Wednesday, April 24, 2019

Lost & Found

I'm sitting on my bed, which is sitting in my dad's spare room. My dog is cuddled up against me, belly exposed, breathing deep and slow with contented grunts sprinkled in. I'm 32 years old, and I recently jumped off a cliff. It was metaphorical, although the damage — both physical and mental — feels very real. I had a house, a husband, a plan to start a family. And then this anchor appeared in the pit of my stomach, weighing me down, dragging me back out of my life so I could actually look at it. Some inner voice was calling to me, begging me to listen:  I wasn't happy. I wasn't on the path I was supposed to be on, perhaps meant to be on. I kept sacrificing my vision for a vision I thought I was supposed to have. I was a plastic pink figure sitting in a tiny red car, spinning the wheel that really only took me through a limited number of squares in the game of life. I was the right age to be married, to have a house, to try to have babies.

And I walked away.

This decision has caused moments of panic, of terror, of regret. But overwhelmingly, it has also felt right. It has also opened doors to new experiences. It will also force me to reconnect with myself, to ask the question — what do I really want? What is it I'm going to pursue?

In one month, I'll move into an apartment by myself, living alone again for the first time in about eight years. I will decorate lavishly, surround myself in comfort, set up space so I can be creative. I will paint and write and dance and sing in this new place until I know which path I want to travel next.

I will play my favorite music in the apartment, and I will bring a new dog into my life there. I will take work meetings and I will bring friends.

There is no great epiphany here. I'm in the middle of the muck, and while I can see the sun I'm still pretty sticky down here. But one foot in front of the other.

Thursday, September 27, 2018

Trigger Warning

At some point in the next 24 hours, I'm going to be an aunt for the first time. This should be a joyous time - a time to revel in family and new life and possibility. And yet here I am, sitting in front of a computer, weighed down completely by the world around me. I am going to be an aunt to a boy. He'll be my nephew. A small, white boy born into privilege, who will be raised radically and well by a deeply wonderful mom, and yet also unavoidably raised by this heinous culture that we live in. This place where we tell white boys and white men over and over and over again that they are not responsible for their actions, that they are being punished for their privilege, that they are targeted because they're in power and we're all jealous or in disagreement or anything but the reality of what we actually are, which is consistently betrayed, abused and ruined by them.

It reminds me, too, that I am a "me, too." It reminds me that when I was 12 or 13, my uncle decided to climb on top of me. It has made me question what I remember, whether I'm remembering correctly. It has made me judge myself, saying, 'Well, it wasn't NEARLY as bad as what happened to Dr. Ford so I must be exaggerating or looking for attention.' Because that's what we're told, we women. We're looking for attention. We're asking for it. We're responsible.

And besides, I tell myself, nothing more happened. He climbed on top of me, I was held down for a while, and then he got up and left. Right? I mean, I blocked this event out altogether for over a decade, and with the brief and deep feeling of PTSD I had when I uncovered it, it's possible more happened and it's all just fuzzy. But, therefore, equally possible that I'm just imagining or forgetting or lying. I was 13, too young to be credible. What was I wearing, anyway?

Plus, what has come of this event? It's not like it's affected other parts of my life. Sure, it meant that almost none of my family were present at my wedding because they didn't know why I wasn't inviting one small portion of them. They largely boycotted because all they knew was that stuck-up cousin Caitlin decided not to invite those relatives, and so they had to band together to make a statement. Because I'll never, ever tell any of them the truth - that I couldn't invite my uncle because his presence makes me anywhere from uncomfortable to petrified. Because of what he did. I won't do that to my grandmother, who I love to pieces, because it will either wreck her or she'll never believe me (and never forgive me) - so I just sit with all of this, quietly, taking the blame for holding out on invitations. Watching as my husband's family fills the tables, and mine doesn't even fill one.

In the days and weeks and months and years that come, I will love my nephew deeply. He will be the one who made me an aunt, and his mother and I will show him all about love and kindness and respect and boundaries. I will have joy.

And yet, tonight, I go to sleep fearing that he, too, will be taught by the world around him that he can do harm without accountability. I dread, truly, that between harm and good, he won't even be able to tell the difference.

