Solitude.

An evening walk by my house.

I've been spending a lot of time alone lately. It's probably not a bad thing. The Vail Valley is a stunningly beautiful place... but it's also very difficult to meet good people here. For starters, this valley is full of transient, seasonal workers. Many of the young people are only here for a few short months, so you end up saying goodbye to friends you hardly had a chance to get to know. This place is also a mecca for people who never want to grow up. Ya know... the selfish, unreliable, "Peter Pan" types. I've met lots of those. Then there are the "friends" who you THINK have your back, but who end up throwing you under the bus or pushing you to the wayside when your friendship becomes inconvenient.

And I'm sure these kinds of people exist everywhere. It just seems like there's a much higher percentage of them here. So when I hit my year anniversary of living in this valley (July 1st), I decided that if I was going to stay here, I better get comfortable being alone. I definitely have a few close friends who I always enjoy seeing. But getting drunk with the "bros" at the bars has pretty much lost its appeal. I started doing a lot of yoga. I run frequently. I also take long walks on the path by my house. It curves around a little lake and there are always dogs running through the sand and bounding into the water. When I'm feeling low about the people I've met here, that's the walk I take. I just look up at the mountains and breathe in that clean air and remember why I'm here.

I'm not here to party. I'm not here to shred the gnar. I'm not here to win races or train with Olympians. And I'm clearly not here for the people. I'm here because the view out my window still takes my breath away. And because something still stirs deep within me when I feel the wind on my face while watching the sun dip below the peaks. So if alone is what I have to be for now, that's what I'll be. For now.

Timing

I haven't written in so long that I feel like I'm almost starting over with this blog. The main thing that has remained constant in my life is that I still live in Colorado and I still can't imagine being anywhere else. Yes, I have moments when I miss hopping around the world. But my life in Colorado has begun to develop into something that I quite enjoy. It resembles ME, finally... and that is something that I haven't been able to say for a very long time.

I'm convinced that it takes about a year in any new location to start feeling like you have a life. I felt that way when I lived in London, Sydney, and now, Colorado. It takes nearly a year to meet a few people who have your back, to discard a few who don't, and to start pursuing the hobbies and activities that make you feel like YOU. The main hobby I have rediscovered is theatre. I just finished performing in an awesome play (Picasso at the Lapin Agile) with the Vail Valley Theatre Company and because of this experience, I have met people who value something that I value. They appreciate something that I appreciate. And they appreciate ME as well. What a wonderful thing! It was such a seemingly simple decision to audition for this play, and I am quite certain that my life has changed for the better because of it. 

Timing is everything, right?  Well, I couldn't make it to either of the two scheduled audition nights for Picasso and had resigned myself to the fact that I would just have to wait for the summer musical. Then BAM, I get an e-mail explaining that an extra night of auditions had been added. It was too good to be true and after attending this originally non-scheduled audition, I was cast. I thought, what perfect timing! And it was. My current happiness hinged completely on that one shift in timing.

But I've been thinking an awful lot about timing lately. Turns out, it's a pretty important factor when it comes to beginnings and endings. I've had relationships end because of timing. I've missed out on jobs, trips, and countless other opportunities because the timing was just a little bit off. Usually, it all works out. And often, it seems to work out better than your original plan. And that's what we tell ourselves - what I tell MYSELF - that everything happens how it's supposed to happen. That timing has a purpose and something better is around the next corner. I've banked on that for over twenty years, and this perspective doesn't usually let me down.

But what if the timing isn't off for a REASON... what if it's just OFF? Is there ever a moment when you should fight against the tragedy of a particular bit of timing? Is there ever an expiration date that you should ignore? Or should you just let it all wash over you and follow the current? Sometimes, I want to swim upstream. Sometimes, I meet someone incredible. But in a transient resort town, sometimes they leave. They come with a built-in expiration date that I do not want to accept. Everything depends on timing, right? But surely there must be more. Surely there are some things... some people... who trump timing.

I'm currently dealing with some timing that is just a bit off, and I find myself wondering how to approach it. I don't know that I'll do anything differently than I normally do. I don't know that I'll fight against this expiration date... I'm not sure I'd even know how. But I suppose that mainly, I never want to play the victim. I never want timing to keep me from something amazing. It's a gamble, I guess, when you decide to spit in Time's face and go for it anyway. But damn it, sometimes that's exactly what I want to do.

