No, no you won’t. The funniest part about travel was probably the parting part (har har har). What do you say when you’ve met this perfectly perfect person (or slept with… no ones judging.. its a eurotrip…) and its time to hop on your boat or take a different path or check out of your hostel/hotel? See you later? No. That in most realistic cases is a lie. Bye period.
Traveling relationships are all short stories, cliff hangers. When at home we develop chapters and books and novels and series with people, some of which we wish were just sentences and yet others are only given to us for a ferry ride from Athens to Ios. I watched two people whom I cupid’d together do the splitting of the world travelers last night and its sad, but its a “lets be realistic sad” and then its a “I don’t want be realistic sad, send me a plane ticket in the mail mate!”
Then I myself said goodbye to a bi-contential affair. Though brief its strange to me that he’ll no longer be asking me to say “cup of coffee” at 4am hoping for a Boston accent, while I’m nuzzled into his bronzed chest (yeah traveling brings great things…really).
We knew the sun would come up and we’d both keep moving with our own adventures, yet as he stood in the doorway ready to leave he cheerfully lets out, “So I’ll see you later then?”
Readers (reader…singular, plural? are you out there?). I did it.
I ventured far beyond my comfort zone and let me tell you, it was more than everything I hoped for.
Let me start off by saying, it was not easy. I panicked at the airport as my ma walked away. Then I panicked some more in the terminal bathroom as I snapchatted my equally anxious friends… what the actual f*ck am I doing?
And no I was not like “WOOOOO” as the plane took off down the runway and my beloved hometown became a small sparkling gem along the Atlantic, but the one thing I am coming to find is that fear that pushes you to do new and great things should be welcomed. I can’t imagine never having gone on this trip. I feel like I have a whole new mindset and an inner bravery I would have never otherwise found.
That being said, the next few blog posts will be dedicated to the travel experience, candid (when am I not?) experts from my travel journal, little pieces of overseas advice for the traveling diva that I wish I had known before, and plans for more adventures.
Fasten your seat belts readers, we are now ready for take off…
I’d like to dedicate this post to my best friends.
Those lovely people I would rather do with than without. I know they are faithfully reading this beaming in their lunch break hangouts, beds, or lecture halls. Shoutout to you lovelies. My best friends are the anchors that keep my anxious reckless mind from floating off into oblivion 24/7.
Now that I’ve said that my best friends are also the biggest enablers against my quest to independence. As I stated first to make it very clear, they are my greatest loves. But at what point does the girl (me) belonging to the gaggle of teeny boppers become the cool lady sipping a cocktail at the bar…alone…comfortably…?
Today, I am embarking on a solo journey to Greece and I could not be more frightened. I had told one of my best friends that I don’t think I have ever really done anything on my own in my entire life. And she looked at me (we’re not really into intense eye contact) and said, “well then you have to go.” Now before you judge me… I am one of four children, who are all close in age and grew up in a neighborhood packed with children our age. Can you say best childhood ever?! Well I guess that need to always have a sidekick has grown with me. And now as a twenty-something I crave to shed that and rock a solo superhero persona instead.
Step 1: Dining alone. I saw a bucket list once that had this and well I was ashamed that I had never done it myself. Three weeks ago I strutted my stuff right into a restaurant and casually stated those famous words, “table for one”… and didn’t die or get run out by the staff for taking up a four person table. It was actually quite nice.
Step 2: This trip. I can feel my heart in my butthole (my computer just autocorrected that to buttonhole) but this must be done. I read one of those instagram quote things that are everywhere and it actually meant something: “Sometimes you just need to disconnect and enjoy your own company.” So thats the plan… if I blog again, it means I made it out alive. If not, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed having company and you can retract everything I just said…?
So S, C, F thank you for always having my heart. Please don’t take this post as a cue to abandon me, I need you forever and ever… like as soon as I land (seriously a ride from the airport would be nice). I know our independence will come as we grow into the awesome thirty-somethings we are terrified to be
Now I’m def late for my flight
Wow. Excuse me while I kill the spiders and clear the dust space that is my blog.
