw you, I can do this - who are you to tell me I can’t?” It’s the loss of the ability to game the system simply by virtue of the fact that you don’t GET the system.

It turns out that ignorance can be - if not bliss - a highly useful weapon in your life arsenal.

Which brings us back to Steve Jobs. His famous story from that commencement speech goes something like this: he’s bored by college, drops out, but then stays because he’s curious and genuinely wants to learn. He takes a class called Calligraphy - a class he never could have or would have taken otherwise - and what he learns there becomes the basis for the industry changing typeface in the first Macintosh graphical user interface.

Feel free to bring this up to your parents if you ever have a disagreement about the “usefulness” of a course you’d like to take in college. “But Steve Jobs!” you can whine, and then reference the iPod’s latest sales figures. They’ll totally capitulate.

Okay, I’m almost done here … the final lesson is …

drumroll please!

#3) Dump your boyfriend or girlfriend before you go off to college.

Okay, okay, that’s not actually one of the Big Three Lessons - but it IS really good advice. Advice you totally won’t take, but let me guarantee you - one day, after a long freshman year of whining and forced long-distance misery, you’ll realize I’m right.

I suppose that advice does - in a sense - support my real final lesson - which is … JUST ENJOY YOURSELF! (Also known as LIVE IN THE MOMENT). You grew up in one of the most fascinating, complicated, stimulating cities in the world. Resist the urge to become jaded.

People - mostly old people you won’t listen to - will tell you over and over that these years are the best in your life. You will ignore them. Don’t. That kind of pressure may not be terribly helpful, but it’s a sage reminder that you are about to have the ability to explore the world and your own innate curiosity with a freedom that may be - not impossible - but difficult to regain in later life.

Don’t ever take that for granted.

I will close with one of my favorite lines from a faux commencement address written by Mary Schmich of the Chicago Tribune back in 1997. It was so popular they made a song out of it called “Wear Sunscreen.”

“Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded. But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.

You are NOT as fat as you imagine.”

Congratulations Class of 2008!

May 17, 10 1:00pm

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Hello from the ashram …

I won’t write long today - I’ve already written pages and pages and pages in my little notebook, but I wanted to share a bit of my experience here with you before I go back offline. In fact, I wasn’t expecting to have internet access here, but they do (as one of the monks said upon seeing my iPhone, “Oh, you should download the Om Meditation 108 app!” I laughed … it’s a modern ashram, indeed).

Mostly I’ve stayed off my laptop (this is the first time I’ve really typed in a week), preferring instead to write longhand, but I’ve certainly checked my email - just not the way I used to check it (every fourteen seconds), I’ve texted, I’ve even talked to a few people on the phone … but I’ve kept my electronic communication entirely in check. You know, I think we’re all liable to make these great proclamations about technology: that it’s a force for good (relaxation or peace or contentment) or a force for evil (stress or anxiety or worry). But technology is just like anything else - it can be either, it can be both, and it’s probably somewhere in between. The goal is to use it wisely, not to let it distract us from being completely and joyfully present.

So after exactly a week here, how am I? I don’t really know how to begin to describe what’s happened in words. It will probably take me weeks, if not months, to process this. But to say I found what I was looking for would be an enormous understatement.

I am peaceful, almost euphoric in my contentment for the first time in a very, very long time. It’s not just the three hours of meditation and chanting daily, or the four hours of hatha yoga, or the long nature walks I take, or the incredible home cooked vegetarian food that I dream about at night or the interminable stretches of time I spend just sitting outside in the bright sunshine (like I am now) and thinking, or the half dozen books I’ve read since I got here … it’s just this all-encompassing feeling of love which resonates in this place, and now, within me. I feel strong here. I feel whole. And yes, I feel very, very close to God.

Life is funny like this … you beg and beg and beg for something - whatever it is that you crave, you’re not even really sure - and then sometimes, if you listen, if you “assume custodial maintenance of your own soul” (as Elizabeth Gilbert says), life actually gives it to you, even if you couldn’t articulate what was missing previously. Life, in fact, almost always gives you exactly what you need. Whether you like it or not!

And this is exactly what I needed. Don’t get me wrong - I cried the first three days I was here, stuck in the past, beating myself up for my failures, for my missteps, for my mistakes, for what I didn’t yet have, for what I felt like I needed to make me “happy.” But just like hatha yoga, when you breathe into the pain, it does, eventually, dissipate. So that’s what I did.

Perhaps more important, I finally forgave myself - I forgave myself for all of the relationships I felt I had screwed up, for all of my character defects, for my sadness, for feeling so inexplicably lost. Then I let go. I said goodbye. I allowed myself to breathe - and then I felt it. I felt my soul relax, and, yes, I felt God rush in. It felt like every cliche in the entire world, every love song, every aphorism, every spiritual awakening. I cried tears of euphoria, because the wonderful thing about accepting yourself and God’s love is that it doesn’t require anything from you. You just have to show up. To clear room in your soul, to allow yourself to live in the present, without obsessing about the past or worrying about the future. To just be. And that’s the most freeing part of all. You cannot be rejected; you are always enough.

