Holiday Decorations

Hi readers,

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas in Madrid.

Actually, it's likely that it is beginning to look a lot like Christmas everywhere.

I just noticed yesterday.

The city decorated for Christmas two and a half weeks ago.  There are lights up on all the major streets, massive fake trees up in all the plazas, and hordes of slow-walking Spanish old ladies  strolling arm-in-arm on every sidewalk.

The thing about Christmas decorations?

You have to stop and take the time to appreciate them.  Otherwise, they just pass by in a peripheral blur as you focus on side-stepping slow old ladies and trying not to say mean things about them in your head.  Or out loud.

Yesterday,  I was sitting in a cab, blissfully unaware of the crowds on the sidewalks, and took the time to stop and appreciate some of the city decorations.

Translation: I  took 30 seconds to look out the window at a Christmas tree set up in a European chain coffee shop.  But whatever, Christmas spirit calls from many different locations.  I found the silver-tinsel laden tree at La Rollerie very peaceful and inspiring.

I love holiday decorations.  This year, I had kind of forgotten about them (due to aforementioned travel/work fall rush).  I'm excited to find some peace in the holiday season.  Decorative meditation photos below from the places I will be spending my holidays.

(Sol Plaza, Madrid)

(Rockefeller Center, New York)

(Champs de Elysee, Paris)

Whats important?

Hi readers!
Where have I been, you ask?  Let me tell you.  In the last 3 months, I have been:

-in the South of France
-in Barcelona
-In Morocco
-in Italy
-in London
-in Valencia

In addition, I have been working 60 hours a week, teaching 3 separate subjects to 110 students.  I've written comments and assigned grades for all of them twice.  I'm taking 2 different types of Spanish classes and desperately trying to give my wonderful boyfriend some measure of meaningful attention. I've spent probably a combined total of 10 hours with my friends in the past 2 months.  In the past week I've done my Christmas shopping, given final exams to my aforementioned 110 students and signed my intent form for my job for next year.

So, as they say on the mom blogs I like to peruse when I'm feeling sorry for myself (because no matter how busy I am...I'm not mom busy) I've been a little "over-extended" lately. I've been trying to make time for writing, but what I've been writing about mostly seems to center around dark feelings of stress and deep questions about my priorities.

Not light-hearted blog-friendly material.  But I do want to throw this question out there:

What's important?  Am I doing it well?

I'm desperately trying to define my priorities.  Time seems short lately, and I always question if I'm using my days effectively, if everything I do is adding up to something in the end.  How do people know the answer?  How do people even know the right question?  It all seems very distant and confusing.  When I try to think about it, I always run out of time.  For example, right now I'm making myself late for lunch.

Pictures of travels below.


Valencia

Segovia

Okay, these pictures are actually from last year.  The new pictures are not on my computer, and as I mentioned, I'm late to lunch. 

Sigh. 

Grief

Hi readers,

My best friend growing up was Polly Noble.  We met on the first day of nursery school.  We both had adorable bowl haircuts.  Our apartments were 4 blocks apart.  The rest, as they say, was history.

We spent years of our childhoods laying on the floors of each other's bedrooms, playing Uno and Guess Who.  We have seen the movie Grease together 2,659 times.  At her apartment, we would play tag in the hall with her dog and have juice out of these endlessly fascinating coffee cups with little ceramic animals in the bottom.  At my apartment, we would watch Nickelodeon and hide in the closet when her mother came to get her.

Polly and I went to school together for 13 years.  It is fair to say our friendship was strongest when we were in single-digit ages.  Play dates slowly trickled to a stop around 5th grade.  We comfortably drifted apart and together through middle school, trying out different friends and adolescent lives.

Polly remains the most genuine person I have ever met.  In a juvenile academic experience that left me hanging on to my very sanity by the thinnest of filaments, she remained centered, sociable, helpful and friendly.  Today, when we see each other, we have that unique ability to pick up our conversation wherever it last left off, effortlessly routing through 30 years of friendship and memories.

