Britt Skrabanek

The Last of Every Little Thing

Tomorrow is my last day of work. This day, above probably anything else, is the finale of my life here. In this sweet little city of Milwaukee.

Although this is my third cross-country move, I’ll tell you something. It doesn’t make it any easier.

Excitement for a daring adventure veers sharply into bittersweet. Every place, every face, every little thing that I’ve known for the past handful of years molds reluctantly into a memory…the lasts.

The last time I will walk the familiar route to work, turning up my music to cover the traffic noise and glancing quickly down that one alley to avoid being run over by a delivery truck.

The last time I will smile at the security guard at work who says “Good Morning” in his sing-song voice like he’s part of a Barbershop Quartet. Maybe he is on the side. I don’t even know his name.

The last time I will buy a small latte from Carmen at the corner cafe. She’s always smiling, because she’s one of those rare people who enjoys her job and her life.

The last time I will walk the endless hallways of my office, passing people I know and will never see again, and those I don’t know and will never know.

The last time I will swipe my badge at an entrance before I surrender it forever. Even with that silly picture on it, I will miss it. It was the one accessory I always had to wear, my identification with a place I spent more time in than I did at home.

Each day has been filled with lasts. With amazing friends and family in some of our most beloved places in the city.

Nearly five years ago I moved to Milwaukee without ever having seen it before. What I will remember most about coming here was how lost I was at the time.

And through that confusion, I found myself.

I began teaching dance again, then later, through a life-changing emotional and physical test, I obtained my Yoga certification. And finally, after hiding from it all of those years, I had the courage to become a writer.

Even though I was a foreigner in a strange land, I always felt welcomed by the community here. That comfort allowed me to return to who I wanted to be at my core.

There are a few more days of lasts to endure, and they will be the most trying of them all as we say goodbye to those closest to our hearts.

But, the firsts will be coming very soon. And though they cannot replace the lasts, they will open our eyes to different experiences.

We will grow, we will love, and we will live through it all.

The West Coast Girl Finds Her Way

A little over a year ago, I started to get an undeniable West Coast itch.

I visited a dear friend of mine in San Diego for a long weekend. I hadn’t been back to California in many years.

After I landed we had lunch and Bloody Mary’s right on the beach, where the smell of salty fish greeted my nose like a long, lost friend. Then it was off to a different beach, a stunner at that.

It’s nearly impossible for me to explain what happens when one approaches the Pacific Ocean, but damnit I’ll try.

We parked the car on a residential street on top of a hill. I stepped out of the car, plucked my bathing suit out of my crack, then I stopped and stared.

There it was. Glistening in the distance, purposely drawing me into its majesty.

The sight left me speechless. So speechless that my friends thought I was insanely jet-lagged, when really I was just awestruck.

I hovered in a meditative state. My toes wiggled around the warm surface of the sand and my fingers dug deeper to feel the cool layer hiding beneath.

It was home. And after that day, it stayed with me forever.

But, this isn’t about finding my way back to California. This is about a finding a new way, a very different West Coast locale. One where neither of us has ever lived, one where neither of us has any family.

A place that is green inside and out. A place that is kooky with drool-worthy food. A place that’s got something casually awesome about it.

Portland, Oregon.

At the end of next week Mr H. and I and our two pissed off cats will be traipsing across the country on a 30-hour drive.

Why? Because it was absolutely the right time for us to do it.

We visited Portland several years ago, and we have never been to any place in the world more beautiful.

Yes, it rains…a lot. But that rain brings a magical brightness to everything it touches, turning the world every exquisite shade of green imaginable.

Uprooting our lives can be seen as something to fear, a perilous force writhing with anxiety, stress, and discomfort.

The lengthy drive with two cats will be the ninth circle of Hell. The cozy routine will vanish from our lives. The faces and places we have come to know intimately will fade. The unknown will be downright scary at times.

Yet, we are choosing to embrace this turbulent change for the sake of growth and inspiration. All of the new—the land, the culture, the people—will only feed our creativity and make us stronger.

Besides, my home is wherever my husband is. And together, we can do anything.

When I am me, I am free

Stunning Irish photographer Meticulous Mick and I have come together to provide this little number for you.

I first heard of his collaborative spirit when my lovely blogger pal Sheila Hurst teamed up with MM to create Pavement and Paint.

It’s not hard to be inspired by his ridiculously beautiful photos, so he sent me a couple of photos to work with. While they were both absolutely breathtaking, I found “Faded Colour” irresistible.

I thought of this boat as a breathing person, a woman neither young nor old, with doubts and desires. My mind went into a frenzy and I scribbled for a few minutes to create this random something.

I’m not a poet, so call it what you like.

Be sure to get your butt over to Meticulous Mick’s collaborations page if you want to team up.