So here I am, exactly as I am. I wear the same clothing almost every day, a pair of ratty moccasins which have seen better days, some black Lulu Lemon yoga pants and one of the various thin cotton American Apparel tops I packed in my suitcase along with a dozen books and ten pounds of vitamins. No makeup - I didn’t even bring any - no curls. No heels, no bras. Nothing standing between me and nature, really. It’s wonderful and freeing and healthy and I feel like I’ve fallen back in love with the world. And it feels good. Really good.

I will be staying here until May 26th (I was originally scheduled to go to London, but I will be doing all of the required interviews by phone so I can stay here). If I could remain longer, I would (my father and I will be spending memorial day weekend together for his college reunions). My goal in the next ten days is to figure out how I can take this feeling - this calm, this peace - home to Manhattan with me. I don’t know the answer to that yet, but, like everything else I’ve learned in my short time here, I know that it will come to me. It will work itself out, if I just let go.

If I let it unfold. :)

May 01, 10 3:31pm

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You all know I’ve been having a difficult time of it lately … but for some reason, two days ago, my perspective suddenly (without warning) shifted. It felt like a Magic Eye, where I was squinting at the painting for hours and hours trying to see the hidden picture, and then - BOOM - I saw it.

One of my biggest issues - and I think this is the case for many of us - is that we’re our own worst enemies in terms of finding happiness (or contentment, which is probably a better adjective). We focus on what’s going wrong, not what’s going right. We fixate on what we don’t have, not what we do, what we’re lacking, not our abundance.

The truth is, once we shift our perspective to focus on the gifts in our lives, our problems seem … well … small in comparison.

I had a tough time in the month after my breakup with Prom King, for a variety of reasons (some of which had nothing to do with him at all!). But two things helped me get through to where I am now:

1) Forgiving myself for feeling pain. Don’t use this as an excuse to wallow, but don’t deny yourself a chance to grieve. I loved PK, and our relationship meant a lot to me, and it’s okay that I cried over him. Thank god I did! I needed to go through that. And just because I felt great yesterday and today doesn’t necessarily mean I’m done shedding tears over him forever. It just means that I’ve gone through an important part of the grieving process. The end of a relationship - or a job, or a friendship - is like a death. It deserves to be processed, and felt, and experienced fully. How else can you learn from it and move on if you never go through that??

2) Getting over this crazy idea that “happiness” means we’re happy ALL THE TIME, with no ups and downs. I posted something yesterday about what a beautiful day it was, and how I was thrilled to be having lunch with one of my favorite friends. I let myself be completely in the moment there - just appreciating the sun and the weather and my friend and the veggie burger at Houston’s - and some Debbie Downer tweeted back that I was “bipolar.” Girl, welcome to life! Sometimes you’re up and sometimes you’re down. That’s just the way things go. It’s NORMAL not to be blissed out all the time. If you were, how could you ever appreciate it?? I’m so grateful for these feelings of contentment right now because, frankly, I’ve had a bit of a craptastic last few weeks. It’s like having a meal after being on a fast. Doesn’t matter what it is, it tastes damn good.

We’re human, our emotions are cyclical. Life isn’t always going to be a party (and too many parties in a row makes the parties feel like work). The worst thing to do to ourselves is demand that we not feel the way we’re feeling.

So today, take stock of your situation and do as Ralph Marston advises: reassess, shift your viewpoint and realize your blessings. The cliche is true: life really is what you make of it.

Apr 29, 10 1:56am

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Apr 29, 10 1:26am

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My Existential Crisis (& What I’ve Been Doing for the Past Eight Months)

So, I’ve sublet my apartment to a lovely young woman (a reader!) who works for a wonderful non-profit, and I will be taking some time off New York. That probably sounds more dramatic than it actually is, as those of you who follow my travel schedule know that I haven’t spent more than three consecutive weeks in this city for the last two and a half years anyway … so what’s a month away in the scheme of things?

That said, it’s an important move for me, psychologically. As much as I love this city - and I do love it - I’ve struggled for some time with it just not feeling quite … right. If you’re thinking “That’s vague!” you’re echoing my thoughts. I can’t exactly pinpoint what it is that bothers me - although I think a few factors weigh in: my small apartment (which was fantastic … for the first two years. Less so the third.), the lack of nature (I’m sorry, as fabulous as it is, Central Park doesn’t count. There’s something about human bodies covering every square inch that negates the “wilderness” value for me.), and a ragingly ambitious energy that I found intoxicating for the first five years … and exhausting for the last ten months. I’m just burnt out.

