Yes/No. All/None. Go/Stay.

I said to my husband the other day that I don't think of Vienna all that much these days.  We don't have a strict timeline,  I don't have anything hanging over my head that I have to think about/do/accomplish with regard to Vienna, I'm distracted with other things in my life, he's been out of town so we haven't talked much about it.  So *poof*  there it goes.  

He, on the other hand, said he thinks about it all the time.  He's trying to get a business off the ground and our moving to Vienna depends quite a bit on his ability to do so, so he is constantly thinking that he's not working hard enough, fast enough to get us there.

I wanted to tell him, "it's okay, take your time."  I don't feel a sense of urgency at the moment and I don't want him to stress.  But I stopped short of doing so.  I was afraid he'd think that meant I was ambivalent, that I no longer want to go.  And for a moment I start the protest in my head, "No, of course I still want to go.  I'd go tomorrow if we could."  But thou might protest too much.

I do still want to go to Vienna.  I can say that in all honesty.  But sometimes I feel like I want to stay here.  And that is just as honest a statement.

My tendency is toward extremes.  Yes/No. Black/White.  All/None.  I don't do to well with the middle area, the squishy ~ um, maybe, I feel two ways about one thing ~ kind of place.  If I say yes to something, I have to make myself believe that yes is the only answer and I will do all I can to push out any other thoughts.  If I start to have conflicting thoughts, then I assume that I was wrong, that I don't want whatever it is after all and I either have to suck it up and go along with it because I said I would or I have to completely pull the plug.

And that is where I find myself today, caught in the middle, one day wanting to move to Vienna, remembering what it was like to be there and missing it, eager to take on the challenge of an ex-pat life.  Other days, I feel so comfortable in my own space that I want to stay.  And still other days I feel dissatisfied with where I currently am but not wanting to make quite that big of a change.

None of this means that I don't want to move, that we won't move, that the plans will be tossed out the window.  Right?  I'm pretty sure it just means that I'm allowing myself to experience all that goes along with such a decision.  This is huge for me.  And, on top of that, to openly admit to others that maybe I don't have it all together inside.  That's even bigger.

I just ironed my yoga pants.

I kid you not.  Getting ready for yoga class, I noticed an unacceptable number of wrinkles in my stretchy workout pants.  You didn't know that wrinkles were unacceptable in workout pants?

I stood there for a moment."Seriously, Carrie?"  I asked myself.  "Seriously? Ironing yoga pants.  Don't you think that's a bit much?"  And then I laughed because I felt something stir at my core.  "Yup," I said to myself, "seriously."  I am simply being me, despite the fun that others might poke at this little ritual (and by that, yes, I mean my husband).  I'm just being me.  

I had never consciously thought of it before, but as I stood at the ironing board, I realized that that I have an overwhelming desire to present myself as perfectly as I possibly can in all situations.  Yes, even at the gym, in a yoga class.  I blame (and love) my parents for instilling this neuroses trait in me.

Now, off to Downward Dog in my perfectly pressed pants. Namaste.

The international sound of relaxation?

I had a deep tissue massage last night.  It was my first ever such experience and I won't lie - it was pretty painful.  I knew that my shoulders and neck were in knots, but my feet?  My calves?  My quads? Wow.

The residual soreness is not bad at all today, but I had to "breathe through the pain" quite a bit during the massage.  Well, my gal didn't use the word "pain," she liked to refer to it as "intense" or "hard."  Hmm.  Yes, intense, hard....and painful.

Anyway, while I was taking loooong, deeeeep breaths to get through the "intense" moments, I also tried to concentrate on the music to distract and relax myself.  You know the music ~ the gentle, tinkly, slightly Eastern, somewhat nature inspired music that is the ubiquitous spa soundtrack.

Or do you?

I began to wonder if this same music is used worldwide to foster serenity and create a sense of calm?  Is there truly an international soundtrack for relaxation? Or are there entirely different kinds of music used in other parts of the world to elicit the same state of being.  If I were to get a massage in Vienna, would the background be familiar?  Or will it be one of those unexpected differences?

