Voice.

It's 3am here and I'm feeling a little strange.

I haven't felt the inspiration to write for a few days now. I'm trying pretty hard not to get frustrated about that. I used to have all the time in the world at work to roll ideas around in my mind and make notes....to think things through. I always felt limited in what I could actually experience though, because of my 40 hour a week desk job in the town that I know like the back of my hand.

A real adventurer can make anything fun and although I'm not sure that I am a real adventurer not yet anyway I have always been the type of person who tries to make the best of everything. I worked with what I had and I felt inspired by life, to start writing. Not only here on my blog but also in journals that are filled with less polished thoughts on the world and the people in it.

Now I have more stimulation and inspiration than I can possibly feast on in a single day and I find myself at a loss for words. Part of me is afraid that I seem boring, dissecting Baltimore and my experiences here may be exciting for me but I'm not sure how interesting those things really are to others. I know that this is my blog and I can write about whatever I want but part of the fun of blogging is that people get a chance to share and relate with others. Lately, a lot of my observations on life and the changes I've made have felt as if they're in a language that only I can understand and I've lost the ability to translate it for others.

I know that everyone goes through phases and writing is not always going to come easily. A world where things always make sense and things are always easy would be boring and pointless. I'm just looking forward to finding my voice again.

via

A trip to the real world.

It's strange how quickly you can get used to things.

I've been without contact lenses for over a month. I like to switch back and forth between my glasses and my contact lenses and it was KILLING me to only be able to use my glasses. For some reason, not a single place IN the city carries contact lenses. They all say they have to order them...which takes days. They even say they're out of samples....which can't be true, but whatever.

I decided to head out to a little town called Bel Air that isn't exactly right near the city but has EVERYTHING. Every kind of store you can think of.

I raced over there and as soon as I got out of the car and looked around the parking lot of the shopping center, my legs felt like jello. I didn't know why at first but then it occurred to me that I hadn't left the city in a month! I wasn't used to wide open spaces like this parking lot and all of the trees around me. The same way it used to feel weird for the first few seconds in a city, it now feels weird when I leave the city and get out into the gaping openness of suburbia. It was the strangest feeling! It makes sense though, I go to work and come home every day. When I venture out for groceries or to meet friends for drinks, I always walk and I always stay in the city. It's so weird that I became so accustomed to the congestion of the city.

After I got my contacts, I went grocery shopping and I had a blast! I know this is a riveting post, try to contain your excitement. The little grocery stores around here don't have a lot of variety. I'm all stocked up on things now and I think I'll definitely be going back there for all of my shopping needs. It's not super convenient but it's MUCH cheaper and also...kind of pleasant to head into a more peaceful area every once in a while.

I have a lot of plans for the week including a Meet an antique post!

It's time I get back into the swing of things!

Peace.

It's a sunny, beautiful day here. I have so much cleaning to do but the motivation is just....not there. I should turn on Hoarders....sometimes that gives me motivation to clean.

I'm at the dining room table and from where I sit, I can see kitties sunning in every spot of stray sunlight in the room. I feel like one of them right now.

Work is going so well. There's a special kind of feeling, knowing that my money is mine to make, if I want it. At my old job, every day bled together. Calling out for a sick day was something I had to answer for...to apologize for. My time at my desk was only a portion of the time I was expected to spend worrying about work. I was working to live and living to work and the stress of work went with me, everywhere I went. When your job is waiting tables, your stress ends with the last table of the night. I can walk out of the restaurant, take a deep breath, and live. If I call out, they will find someone to work for me. I don't have to go there, and that makes me want to. I don't have to take a lot of tables and make a lot of money, and that makes me want to. I'm not micro-managed there, and that makes me want to do a good job.

I learn this lesson over and over in life. I feel that it's really beginning to stick now. I attended a Montessori school for most of my childhood and was taught that people shouldn't need to be afraid of being graded or watched in order to do a good job. Self accountability. Time management. These are things that they valued there. As soon as I entered the world outside of Montessori, I wasn't trusted with my own actions anymore. It's been that way ever since. In most jobs, you get looked down on if you go to the bathroom too often, get coffee too often, call out when you're sick....regardless of the job that you're doing and the work that you're producing.

I finally feel like I'm responsible for the money I make. I can do whatever I want, however I want, as long as my tables are happy. I don't have a babysitter. At the end of every evening, I know that my job is done until the next time I'm there.