Until quite recently, I was one of those people who never even considered moving from New York. And truthfully, there is still a good probability I may not ever go through with leaving. But last October, a few things happened simultaneously that led me down the path of “locational uncertainty” I have now traveled for the past seven months. 1) my lease was up 2) I no longer had anything “tying” me to New York - no physical location where I had to show up every day 3) I was dating Toph, who lived in LA and (this was most important) 4) I shot a pilot/presentation as a co-host for a new entertainment news show on E!, which required me to sign a three year deal in advance, a deal which would (obviously) require me to move to LA. [Read here for a more detailed explanation of the entertainment type stuff]

E! had a 60 day option on me, which meant that at ANY point during November or December, I could get a phone call which would require me to be in LA the next week to start my new hosting gig. That means from mid-October through late December, I had one foot out of the New York door. You might have wondered why I constantly talked about LA back then. Well. That was why.

Now, my agent will probably kill me for saying this, but the truth is, I was very ambivalent about the job. E! is a powerful name brand in the entertainment world, and a seductive one at that. But reporting on celebrities for a living is NOT good for me. I tried it. It made me feel really bad - judgmental and holier than thou, when I’m NOT. I don’t like people making judgments about my own life, but somehow it was okay if I did, because they were celebrities?? It just seemed really hypocritical.

Listen, I still do occasional entertainment segments - like talking about J. Lo’s box office take last weekend on MSNBC. But there’s a difference between that and celebrity muckraking - berating Britney for her latest mishap, endlessly discussing Tiger Woods’ affairs, going on and on about the end of Sandra Bullock’s marriage … I don’t know. The whole thing makes me really uncomfortable. That’s why I didn’t want to continue at STAR magazine. I was getting all this crap for my personal life, and it occurred to me (duh) that I was a TOTAL hypocrite. I wanted people who didn’t know me to stop talking as if they did - so how could I go on air and pretend I knew “the truth” behind Jennifer Aniston & John Mayer’s breakup?? I don’t! I have no idea what really happened there! Moreover, it’s NONE OF MY BUSINESS. It’s none of ANYONE’S business!!!

I still feel that way - in fact, I had a meeting with an exec at E! when I was last in LA, and he asked whether I wanted to be an entertainment reporter, and I said “No, I’d really like to be more of a big sister ‘live your best life’ type host.” That meeting ended very, very quickly. ;) ha

That said, lord knows I still glance at the tabloids when I’m at the corner bodega. I know I shouldn’t. But I just don’t want to be part of it …

Okay, so that was a tangent.

My point is this: on January 1st, when I found out that E! wouldn’t be picking up their option on me, I had already spent so much time thinking about leaving New York that I felt even more adrift than I did before! That’s when I began to seriously consider business school … quite possibly the complete antithesis of being an entertainment host. haha! But I was so late in applying - I could only make the third round, and that’s pretty much a Hail Mary. That said, I spent quite a bit of time prepping for the GMAT, getting my application materials in order, etc. I considered a few schools, including U of C, Northwestern, MIT, Harvard and Stanford, but in the end, I decided that I didn’t really want to live anywhere but Northern California.

Now, as I was going about my business school bit, I got a call from my agent about a show I had auditioned to be the host of when it was at MTV - a show produced by World of Wonder (they do Tori & Dean as well as RuPaul’s Drag Race) now called “Who Wears It Best?” - they wanted me to be a judge, and the pilot was shooting in a week! Okay, then. So I flew out to LA, shot the pilot (which was honestly spectacular, btw), and flew back. It’s on Oxygen’s slate, and we’ll find out if it got picked up in June. Fingers crossed.

Two weeks later, I shot a pilot for Reveille as the host of a dating show for Yahoo. Still no word on that either!

Meanwhile, my manager sat me down in LA and gave me a tough love talk. He told me in no uncertain terms that I am to write a book and say yes to the offer of a syndicated column that I got a year ago. NOW. To be honest, I’ve been putting it off for … well, for a year. I just didn’t know what I wanted. If that sounds wishy-washy, well … it is. It’s easy to run fast and run hard when you’re running towards something. But when you’re not … when you’re not sure what message you want to impart or WHY you’re trying to shout above the din of a million other voices, then sometimes you just want to stay quiet. And I wanted to stay quiet.

Dear god. I don’t know why this turned into an interminable expository essay … I guess I just wanted to let you know WHY I feel so lost, so turned around and so confused. I have these different forces pulling me in so many different directions - all of which I want to explore!

And of course, at the same time, I’m battling biological forces, forces that kicked in unexpectedly at the end of last summer, forces that made my relationships feel, for the first time in my life, more important than my career. Forces that made me want to preference cuddling with my boyfriend (or crying about my lack thereof) above “crushing it” online or on air or in print. You better believe that wasn’t the case in the five years prior.

