Tuesday, November 1, 2011

there's no place like home

I suppose its “official”.  Tim and I are moving back to Missouri. As I type out those words, I can’t even believe it’s coming out of my fingers. If one thing was certain when I left Farmington seven years ago, it was the solid sturdy fact that I was never *EVER* coming back. Of course I planned to visit, but absolutely nothing more. Missouri and I? We were so over. Growing up in Smalltown, USA; Population: White - as a self-conscious and mostly confused half-Filipina girl, kind of sucked. I blame that little community for 80% of my lifetime collection of psychological misprints and I’ve spent the better part of the last decade trying to recover from them. What the hell am I thinking?
San Diego has been good to us- individually and together. It has a melting pot culture combined with breathtaking scenery that has provided me with the perfect atmosphere to evolve from an awkward and doubtful girl to a confident and determined young woman. As the clock keeps ticking on my countdown to thirty, I find myself with thoughts that I would assume most grownups often think. I daydream further than five years forward, I know that what I want might not necessarily be what is best for us, and I’m almost comfortable imagining a mini-us without my heart rate doubling. I will always save a spot in my heart for America’s Finest City, but I have to admit that it has lost a bit of its charm. The novelty of endless sunny days has long worn off and I can no longer stomach the keepin’ it fresh, livin’ the dream, never-never-land mentality. I do want to grow up…and I want to do it amidst some real weather, damnit!
After we got married in January, our perspectives shifted and we decided we were ready to move on. We just didn’t know where to go. We came up with a few maybe places, but Missouri was nowhere on that list. It wasn’t until we were home for our wedding reception that we visualized a life back home. It was this trip home, after seven years of trips home, that I was able to appreciate Farmington instead of resent it. Farmington started to look to me like San Diego looked to me almost a decade ago- full of opportunities I could never have where I currently reside. In fear of jinxing it, I’d rather not disclose the intimate details of our plan, but I can say that by this time next year we will be homeowners. I can say that our lifelong dream of being our own boss is undoubtedly coming true.

“If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again,
I won't look any further than my own backyard,
because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with.”
-Dorothy Gale

Initially, the plan was to stack our cash for a couple of years before we moved, but with watching the decline of an already horrible California economy, realizing the rapid depletion of my patience for the rude and ridiculous requests of my fishy clientele, and placing a silly wager on the World Series-we’ve decided that sooner is much better than later. We will be here long enough to get ourselves organized, create a little nest egg, and of course catch Ani Difranco at the House of Blues, but very close to the decade anniversary of our very first kiss in April of 2002, we will embark on the journey of our ‘next bold move’.
I am already experiencing mixed emotions, and expect for them to rollercoaster as the next five months progress. On paper, I’ve done very little while in San Diego (and barely LA), but I will depart The Golden State feeling quite accomplished. I’ve been very lucky to meet amazing people that I will always keep in my life. I’ve come to terms with the fact that my karmic disposition, my somewhat altruistic personality, my lack of a ferocious ego, and my refusal to alter any of those things, make me an impossible candidate for the Hollywood spotlight. And most importantly- I’ve rediscovered myself. Yes, I will be very sad to say goodbye. Yes, I will sometimes question my sanity about it. In the end, it is simply time to evolve.  

“..when San Diego got too unkind,
we just picked up and left it behind,
and we had some love and some hope,
a full tank of gas and a wide open road,
it was love- to us, it was all that we had.”
-Blake Sennett

