Be careful with a gypsy, she'll steal your heart... unless you steal hers first

Currently sitting on a plane to a new destination. I promised myself I’d visit new places this year, not only for pleasure but places that’d send me in the right direction towards my career and what I want in life. Hence the reason I spent most of my winter in Baltimore as opposed to some warm city in the south. For the first time in years being set on being settled aka living somewhere for longer than a 3 month period and going back to school. My NYE resolution was actually, “Settle down but never settle.” My life was turned for a complete loop last week when I received my acceptance letter into The University of Texas at Austin. You mean to tell me I have the opportunity to fulfill my dreams by living in my favorite city in the US, while working towards a degree that’ll push me closer to the career and life I want, do I stay, do I go?!? Of course I’d regret not going, and those that know me know that regrets aren’t an option with me. Leaving everything and taking a job opportunity that will help take me where I want to go in life. Booking a last minute flight. Am I crazy? 

With an abrupt departure, I sit and ponder more so on not what I’ve left behind, but who. Is it possible, I mean, is it really possible, to know someone for such a short period of time but actually feel this indescribable connection where everything flows so naturally when the two of you are together? Seriously, who are you? and where the hell did you come from? Luckily, I have quite an extensive music collection consisting of over 50,000 songs, combine that with a little vodka, and my journal and I'll be able to evaluate the situation a little better. Otherwise, I’m going to go with there’s about a 95% chance without that combo I’d be the crazy drunk girl in the airport pacing back and forth, talking out loud to myself... recipe for insanity? Possibly, but at least I’ll be wearing red lipstick. 

So on one shoulder, I have Victoria, this sassy little thing who is always chomping on bubblegum in my right ear while occasionally twirling it around her finger saying, “Who cares, he’s lucky you even told him you were leaving. One word responses deserve no response. Ignore, it’s one of the things you do best.” (Yeah, I know, I know, she’s a bit of a bitch at times and trust me, it really sucks when the gum gets stuck in my hair.) On my left shoulder there’s Isabella, the little hopeless romantic girl screaming, “Tell him how you feel! What do you have to lose? If he thinks you’re crazy, who the hell cares! Like Marilyn once said, ‘it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.” (Isabella still believes that somewhere in this crazy, fucked up world we live in that she’s going to find Prince Charming and that chivalry is indeed still alive.) I mean let’s be serious, who the hell is she kidding? I can barely get a guy to take out my trash, let alone sweep me off my feet. Then there’s all the voices in my head that are saying, “You don’t like anyone for longer than a week, 2 max, are you feeling okay? You just met him, what’s wrong with you?” And my photographic memory keeps replaying the other night over and over in my head. The night I insisted on dancing the night away and he actually put up with my shenanigans the entire time because at that moment dancing made me happy and that’s all he seemed to want to make me. For those of you who watch The Vampire Diaries, you know there’s this memorable clip between Elena and Damon dancing to “Feel So Close” by Calvin Harris. Elena is having the time of her life, Damon gives her this look from across the room and then proceeds to go over and dance with her.

It’s my favorite scene from all the seasons and continues to send chills up my spine every single time I watch it - that’s the feeling I got the other night, but don’t worry there was no blood involved. That smirk and look in his eyes, even if it was only for 20 seconds, it really felt like an hour, an hour that I'd like to play in my mind over and over again.

Despite what everyone says, the person I see, the person he is with me, isn’t the animal most have made him out to be. He’s a gentleman, intriguing, intelligent and with me he pulls down the guard he seems to hold up for the rest of the world.

The conversation later in the night flowed so naturally, sharing life experiences that have formed us into who we are today, and actually being understood - rare commodity that's for damn sure. There was a connection full of passion, truth, excitement, laughs, clarity and 90’s rock, what more could you possibly ask for? And I ask myself, “Does he feel the same way? Did I just leave him as mind fucked as I am right now? Or am I just over-thinking and reading too far into things?” Right now, I couldn’t give you an answer, but as I sit here listening to the same two songs on repeat for going on what, 6 hours now, I can’t help to think about how much I’d rather the person next to me on this plane be him. Instead of falling asleep in this uncomfortable seat, how much I’d rather fall asleep in his bed while he reads me pieces of his heart that he’s poured onto paper over time. 

Given I’m a firm believer in what’s meant to be will eventually find it’s way, I almost feel as though I should leave it up to chance on whether he stumbles upon this. And then on the other hand, I’ve learned the hard way not to do anything you’d regret and not expressing myself could potentially turn into one of those. 

In the midst of confusion, I’ll sign off with one of my favorite Pearl Jam lyrics...

“We’re all allowed to dream of the next time we touch.”