Posing in costume for Picasso at the Lapin Agile

  

Doing it all.

I want to play music again. Really play. It's funny how extreme joy and/or pain distracts you from yourself and all the little things that make you complete. I'm generally so open to new things that I let other people's identities seep into my own. It's not always bad... I've discovered many things that I never would've known I was passionate about or even good at. Running was like that for me. I always knew I was a secret wannabe-athlete... I think it's part of the reason I moved to Colorado (whether I knew it at the time or not). But meeting some of the people I've met and being encouraged in an athletic direction has opened my eyes to a cross-section of this life I never would've thought I'd like to be a part of. Now, I can't really imagine giving it up. I'll never be an Olympian or a World Cup athlete. Not because I'm not capable, but because I don't want to be. That's someone else's identity, not mine.

When you decide what you want, I'm always amazed at how the right people enter your life. I was out for drinks with some work friends last night and one of my co-workers, Fern, casually mentioned that he plays classical guitar with a group. They play for private parties and functions... and he sometimes jams out with locals just for fun. As soon as I told him I was a singer, the doors started to fly open. Our waiter was a friend of his and also an excellent drummer. Fern started concocting ways I could meet other musicians and was really encouraging about my chances of performing a lot in this valley. The thing about small towns is that you can get your name out there really quickly. I felt happier and more excited than I've felt in ages. And that's how you know you just discovered a piece of yourself you should pay more attention to.

I want to compose again. I want to meet a couple great musicians and sing with them. So I think I will. I guess there are a lot of guitarists in this valley and not a lot of singers. Sounds like a problem I could remedy.

And I'm writing again. My head is clearer and I'm smiling more... genuinely smiling (because there's a difference). Colorado equals mountains and running and biking and skiing... but that shouldn't make anyone subtract the other things that make them whole. I can be a runner and a skier and climb mountains and win races and still geek out with my Norton Anthology. I can perform in musical theatre productions and play the piano every day and also be a kickass backcountry skier this winter. I've met some people here who think it's one or the other. It's being an indoor kid vs. an outdoor kid. And the thing they're all missing... the thing I can't ever let myself forget... is that it isn't either/or. My life will NEVER be all one thing. And choosing both doesn't make me any less of a singer. Or any less of a passionate runner. As long as you avoid half-assing anything, you can choose whatever combination you want. The people who go through life without realizing that fact... the people who are so stuck on what they THINK they should want or what they THINK their "type" needs to be, have it all wrong. I work for what I want. I'm good at what I do. But I will never, ever pick one or the other.

"'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die."

- Alfred Lord Tennyson

Reality.

Wow. To say it's been a while is an understatement. More than a few things have changed and although the mountains still create the backdrop for my life, everything looks pretty different.

I've learned my fair share of lessons in the last few months, and one that has been blaring at me since the middle of May is the fact that trouble will find you... even in the mountains of Colorado. My last two blog entries were full of the enthusiasm and joy and wonder of being somewhere so refreshingly new. I meant every word. But at some point, the "real life" stuff starts to happen to you. Friends move away. Jobs go downhill. Trails get muddy and relationships go sour. The less desirable parts of yourself... the parts you tried to leave behind in your quest to move somewhere new and feel more alive, start to appear. I came to Colorado for ME. I came to be independent, to do some serious soul searching, and to choose a hard but worthwhile path forward. And what did I do? I fell into my comfort zone of depending on someone else.

Badly done, Franny. Badly done.

We all do it. Whether we become so paralyzed we can't move forward, too arrogant to face our own humanity, or too dependent on those around us... we fall into old habits and old ways of coping. I need to be patient with myself and at least I've avoided the real tragedy of not realizing these things as they're happening. You fall into a rut, shit hits the fan, but you claw your way back out. That's when you realize what you're really made of. Calvin's dad (of Calvin and Hobbes) would say these moments "build character." I'd have to agree.