Monday, June 6, 2011

fairytales: fact or fiction

True to form, I spent my little girl days dreaming of a beautiful wedding that would be the envy of all my friends. Minute details of THE perfect wedding flooded my tiny existence as I would twirl around with my little sister singing "A Whole New World" and "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes". The only detail missing was the identity of the groom and that, to me, was irrelevant. After all, the Prince Charmings find you, right? Tim definitely found me. In so many ways. We had been friends for years and found ourselves each on a theater scholarship at our local community college. He was dating someone else but like I said, we were friends, so it seemed natural to hang out in between classes and after play practice. You can imagine my shock when, out of nowhere, he ditched the girlfriend and professed his love to me! To be honest, it freaked me out. Tim and I had become besties and I wasn’t willing to lose that. He remained quite persistent yet patient and despite my efforts to remain platonic, we had our first make-out session while "Wayne's World" played on VHS in the background. Hot. 
baby benz's
Anyway, fast forward four years and Tim and I are living in San Diego and the pressure to propose is on. I'll admit it. I dropped many heavy 'marry me' hints. I was ready to execute my perfect wedding and he, as usual, delivered. He secretly planned the perfect Disneyland proposal for my 24th birthday and even though it felt forced, I accepted. If I knew then what I know now, I would have taken a day or two to process. 
We weren't ready to think about marriage, at 23 and 24 years old! The wedding planning became overwhelming and nothing ever felt right. For now, I will spare the details of our break. That is a completely different entry altogether. I will just say that a break happened, we partied, figured some shit out, and stumbled back into each other’s lives, like clockwork. Getting back together was like falling in love all over again except this time, as grownups. We rediscovered each other, taking comfort in what hadn't changed and appreciating what had. Shortly after our reunion, we planned a winter vacay to New York. Neither of us had ever been and we had always wanted to go. One day, I was google-ing things for us to do while we were there and came across a blog about eloping in NYC and immediately knew it was meant to be! Tim and I discussed getting married like adults this time. We weighed out options and had many conversations about it. I was not at all expecting him to come home one day with a dozen roses in hand, to get down on one knee, and ask me to be his wife, again. As the tears were uncontrollably flowing out of my eyes I realized that THIS is what it is supposed to feel like. No doubt, no fear, just love. When we were engaged the first time, I had spent hours upon hours, searching for the perfect wedding plan. The perfect location, the perfect food, the perfect day. Blah, blah, blah. Nothing ever felt right and I always felt like I was settling for certain things due to random circumstances. After my wedding planning nightmare, I had given up on ever having the fairytale wedding and decided that fairytales aren't real anyway. No one gets to have the perfect love story or the perfect wedding day, right?? Wrong! Eloping in New York fit all of my “perfect wedding” criteria and I stumbled upon the idea on accident! We were able to get married and spend an entire week celebrating each other in one of the most classically romantic cities in the world. I don’t think it gets much better than that. The details of our wedding week (which I will eventually get to blogging about) are not ones that we could plan again. A lot of it happened by chance and by pure luck. I feel so blessed to have been given the life I have. I take it for granted sometimes but I am constantly reminded by friends and family of how I am actually living the fairytale that I had once given up on.
....and this is only the beginning. 


Saturday, June 4, 2011

reception-ed

I am sitting in Tim's old bedroom, in the basement of his parent’s house where, nine years ago, his mom labeled me a 'bedfellow'. Rosalie would warn Tim that 'he knew the rules' and that 'bedfellows were not allowed' :) Now, nearly a decade later, I'm no longer just a 'bedfellow' but a 'wife', and I am sooo allowed! We are in Farmington, Missouri, our hometown, to celebrate our recent elopement with our friends and family. I am currently coming down from the crazy ridiculous high of having seen a surprisingly large percentage of all the people that we know and love in the same place, at the same time. The reception was on Saturday and while it was obviously the climax of our trip home, the events leading up to it are beyond worth mentioning. You wouldn't think that two short weeks in the tiny town you grew up in could shake you to your core, but it most definitely can.


