That “Thing.”

I witnessed chemistry the other day.

Standing but a mere distance away, I watched with rapt attention as two strangers having brunch at the bar began conversation, the first of many, I’m sure.

I feigned disinterest; after all, two singles at a bar are just bound to talk to each other, but I couldn’t help but steal glances their way, jealous at the ease in which they synced with one another.

This isn’t the first time I’ve observed the fairy tale “love at first sight” happen with other people. There was one time I was traveling on the plane and the row in front of me lovingly talked the whole three hours it took to fly to Seattle. And I remember the guy that bumped into the girl on BART, and the easy conversation that ensued. Let’s not forget the undeniable connection I witnessed at a little shop in Placerville, a palatable connection I felt between these two as I was shopping.

The hopeless romantic in me longs to be a recipient of such a connection, though it seems as though anytime someone asks me about my love life, my answer is very reminiscent to that of Rose describing the lapse in time from the Titanic sinking to now:

Men are pretty much nonexistent in my life and it seems as though every time I brave myself for the rare date and the commitment of putting myself out there, nothing ever comes out of it.

Time and time again, I get myself all worked up, all hopeful and optimistic that maybe, my 24-year boyfriend drought is finally ending and I’ll be asked out on a second date, only to be let down.

I see this “love at first sight” happen to other people and I wonder why it’s never happened to me.

Now this isn’t a post about me complaining about the lack of men in my life, or a pity party where I’m seeking validation and assurance that there’s someone out there for me, it’s a chapter where I’m focusing on what I’m missing, this so called “thing.”

I used to believe that I was missing that “thing” that appeared in every other girl besides me. This “thing” was something that men were attracted to, and I always thought I was somehow born without it. Was it because I was intimidating? Timid? Unattractive, too much of an investment to get to know? Too weird? Too punny? Too much of a nice girl? What “thing” did I not have that inspired a second date?

I only ever get insecure like this when the idea of a man pops into my life. I’m going about my routine, focusing on myself, my writing, the future, and my happiness, and this guy shows up and all of a sudden, I’m fantasizing about a future with him because I finally feel like I’m the part of that love at first sight fairy tale.

Except it’s never love at fist sight. It’s more like “infatuation out of loneliness.” More often than not, I like the idea of the guy more than who he actually is. I confuse compatibility with chemistry and end up over analyzing everything because while my body screams “hell yes he’s the one!”, my heart knows that I’m just longing for companionship, and he’s not the right companion for me.

This “thing” I’m missing isn’t something I lack that other girls have. This “thing” is something that’s unique to each and every one of us and is meant to be shared with someone who’ll complement it, who will appreciate and cherish it.

Sooner or later, the right guy will fit his “thing” with mine.

*if ya know what I mean ;) ;)

The chemistry I witnessed at brunch this weekend was undeniable, and it’s something I haven’t felt yet.

And that’s okay.

If anything, it opened my eyes and made me realize that when it does happen, this “connection”, I’ll know because I’ve seen and felt what it looks like. And I’m willing to wait for something like that.

I’ll be willing to wait for someone’s “thing” to be my “thing.” And those two lost things will no longer be missing, but found, with each other.

New Look.

You may have noticed that things look a little different around here.

Some new photos (ever so thankful for Keelyn Heaven for taking such marvelous pictures), a sprucing of dialogue, a font change here and there, and then the same old Elan.

I had been wanting to update my blog for quite some time now. With average at best website design knowledge, I spent hours and what felt like days of maximizing this minimal understanding of coding and web “stuff”, but finally finished a new blog look that I am most proud to call my own.

I’ll tell you now: it was not easy.

Aside from my naiive knowledge, I had to deal with many frustrated breakdowns, bouts of self-doubt, and dealing with the ever constant pressure to design my blog a certain way, a right way.

See, when I first began visualizing this blog, I sought out website assistance from professionals, those who designed sites because it was their craft.

After excitedly sharing my idea for a blog, which will someday transition into my magazine, I sat with Bambi eyes and waited to hear what they suggested.

Most of the time, it was like they hand’t even listened to a word I said.

“Advertising, we’ve gotta have advertising for the payoff to make blogging worth your while,” despite having told them I did not want advertising for the sake of being a genuine human. I didn’t believe in preying on my readers for money to “make it worth my while.” Snitch, I’ve been paying for my blog for years and haven’t seen a single cent back, but do you know what value I do get in return? It may not come as dollar bills, but it comes in the form of the guy coming up to me in person and commenting on my latest blog post. That, is value.

“Collaborations, we have to set you up with affiliate programs to get you set up as a fashionista helping Alaskans buy clothes online,” which makes no sense at all to me because 1) I’m not a “fashionista”, I’m simply stylish 2) my blog isn’t about selling clothing to Alaskans, and 3) most of the clothing I do wear is used and vintage, which can’t be resold like the clothes you buy on Amazon (sorry, one of a kind here folks).

I sat there, dumbfounded at this idea they were trying to sell me.

I know I’m probably perceived as this terribly picky customer who wants to do things the hard way, but I believe in authenticity and the idea that blogging for me is a work in progress perfecting my own craft: writing.

My purpose with blogging isn’t necessarily to attract followers. Would I love if more people read it? But of course. I believe in organics though, not buying space on the internet and paying to get seen by a certain number of people. I write because it’s how I express myself, just like with personal style, dance, theatre, singing, and banging on the drum set.

I write because once I get going on a story, or a prompt, words pour out of me and I feel this overwhelming high. I write because I’ve been doing it everyday since I was 8 years old and it’s a part of my DNA to use my pen and fingers to make magic with words. I write because it’s a part of who I am.

I don’t have much in the way of a huge fellowship, but I do have my voice, my words, and my stories and I’m using them to show the world that I believe in myself and in what I’m doing, as it applies to my best interests. And it will grow, slowly, over time.

I believe gradual is beautiful. Authenticity is beautiful.

I couldn’t consciously let someone take over my blog because their intentions weren’t on the same page as mine, and the idea of letting my voice be squashed to fit a mold was unbearable.

I’m proud of my new look because while it’s spruced up, it holds the same purpose and the same goal:

“…to educate, enlighten, and entertain readers on the lively observations and experiences of my life”

If everyone else is making money off of advertising, collaborations, and affiliate programs, you sure as heck won’t find me there.

I’ll be making bank, don’t get me wrong, but it’s the kind of value that will leave an impression on my heart, not my bank account.

And all the while, I get to stay true to me.