The truth is, I am both more sure of who I am and more lost than I have ever been. The irony of this dichotomy does not escape me. I am more honest, more trustworthy, more respectful, more conscious of my core values, than I have EVER been. I think a lot about being a good person, about what that means, about how I can contribute to other people’s happiness. But that’s where I get lost. I am NOT sure what the best way for me to do that is … yet.

That is why I think I need some time and space to think. To listen to God, because I know it’s been hard for me amongst the din of my life. I feel like if I’m just quiet enough, I’ll be able to hear clearly …

Apr 20, 10 1:27am

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It’s about as frustrating as being chained to the tv while Latin American soap operas play nonstop. You can tell there’s something good going on, but you can’t understand what the hell it is!

from one of my old COED columns. Har.

Apr 15, 10 5:54pm

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My generation happens to excel at waiting.

- NYT op-ed by an 18-year-old

Um … how, exactly, does her generation “excel at waiting”?? Waiting the 3 minutes it takes for their YouTube videos to upload? Waiting .00003 miliseconds for a google search to finish? Waiting 20 seconds for the credit card machines to instantly process in the backs of the cabs? Waiting 10 seconds to fast-forward through the commercials of the show you’ve just TIVO’d? Or the 15 seconds it takes to press the one-click on iTunes to buy the latest ep of Gossip Girl??

Right.

THANK THE LORD that my written-as-an-idiot-teenager columns from my high school newspaper aren’t available on the internet. Because (most) 18-year-olds have absolutely no sense of history, and they genuinely believe they are the first generation to think and do just about everything.

And now I will go and sit by myself and think cranky, crotchety old woman thoughts about how I had to connect to the internet WITH MODEMS and USE PAYPHONES and walk 18 1.2 miles to school IN THE SNOW without even AN IPOD to listen to JUSTIN BEIBER WITH, DAMNIT!

Kids these days.

Apr 03, 10 3:35am

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Maybe our mistakes are what make our fate. Without them, what would shape our lives? Perhaps if we never veered off course, we wouldn’t fall in love, or have babies, or be who we are. After all, seasons change. So do cities. People come into your life and people go. But it’s comforting to know the ones you love are always in your heart. And if you’re very lucky, a plane ride away.

Carrie Bradshaw, emailed to me tonight by Florida reader Kate. No matter what you think of quoting Sex and the City (yeah, some of you feel it’s dicey, from a cliche perspective), you have to admit, this one is a gem.

Mar 31, 10 4:27pm

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Post Breakup

Mar 31, 10 2:40pm

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Sometimes the heart doesn’t mourn the relationship you had so much as the life you thought you would have together in the future. You know?

Okay, I promised (myself) I wouldn’t post any more today, but I just got a reader email which wondered why I was so upset over the breakup of someone I had been seeing since early November, and I really want to write about this. So, since I know that if I don’t, I’ll just ruminate about it instead, I’m going to, and hopefully I’ll get it out of my system.

My initial reaction was twofold: part of me thought “Who are you to judge my feelings?” (and really, that’s a pretty good question - none of us have the right to say “You shouldn’t feel this way. You don’t have a right to be upset, etc.”). The other part of me wanted to tell her that I haven’t gone a single day since New Years without seeing or talking to this guy, that I had pretty much moved in with him, and that we had both met each others’ families, gone on several trips, he had become friends with all of my friends, I had met all of his, etc - in short, the relationship was far more serious at five months than any relationship I’ve had since Michael, over three years ago.

That said … I don’t really think that’s the main reason I feel it’s hitting me so hard. I think the primary reason is that we had talked about our future in such a serious manner that when we broke up, it wasn’t just the loss of the relationship I did have, it was the loss of the future I thought I would have. Does that make sense? He was one of the few men I’ve been with in my life where I actually allowed myself to think about a future beyond the next few weeks (the other three being Michael, Alex, and my ex-fiance Jon). That wasn’t the case with Toph or Ben or Charles or Jakob or Dave - or any of the men I’ve gone out with since I left Michael in early 2007. I never thought about spending my life with them.

Now, maybe I shouldn’t have allowed myself - or rather, we (Prom King and I) shouldn’t have allowed ourselves to go down that road, talking about kids and getting a dog together and where we would live. But … you know … I was also ready for it. For the first time in my life, I was REALLY ready to have those discussions. Prior to that, I never felt like I was ready for marriage - even when Alex and I discussed it, or when Michael and I discussed it, I made it very clear that I wasn’t ready. And I hadn’t been ready at any other point in the last three years. But with Prom King … well, he was the first guy I’ve dated seriously that I really spent time thinking “What would it be like to spend my life with this guy, to raise children with him, to grow old with him, to have a family with him?” And I suppose that might be one of the reasons I’m taking this so hard.