 I will never be able to convey the stress level that emerges when a newlywed couple plans their wedding reception to take place in Missouri, from San Diego, is entirely financially responsible, and doesn't hire any help. Even though we had started planning this months before we even got married, the party we planned ended up being far different than the party that took place. I was, however, more than satisfied with our end result. Our Missouri Wedding Adventure was immediately awesome because Dollar Rent-a-Car didn't have the small compact rental car we reserved. Instead, we were given a beautiful Toyota Sienna minivan for the same price. We undeniably needed it to perform multiple airport pickups and a Costco shopping spree but unfortunately couldn't reserve it because our budget wouldn't allow it. Total upgrade score. My initial anxiety was somewhat relieved as I was happy to finally get to my new in-law's house and physically account for all of the supplies and decorations I had ordered online and sent to Missouri. The first couple of days of our trip were relatively lax. We visited friends and ate at our most missed restaurants. It didn't become insanely stressful until Thursday morning, two days before the reception. That is when I began to prepare the food to feed one hundred people. Right in the middle of my meat cutting/pasta salad making madness, in walked all three of Tim's out-of-town siblings! We had been sure they couldn't make it but, they decided to surprise us! Cue involuntary tears. It's a rare thing to be able to round up all the Benz kids simultaneously. Total family score. Only moments had passed before I began to realize, and later learned that Rosalie, my mother-in-law was realizing simultaneously, that this could possibly* be totally destructive to our entire Benz-Francisco Reception operation. We have a strict timeline of tasks to adhere to and that timeline in no way includes consuming copious amounts of Natural Light. Over the years that I've known the Benz family, I've learned that any reunion of any members of this family who don't routinely get to see each other will result in an unadulterated shit storm of excessive beer drinking and Dr. Hook/Dean Martin sing alongs. Happens every. single. time. and while these episodes are inarguably hilarious, they are hardly conducive to what we had set into motion. Plus, we had to pick up my dad, sister, and best friend, Erin, at the airport at midnight and time was rapidly melting away. Lucky for me, Tim and I stayed on the same page and although he was very happy and grateful to have everyone there, he put the partying on hold until the actual party and we were able to collect our loved ones as scheduled.
Family time, for me, is something that coincides with miscommunication, high anxiety, and a complete lack of cooperation. I'm speaking, of course, of my immediate family. My Mom, my Dad, and my sister, Emily. I can say now, at 28 years old, that I love my parents very much in spite of the tumultuous childhood with which they provided me. I know now that they did the best they could with the resources available to them, and I have learned to see them as humans who make mistakes and poor decisions from time to time. I am able to recognize and appreciate how amazingly supportive my mother was as I somehow have always managed to choose the least conventional path. My sister and I have also had a rocky relationship due to the fact that we are so different from each other in almost every way possible that we have a hard time relating to each other. Now, I adore her and her eccentric strangeness. She is my little sister, my only sister, and I love her :) Regardless of the love I have for each of them separately, the thought of us all co-existing for even a day causes my blood pressure to rise and brings me uncomfortably close to a panic attack. Further, the thought of having to dad-sit at my mother and father-in-law's house for the weekend made my rising anxiety level skyrocket but, by the grace of god, my dad calmed my fears and greatly exceeded my pre-conditioned low expectations when he excitedly took on the role as happy, helpful father-of-the-bride, which made room for me to breathe. A little. My dad, on the in-law's farm, was like a kid in a candy shop with no adult supervision. He couldn't get enough of it and didn't know where to start. It was like he was back at home or something and I will always cherish being able to see him so alive. 


24 hours out and this monster was starting to resemble a well oiled machine. Cupcakes were baking, favor boxes were being stuffed, balloons were being filled and Kali, my new niece and the coolest seven year old I've ever met, was equipped with an iPod that blared Pink's #1 hit, Let's Get This Party Started, on repeat. Hell yes. All the other grown-ups were annoyed, I thought she was hilarious. 


So I think I've forgotten to mention that the whole two weeks in Farmington, was a crazy lightning and thunderstorm tornado extravaganza. My husband and I, accustomed to San Diego's typical 70 degrees and sunny, invited over 100 people to an outdoor party in the Mid-west. In the middle of tornado season. Yaaay...! My unofficial maid-of-honor, Erin, and I were at Wal-Mart getting last minute supplies when Tim texted me that Lambert-St. Louis International Airport (the airport that some of our guests were using) had just gotten part of its roof removed by an aggressive funnel cloud. Oh, and that storm cell that produced that angry cloud was on its way to us. By the time Erin and I had gotten back to my in-laws, we could hear the echoes of the warning sirens wailing back "in town". We frantically unloaded our party goods as we listened to the emergency broadcast computer guy tell us to take cover. We had expected to immediately run down into the basement to join an attempt to take shelter but no. All the guys are playing dominoes in the kitchen like it ain't no thang. Like there is no risk of impending doom blowing through the open windows. So instead of rushing to safety, Erin and I made a huge platter of sub sandwiches for these starving drunk men.



Needless to say, we survived the night. On the day of our wedding celebration, I awoke early to yet another thunderstorm and accepted the fact that we were going to be celebrating in the rain. To be quite honest, the rest of the day is a blur to me. I don't remember every moment but I do remember how it felt. I remember the energy in the air and all the love. Throughout my blog, I continually refer to myself as a very lucky girl. I can't help but reiterate this, because I am constantly reminded of it. In addition to an abnormally awesome husband, I have a handful of exceptionally beautiful people that will be my best friends for life, no matter what parts of the country we are all scattered among. I have a family network that loves me and supports me, no matter how horrible I am at keeping in touch. In the wake of our celebration, I’ve been struck with a lingering emotion that I have never experienced before. I am left feeling overwhelmingly thankful for everyone who spent hours with us helping put it all together, for everyone who got on airplanes and drove for hours to congratulate and celebrate us, for all the surprises both planned and un-planned that formed the amazing memories I will hold with me forever. Yep. I am a lucky girl.