The questions were a bit of a distraction for a few minutes at least.  And then she moved on to a new body part.

What's my point exactly?

Hello Dear Readers, are you still there?

I understand if you have gotten bored or moved on thanks to my anemic posting lately, but I do hope this is not so.  Please bear with me as I figure out my schedule (so I can actually sit down and write when I'm awake and alert and motivated) and my point.  Yes, my point.

You see, since the Vienna move isn't right around the corner any longer (it could be 6 months, it could be a year, could be anywhere in between or even longer), it feels odd to try to write about IT all the time and it's a challenge to come up with some tie to IT for every post because, well, IT isn't on my mind every day any longer, at least not in the same way or with the same sense of urgency.

I do write at times about things non-Vienna, things that are more...well, things that are just about me.  But I struggle with whether that is enough.  That wasn't my point when I started blogging, but I may be moving in that direction.  Blogs should have a point, a point of view, a purpose.  Or so I've read.  I want to have a point of view and I think I do, I can, I will.  I've just lost sight of it for the moment.

Will you forgive my ramblings and detours, and stick with me as I rediscover my point?  If you'll hang in there, I promise to get over myself and my inflated concern and actually write, not worry about whether I'm writing about the right thing.

Perhaps it'll be more interesting.....who knows?!?!?

I Miss Florida

Huh?

It's true.  I miss Florida.  Not that I miss the chain restaurants, strip malls, too-short shorts, dark tans, and fake breasts that dominate the landscape, but I do very much miss the no alarm clock, no schedule, lounging, eating, beach, sun, pool, and time with friends that we enjoyed last week.  Perhaps instead of saying that I miss Florida, I should just say that I miss vacation.

It was only four short days.  You wouldn't think I'd have acclimated to a new schedule, or lack thereof, so quickly.  I didn't think that was even possible.  Me without a schedule is like.....well, pick something that seems impossible to you, and that's it.  But I've been home for four days now and, quite frankly, I have not been keen on picking up where I left off.  Getting up in the morning is hard, work is a chore, going to the gym after work has been incredibly difficult to force upon myself.  And writing, well, as you can see, there hasn't been much of that going on.

Alas, I made it to the weekend.  I made it through the three oh-so-difficult days of work (I jest. The work itself hasn't been that difficult, just having to be there was the hard part).  Today, I didn't have to wake up to an alarm clock, I don't have to go to work, I don't actually HAVE TO do anything.  And, yet, precisely because I don't feel obligated, today is the day I woke up early.  I have already gone to a yoga class, am doing laundry, cleaning, and will get to the gym in a few hours to do my cardio intervals.  On top of all that, here I am, writing.

It's not the work, the doing, the having things to do.  I'd be lost without a goal, a purpose, a list of tasks to complete.  But I am pretty tired of having a set schedule, as in a Monday-Friday, 8:00-5:00 schedule, and a job I am only so-so about.  I want to do what I want to do, when I want to do it.  Ideal?  Unrealistic?  Vacation stuck on the brain?  Not really.  My husband does it.  Many of the people I met in Florida do so - consulting, contracting, working from home or setting their own schedule with clients.  I have the security of a regular paycheck every two weeks and knowing  exactly how much money is going to be in that paycheck.  They have freedom.  I'm grateful for the paycheck, jealous of the freedom.

If I am to be completely honest, though, this is how I would like my life to be in Vienna.  I don't want to move there and find myself in a job, Monday through Friday, 8:00 - 5:00.  I want to have a flexible schedule, the freedom to move about as I wish, when I wish and really experience the city, the country, other countries.  And, no, I am not independently wealthy (darn).  So, how to make it a reality?

These are the things that are running through my post-Florida, post-vacation, pre-Vienna mind.

Fun & Sun, Jacksonville Beach, Florida, July 2010

Places I've Been

2% - seems so sad!