So. There you go. What do you think?

Mar 29, 10 9:31pm

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oh … hi.

I don’t really know where to begin, except to say that right now, at this very moment, I don’t want to write this entry. I don’t want to write it not because it doesn’t need to be written - it does - but because I would rather take an Ambien, crawl into my bed and go to sleep.

After last night, in which I tossed and turned with anxiety until 6 am, at which point I fell into a nightmare-filled semi-sleep until 10 am, I decided, “Enough.” In fact, the only thing I actually accomplished today was going to my doctor and actually - for the first time in my insomniac life - asking for an Ambien prescription.

If you’re surprised to hear me invoke the big A (Ambien!?! But I don’t believe in meds!!), that should give you an idea of how willing I am to try all of the solutions I haven’t before.

So, let me fill you in a little here. I think it was readily apparent I had a bit of a breakdown last Tuesday, around 4 am, a time in which breakdowns tend to occur.

I’ve always found it fascinating, in a horrific sort of way, how life likes to hit us with 1-2 punches. In this case, for me at least, it felt like a 1-2-3 punch. First Jordan left, then I found out my ex Michael got engaged to the girl he began dating right after me, then - yep - on Tuesday evening around 10 pm, Prom King broke up with me.

And that was it, sort of. The idea of coming on here and posting some happy photo of a cupcake or a pair of shoes or a fun, inspirational quote was too much for me. And to explain what happened - that seemed even worse. I couldn’t handle it. I felt like I was drowning. To own up to all of that - to tell you how much pain I was in (and why) - I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to talk about it.

I wanted to crawl into my bed, which I did, by the way, and cry. And cry. And cry.

It embarrasses me to write in a public forum that my response to a breakup at the age of 29 is almost identical to my response to a breakup at the age of 16. How is that possible?? Does this not get any easier??

First, please know that while he most definitively broke up with me, he did so in the most mature, calm, considered manner, and he did “leave the door open” for getting back together at some point in the future. Honestly, I really don’t want to get into the details of why our relationship wasn’t working, but suffice it to say, the fault is on my shoulders. The lightest explanation (by that I mean, this is not everything, but some of the less personal things) has to do with a lot of judgments I made about him at the beginning - things like “he’s too young to take seriously” and “I don’t want to live in New York City anymore” and “I don’t want to date a lawyer” and “He doesn’t read enough.” I allowed myself to get distracted by details which don’t matter (who cares if he’s 25 if he treats me well??) and lose sight of the Big Stuff. Stuff like: Is he a good person? Does he make me laugh? Am I a good person when I’m around him?

I over-analyzed everything (um, hello … have you met me??) and managed to make a loving and confident man insecure (at least with regard to me). That led to a sort of downward spiral in our communication, a lot of misunderstandings, and a fair amount of fighting. The sad thing is - we both love each other as people, and it didn’t have to go down that route.

Ultimately, he just didn’t feel the same way about me anymore, and while I completely understand why, it was a tough blow to take - especially because I felt that I had brought it upon myself.

I don’t know whether we’ll get back together or not, but I do know that I have made a promise to myself that I will NEVER make these mistakes with another man again.

Here’s what I’ve done in the intervening time:

Re-read every single text he ever sent me. Cry.
Re-read every single email he ever sent me. Cry. Forward some to him. Realize that’s really pathetic. Regret it. Cry more.
Call him about seven times in the first three days, crying. Realize that’s really, REALLY pathetic. Regret it. Cry more.
Replay every single scene in our relationship where I screwed up, and reenact those scenes with a different reaction on my part - and new outcomes. Like Sliding Doors except no Gwyneth Paltrow. Then cry.
Call my mother at least three times a day.
Attempt to meditate like a Buddist monk. Fail. Stupid monks never broke up with anyone.
Lose appetite. Not eat much. Then eat chocolate. Then not eat much again. Weigh myself. Secretly think that only benefit to breaking up is break up weight loss. Still would rather be fat and with him.
Decide never to date again.
Decide that “never” means at least a month.
Contemplate buying one-way ticket to ashram in India, all Eat Pray Love style.
Realize I don’t know of any ashrams in India. Think maybe I should just go to Italy and eat instead.
Wonder if I’ll ever find anyone who treats me as well again.
Cry.
Play with my dog … constantly. Realize dog and mom are only things that cheer me up. Talk to my dog a little. Watch dog yawn: Dog has seen many of these breakup-meltdowns. Dog knows “this too shall pass.”
Days pass. Things get better. Then they get worse. Then they get better. Then worse. Up. Down. Up. Down. Down. Down. Up. I’ve been here before (too many times), and I know - intellectually - it will get better. That doesn’t always make it feel better right here, right now.
Actually work out. This is a small miracle inandof itself.
Go to church. Yes. Church. In Manhattan.
Talk - multiple times - to every close friend I have. They all check in with me at least every other day. This does help, you know.
Force myself not to call ex. Succeed. Feel very victorious. Call my mom instead. I have a good mom.
After a horrible, fitful night of non-sleep, give in and ask my doctor for an Ambien prescription - just to get me through these next two weeks or so. Feel a little embarrassed, but the only thing worse than getting over a break-up is getting over a break-up on no sleep.
Write this entry. Feel a hell of a lot better at the end of it than I did in the beginning. :)

