connected.

          After two different trips to the Verizon store asking about “that thing, that cord thing that I could plug into my car, you know the one that lets me play music,”  and having no success at discovering what this “thing” was actually called, or at seeing this cord, let alone purchasing said “thing,” I resorted to asking my iPhone-savvy friend. She very quickly explained to me that it was called an Auxiliary cord, and immediately sirens in my head went off, “Ahh yes, that’s what A-U-X stands for on my stereo system. With a roll of her eyes at my sheer iPhone ignorance, she quickly deterred me away from a third Verizon trip, telling me to pick one up at Wal-Mart instead for half of the price. So, last week, that’s just what I did.

            If we are being honest here, the main reason I wanted this AUX cord was to gain the ability to blast my Justin Bieber and Adele Pandora app radio stations in my car. Eclectic taste in music, I know. But anyways, today I decided to forego my usual radio morning show listening and plugged my phone right in. On the way to work I opted to listen to the Adele station, enjoying her one-of-a-kind tone and inspiring, relatable lyrics. Her whit is as sharp as a knife and the sincerity in her songs is incredibly inspiring. And, HELLO, she is British. Of course I love her. The station also includes some of my other fav artists, including Sara Bareilles and Ron Pope. So, here I was, sitting in that same bit of traffic that caused me want to name the unhappy things in my life, but yesterday, well, things were a bit different. I was smiling. I was singing. Obviously, I was embarrassing myself in front of other fellow traffic commuters. But, I didn’t mind. In fact, I felt a bit sorry for them. They were probably listening to radio commercials while my AUX cord was permitting me to jam to the soulful sounds of Adele and the like.

            As I pulled into work, I was completely bummed. Instead of wanting to get out of the car, stretch my legs, and get my day started, all I wanted to do was remain in the confines of my little red Prius and use my fabulous new AUX cord to listen to some of my favorite songs. Because, that twenty-five minute commute was blissful. I’ve always enjoyed car rides by myself. To me, there’s no better time to clear your head and rest your mind. Some people say they do their best thinking in the shower, or before they go to bed at night, but I’ve always done my best thinking in the car. Open road, good music, no one to answer to, no other tasks to complete. Heck, I’ll sometimes even partake in an entire conversation with myself while driving. You want to talk about getting stares from fellow commuters?

            But yesterday, I was filled with joy during my commutes to and from work. On the way home, I chose to jam to the Justin Bieber station. And I was just as happy, just as blissed out as I was in the morning. It helped me to realize that gosh, even these little commutes, this little $9 auxiliary cord can make all the difference. They can add to my happiness. I never expected to find so much joy in just good music and a simple car ride. But, as The Biebs says, Never Say Never.

put a ring on it.

     I always think that it is such a wonderful thing whenever you meet two people who have been best friends since before they even knew the definition of friendship. They've dug in mud until it has taken up new residence under each ten fingernails. Rode their bikes together until the street lights turned on. Ate popsicles in a park. Sat together on the school bus. Got in trouble. Laughed. Cried. Then, laughed again.

   What amazes me most about these types of friendships is their ability to adapt over the years. Many people come in and out of our lives, but what's so incredible are the ones that are there through it all. Through everything. A constant. For me, I am lucky enough to have more than one of those people. But, above all, just one person stands out the most. For me, that is my brother, a Mr. Cory Robert Livingston. Most of my childhood memories involve my kind-hearted, dimpled, childish brother. He's only about 20 months older than I, but I've looked up to him for most of my life. And, to be honest, I am sad to say that he probably doesn't know it. Which, is not because of his own oblivion, but rather for my lack of confessions of appreciation.

   Trust me, we have had our typical sibling ups and downs. I pulled the "I'm going to tell Mom!" card numerous times, and actually told Mom too many times. We constantly made fun of one another. I remember referring to him as "Peter Brady" when the first few signs of puberty struck him, and his squeaky voice. He used to create lines in the backseat of the car or on the couch, dividing them into my side and his side. We used to assign one another hours of the TV; I got the odd hours of the day, he the even. But even through these little tiffs or quirks, we were still spending time together. A lot of time together. I mean, we even had Chemistry class together in high school. But I cherished all of the time together.