One of the many reasons my husband and I want to move to Europe, and to Vienna, specifically, is that we see it as a launching pad of sorts. A home that provides close proximity and easy travel to so many other countries. A way for us to not only experience life in a new place, but life in many new places.

Vienna seems quite central, offering exploration opportunities East, West, North, and South by car, by train, by plane, at reasonable travel rates. All evidence I've seen in reading people's blogs and stories we've heard from people we've actually met indicate that people do actually take advantage of their location. I hear and read about travels to France and Spain, Kosovo and Sweden, Germany, Italy, Turkey!

This stirs in me such a sense of possibility and curiosity, which is, I admit, not an expected response from me. But it is there, nonetheless, surprising no one more than me. I am more of a homebody, not an adventurer. I like the familiar, the expected, the planned. So, is it wishful thinking that I'll experience the world from Vienna or does this curiosity indicate that I find the world as a whole, or even just Europe, more interesting than I find the United States?

Riots & Spies

IN TODAY'S NEWS:

Oakland, California (where I currently live), RIOTS over a verdict given to a white former transit police officer for the shooting death of an African-American man.

  

After dark, mobs form, smash windows, loot

Vienna, Austria (where I plan to live someday), Russian and American SPIES traded on the tarmac at Vienna International Airport.

Prisoner Swap in Vienna Ends U.S.-Russia Espionage Case

 

~ Both sound like they could be newspaper headlines from decades ago.

~ There may also be a novel, a thriller, a story in here somewhere.

~ Times change, and yet they don't seem to change so much after all.

A little something more about me

On Monday, I may dress like this...

  


And Tuesday, like this...


      



And on both days, I'll feel completely, utterly, 100 % like myself.

This month's Vogue (July 2010) blew me away ~ with the Magnificent Obsession (featuring Ewan McGregor and Natalia Vodianova, photographed by Peter Lindbergh) and an absolutely jaw-dropping, breathtaking, couldn't-stop-staring photo spread of Marion Cotillard (photographed by Mario Testino).  I think she may be the most beautiful woman in film today.



All images from Vogue, July 2010

Hot with cold

A sore throat.  Again!?!?  Yuck.  Didn't I just have this cold a few weeks ago? It hit my husband this past week.  I was sick not too long after our trip and I must have passed it on and gotten him ill.  I was feeling bad for him but also a little cocky ~ well, at least I've already had it, I don't have to worry.  I can go to work, workout, follow my diet, feel healthy, get things done.  I'm being knocked down a notch now, it seems.  It hit me yesterday, just as this strange cold(ish) weather front moved in.  It had been warm and sunny.  Yesterday, along with the sore throat came a headache and a general malaise, along with the return of clouds and a cool breeze.  It all seems so wintry.  Where is my summer?!

From what I've been reading this week, it seems that summer has finally hit Vienna.  I've seen lovely photographs on blogs and imagined myself sitting in one of the many city parks, people-watching, reading, simply being.

Looking at the weather for the Bay Area, it appears that summer should return this weekend.  And we do have plenty to do outdoors that is enjoyable, I just have to go do it.  If I feel better.  I've got a few days before the weekend, this feeling may pass.  Otherwise, I may just have to take on the hot with my cold and see who wins.

Wake up and smell the coffee

When I first woke up this morning, lying in bed before the alarm sounded, I could swear I smelled coffee.  A wonderfully inviting and motivating smell.   Thing is, though, I knew it was impossible.  A figment of my imagination.  An olfactory hallucination.  Unless the cats had learned to scoop coffee grounds and boil hot water, it was pure fancy.  But wouldn't that be a cute children's story - kitties wanting to help out, doing things around the house when everyone is gone or asleep.  Good intentions with hilarious mishaps.   


Then I remembered that I had done a little prep myself last night.  I filled the kettle with water and put the coffee grounds into the French Press coffee pot before I went to bed to save myself time in the morning.  Is it possible that the smell of the grounds was strong enough to fill the house with the scent of a freshly made pot and reach my little nose all the way in the bedroom?  An unexpected but oh so pleasant byproduct of thinking ahead.