For the last couple months, I have been clawing my way out of my rut. Lucky for me, some pretty incredible doors have opened. I started a fantastic job in the Vail Valley as a Children's Book Specialist for a great independent bookstore. It's my dream job, really. I want to open my own children's bookstore (eventually), and this job will give me the tools to do it. The Vail Valley is interesting... I still haven't gotten a great feel for it and I do miss Winter Park. But my roommates are really sweet and I've met some truly wonderful people.

I live within a few miles of numerous ski areas. I have a fantastic condo within walking distance of my job. I landed the lead role in The Music Man in Breckenridge and am singing again. I have already been to a neighborhood BBQ, hiked three 14ers, and seen a couple great concerts (in Telluride and Red Rocks). I'm running. I have a bike. I have a work friend who invites me on crazy hikes starting between 3 and 4am. I am perfectly poised to achieve success in every area of my life... extreme, life-changing success.

Sometimes, I'm downright scared. Sometimes, I feel incredibly lonely and all I want to do is stare at all the closed doors behind me. I make intense, emotional connections with people which is both a blessing and a curse. I am a fierce friend and if someone gains my trust, I will be with them till the end. But if they leave... or I have to leave... it kills me. To live that way is both strong and weak at the same time. And it's essential to become skilled at recognizing those who are worthy of your time, energy, and effort. I've met some who aren't. I've met some who I thought were, but weren't.  But lucky for me, I've met a few who are absolutely worth it. Those are the ones to hang onto, through it all.

I've been through a hell of a lot in the last few months. I feel slightly overwhelmed, but capable. I encounter something every single day that scares me, but I continue to beat it. My rut is behind me. Ever onwards.

Life is a grand adventure.

One month in.

So, I've been living in Colorado for just over a month now.  To say that I feel like I "belong" here is an understatement.  This self-professed city girl with small town roots is actually a mountain girl, through and through.  Shocked?  Me too.

I will even go so far as to say that Denver is too big a city for me.  If I had said that to myself 5 years ago, I would've scoffed at the statement before pitying the poor soul who thought city-life wasn't where you find everything worth finding.  Turns out - everything worth finding is right outside my window and I can take off skiing for two hours, no sweat.  I don't need to plan a whole day or weekend around an outdoor activity; I can go anytime I want because it's all right HERE!  Being so close to all these invigorating pastimes somehow forces you to get out.  I'd feel like a damn fool if I didn't get a pair of skis on my feet at least once a week.  In a big city, I didn't feel that motivation.  And I crave it now.

I was talking with a great guy I recently met and we both agreed that there's something special about the people who live in Colorado.  We decided that everyone here is secretly (or maybe not so secretly) thinking to themselves, "Man, I really made some good choices in my life to end up here."  It's like we've all found the key to happiness in this crazy mountain living.  It screams of never settling.  Of life being too short not to enjoy every moment.  Of being shit scared to do something but doing it anyway, just because you can.  People literally climb mountains and ski off cliffs here.  Why do anything less than terrifying and awe-inspiring?  It's all so worth it.

I've met some wonderfully like-minded people here as well.  At first, though, it's easy to get wrapped up in the novelty of things that are starkly different.  I found myself spending a lot of time with the gnar-shredding, ski-bum, pothead crowd during my first couple weeks in Colorado.  I was enamored with the slang and the lifestyle.  I had never been around anything like it before and it felt new and completely awesome.  I still think those alpine ski bums are fantastic and I'm happy to live in a valley full of them.  But I've also found a couple girls who I can always count on for a night of epic fun or a quiet day of talking about anything at all.  I've also met a couple guys who are insightful, passionate, great at giving advice, and just plain FUN.  It's the people who make you better that are worth spending time with.  The people who remind you of the things you are and want to be... and push you to be them.  It's the people who make you go down blue runs when you know you're scared to do it.  The ones who knock on your door as soon as they get home to see how your day was.  I can forget that fact sometimes... when the allure of "newness" wafts by.  It's good to remember.  And I've had a lot of great reasons to remember in the last few weeks.

Life is... great.

Well, here I am.

So, I moved to Colorado.