Thursday, April 28, 2011

married...without children

What is the big freaking deal? Why does getting married mean that it is time to immediately become barefoot and pregnant? Hey everyone, 1954 called and it wants it's societal expectations back. From the moment Tim and I said 'I do' we have been suffocated with nosey inquiries regarding 'when the babies are coming' and have been bombarded with disappointed warnings of how we are 'not getting any younger'. While I have absolutely no doubt that we will make exceptionally excellent parents when the time comes, I just don't understand why it is so hard to believe that a married couple wants to spend some time simply as a married couple, and isn't focused on rushing strait to the delivery room!? Tim and I have been in each others lives for well over a decade. It took us four years to transition from just friends to sweethearts and then another nine to transition into husband and wife. I don't think either of us expected marriage to feel so different than regular coupledom since we have been together for so long and thought we knew everything possible about each other. Now that we are settling in to our new titles as 'husband' and 'wife', we are realizing that a marriage is an entity all it's own that can only thrive if we take the time to understand it and nurture it. I appreciate that we are able to focus on the foundation of our marriage without the distraction of a needy child. Can we please have a minute to process and enjoy this major life change before diving into a completely different and much more demanding one!? I will admit that before we got married, I was experiencing some intense baby fever. I blame this partially on my 28 year old hormones and partially on just needing a change of pace. Since we have gotten back from NYC my baby fever has dissipated and has been replaced with husband fever:) I love love love being married! I love making dinners for my husband. I love having surprise date nights. Mostly, I love being the annoyingly cute newlywed couple that everyone openly congratulates and secretly envies. Who has ever been jealous of the sleep deprived couple covered in mysterious baby stickiness frantically looking for the pacifier? Not me. The last four months have been the happiest of my life and we plan to stretch the awesomeness as far as we can. So this blog entry is for everyone, from the complete strangers who feel comfortable and compelled to give us baby having advice to every single one of our parents who feel it is time for us to reproduce. I am 28, not 38 and I promise a baby will happen. When WE want it to.

Thursday, March 31, 2011

please, allow me to introduce myself...

Until this moment, I was a blogging virgin. I never quite understood if a blog was just a narcissistic version of a diary- or if endless posts of ideas, rants, tips, tricks, and an assortment of random ramblings somehow serve a greater purpose in internet-land, or regular-land for that matter. I am not exactly sure why I'm suddenly attracted to exploring this form of "media" but maybe I'm enticed by the idea of abandoning public social graces and trading my mask of political correctedness for whatever new one I choose to create. To be honest, I was actually inspired to start this blog as I was getting settled into seat 21E on the last leg of a flight from La Guardia to San Diego with Tim, my husband of just two days. We had successfully executed our mission to elope guerrilla-style at Grand Central Station in New York City and were on our way home. As we were barreling back to reality, thirty thousand feet in the air, I began to realize what an unbelievably lucky girl I am to still have this amazing man sitting next to me. Tim and I are high school friends, college sweethearts, and have built a life together 2000 miles away from home. We have undoubtedly experienced our share of bumps in our nine year love affair. The biggest bump being a two-year separation after a premature engagement that ended with what I tend to call my 'quarter life crisis'. It's during this separation that I learned the most about myself and it was essential that I learn it as a single unit. I risked everything on an unknown something and I walked away from someone who I loved very much. I took a huge chance at losing the love of my life and I didn't. It is because of this that I consider myself quite lucky. My husband loves me very much and I literally love him more every day and I honestly believe if we had gotten married the first time around, without our time to be selfish, we would be resentful and unhappy and on the fast track to divorce. With over half of all marriages ending in divorce, I think it's wise to second guess it. That shit is serious and it's forever. Today, we are almost three months in and together we are learning how to build a healthy marriage. The newlywed-ness still hasn't worn off and I'm hoping it doesn't for awhile. Regardless, I'm committed to loving my husband forever. Even when he pisses me off. Anyway, my blog intentions are to talk about "the real happily ever after" because it doesn't happen at all like they say it will. True love isn't the myth. The myth is the "perfect" way to finding it.