I'll never be able to anticipate everything in planning our move to Vienna, but I am thinking today about how important it is to do the best I can to look ahead, prepare in advance, pay attention and do the little and big things that might help pave the way.  Who knows what good happenings, what surprises and little bits of pleasure doing so might create.  To enjoy the smell of the coffee before it is even made is a lovely thing.

Am I my stuff?

Minor freak out yesterday morning.  I'm all dressed for work and looking for my brown purse.  I can't find it.  It's the only brown purse I own and my outfit definitely called for it.  I don't use the purse often, since I don't wear earth tones very often, but since it does happen occasionally, I own one fabulous slouchy, brown leather purse.  Or, at least, I thought I did.

As I was rummaging through my bedroom closet, the coat closet, the back office closet and time was running out before I HAD TO leave the house, I kept saying to myself, "I can't believe I would have gotten rid of it.  I just can't believe I'd do that."  But it wasn't there.

A few months ago, I made a first pass at weeding my wardrobe to prep for an eventual move to Vienna.  Who wants to cart boxes and boxes of clothes and stuff across the ocean!?  I went through my closet,  drawers, shelves - clothes, shoes, handbags....everything.   I was feeling pretty focused and intent on making a dent; I followed the Use Rule (how often do you wear/use it) and I was pretty ruthless.  And I made some pretty good decisions - since the Big Clean, I haven't reached into the closet to find something, only to realize it is no longer a part of my life.  Until yesterday.

Strictly following the Use Rule, the purse wouldn't have made the cut, so I can see myself putting it in the To Go pile.  But it is the ONLY brown purse I own.  As much as I hate to admit it, I am a matchy-matchy girl.  My shoes and purse must match my outfit or I feel off all day.  I just couldn't imagine that I'd have let the drive for minimalism trump the need to have one brown purse for those non-black-wearing days, few as they may be.

Lo and behold, just in the nick of Gotta-Get-Outta-Here time, I found it.  On the closet floor, underneath shoe boxes and various other items.  Of course I didn't get rid of it.  A sigh of relief and a huge smile.  I felt such joy!   

And then I felt a little silly, feeling such happiness about a purse.  I spent the day pondering the idea of the things we own, the things we each choose to put an emphasis on, and how we use them to define ourselves - to ourself and to others.  In light of moving and wanting to pare down to basics, what it would mean to not have some of these things?  Would I feel like myself in Vienna if I got there and didn't have all my *stuff*?  I'm not a very sentimental person.  I don't hold on to objects, trinkets, or knick-knacks much.  A few family items, but mostly books and clothes.  That's me, that's my stuff.

A friend recently asked me and my husband what we were planning to take with us to Vienna.  "Just a few suitcases?" he asked.  My husband nodded, yes.  I shook my head, vehemently, No! I probably also had a look of utter disbelief and horror on my face - a couple suitcases!?

I do have every desire to pare down to the basics and I understand the need to do so in planning an international move, but the basics for me is a totally different thing than the basics for my husband.  The question is...is it actually necessary to own three pair of black pants?  Really?  I keep telling myself - no, it's not, you can do better, get by with less (and there is a sense of accomplishment and pride in being minimalist, I do feel it), but, while they may all be black, these pants are all different styles, they create different looks and reflect different moods.

Since the time I could put my own outfits together, I've felt that the way I dress is my personal means of artistic, creative expression (Much to my mother's chagrin at times.  But in my defense, I came of age in the 1980s - think Madonna, Flashdance, big hair, jelly bracelets - what was a girl to do?).  I have grown into my own style since those high school, testing-the-self-expression-waters days.  Sometimes classic, sometimes quirky, always a little different and always very Me (whatever that really means).  To be Me, I need these three pair of black pants and a brown purse that I only use once every few months.