I know at least a handful of my friends thought I was crazy.  I also know that the people I'm close to have learned to expect me to be fairly free-spirited, if not a little flighty at times.  But I'm happy to say that there was nothing flighty about my decision to move to the tiny mountain town of Tabernash.  It was a gut feeling that I acted upon and it just so happened that all the logistics came together like some crazy puzzle.  Call it coincidence. Call it the stars aligning.  Call it whatever you want.  But here I am... feeling happier and more alive than I've felt in years.

I live in employee housing, which I affectionately (and it took me a while to really feel this affection) call the "frat house."  There are about 20 of us in a giant, open-plan house with a shared livingroom and kitchen.  Over half of the occupants are South Americans, who are referred to as Los Locos (again - very affectionately).  The rest of us are twenty-something Americans who left whatever life we were leading for the skiing, solitude, and beauty of the mountains.  My housemates are AWESOME.  I can now say that with complete sincerity because I recently bought a very loud fan that finally allows me to sleep when everyone is up watching movies, playing beer pong, or creating general havoc until 4am.  There's always something going on.  There's always someone to hang out with.  It's a bit like college... but it somehow feels a touch more grown-up.  Not sure exactly why.

I keep saying that I didn't come here to sit around.  And man, I have not wasted any time diving into absolutely everything!  I've been here for two weeks, and I've already been downhill skiing at Winter Park twice, nordic skiing once, tubing down the big hill in Fraser, out to hear live music nearly every night... I even dressed up and had an epic night out for the Sushi Bar's "Jersey Shore" party.  I've met incredible people including downhill ski bums, nordic skiing fanatics, wanna-be cowboys, massage therapists, hippies, musicans... I could go on and on.  It takes a pretty interesting person to live in this valley and I'm enjoying finding where I fit in and where I differ from all these types of people.

Instead of continuing to ramble on in long, boring sentences, I'm going to just make a list of the things I love about the ranch and the valley that is now (awesomely) my home.

• I open my blinds every morning to see the mountain range. I literally live smack dab IN the mountains.
• I have been completely charmed by the downhill ski bums.  I love how they talk about "shredding the gnar" with no hint of irony and test fate by skiing Berthoud Pass, where avalanches are known to happen unexpectedly and to kill.  They wear stocking caps inside, smoke pot, listen to jam bands, and ski the crap out of the Mary Jane side of the mountain. (By the end of the season, I plan to ski Mary Jane too.)
• I live 5 minutes from a little town called Fraser which has a couple bars/restaurants, a hardware store, post office, grocery store, etc. 
• I LOVE that I live 10 minutes from Winter Park.  We go out in WP all the time and I ski at "the resort" at least once a week.
• Whenever I want to hear awesome live music, there's a great little bar in the basement of a building in Winter Park complete with a pool tables, a roaring fire, and a stage.  From jam bands and hip hop to groups like Minnesota-natives Trampled by Turtles, I can get out and hear it all.
• People around here rival "Minnesota Nice."  I've never met more genuinely kind individuals.
• The ratio of guys to girls in this valley is about 80:20.  I'm not sure why girls don't want to live right in the mountains like this, but it's an interesting experience to be one of the few.  I keep being told that we girls can pretty much have our pick of the guys, but as the saying goes, "the odds are good but the goods are odd." HA.
• The cross country trails at my ranch are incredible.  On a sunny, blue-sky day, there's nothing better than skiing through the valley and staring up at the mountains all around you.
• My co-workers are awesome.  I like my job at the front desk and sometimes feel like Lorelai Gilmore which makes me happy (that's for all you Gilmore Girls fans).
• I always knew I was a secret outdoors enthusiast, and living in this setting has really made me get outside and go for it.  I feel more like myself than I've felt in years.
• The locals are a walking stereotype, but it's fantastic.  The ski bum culture is everything you'd imagine it to be, and then some.  I hear the words "gnarly," "sick," and "bro" on a daily basis.
• The people here are happy.  Genuinely happy.  They're not here to make money... they're not here to become famous.  Many of them work so they can ski because it's their life's passion.  Others just love the mountains and the outdoors and the slower pace of life.  These are my kind of people.  I didn't choose this place or this lifestyle for the money either.  But I can see myself living this way for a long, long time.  It makes you feel alive.

I feel so alive.
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