    Fortunately, we still remain close. We share a love of music, outdoor concerts, and even shopping (though he might not want to admit it). My sister (who I adore just as much as Cor) and I have always been protective over the type of women that Cory fancied. It was important to us to not only approve of the girl taking away some of his time from us, but also to enjoy her. Throughout the years, we've spent some time asking too many questions to the girls vying for his big heart, and we've been open and honest (probably too much) about our true thoughts on her. And then, Nicole came along. And at first, when people asked me what I thought of her, I used to simply say, "Cory adores her, so obviously I have to like her." I didn't mean that in a bad way, I just meant that it was so apparent, so incredibly evident, that he was swooning. So if he was swooning, we had no choice but to go along for the ride, too. And that ride, well it has been great. She has been great. She's been great with the family, fitting in as if she's been there longer than just a year and a half. But more than anything, and in my eyes, most importantly, she has been perfect for him. Cory has changed since he met Nicole. And that used to be my biggest fear, that these girlfriends of his would change my dimpled, kind-hearted brother. But, it's not so much that Nicole has changed him, she's improved him. And he hasn't been this happy since the day he received his Power Wheels quad as a second birthday gift.

    So today, I found my daily dose of bliss from a phone call I received from Cory and Nicole announcing that "She said yes!" My first response was, "This is so weird." To which I quickly changed to, "But I'm really happy for you guys!" Truth is, it is weird. It's weird because I still think of Cory as my brother who was afraid to put his face in the water in our pool. The one I used to play rollerblade hockey with in our driveway. The one I used to throw Skittles with at skiers below us on the lift. And yes, things have changed since then. But, all I kept thinking was, things have improved too. And as I lay in bed looking at a picture on my cellphone of the gorgeous ring, I could not stop thinking about the tone of his excited voice on the phone. It was that samePeter Brady-esque squealing brother that I've always known and loved.

    Congratulations you two. I couldn't be happier for you both.

endurance.

     The Bangles may have been a bit harsh. Not all Monday's are manic. Though, I do love the stillness and relaxation that Sundays provide. It's that overwhelming need to lay around, eat a good homemade meal, and share laughs with some friends or family. The best part of Sundays is the ability to act on each of these desires. To sleep in past 9a.m., lay in bed until the early afternoon hours, and in my case, to watch too many hours of Soap Net's Breakfast in Bed weekend TV special. But then, as my favorite day of the week comes to a close, my mind drifts to the upcoming week. To work, and e-mails. To alarm clocks, and tired eyes. To making lunches, and planning dinners. And that Sunday, comfortable, effortless bliss begins to vanish, little by little, as each ray of the sun leaves the daytime sky.

    But today, I chose to look at Monday differently. Instead of seeing it as the beginning of the downward work-week spiral, I am viewing it as a promise. A promise of new beginnings--a new week, a new step forward, a new time to enjoy the first signs of autumn, a new chance at change. A promise of change. That is, if you're willing to do it. Because, as they say, change begins within. So the change I make, on this Monday, is the effort to run. The promise to run. To run for myself, my body, and most importantly, my health, both physical and mental.

    Truth is, I think we are all born with that ability to run. As kids, we learn to run away from our messes, leaving siblings to pick up our toys or crayons. We escape from our parents as toddlers to avoid a time out or lecture on how to properly behave. We run away from our friends in fearing of being "It" during a game of tag. We escape our opponents and sprint away down a soccer field. We scream and run when a bumblebee buzzes in our direction. Why do we escape from all of these things? To feel safe, to feel free, to be at peace. And that is exactly why I have taken to running again. Today, I remembered the bliss that a nice, steady run brings.