It's not a matter of being owned by my stuff, being a slave to consumerism and trends.  Most of what I own, I've had for years.  I do shop, but I only buy what I really need and want now and I keep and wear things for a long time.  My wardrobe is my history, my story, in a way.  To trim it to what would fit in a couple suitcases would be like cutting off an arm.  Oh the drama!  But it's true!  Am I crazy?  Am I my stuff?  Or is my stuff a part of me?

Coffee and blog

I'm rubbing the sleep from my eyes and drinking a cup of hot, strong, American drip coffee.  I don't usually run right to my computer upon awakening, although I will admit that I sometimes have to force myself not to (dang email and Facebook addiction).  This morning, though, I feel an overwhelming desire to sit and write a bit.  It is Sunday and it is a holiday weekend, which means I was off yesterday, I'm off today, and I have all day tomorrow to myself as well.  All is leisurely.  I don't have to rush to the gym or rush to work or rush to....well, anywhere.  And, so, I find myself here.

My husband and I have been back from Vienna for a little more than two weeks now and I realize that despite several posts and the confirmation that the move is still on, I haven't been terribly talkative, even here, about the trip, about my impressions, about my fears and excitements.  For those of you who know me and/or have been reading since the earliest posts, you'll know that one of my goals in creating this blog is to get myself to share more.  Talking about myself is not something I do much, even with family and close friends.  And, so, it can sometimes seem as though I don't put much thought into things and that I go from idea to decision - poof - just like that.  Is she sure?  Does she really know what she's getting into?  Has she really thought about it?

I was just about to say (slightly defensively) - of course I do!  I think long and hard about all that I do, I've spent hours pondering the emotional, physical, mental aspects of such a move, my reactions to Vienna, my experience there, how I feel about it all.  Truth is, though, I haven't.  Not in such a concerted - I-have-to-sit-down-and-figure-this-out-and-make-sure-I've-considered-everything kind of way.  That's just not me.  Which isn't to say that I don't think about things at all, that I'm naively moving forward with a half-hatched plan and that I'll find myself in Vienna this time next year, thinking, "this was stupid, I should have thought more about xx, yy, and zz before I just picked up and moved."

What I am saying is that I'm just not the soul-searching type in general ~ and I'm only recently coming to accept that of myself and be okay with it.  This doesn't mean that I don't have moments of deep thought and personal reflection and insight but it often seems that I don't have as many of those moments as others do or as I maybe "should" have, especially when considering something as seemingly huge as picking up and moving to Vienna.

Truth is, I just don't think of it as such a huge deal.  It's another chapter in my life.  I've picked up and moved before.  I've started over.  And, yes, I've considered that moving within my home country isn't the same as moving to Europe for all sorts of different reasons.  But, I've been reading so many expat and traveler's blogs and these and our visit to England and Vienna really did reinforce my thought that this truly is a small world and one that I want to explore.  And while a little hard and scary, it's not that hard and scary.

When it comes to thinking about the move, my mind goes almost immediately to the practical and pragmatic (jobs, visas, residence permits and such), not the emotional or psychological aspects of moving.  This isn't because I don't expect there to be any and it's not a diversionary tactic.  I've tried thinking hard about what kind of impact this will have on my relationships with family and friends, with my husband, with myself, but my mind won't stay there.  I get antsy and anxious when I try to concentrate on these aspects of the move because, well, how can I know beforehand? I can assume that communication will be as easy from there as it is from here.  I can assume that this will be a period of great exploration and expansion and growth for me as an individual and for me and my husband as a couple.  But who knows???

What I do know, however, be it a deep insight or shallow justification, is that for me, the whole concept of not knowing, but taking the leap and going anyway...this is the whole point.

Photo by JimileeK

Say it isn't so

I was blog-surfing last night.  I came across a blog by a young gal who spent part of last year as an au pair in Vienna.  It was funny, interesting, a little sad (the au pair job didn't work out and she's now back home).  I was enjoying my read and all was going along fine until I came across a line, something about .... access to Diet Coke being extremely limited.  Um.  Why haven't I considered this?  Please. Somebody.  Tell me this isn't so.