I apologize sincerely for going rouge on those I would like to believe were faithfully eager to see the daily struggle of the perfectly imperfect twenty-something. I thought of you often. But heres the thing SORRY NOT SORRY.
Wait wait wait don’t unfollow. Don’t stop reading, let me explain!
Remember how I started this blog? In gyno stirrups after quitting my first real job? In the harshness of February. Yeah not so pretty.
I basically needed an outlet for the failure that is postgrad. Now congratulations to all the f*ckers out there doing it right, but I usually need a couple of tries to make that happen. Through the blog, I’ve come to realize, I am certainly not alone in this almost quarter life insanity. People have come forward after reading to say yes, everyone shaves their legs on Friday and then has the dude cancel plans while they are still in the shower. Shit sucks (Quality razors cost more than a burger dinner). We as a community (yes, I’m making us a community now… strength in numbers?) have also decided checking our bank statements after a weekend of fun IS directly related to heart failure. And most importantly if you ever feel unsure of what city is best for you and your lovers personalities, Buzzfeed has the answer.
Anyways, as I came to discover my insecurities, imperfections, and full out bambi-like shakiness in this adulthood I so craved to be good at was really, really f*ckn hard to most everyone, I just felt… better. As the New England ice melted and I got a new sup-par job that started putting money in my bank account I realized I had to get out and LIVE. SO bloggers, I am a sinner, for I have been going out and living and damn that living shits crazy.
I vow not to stay away as long as I have (5 months to be exact) but never to stop living this twenty-something life as hardcore as I did.
Peace, Love, Africa.
because I don’t have a library card…?
Seriously. When was the last time I rented a book from the library? And not for the sake of this overdue post, but I have PURCHASED four books in the last three months from the book store (only two of which were read all the way through… This is MY blog and I reserve the right to be completely honest with whomever my readers may be) so its not like I’m illiterate.
It was not until today when I recalled “she-who-shall-not-be-named” calling me a shameless spender for buying books (saving the economy) that I decided it was time to rent. Then as I went to request my book of choice “Please enter your Library Card #” pops up… It hit me…
I haven’t had a solid library card for more than a month (much like my male relationships… ) in my entire life! After I left for college I pretty much gave up on the entire idea because paying my ridiculous little town $2.50 per card was getting out of hand.
Then again paying for an entire book I may or may not like kind of is too…
So then it is resolved: If I want to some day have a puppy… or a bae… I think holding onto a library card is a good place to start.
Isn’t weird how all things in life connect to puppies, baes, and vodka?
PS. Wickd sorry for the hiatus. I think I’m about to make a come back. Look out blogosphere
Today I went shopping at H&M to return an item that I just should not have bought. Then suddenly..
I’m browsing.. Spring wear.. mmm my favorite.
Sometimes when I go shopping I actually pray they don’t have what I’m looking for in my size that way I won’t be able to try it on and then I won’t be able to love it, and then I won’t be able to buy it, because when I think about it do I really NEED to have this super soft and warm fall sweater (thats right, I stumbled into the fall/winter clearance section…) in spring as summer approaches?
not. yes. yes I do.
Is checking my bank statement. Nothing gets my palms sweating and my heart beating like a ridiculously low balance… obviously related to undue spending. This month my old roommate and I figured out that most of the excused spending went a little something like this:
- Saint Paddys (ya I know.. not Irish right? WRONG. I was raised by the Irish.)
- “I don’t have anything to wear tonight” quick (never) trips to the mall
- Best friend since scrunchies and NYSNCs birthday bash
- “Endless Mimosa Brunch Saturday”
- Repeat with “Bellinis and Bacon Sunday”
- Target, Target, Target (I swear Target is after my soul).
- “I just cannot cook tonight”… chips, salsa, margarita, pizza, chinese, sushi, pad thai
… never affording to move out of my parents house
I will chalk this all up to the fact that I often think I am Princess Diana reincarnated when I swipe my debit card. I guess I should start carrying cash? Or start a penny jar? Or give up drinking? Ooooor stop checking my bank statements entirely.