Polly's dad passed away last week.

I will always remember Mr. Noble as being gigantic in that special way that dads seem gigantic to 4-year olds.  He would sit in Polly's living room during our play dates, patiently enduring our running around him in circles, getting his beloved dog all riled up for a game of hallway tag.  He was often looking at a book or a newspaper and had this wonderful way of peering up over the top of his glasses to say:

"Hiya, toots, how you doing?"

His voice was deep, friendly and a little gravelly.  I don't remember what I ever said back.  But as I think back on those moments, the grief almost slams me to the ground.

Grief is an unpredictable companion.

It exists with us all the time, shadowy and complicated, the dark side of the moon.  I'm glad for its existence.  Its tangled limbs hold me down to the earth in hard times.  But I wish the wise old lady was not so unruly in her support.  The strength that is offered with grief comes at a tremendous cost. The price of grieving changes the very fabric of life.

Mr. Noble lives in the threads of my childhood.  I feel the fabric of my whole life pulling as I remember him.

As usual, Polly said it quite eloquently: My heart is sad, but full.

With love to the Noble family.

What Defines You?

Hi readers, 

On Sundays I enjoy doing nothing.  The nothing takes many forms-walks, lunch, pedicures.  Recently, I've branched out Sunday "nothing" to include documentary films on iTunes.  In this vein, during the latest quest of nothing I discovered Lizzie Velasquez.  She's 26 and weighs 64 pounds due to a rare congenital disease.  She gave a TED Talk in 2013 about a YouTube video labeling her "The World's Ugliest Girl", which went viral complete with thousands of comments from strangers demanding that she kill herself.  In her TED Talk, she said when she considered how to deal with the video, she asked herself the question:

What Defines You?

It's a difficult query.  I continued my Sunday nothing with the question in the back of my mind.  

I love John Steinbeck.    

I'm good at running. 

I'm bad at ironing.  

I'm planning a trip to Palma de Mallorca. 

I make to-do lists with ridiculous items like "drink coffee", because I love crossing things off. 

I play the keyboard for 10 minutes every morning. 

But at the end of the day, what defines me is not the things I do or the things I like of the things I read.  It's the things I want.  All my actions/books/movements are (or at least should be) linked to helping me reach my goals:

I want to be happy.

I want to make a positive impact on the world. 

These desires are linked to a deeper definition that fleeting actions.  They are the values I use to define success and accomplishment.  If I live with this definition of myself close to my mind, my actions feel more meaningful. 

What Defines You?

Menu del Día

HI readers,

Something interesting about living in Spain:

People here love lunch. It often starts at 3 PM and lasts until dinner. In summer, work stops at 2 PM and lunch and a mandatory nap are often the only activities left in the day.  The nap is mandatory because the "lunch" is a 3-course affair that begins with paella and ends with tarta de queso (figure it out).  And coffee. And free shots of weird herbal liquor.

In my observation, this Spanish tradition varies from the New York City restaurant experience in several important ways:

1.  Spanish restaurants are affordable.
2.  Actually, Spanish restaurants are stupid cheap.
3.  For example, a glass of wine in a Spanish restaurant costs $1 and comes with free food.
4.  3-course Spanish lunch costs $10-$15.
5.  3-course brunch at Jane NYC costs $100-$1000.
6.  Jane has better Eggs Benedict.
7.  I do love Eggs Benedict.
8.  I would be hungry right now except I had 3-course Saturday lunch. For $13.

iPhone Rules

Hi readers,

The last time I purchased an mobile phone was in 2012.

My beloved Droid 3 had finally broken beyond repair.  I strolled to the Verizon store on 3rd Avenue, convincing myself that change was good.  The panic welling was the same as when I was five and my parents would decide to "upgrade" our refrigerator.  I still have an old-dog eared picture of my tearful, scraggly five-year-old self next to my cherished, ancient refrigerator during our lengthy goodbye.