I can't imagine ever going back to being babysat again.

via

Happy day.

Today, I made a life changing discovery. The kind of discovery that shapes a person's world and makes someone who they are.

I woke up feeling pretty crappy. After an evening of beer and laughter (on top of a cold), my throat was hurting and I was feeling feverish and shaky. I set up my couch bed and scanned through Netflix, fully prepared to hibernate for the rest of the day and regain some of my energy. I was hungry but I didn't know what I wanted. I decided to google restaurants in the area and then pick and choose from the ones that deliver. I WISH I didn't get food delivered as often as I do....this is a beautiful neighborhood after all and it really is a waste not to go on a quick walk when I need things from the outside world. I was casually scrolling through my options when I saw it.

Chipotle.

"Could it be?" I thought to myself. I know of one Chipotle in Baltimore and it's a tad too far to walk to on a rainy hangover day. But. Apparently. A Chipotle has been hiding out a few streets over in previously undiscovered territory. Suddenly, a walk sounded like a wonderful idea!

If I could think of the perfect thing. It would be a Chipotle that I could walk to. This changes everything. I set out in a quest and was victorious. In the process, I found another lovely little "nook", full of restaurants and little shops that I hadn't realized was there.

Cities can be so full of surprises. Additionally, I know where I will be 4 times a week, at least.

Stress, an occasional friend.

Well, folks. It's Friday, it's early here and I've already had quite a day. Until today this move has felt like a really long vacation, spent somewhere where I already feel at home.

I had this brilliant idea last night that it was time to jailbreak Stu my car from his extended stay at a nearby parking garage and finally get a parking permit to be able to park in my neighborhood. I was feeling a little homesick and I thought that being able to see my car out of the window would be comforting. I paid my gigantic parking bill, scooped Stu up and parked him in the paid parking area outside of my building. You don't have to pay for parking in these spots until 8am and once you have a permit, you don't need to park there at all. Since I had to wait until this morning to go to the parking authority, I thought "hey, I'll just park here and move by 8am". Genius, right?

My 8am self and I have not had the pleasure of meeting for quite some time now. I forgot how much of a lunatic I am in the early morning and yes 8am is early, for some (me). I hobbled out to the street in a daze, picture it if you can: in sweatpants and a batman baseball tee with my hair piled on top of my head my bangs sticking up. I also forgot to put socks on underneath my ugly, mary jane work shoes...chucks are too complicated when you first wake up. The building manager was just arriving at the building and she asked me if I was okay....

I got to Stu and tried to slap myself awake before I started driving. I somehow made it to the parking garage next to the parking authority. I got my little ticket, parked and headed for the elevator because with the way I felt, stairs were not an option. I got into the elevator and my stomach turned at the sight of the exterior window, which showed the building across from me and the street below. My fear of heights makes these fancy windows a nightmare when I'm really high up but they're only mildly terrifying below 10 floors. I was on the 3rd. I hit the button for floor 1 and when the elevator shifted I felt butterflies in my stomach as my view sunk down to street level. The 8 am lunatic in me thought "hey...I bet I'd wake up in a HURRY if I did that from the 7th floor!". Nice, right? Because phobias are a fun thing to use in place of morning coffee.

I hit the button for the 7th floor and congratulated myself on thinking of such a wonderful idea. I got to the 7th floor and hit "1"as soon as the doors opened. I stood back, facing the window and waited to be thrilled....the doors began to close and then suddenly....they stopped. They closed half way and then just froze. A siren started to go off and my cheeks immediately felt hot, my heart started to pound and I started to shake. I was awake now for sure! I made the risky decision to squeeze out of the half closed doors. This goes against everything that movies, parents and common sense have taught me about elevators. If I had been in a horror movie, I would have gotten stuck trying to squeeze out and then the elevator would have miraculously started up, slicing me in half. Luckily, that did not happen. I am more scared of falling to my death than I am of being sliced in half though, which I thought was an interesting discovery.

I finally made it in one piece to the parking authority. There was no line and I got to a clerk instantly. I was missing paperwork so I had to go back to Stu and brave the killer elevators once more. Then the clerk told me that although there were no signs stating so they do not take cash or credit cards, only money orders. I had to walk 3 blocks to a 7 eleven and back in my "outfit". The bums skipped over me when asking people for change, that's how I know for certain that I looked extra strange.