Of course, that’s not the end of the story, and the pain I talked of in my entry last week wasn’t just due to losing him … I’m well aware that when you have a reaction like that (or rather, when I do), it’s telling you that you need to reassess your life choices in a way that you hadn’t before.

I still don’t know whether I’ll continue to “lifecast” the way I had been … I just know I can’t stop WRITING. I don’t know what the future holds. But I do know this: when I received the emails many of you sent me over the last few days, they lifted me up. I can’t even describe how much they meant to me. They made me feel as if I wasn’t alone.

Because I’m not. You’re not. I think there is something going on here, with this generation - there’s something very lost about us. Or maybe that’s just me, and those of you who wrote in to tell me you felt similarly.

I feel it so strongly that I want to talk more about it, and I want to explore it with you … people who are struggling through it, and those who have come out on the other side. Inasmuch as there ever is “the other side.” (One girl wrote me that she goes through this every two years!) When I read through a few of my past entries, it became apparent that I’ve been lost for quite some time now.

I still don’t have the answers, but just admitting - out loud, here - that I’m in pain, that I’m trying to find them, that I’m working on finding a therapist, exploring my faith, even (sigh) taking a bit of medication to make sure I get good sleep at night - it helps.

You helped. So … thank you for that.

Okay, I have a little white dog to pet now.

Love,

Julia

And PS. I’m also working on enabling the comments here, so you’ll be able to interact with me (and each other) in a way you couldn’t before. I think that will go a long way to allowing us to all understand each other better. And maybe, maybe … it could be helpful? Even fun?? I could use a little fun right now.

PPS. This doesn’t mean I’m back posting full time. It just means I’m explaining where I’m at right now. I feel VERY vulnerable and extremely fragile. So … please. Understand that.

Mar 24, 10 3:05am

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Goodbye, for now.

Hello there.

Although I don’t know you and you don’t - let’s face it - really know me, we’ve been through a lot. I started blogging in 2006, and began this lifecast in 2007. I chugged away, dutifully recording these bits of my existence, photographing and captioning and - especially in the first years - reflecting quite a lot, ruminating on life, love, and happiness. Sometimes I shared deeply personal stories with you, other times - lately - not much at all. Sometimes I offered you advice. Sometimes I just posted awesome photos of my pet dog. I did these strange, sometimes hilarious, sometimes awful things called lipdubs. I filmed over 100 episodes of a little show called TMIweekly. I got a tattoo. I fell in love, got heartbroken, fell in lust, got heartbroken, dated and loved, dated and liked, dated, dated, and finally fell in love again. At this point my heart is so battle weary and scarred I can’t even tell if it’s broken or intact, but I’m leaning towards broken. Finally, I talked about my faith - which I came into (relatively) late in the game, but which has changed me inexorably as I navigated my way through the byzantine maze of my late twenties.

That maze continues, but I will no longer be documenting it. At least for now.

This post has been a long time coming, and I think it will surprise no one to hear that I’m taking a leave from lifecasting. How long will I be gone? Perhaps only a few weeks. Maybe a few months. And yes, there is the possibility (however implausible) that I’ll never lifecast again. I love the solidity of closing the door to the past, of ending this life chapter with a definitive thud, all “Well, that’s THAT!”

But that, of course, is not how life works. Life humbles you with irony and twists, it surprises you by giving you everything you ever imagined you wanted, only to leave you grasping for something else entirely. And just when you think you’ve figured everything out, you find out you know even less than when you began.

For so long I was ambitious and enthusiastic and genuinely, GENUINELY happy. I am no longer any of these things, and I haven’t been for quite some time now. I am badly, badly burnt out.

Various readers have asked what is going on “behind the scenes” here at Nonsociety - what “really” happened with Jordan, what “really” happened with Mary, why I never post anymore, do I care about my critics, why don’t I do this or that or the other thing, what’s happening with my career, what’s happening with Prom King, what’s happening with my waistline and my face and my future, and here is the short answer, the answer that should surprise you more than anything:

I don’t want to talk about it.

