The Least Complicated

It's been a good week. You know, not the kind of week where everything is perfect. But the kind of week where your routine is changed, maybe for the better, even if only for a brief second. It's been the kind where you are grateful for the split seconds that come to pass because they give you different scenery and surprising bits of change. Where you feel abnormal and yet, happy, all in a matter of minutes. Hours. Days. Not where you gain profound, life changing moments. But where you just have nothing to complain about. Nothing to feel sad about. Or extremely happy about either. Where it's just calm. And the peace comes over you. Where you know, that you are still in a huge state of change. That the change is going to be okay.

So as I sit two stories above the street, I can only reflect on the week that has come and is on its way to being gone:

• A flawless weekend in Northern Virgina, spent with family...spent with people who just know who I am...spent in the glorious sunlight...even if the sunlight was temporarily interrupted by the earth shattering stock revelation...it still rocked out.
• Traveling, again, to the city I loathe, but bearable for the good of earning miles.
• Somewhere where questions of earnestness are pervasive in every spoken sentence.
• Where the finality of the most important of friendships is revealed and concluded in a single word.
• In a place where you've seen a long-haired man, carrying a chihuahua in a bag.
• A found sacred temple for men who like to wear shorts, black socks, and sandals.
• Someplace where Geek gets its definition and women with plastic surgery are the norm.
• Sitting in the LAX airport, surrounded by English blokes and middle aged-American wannabes.
• Where you hear an accent, steal a glance, and a woman is immediately set on fire.
• Days that leave your knees and joints mangled.
• Surrounded by people who may never love you for you, at least not the way you were used to.
• Where an orange polo shirt, a favorite pair of jeans, horrible - yet semi-fashionable shoes, and accessories by Tiffany, Coach, and Gucci seem to just have to work as an ensemble.
• Where you are thrilled and horrified by the thought of a red-eye.
• The same place where 3-glasses of Merlot and McDonald's make a fine dinner.
• A place where you can say "I'm heading back to the East coast," and after the words cross your lips it finally hits you that you fulfilled your goal. To go, instead of wish. To have the documentation to prove it.
• To be carb-laden; bloated; and menstruating.
• The only place in the world where you can see a newscaster, faintly reminiscent of Jewel (with better teeth), delivering the weather forecast in a baby doll dress.
• Somewhere where Lindsay Lohan's recent arrest was not only the biggest headline, but also breaking local news.
• Where concrete and palm trees are supposed to form Paradise.
• In a place where commercials seem to perpetuate your divorced-American family because of how great you look after your Fantastic Sam's haircut.
• Thousands of miles away from the boss who doesn't know your cell phone despite 1) it being the number he called you on in order to hire you; 2) it being attached to all your email signatures; and 3) it being given to him prior to your departure.
• How sweet the feeling of getting a taxi and arriving to your door in only 20-minutes after landing .
• Seeing your best friend (albeit it of the canine variety) after a few days away.
• Arriving to a Gorgeous Giggling Frenchman (GGF) surprisingly back on your shores.
• Being so tired on a Thursday night, but spending an hour and a half talking to someone who is fast becoming a best friend, and feeling somehow revived after hearing her voice.
• Being asked to lunch with said GGF...
• ...and dinner too...
• Feeling a sense of accomplishment two months after arriving, still without regrets.
• Being okay. Financially. Emotionally. Professionally.

Yep, I'm pretty sure that next week it will all go to shit.