Faded Colour by Meticulous Mick (aka John Grant)

WHEN I AM ME, I AM FREE

I could be smooth and new like them

Gliding along the sea in some infinite breeze

Without feelings, without pain

Like porcelain dolls never fazed by the rain

But, I am me

Weathered, chipped, and a little faded

I’m not expensive or high-maintenance

I’m a bargain with my colorful simplicity

Because I have traveled

Across the vastness of life

I remain lovely and bright

Sailing through the dark and the light

My generosity has carried so many souls

And they have guided me in the right direction

I have known life in all of its exquisite ways

Beneath me in the water, above me in the sky, inside of my earthly body

All of it made me real and alive

They made me beautiful

These journeys across the endless sea

When I am me, I am free

The Life Enthusiast Chronicles with Chris

Life has this incredible intensity about it sometimes…hell, who am I kidding? All the time. Joy and playfulness are often overshadowed by stress and work, and it can become alarmingly easy to lose sight of what we love about life. In the rush hour of today, it is more important than ever to slow down and come back to ourselves, to appreciate those amazing things that make us stupidly happy.

Last month fellow blogger Sheila Hurst gave us a magnificent boost of positivity with her life enthusiasm insight. At the end of the day, everything is something to be enthusiastic about. In my series, The Life Enthusiast Chronicles, lovely humans from all over the world reveal their most cherished things about life.

Today I’m stoked to bring you my indie author pal, Chris Stocking from Mental Sweatshop. I can’t even remember how Chris and I first connected, but we seem to be each other’s cheerleaders in this thing called writing. He’s a fantastic young writer on the road to awesome. I love the way he unabashedly gushes over his wife, which you all know here, I’m a big sap for things of that nature. His noir book, The Rotten Apple, releases on March 22nd and I will definitely be checking it out!

Connect with Chris on Twitter and Facebook.

Get ’em, Chris…

It’s interesting to think about what makes you excited about life. It’s not a question people often ask.

They don’t ask you on job applications, or even in interviews. No one seems interested in what makes you enjoy life. They’re only interested in what you can do for them, or how you can make them money.

What services can we trade? How can you help me? It doesn’t matter if it’s what you really like to do, as long as I get what I want and you’re able to do it in a way that suits me.

Now, that’s a bit of a cynical point of view I suppose, but true to some extent.

However, we ourselves don’t often think about it. Between keeping up on Facebook and Twitter and social media, working our day jobs, our night jobs, taking care of our families, making sure we’re healthy, school, and hobbies, we don’t often sit down and think: What makes me happy? What gets me enthused, pumped, and excited about life?

In the rush of life, it gets swept under the rug. We have more “important” things to worry about than making sure we’re happy. There are things to get done!

That’s why I’m so glad Britt asked me. Now I have a chance to really figure out what makes me happy. And, you know what, I don’t know if I can nail down one thing specifically, but I’m going to try.

I’m lucky enough to have a pretty good life. I have food to eat, a roof over my head, a loving wife, I finished high school, and I’m able to get a college education. Sure, I’ll be somewhat buried under a small mountain of loans, but the fact that I have the opportunity to further my education makes me better off than a lot of other people in the world.

But, when it comes down to what makes me really, truly happy, it has to be writing.

Yes, I love my wife, and I wouldn’t be where I am without her. Her love for reading has instilled a love of reading in me, and it pushed me to become a writer. To become a published, professional writer.

But, something about writing just makes me happy. The story, the characters, and everything about it. I have so much at my disposal. I have everything at my disposal. I can create worlds and lives. I have the power to change those lives and worlds, either for the better or worse. I am, quite literally, a god. Not that I need to be a god to be happy, but the fact that I can be is almost overwhelming.

I have, at my fingertips, in the depths of my mind, the power to tell a story. The power to move mountains, and the power to alter minds. To affect emotions. To make people fall in love. I have the potential to make people hate, and make people angry or happy or excited or nervous, both characters and readers alike.

If I’ve done my job well, I can instill so much in a person. And that is terrifying. It’s horrifyingly exciting that I have the potential for that. And that gets me excited about life. It gets me excited to get the words on the page and see what I can do. It’s fun, and gratifying, and exciting, and I don’t know what I would do without it.

I don’t know what I’d do without the power of words. Without the power of language.

And that, my friends, is what gets me excited about life.

Cabin Fever Art

Since we are nearing the end of (fingers crossed, fingers crossed, fingers crossed) this jerk of a winter, I thought I would reveal the fruits of our cabin fever labor this week.

Mr. H and I have created a couple of makeshift masterpieces.

Because I’m borderline insane with all of this lumpy sweater, three pairs of socks, scarf face business, I’m sharing these with you against all of my better judgement.

Cartoon Face Finger Art

Inappropriate Magnet Art

Anyway, Happy Cabin Fever! May your creativity be mighty and swift.

(Come on, Spring. You can do it!)