And the longer answer, which I sent to one (originally rude, but later quite reasonable) reader:

Why do you think I owe you anything? I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you, but honestly, you’re not a friend of mine, nor are you family, so I’m a bit confused as to why you think that you have some sort of say in how I should or should not be …

Here’s the deal: I *DO* ignore the critics, absolutely. I don’t read the reblogging site, ever ever ever, and I have to shut them out (even emails like yours), because the truth is, I know better than anyone how I’m doing, why I do what I do, what my goals are (or were, at least), etc. And if I were to listen to outsiders who didn’t know me - most of whom wish me ill will - I would literally go crazy.

And sometimes the things going on behind the scenes are far, far too painful to talk about … I’m already going through a total Turning 29 crisis (it started when I was 28 1/2), but I don’t feel like sharing that with the world. In fact, I’m not sure WHAT I feel like sharing with the world, except photos of my dog and occasional party pictures. I’m exceptionally confused with what I want in life … I thought I wanted one thing, then I got it, and now it doesn’t seem so great anymore. So where to from here? I have NO idea. And even if I had the answer, I’m not sure I’d write about it.

Is that lame? I don’t know. Part of me has really stopped caring what other people think. I mean, it still can hurt my feelings (which is why I don’t seek out criticism), but ultimately I can’t spend my life worrying that strangers aren’t pleased with my decisions. We each have to travel our own path, replete with all sorts of lessons - some of which aren’t so much fun to learn sometimes.

This career - this wild ride I embarked upon when I moved to New York, a naive, ambitious, frightened girl of 23 - has given me everything I wanted. More than that, even.

But I no longer want what I wanted back then. Last August, everything changed. It wasn’t subtle and it wasn’t gradual - it was literally a moment, and EVERYTHING shifted. All of the cliches about women and biology rang true for me: I went from being blissfully single to obsessing about finding a husband in a span of about six months prior to my 29th birthday.

At the same time, I began experiencing this strange unhappiness and exhaustion and frustration with what I had been doing - quite happily - for the past five years.

I tried writing about it, several times, including this one, which I wrote in February:

So … so. The elephant in the website (does that slight permutation on the cliche even work? sigh) is that I’ve drastically reduced my posting here over the past month or two.

It’s obvious, and yet I’ve failed to address it. Why? For a multitude of reasons, really, not the least of which is that, while I knew that something was wrong, I couldn’t really articulate it.

I had planned to write something around the first of January explaining that I was taking time off. Except that in order to write something, I needed (or felt I needed) an explanation.

But I had no explanation. Not for you, and more worryingly, not for me.

Oh, sure, I could list a variety of reasons I wanted to stop - for a while, a few months maybe - but I had disproportionate trouble putting them down on paper. Er … screen.

And what does one say when one has a general malaise? ”I’m going through something? Except I don’t know what?” “I’m just not that into this website? Sorry?” “I can’t muster up the enthusiasm to do anything, much less post on my website?” “I have no idea what’s wrong with me, but I sure as hell am not going to reveal any weakness to YOU!”

But those “reasons” had been around for some time. What had changed?

I had no idea. All I knew was that in the last six-eight months (since August, really), something had shifted in me. I wasn’t myself, and it took me until December to realize what it was, and how bad it had gotten.

It has been very bad indeed.

The truth is, I’m not sure what I want anymore. I really have no idea. And that has been deeply confusing to someone who has charged full force ahead (sure, sometimes in entirely the wrong direction) her entire life.

Frankly, I don’t even know in which city I want to live. New York doesn’t seem like *ME* anymore, but I don’t know what city does. I know I don’t want to travel as much, I know I don’t want to go to parties as much, I know I don’t want to “network” as much. I also know that lately I stand in photos and smile and pretend my life is just perfect, BUT IT’S NOT.

What do I need now? Who the hell knows? The only thing that appeals to me right now is going to an ashram far, far away. I’m embarrassed that I don’t have these answers. I’m exhausted - not physically. My soul is exhausted. I’ve lost my purpose. I’ve lost perspective. Worst of all, I’ve lost the joy I used to find constantly in life, except in very rare moments. I don’t feel like ME anymore. I’m just … I’m sad. I’m really, really sad.

But I know myself and I know I’ll pick myself up and dust myself off and all of those other cliches, and one day I’ll look back on this and laugh and laugh and say, “See? The universe can’t fill your basket unless you empty it first.”

So I guess this is me emptying my basket. I don’t regret this experiment, this foray into real time sharing, this career or this life. I am proud of some things I have done, I am ashamed of others. I am not perfect - I never claimed I was - but I believe I can be better, I can treat others better, I can live a better life.

I won’t disappear forever, but now it’s time for me to focus on other projects, on my relationships, on love, on regaining that sense of joy that I have lost, but most of all, on living my life with a deep sense of purpose and faith.

For what it’s worth: it’s never too late to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.

- The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

As a wise friend once told me, sometimes it takes as much courage to leave as it does to stay.

Thank you for listening.