    There’s nothing like the feeling of your lungs opening up, breathing in the warm autumn scents. Nothing beats the mix of adrenaline and endorphins flowing through your body, the wind at your back, the sound of the leaves crunching as your feet pound the pavement, and Justin Bieber singing in your ear. (Ok, so maybe not all of you can relate to the comforting feeling the Biebs provides. But, take my word for it. Or, go rent Never Say Never and find out for yourself. You won’t be disappointed.) Today, my two mile run was blissful. It was freeing, and invigorating to know that I was doing something for myself. And, I wasn’t running away from anything, but running to improve my body, and clear my mind. So maybe this time I actually ran toward my fears, my stresses, and my problems, instead of running away from them. With each stride, I faced them, but then I let them fall by the wayside. Those silly, nonsensical stressors can’t keep up with me. And, they don’t need to. I’m happy without them, and my Monday was a lot less manic without them, too.  

from the top.

      Well, hello there blogosphere. I apologize for my neglect, and for my abrupt departure. I was, well, busy. And now, I am, well, busier. But I am also a little less filled. Truth is, the last time I blogged, I was the happiest I've ever been. I was "studying" abroad in London, and in love for the first time. With London, that is. I was positively smitten with each adventure and each passing day that I spent abroad in Europe. But unfortunately, that's what all of the days did--they passed. One by one each joyful moment disappeared in front of my eyes, and before I knew it, I was back home in Pittsburgh. I was awoken from the dream. Truth is, if I didn't have the pictures, the souvenirs, the countless scarves, the Facebook albums, or the special moments etched into my very memory, then I don't think I would believe it all happened. Because, it was too blissful to be true. Too perfect to be mine.

         This past June I revisited Europe, Italy to be exact, on a girls-only family vaca with some of my very favorite people. As I floated along the Grand Canal in Venice, sipped the sweet Tuscan wine, and tossed a penny into the breathtaking Trevi Fountain of Rome, I found myself with that same ear-to-ear smile I'd been missing. I found my bliss again. I recognized its familiarity. I basked in its return. And, I filled myself up with even more of it in every bite of pizza and every lick of gelato. But, after ten blissfully-filled-floating-on-air kind of days, I had to leave it all behind. I traded in my bliss for a plane ticket home, and physically felt each fabulous Italian morsel leave my body, my heart. And again, I was a little less full. I was a little more empty. Left with only the gelato morsels resting on my hips and thighs to let me know it was all real.

   

     Because I actually felt the loss of that bliss, that happiness, I began to think about what else I could do to fill its void. And suddenly I realized, "Kate, you're being ridiculous. You're blessed. You have joy and bliss and happiness surrounding you daily and you don't even notice it half of the time." I felt ungrateful. I felt selfish. So, it hit me. The need to recognize it. To truly acknowledge my bliss, the little things each day that brings me happiness. I kind of let this thought marinate with me for the rest of the summer. Then, last week on my drive home from work I decided to actually name things out loud that made me happy. My first step in recognition, I thought. But, the first thing out of my mouth was, "Well I know that this traffic DOESN'T make me happy.." How crazy is that? I wanted to physically slap my own wrist. It was word vomit, but nonetheless, it came from somewhere deep inside of me. Some part of me jumped at the opportunity to vent all of the unhappy things, rather than recognize the happy parts of my life.

    So my need to recognize it deepened. And that's where this idea evolved from. To blog, each day (err, try to), and name the one thing, the one small morsel of bliss I encountered that day. For instance, the other day I went home after work, changed into sweat pants and hideous but warm pink furry socks. I turned on some Adele, threw my hair in a bun, poured a glass of wine, and cooked myself dinner. And there it was--fulfillment. Bliss. I recognized then, in that moment in my kitchen, that it's that simple. Sure, I felt a bit like a 35-year-old spinster (think Jennifer Lopez in the Wedding Planner), but I was filled again nonetheless. And it was blissful. But most importantly, it was easy. It didn't involve an expensive plane ticket, fresh pesto pasta, or gorgeous Italian Stallions.    

      It was just me, doing something for myself. Being comfortable. Allowing myself to be happy. Swimming in bliss. And it was wonderful. I was happy, but even better than happy, I was content. Because above all else, that's what I am in search of--contentment. I think if you are content with your life, then most aspects of it must be happy, and you must be satisfied. Fulfilled. So that spinster-style night of Adele, furry pink socks, wine, and utter bliss? Yeah, that night I lay in bed thinking that the Rolling Stones were total fools. I can get my satisfaction. And you can get yours, too. All you have to do is recognize it.