Wednesday, September 27, 2017

That pre-show feeling

There’s this thing that happens when I’m going to see one of my favorite bands (of which there are a number). Particularly on the day of the show, I get anxious — anxious like you would before a big presentation, or a meaningful exam or something. My chest tightens, my breathing speeds up, and I lose focus on pretty much anything else. It’s the closest feeling I get to “going into battle,” and it’s because I crave connection. I want to share a knowing look, or be seen singing every word, and I know I have the best chance of doing this if I’m close to the stage. So, I start negotiating in my head — I’ll get to the show early, I’ll never go to the bathroom and I’ll somehow grab water very quickly on the way or send someone back to grab some for me. It’s a whole battle plan. I get dry mouth just thinking about it.

I’m going to see Arcade Fire tonight for the 7th time. I didn’t even think I’d be that excited for their current tour. Like many of my peers, I got caught up in the ridiculous fake marketing strategy of the band, not getting the point and not caring to. I felt annoyed that a band who I thought was so earnest in their message and their love seemed to be shirking that for some inside joke. But then I actually listened to Everything Now.

Win Butler feels like my spirit twin at this point. Maybe it’s just because I am a step behind him in our life journey, but he seems to know how to express exactly what I’m thinking and feeling before I know I’m thinking or feeling it, so that when it finally hits me, something blooms inside of me. This sounds so pretentious, but it’s the realest way I can express it:  when I finally took my first (and only) art class in college, I was able to go to museums and look at paintings and actually have them reveal themselves to me — not always, but enough to give me a deeper appreciation. That’s how Arcade Fire’s music feels to me. The layers reveal themselves a bit at a time, and only when they will have the biggest impact on my life, and they change me.

I think I also steered away from Arcade Fire because of how much they seemed to reflect my deepest fears, dreams, regrets and hopes. I’m hard on myself, so when I get annoyed with  myself, anything that feels like me is equally annoying. But just as that feels true, as I’m falling in love with the band all over again, my own self-love is heightened.

There’s no real point I have here. I guess I just hope that everyone gets to feel connected like this makes me feel connected, because especially now it can feel like an awfully lonely and isolated world, and connection can help to pull us out of the mud. I’m going to lean into the pre-show tingles, show up early, and be open to whatever feelings come my way.

Thursday, August 24, 2017

Phoenix, Las Vegas

As I was energetically car-dancing on my way to work this morning, I decided I wanted to brag. Not even a humble brag — I wanted to all-out brag about my good fortune, my good taste, and the greatness of the art I was consuming. You see, I discovered Phoenix way back in 2006 — and here, I cannot take all of the credit. I discovered them by creating a music station on Pandora (I couldn’t even tell you which it was. I just logged back into my Pandora account for the first time in over a decade and none of the stations scream “this was the Phoenix one.” Maybe Radiohead?) The first song I ever heard by the French pop gods was off of 2006’s It’s Never Been Like That, and it was called “Sometimes in the Fall.” In truth, I probably heard “If I Ever Feel Better” on the Lost in Translation soundtrack before I realized what I was listening to, but I digress.

I don’t know why “Sometimes in the Fall” hit me the way it did. It’s not the best Phoenix song. Perhaps it was the repetition of the word “fall” and “long” in the lyrics, the way Thomas stutter-steps on the latter that makes it extra fun to sing along to. Perhaps it was the literal repetition of the song on Pandora. It would come up once every hour and a half or so, it seemed, but it was one I NEVER skipped when it was in the rotation. There was just something about it that grabbed me, and so I bought the record from whence it came, which then led to my attendance at Phoenix’s performance at Austin City Limits 2006.

They were on a side stage in the heat of the day, with the sun beating down on us all. I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t even realize the guys were French when I saw them live. What I do remember is the swagger Thomas Mars seemed to have. Maybe because I was younger, maybe because they were not nearly as popular as they are today (post-Wolfgang) so they had less to lose — but I remember a sort of winking flirtation between the band and the audience that immediately captivated me. I danced around in the hot sun, sweating — I was pretty recently single and still heart-aching for my ex, but also feeling free and excited for the Muse headlining set that Sunday — and thoroughly enjoyed my time. And that was that. I didn’t follow the band too closely until all of a sudden, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was everywhere and led to friendships, band-stalking and all sorts of other excitement.

Which brings us to Las Vegas. After their latest release, Ti Amo, there were no Texas dates to be seen on Phoenix’s tour line-up, so my sweet (and poker-loving) husband suggested we make a vacation of it and head over to the city of lights.

