After I gave my notice at my last job, I spent the train-ride back to the city daydreaming about what adventures were to come. What life could be like once I cut out the toxicity and never-ending work days and lack of sleep and stress and constant bitterness. The world was my oyster and I had a sea of endless possibilities in front of me! As the Metro-North train slugged along through White Plains (the private airport where I spent endless hours prepping jets and cleaning jets and stocking jets with bullshit food requests for bullshit people) and Mt. Kisco (where I once sat on the side of the tracks sobbing after an agent told me I didn't have the right "look" to be at events), my mind wandered in the most glorious way. The best kinds of daydreams are the kinds that are rooted in a bit of reality. Sure its a whole lot of fun to imagine running off into the woods with Tom Hardy, only having our bodies to keep us entertained and warm, during the long, long Winter. But thats a pipe dream. Like, I was actually making changes. I was daydreaming about shit that I just knew could happen. And those imaginings were fantastic. I imagined traveling to Newfoundland and immersing myself in nature photography and eating at the restaurant Bourdain raved about. I would wear a white cable knit sweater and drink wine and feel the misty, wild air on my eyelashes. I would breathe deeply and feel the calm wash through my body like a stream. I imagined a light filled art studio. One that had green plants in every nook and cranny. My record player quietly playing Van Morrison while I wrote and painted with my dogs snuggled at my feet. And when I got tired, I'd curl-up in a window seat and take a nap draped in the warmth of afternoon sunbeams. And I imagined having the time to be at a cafe, where, out of the corner of my eye I spot a handsome man, reading the NY Post and we share a laugh over how awful the puns are but how we can't stop reading it. And how rituals like getting the paper and a really good cup of coffee on Saturday mornings are some of the most wonderful things in life. And before you know it, we're in love. And not bullshit love, the kind that I've been really aching for all my life. The kind where you talk about things that matter. The big things. The state of the world. And your doubts and fears. But also about your hopes and wishes and all the things that make your heart beat. And you learn about that person and their flaws and you cherish them for it all. And then it finally makes sense. You're not alone anymore. And trudging ahead through the world doesn't seem so daunting or sad. I imagined so many lovey things...What I didn't imagine was a year later being up to my fucking elbows in unpasteurized maple creemee mix for the fourth day in a row, trying to unclog a valve that got jammed up from the damn syrup separating, while a man at the to-go window has his pet Pygmy Goat using its hoof to ring the bell for service. Folks, sometimes life really is beyond your wildest dreams...or nightmares.

You can't make this shit up, baby.*Also Creemee's are Vermont's version of Soft Serve* — You can't make this shit up, baby.
*Also Creemee's are Vermont's version of Soft Serve*

Not too long ago, desperate for something to do, I took a temporary gig doing some consulting for a local business. They were looking to streamline and rebrand and monetize their image. While I have NO background in this kind of work, I'm oddly suited for it. I think maybe its because I'm into logistics and I've had to step back and access situations in every aspect of my past jobs. Everything I did required me to size up a script or a meeting or a coffee shop or specific seat on a plane so I could figure out what worked best for my boss and try and access any potential issues I could see arising. So, I've tried to put that skillset to use here. Helping where I can. Sizing it all up and trying to make things flow better. Put process in place. Not at all what I've worked towards for my career, but I'll be damned if I'm not feeling kinda...happy? It's not forever - but for the moment, I'm enjoying the process and feel a sense of ease when talks are marked off the "to-do" list. These are strange feelings. Not ones I'm used to associating with work, at least. I'm not jet-setting or hobnobbing with celebrities. I'm not working at 1am to create an itinerary for a last minute trip to Somalia which will inevitably get cancelled the second I jump through 1,000 hoops in order to make it happen. And all of my former tasks with my former bosses tended to fill me with two emotions: Rage and bitterness. All joking aside, those really are the only things I associate with work. Because I never got praised - and more than that, anything I did. Be it good, great, mediocre or awful was met with the exact same experience: my bosses/coworkers and agents screaming at me. Even when I did pull off the impossible, which was weekly by the way, because I'm a fucking rock-star, the bosses acted like it was their cosmic destiny to pick apart my every move and remind me of what a worthless, stupid piece of shit I truly was, despite it all. And let me tell you, even when you're a sassy Texas girl who doesn't tolerate shit, you get that sort of feedback day in and day out, and it makes you loathe every second of every task that is presented to you. Even when you're working on projects you enjoy and want to see put out into the universe, having a person, or in my case, a team of people constantly telling you how "less-than" you are, really puts a damper on being a part of those things. So, you bottle up your anger and you bury all down and you resent every task you're given, but you still execute it to 150% because you're a fucking masochistic monster. And before you know it, you've thrown it all away and you're in Vermont perfecting a batch of maple flavored soft serve and gently explaining that the pet goat is welcome to have some delish soft serve outside, but only service animals are allowed within.

There's something weird about working a job where you're happy - aside from the newness of that feeling, there's also this crazy thing that happens because you're happy at work, that feeling starts to bleed over into your daily life. Which is fucking wild. Did you know its possible to enjoy your days??? What a concept! It's like you start seeing things all around you that you didn't notice before. Like those guys who are frequent your local watering hole - the old men you thought didnt know who you were? They do. And they say hi and ask how you're doing and laugh when they see you scampering around with free cremees for the puppies on the porch. And you get to know them, too! And those bartenders? The ones you thought looked through you like you were invisible? They know your name AND your preferred drink. And they're really nice, actually. The record store dudes know you, too. And they love that you pick up weird country albums from their reject bin. They'll just give you that Glen Campbell LP! And before you know it, you're sorta kinda, maybe, starting to become a part of the community. And you get invited to drinks and dinners and actually have someone to invite to a concert. And you're able to be yourself. And not just the "assistant to". And your conversations aren't about the bullshit logistics surrounding Cannes travel or the poor quality of the dailies which will cause your boss to meltdown. No, you're getting to talk about things that aren't situational or shitty. And one night, you find yourself walking up a quiet hill with a glass of wine, talking to a lobbyist about the beauty of Vermont, while the sun begins to set and the sky looks like cotton candy against the Green Mountains. And just when you think, meh - LA still sounds pretty good, hundreds, and I mean HUNDREDS, of lightning bugs begin to dot the horizon and create a magical fairyland for you. JUST YOU!! And for the first time, you think - maybe this is how contentment happens? One lightning bug and maple creemee at a time.