After I FINALLY got my permit, I had to pay for parking so I could get out of there already. I put my ticket in the slot at the paying station and the screen gave me my balance....$300.

I stared in disbelief. This lot is supposed to cost $6 an hour. I flagged an attendant started frantically explaining that the machine was broken. She was seriously nice. She kindly let me out without a ticket when I honked as I was leaving. I never got an answer as to how I'd wound up with the ridiculous amount on my ticket but, it's all in the past now.

When I finally got home, it occurred to me that I haven't had a day like this here yet. The most trouble I've had so far is catching a cab to work in a timely manner. I actually enjoyed being a little stressed about normal things here instead of moving junk. It made me wonder, how much of a part does stress play in making us feel at home in certain places? It seems to me like the more worrying you do in a place, the more engrained you feel in it. Just an interesting thought.

Excuse the wordy, senseless post :) 

Hope your Fridays are going well!

Sometimes, people rock.

Oh, Baltimore. Thank you for being SO good to me last night.

We went to a gay bar called Grand Central. I don't think I've ever had so much fun in my entire life. It was karaoke night and let me tell you, karaoke mixes BEAUTIFULLY with drag queens and beer. We sang and laughed and had an awesome time. There was an adorable flight attendant there named Arthur, he was stuck here for the night because he had a layover on one of his flights. Everyone was so nice and we all sang along with each other and cheered each other on.

There was a moment when I turned around and noticed that my phone wasn't where I had left it. I looked around the room and it suddenly looked so unfriendly and full of thieves. I was sure that one of the people who had been so nice to me all night and gathering around our table was actually a phone stealer. I started looking frantic and saying "my phone is missing!" Then, in an instant, one of the guys pulled out his iPhone and fired up the "find my iPhone" app, he handed me his phone and said "enter your apple ID, if your phone grew legs, we'll run after it". And no less than 10 people started nodding their heads and agreeing. The app pulled up a map and it showed that my phone was still in the building. Arthur (the sweet flight attendant) went on a search for Brittnee to see if she had accidentally picked it up and it turned out that she had.

PHEW!

The best part about the whole thing was how sweet everyone in the whole bar was! I felt so awful for thinking that someone stole it. It was just one of those really nice moments in life when people who don't need to help you out, really come through for you. It was a totally heartwarming evening.

I can't wait to go back there soon! It made me feel so at home here. Like I was among friends :)

I hope all of you are having amazing weeks so far!

Old men make me sad and also flowers.

I have this weird thing where old men break my heart. I just.... feel sad for them. It's not that I think they need help or that they're pathetic or anything like that. For some reason, the sight of old men in any situation where they're not grinning makes me upset. Old people, in general, make me feel sad (again, not that there's anything wrong with them) but there's something about old men with change rattling in their pockets while they walk and old, worn in wallets that just makes me want to shield them from embarrassment or harm of any kind. I literally can't stand to watch them go through even the slightest humiliation or pain. 

Tonight, an older gentlemen came into the restaurant where I work. He was so sweet and his name was Austin. He listened while I made recommendations and then ordered what I suggested. He asked me about myself and told me about him. He reminded me of an older version of my Dad. I told him what a pleasure it had been to wait on him as he left and he left me a really nice tip. While I watched him walk out, into the night....right past the spot where my manager was mugged two weeks ago and then past the spot where a server was stabbed 2 and a half weeks ago....I felt sick. I hope he made it to his hotel. I'm still feeling really uneasy about the whole thing. I don't know why I let myself get so upset about this stuff. When I worked for Spirit Cruises, I used to pay out of pocket for old guy's drinks when I knew they would be shocked at the prices...I didn't want to see them panic even a little and try to hide it from their families. I think it's that I have such a great Dad that I feel obligated to treat men who are my elders with respect and I always see them as someone's Dad. I wish I could make it so that everyone in the world was nice to my father, maybe that's why I feel responsible for their feelings. I hope Austin got to his hotel safe and sound.

On a happier note...

The weather has been gorgeous here in Baltimore recently and today and tomorrow, they're hosting FlowerMart in my neighborhood. I felt like Quasimodo all day, watching the people on the streets below. When I walked through them on my way to work, it didn't feel like I was in a city at all. It felt like the county fairs used to feel in my hometown. I loved it.

I snapped a few pictures on my way through. I love Baltimore in the spring and summer, I can't believe I actually live here now and this kind of thing is happening right outside of my window!

How were your weeks? It's finally the weekend!