Since the show was scheduled to be held in a place called the “Brooklyn Bowl,” I had to keep double-checking the location to ensure we weren’t headed to the wrong town. As it turns out, Brooklyn is so hip that they had to expand out to Vegas (or something). The venue is an actual bowling alley that’s up some stairs and kinda sideways, so that made entering the place and scouting out a spot on the GA floor trickier. Luckily Zack and I are concert veterans and found a way to stake our space only three rows back from the front gate, Christian Mazzalai-side. It felt a little wrong because my girl Melissa and I always went for Bronco/Thomas side when we saw the band, but it worked out in the end as I got a few winks and nods from Christian.

Phoenix fans in Vegas are absolutely amazing human beings. I was concerned initially that I’d be facing already drunk, entitled a-holes, but instead I was surrounded by fans and superfans who banded together to push out anyone trying to squeeze to the front at the last minute (or almost at the end of the set, as two particularly annoying bishes attempted). We’d lock arms, throw shade, and dance wildly to send these wannabes back to the back where they belonged.

Most importantly, the band sounded as electric as ever. It’s so funny to me that from that set in 2006 to a much smaller (but very respectable) crowd to sold-out shows now, Thomas and his crew have gone from confident and cheeky to child-like and awestruck when they perform. It’s so fun to see their faces, filled with wonder *to this day* about how they are able to pull so many people into a room and inspire them with song.

The new songs from Ti Amo are just as fun live as you might expect, if you’ve listened to the album. The fans around me and I agreed that Phoenix albums are usually growers — rather than immediately hooking you, they stick with you long after the first listen until they charm you, almost hypnotically, and soak into your bloodstream. You have the ready-for-take-off rock of the title track, the fist-pump-worthy rhythm of “Role Model,” the undeniable hook in “J-Boy” (which, if you’re like me and definitely didn’t know, stands for that very hook — “Just Because Of You”). And then there’s “Fior di Latte.”

How does one go about writing a love letter to a song? How can I begin to explain what “Fior di Latte” makes me feel? First of all, it is the sexiest Phoenix song OF ALL TIME don’t @ me. But seriously, there’s no sexier song in all of their catalogue. It’s Thomas, singing lovingly but with severity about needing his lady to get her some pleasure. “Fior di Latte” translates to flower of milk — yes you have just been scandalized and I DON’T CARE I LOVE IT. Then you listen to the rest of the words and it’s flirtatious and intimate, and then you get that grind-worthy rhythm going and — don’t just take my word for it.

So when this perfect tune wasn’t included in the first 14 on the Vegas setlist, I tried to be ok with it. I did an internal shrug and thought, maybe they’ll hit Texas later and work it into their show by then. But of course — of COURSE — Phoenix understands what they have on their hands. They get that this is a panty-dropping triumph, so they worked it into their encore with a stripped down “Countdown,” freakin’ “1901” and an encore of “Ti Amo.” Bless you, Phoenix, for seeing into my heart and giving me what I need every. single. time.

When Thomas took to the crowd with his signature neon-orange mic cord during “Ti Amor Di Piu,” he came straight into the crowd where my newfound posse and I were huddled. All I could do was say, “Thank you, thank you, merci, merci, thank you” again and again as he passed me, and pat his back, and let my eyes well up.

I share all of this because I want for everyone to have something they hold as dear to them, something that — without fail — puts a smile on their face, the way Phoenix does for me. Find something that makes you want to dance in your car, and blast it.

Sunday, May 7, 2017

Life lately

I'm almost two full months into my thirtieth year, and so far I've found it to be exciting and fulfilling, or depressing and frustrating, sometimes within the same day. I felt myself get really inspired by Elizabeth Gilbert's Big Magic and subsequent Magic Lessons podcast, spent a week waking up early to do 30 minutes of writing/book research for an idea I had, and then suddenly flatlined on inspiration and energy, struggling to get out of bed by even 7:30 to make it into work at a reasonable hour. I was offered an amazing job earlier this year, but had to turn it down because of its associated 30k per year pay cut. Then it looked like another opportunity was headed my way, only to be blocked by circumstances outside of my control. This stop-and-go momentum has sent me spiraling a bit back into old habits I thought I was far away from, and this time with some new excuses.

