Sayonara, 2016. Hello, Singapore!

I thought it would be fun to start blogging about the travels, life, and love. Below is the first post about my current trip to Singapore and Bali. Look for new posts over the following couple weeks!
Sayonara, 2016. Hello, Singapore!  (Part 1)
In its truest meaning, sayonara is a Japanese salutation used when there is an impending sense of finality surrounding a situation. It doesn’t just mean “good bye.” It signifies there will likely never be another meeting.
It’s 1:55 am on January 1st, and I’m finally about to shut my eyes after my first New Year’s out in three years. In truth, I had gotten home (sober, because I’m 41) an hour ago and proceeded to send a Happy New Year text to someone I shouldn’t have (because I’m human and it’s freaking New Years). 45 minutes later, I turn off the lights, say a silent sayonara to this dumpster fire of a year, and offer up a prayer gratitude that I’ll be on a plane to Singapore in less than twelve hours on my second annual New Year’s Day trip. I also resist the temptation to put a hit out on Cupid, as I tend to do annually on this day, but instead ask for a smidge of luck in the love department for the coming year.
On the flight from Austin to SFO, I start thinking about what changes I might need to be willing to seriously make to shake up some romance. Since I feel the universe operates with reciprocity, I know that while I must hold trust and faith close, I must also be willing to get off my yoga-pant wearing butt and continue to do the inner and outer work. Evolution is constant and the number of doorways to new understanding is infinite. A couple questions I try to ask myself a lot, with success and failure depending on the situation, are “am I acting with kindness to others and myself” and “am I being the kind of partner I would want?” So, while I believe in divine timing, even if she is a maddening, saucy minx, I also believe that love, and finding love, is action.
A few habits up for tweaking: would it kill me to consider wearing a real lipstick instead of my root beer flavored Smackers lip gloss? Perhaps I could invest in some actual lingerie instead of underwear that comes in packs of three that I occasionally throw in my basket among the bananas and granola bars on a Target run? Is this the year I expand my shoe-wearing beyond cowboy boots and glitter Toms with holes in the toe? Maybe I embrace cooking dishes with actual ingredients besides water and butter? Just spitballing.
In SFO airport, I savor a simple tomato basil bisque. It’s real and nourishing, a nice way to start the year. As I sip, I take a Facebook quiz titled “what does your love life look like in 2017.” Mid-bite, the answer appears: Alone and With No One. I gulp the rest of my soup down, quickly gather up my things, and head for the nearest place that sells alcohol where I spend $17 on a glass of wine a chocolate mousse dessert that I finish in four bites. Eff you, 2017. Eff. You.
I text one of my besties a screenshot of my results, to which she immediately replies with a delightful string of heartfelt expletives, further cementing my adoration. I board what feels like more than just a flight, quietly challenging 2017 to surprise me and challenging myself to do the same.
Next stop, Singapore. The Lion City. Bring it.

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