Love,
Julia

Feb 23, 10 4:01am

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PS

I’m out in LA tomorrow filming a pilot until Thursday. (This one is about dating, the last one was about fashion - and they’re not mutually exclusive, so I’m hoping BOTH get picked up.)

In any case, that, combined with my parents, brother & future sister-in-law arriving in New York on Thursday (I get back about 10 hours after them), the insanity of the bicoastal birthday bashes, then four days of meetings in SF … well, suffice it to say, I probably won’t be posting a lot (not even the usual photos with captions) over the next few days.

I’m sorry to those who get upset / angry when I don’t post. I stopped posting frequently some time ago, for a variety of reasons - mostly because something I used to love for its positivity and openness, for the catharsis, began to feel scary and hurtful to me. I couldn’t be sure that someone wouldn’t twist my words around. Actually, it was worse than that: I could be absolutely sure that someone somewhere WOULD twist my words around. At the end of the day, it didn’t seem like putting myself out there was a smart idea, in terms of my own personal happiness, as well as the happiness of those around me.

When I began this site, I wanted it to be like tagging along with me. But for various reasons, from lack of time to lack of energy to general desire to keep certain portions to myself, I can’t - and don’t want - to do that anymore.

In fact, for some time (over Christmas, especially) I thought that perhaps I didn’t want to write on a site AT ALL anymore, but I was wrong about that too.

I do want to share, but I’m going to share on my own terms.

From now on, please realize this:

This is a peek into my life, not the entire thing.

Some days I’ll share quite a bit. Other days, nothing at all. You might not always know what I’m up to, how I feel, what I’m doing - or why. If that upsets you, I’m sorry.

I have to make the best decisions for me, and for the people in my life. Sometimes that’s not going to make you happy. Sometimes you might disagree with a decision I make or comment I write, or generally just think I suck. But if I’ve realized anything over the last three years, it’s that THERE IS NO CONCEIVABLE WAY to make everyone happy.

In the end, the only person I have to answer to is myself - and - not to get too heavy here, but, yes, God.

Anyway. God’s telling me to go to bed now. Goodnight, bunnies. ;)

Feb 23, 10 3:15am

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I really should be heading over to my place to pack for tomorrow’s flight to LA (I’m holding up my eyelids, I’m so tired), but I wanted to address a few comments I’ve gotten recently …

I know Prom King has a tendency to plan - and execute - extravagant events. He’s quite well-known among his circle for being, uh … in the kindest possible terms, “a former player” (that would be until a few months ago, FYI, hahah) … but he’s never done these sorts of things for any other girl he’s dated (his sister and friends have backed him up on this). He does them for me because he knows I appreciate it - and, frankly, because he enjoys it.

But I’ll be honest with you: Just because a guy is thoughtful (he is), generous (he is), and creative (he is), doesn’t mean that our relationship is perfect. It’s not.

What you didn’t see in those Valentine’s Day photos was a very tough dinner conversation. You didn’t see us trying to learn how to communicate with one another. You didn’t see our doubts and our fears and our insecurities. You just saw glitter and smiles and sugar and champagne. Which is fine … which is part of it. But that’s not all of it.

I don’t like Prom King because of what he does for me. I like him because he cares enough about me to want to do those things. I also like that he actually takes notice when I mention things (such as “Betsey Johnson is one of my favorite designers!”) I’ve dated men before who barely remembered Valentine’s Day at all, let alone understood how important it is to me.

I won’t lie … this isn’t the first time I’ve been doted upon like this. It’s the first time in a long time, but it’s not the first time. The difference is that now I’m old enough - wise enough - to realize doting alone does not a good relationship make.

And I’ve grown up enough to realize that while every relationship needs a bit of magic now and again, it’s more important to have compatibility in all the moments in between … moments when you’re curled up on the couch together, or walking the (small white) dog, or even grocery shopping. Those are the moments which make up life. Special occasions should be just that - special - but they aren’t everything.

As for Prom King? He has a good heart. And great values. He cares deeply about his family, his friends, and now, me.

I can’t give back to him the way he does for me, but I can do small things to show I care. I left little post-it notes around the house this morning. I surprised him with his favorite dinner. I made him hot chocolate. I folded his laundry. I put together an enormous photobook which now sits on his coffee table.

I suppose what I’m trying to say is this:

This is still a new relationship. It is not perfect, even if the photographs (and his gestures) make it seem like it is. I am not perfect and he is not perfect. So, by definition, it’s silly to assume that we would be perfect together.

The fact is, I’ve never been in a “perfect” relationship. But I have been in love, several times. It is wonderful and confusing and thrilling and overwhelming. But I am not in love with him. I don’t think he is in love with me. We care about one another very much, and I hope that will happen eventually … but how can one predict the heart?

In the meantime, I’m trying to stop thinking about it (HA), stop over-analyzing it (HAHAH!), and just enjoy the moment. Let it unfold, right?

Earlier