In order to make emotionally overeating feel OK during all this time, I've indulged more in being drunk and/or high on a regular basis. We're not talking every night, but we are talking at least once a week, which is a big deal for me. I don't feel out of control in that respect, but I do know I'm engaging in this unhealthy behavior and deep down, I'd rather not, so I'm trying to find a way to even out and listen to my body. I've used my mindfulness app (Calm) to fall asleep to, but haven't been practicing breathing techniques that I know help me. I let my Prozac prescription lapse for a couple days, which I know is not good for me (especially because what I really need to do is get in to see my Psych and talk about a new dosage, as panic attacks have returned on the reg).

One healthy thing I do for myself, physically and mentally, is box. I still love going to boxing lessons 3-4 times a week, and I'm now even assisting in some of the larger classes with basics like wrapping hands, demonstrating punches and sharing tips on how to hit a speed bag successfully. This is my sanctuary, but because of the eating issue I sometimes head to class underfed, or overfed with candy and other junk that's not really helping to fuel me.

I've been riding the body acceptance train for a few years now, and it's helped me immensely. I want to continue to embrace myself physically, but part of this also includes taking the best possible care of myself. This sounds like it should be easy, but it just isn't. I know that when I tell people this, they look at me like I'm an idiot - like, just change your eating habits, Caitlin, doy! But it's not that simple. I was anorexic before I had binge eating disorder, so I don't want to go back to super-restrictive eating habits because I know that's not healthy and backfires in the end, anyway. I really want to practice mindfulness, but this has been tricky with all of the stresses (primarily job and money-related, although our current political environment certainly hasn't helped). I know all I can do is take each moment as it comes and be kind and gentle with myself, but it's especially hard when my place of work seems to have these health "challenges" every other month, wherein you can opt in to track your calories and weight loss for x amount of days to win a shirt or something. In theory I can appreciate the idea behind this, and I've been able to participate a couple times when it's just tracking my activity level. But when we get to calorie counting and weigh-ins, I have to exclude myself, and it's always awkward when, every single damn time these things come up, my girlfriends at work are like, "OMG let's be on a team together this will be so fun!" and every time I have to say, "...nope still can't do this, it's about weight loss." In fact, there is SO much weight loss/calorie counting culture at my place of work that it basically makes me crazy. It's another reason I desperately need to find something new.

Anyway, there wasn't much point to this post other than to try and let some of this stuff out. I want to get back to letting it out on a regular basis - reminding myself that, this is for me. This is a self-love practice, to work through things "out loud," in a way, instead of thinking about content-as-product for others. I find that I always am wanting downtime/free time to work on my hobbies - writing, sewing, reading, drumming - and then when I have it, all I seem to be able to do is binge watch Netflix shows and eat candy on the couch. I'm trying to make myself be active because I know it's what I want to do, but the depression I feel at having to go back to the same old job makes it really difficult to be motivated to use my time for anything, productive or not, that I really want to do. It's a strange conundrum that I want to fight because I don't want my job life to mess up my real life. With that - time to go sip some lemonade on my porch and read.

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

#16: Watch my “30 before 30” watch list of Criterion Collection films


This project took me a long, long time to complete, but I have to say it was well worth it. I'm the type of person who has her go-to favorite films, and I always have been. When I was little, my parents can attest, I forced them to watch Peter Pan, The Aristocats, and Fantasia until every line was memorized and could be recited back a cappella. In adulthood, I'm not *quite* that consistent, but I've certainly turned to You've Got Mail on many a sick day (or many a it's-chilly-outside-let's-stay-in day, or a it's-a-choice-as-an-in-flight-movie day...), and I saw Creed three times in theaters and Rogue One twice. 

As someone who attended film school, though, I knew the importance of widening my horizons — I'd seen it happen, where I'd watch a film or get some context for a movement and suddenly a whole new world of art and influence revealed itself to me. So, I basically took a blindfold and a dart (not literally, but in essence) and went through a long list of Criterion Collection films, and picked out as diverse a group as I could. My own "30 Before 30" list, with a mix of documentaries I'd heard of and Douglas Sirk films I hadn't. I tried to pick films from different eras, in different languages and from different countries. Some films were jaw-droppingly bananas, some were depressing, and some were downright nails-on-a-chalkboard bad. But there were a few that absolutely thrilled me, that I count among my all-time favorites now, and that made the whole project worthwhile. Instead of giving blog space to those films I never intend to see again, I'm going to call out my favorites so you can get thee to iTunes (or, in some cases, a movie rental store) and dig into these enriching gems.

Paul Robeson: Portraits of the Artist


This was the last "film" I saw, and one of the most educational and enriching I invested my time in. I put film in quotations because, as it turned out (and as I did not know when picking this for my list), this was a box set with 4 discs, including a number of histories of Robeson, plus 7 of his movies (two silent films, four "talkies" and a documentary he narrated and contributed to financially). I have never been so bowled over by a historical figure, nor made so furious that America white-washes its history to such a degree as to turn Robeson into the "Old Man River" guy. In reality, Robeson was an All-American football hero in college, an angelic bass singer, and a dedicated actor who turned into an activist later in his life. Some of the films in this collection are difficult to watch, because we come face to face with the reality of the roles black actors could get in the 20s. But by the time we reach Jericho, which Paul Robeson Jr. says was his dad's favorite of his own films, we see an artists coming into power over his own art. The Proud Valley is a beautiful, heart-rending look at coal mines in Wales, and Native Land is such a pointed and moving documentary-slash-movie that I'm amazed it's not required viewing in every history class in America (but then, not surprised, as the movie itself points to why it was so downplayed). With accompanying radio interviews with Robeson, and short recollections from his friends, family and influenced actors, if you spend the time with this amazing collection you'll feel you know Robeson, and be so proud that he was an American.

That Hamilton Woman!


It's Vivien Leigh and Laurence Olivier, who apparently were together IRL!! But actually, that is the thing I care least about.

From my Letterboxd review:

""Damn." This was the word that escaped my mouth in the closing lines of "That Hamilton Woman." It's such a devastatingly sad-ending film, and I have so many questions - what about their daughter? What happened to her mom? IS THAT REALLY IT?!? I find it a little difficult to believe that Emma would just throw in the towel, having been such a strong, I-bounce-back kind of woman throughout her life. She is most charming when she's reveling in her own abilities - it's refreshing to see a woman be excited about what she can accomplish. The romance is OK, but I find it a much more interesting character study above all else."

The Times of Harvey Milk


I'd seen the Hollywood-ized Milk, but I wanted a story from those in the trenches, and just as I suspected I found it to be all the more moving. The Times of Harvey Milk weaves Milk's humor and good nature with political realities of his (and our) time. Truly, with heinous acts of aggression like Texas' shameful "bathroom bill," this is a really energizing story that demonstrates both the power of the people when we raise our voices together, as well as the long way we have to go to earn justice for Harvey and all those like him who have died, and continue to die, for freedom and equality.

Vagabond


This movie was dark and funny, sometimes all at once. I couldn't tell if it advocated for a particular style of life, or if it was just showing how fragile the rest of us can feel when someone isn't following the rules in the way we understand them to be. We know of the girl's fate right from the start, and yet you wish and hope all the way through that she will find a new way. I found myself admiring the girl, scared for her, sad for her, happy for her — wanting and dreading her life, wondering at the cost of freedom (or if what we consider "freedom" to be, really is?)

The Beaches of Agnes


From my Letterboxd review:

"This "documentary"/autobiography was fascinating. I love how Agnes tries to document her memories as she envisions them in her mind - fragmented, existing in the present and past at the same time. There was so much in here to love, but particular images that have burned into my brain are the bird mobile in the rain, Demy appearing in the painting near the end of the film, and Agnes trying to be with and understand her family - her lineage - but ending up present but more a ghost. Lovely, kooky, definitely worth seeing."

Written on the Wind


A love triangle with a dangerous, devil-may-care blonde little rich girl cannon-balling right into the center - and all that gorgeous Sirk imagery.

From my Letterboxd review:

"Sirk films are known for their visual beauty and imagery (that's why we studied them in film school!) I'd never seen this one, but it was absolutely delicious - perfectly-placed shadows here, reflections in the mirrors there - and the story is so frustratingly heartbreaking but satisfying in the end. "

Cleo from 5 to 7


A posh French pop singer thinks she's going to die, and we follow her throughout her day as she awaits the verdict and lives her life. It sounds drab, but Agnes Verda once again manages to make a female protagonist complicated, endearing, funny and tragic all at once. 

An Angel at My Table


From my Letterboxd review:

"What a fabulous movie! As a story about a life should, it contained joy, mundaneness, devastation, new experiences and all sorts in between. Janet Frame is lovable, pitiable, brilliant and - perhaps above all - a survivor."

Babette's Feast


From my Letterboxd review:

"This movie was absolutely enchanting. It's such an interesting take on piety, artistry, life and its meaning. The characters are rich and lovely, and MY GOD, the feast. Even as a vegetarian grossed out by the dead quails, I could appreciate the beauty of it all. What a spectacular film!"

Girlhood


This was my first film that I watched as part of my "30 Before 30," and it set the bar extremely high. It's been almost a year since I watched this film, but there are still so many standout moments frozen in my mind. As many of the comments will tell you, watch for the Rihanna dance sequence ALONE. It made me want to go rent a hotel room and have a sleepover with my best girl friends, too.

From my Letterboxd review:

"I was so smitten with this film. It's visually dazzling, far more daring than my own coming-of-age, heartbreaking but still hopeful. Marieme (alias Vic) is such a complex character, and you find yourself rooting for her no matter the situation. The moments of pure joy captured with her friends - dancing, joking, cuddling - are ones that encapsulate female friendships. Indeed, the female friendships are the most central, important, strong and pure of the film - gorgeous and captivating."

Early Summer


The BEAUTY of this film cannot be overstated. It was beautiful not simply visually (although this is certainly one aspect of it), but emotionally. Early Summer possessed a richness and nuance I don't think I found in any other film.

From my Letterboxd review:

"What an absolutely gorgeous, tender film. I love the way the family members relate to one another, the way the female friendships are both loving and teasing, how everyone from the sweet (grand)parents down to the littlest kids have personality and a story. The music is dreamy, the people are nuanced - I adored this film."

Hoop Dreams


This was the second film I watched as part of this project, and the first documentary on my list, and I can't believe I'd gone so long without seeing it.

From my Letterboxd review:

"This was a fascinating, sometimes heartbreaking, film that really documents how people of color are still viewed as commodities ("meat market") when it comes to sports. You're only as valuable as your talent, and to see how this effects these young men's self-esteem, opportunities and lives is important and difficult. You really love and root for Arthur and William, and you really leave with a terrible taste in your mouth for the basketball system. A must-see."

For All Mankind


I LOVE outer space. One of my favorite childhood field trips was to the planetarium to see a map of stars laid out in front of me, and I still love traveling out to the desert or other less-populated areas of the US to check out the view. I knew I was too afraid to ever even try to be an astronaut, but I'm still fascinated by how little we know (and yet how much we know) about Earth's surroundings. If you're even in the same ballpark as me, this film is about to light a fire under you.

From my Letterboxd review:

"Oh my god. Talk about a movie that instills wonder - the footage from our various trips into space and to the moon were at turns breathtaking, unbelievable and heartwarming - and it was so fun to see these grown men move with childlike wonder through their surroundings, laughing and joking and being just as overwhelmed as any of us. Fantastic."

Le Havre


From my Letterboxd review:

"What a gorgeous, life-affirming film! Sweet, funny, strange - all the best things life is made up of."

Monsoon Wedding


From my Letterboxd review:

"You know the movie was great when you literally applaud at the end - even after watching it by yourself in your living room. There are so many interesting stories intertwining in "Monsoon Wedding," but of course the central story is a marriage. I think one of my favorite characters in the film is the father of the bride - he is a devoted family man who loves his children fiercely and ultimately makes a brave decision to protect those he loves. The movie is full of joy and sorrow, all the stuff of life. Excellent!!"

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Sunday, March 5, 2017

#1: Take a trip to Disney World for my 30th birthday


The last time I went to Disney World, I turned 16 years old. I was traveling with my high school orchestra - and my chaperone dad - during spring break, which always overlaps with my March 16 birthday. So, I serendipitously got to celebrate a hallmark birthday amongst characters from my childhood, and the magic that only Disney seems to bring to me. As I reflected on what a princess I was made to feel like for my birthday, I decided Disney would be the best place to ring in a new decade. I knew Zack and I would be able to plan things out ahead of time so once we arrived in Florida, we'd be able to kick our feet up and enjoy the ride. Little did I know how true-to-life that vision would be.