The nice salesman at the Verizon store was very patient.  He explained at least 3 times that they no longer sold a hybrid keyboard/touch screen phone (gone the way of the Blackberry).  He used slightly different language in each explanation, clearly hoping to get through to me.

I walked out after a lengthy retail-based therapy session with an iPhone 5, feeling like a woman of the future.  I plugged my phone into my computer.  I took a panoramic photo.  I iMessaged.  I FaceTimed.  I became a gleeful member of the iPhone-Steve-Jobs-emoji-alphabet-cult.

For years I have used my phone for everything from calendar reminders to delightfully in accurate Fitness Pal logs to companionship.  In light of the new iPhone 6S-Plus-super-star-rose-gold-whatever with the weird big brother camera, I have been reflecting on my existence as A Person With A Mobile Phone.

I think my cell phone causes some stress in my life. It's time to find the balance between "I-need-my-phone-to-communicate-with-others" and "I-need-my-phone-in-my-hand-at-all-times-incase-something-interesting-happens-on-Instagram".

First, I am going to keep my phone an airplane mode during the day.  I work, frantically, for 10 hours a day. Anything happening on my whatsapp/iMessage/personal email is not necessary. Second, I am not going to use my phone while I'm walking. I think this will have a direct effect on my observational abilities as well as general friendliness and not walking things. Third, I am deleting Facebook. Again.

Not Instagram.  Obviously. 

Hope...in the Face of Monday

Hi readers,

Seriously you guys have got to get going on this "Wait But Why?" thing. It's changing my life.  The latest series of articles (on Tesla Motors and Space X) have given me a naive, college-freshman-level hope about the state of the world.  

For me, hope has been difficult to find since college. Granted, for me, "college" was four years of debt-free, chaotic, passionate environmental learning in the idealistic environs of Boulder, Colorado.

I was going to be a lawyer and change the world! I believed it every day. I launched environmental campaigns, eradication-of-world-hunger campaigns, Earth Day campaigns, stop-cutting-down-the-rainforest campaigns, pay-more-attention-to-my-campaign campaigns, etc. LOVED campaigns.

I became the collegiate vice president of the Colorado public interest research groups, I stormed the department when they were accused of firing one of my most sensational professors (LOVED storming things!), I learned calculus, I went to office hours. I talked to small groups of like-minded people (which is the best way imaginable to believe you are having an impact on things).

I loved school.

It ended.

I started work. I talked to different types of people. I started to see their point of view. I was able to have a rational conversation with a political conservative. Sometimes I even agreed with them. The amount of waste produced by an airplane flight broke my heart a little less each time. I stopped refusing to buy coffee in plastic cups...because it was easy and I was tired and I didn't want to carry around some big, dumb cup all day. I started eating meat again.

I was growing up and walking on the level ground of environmental mediocrity. In most respects, I am more environmentally conscious than most people I know. I don't buy plastic water bottles...much. I almost always refuse plastic shopping bags.

By somewhere along the way, I lost the big picture. I am not trying to change the world anymore, I'm merely trying to live in it. 

Enter Elon Musk.

He's a super hero. A real life Tony Stark. When I started reading the backstory of Tesla motors, I felt something welling up in me that I hadn't felt in a long time. Passion. This is a hope for the future. If you need some too, read the article...read the article...read the article.

Will give you some hope for an otherwise pretty average Monday.

Saturday Plans

Hi readers,

The first day of school was a smashing success.  More importantly, the first day of school was on a FRIDAY, so I am already faced with the first of 42 (but who's counting?) glorious weekends to relax and do wonderful things.

An example of how I plan a relaxing weekend below:

Conversation with self, Wednesday 10 PM.
"Oh, there is a language exchange hike outside of the city this Saturday! It is only 90 minutes traveling each way.  I should definitely do that because I might never be able to go hiking again! And I will get back with at least 15 minutes to run home, shower and change for dinner.  Ohhh, and if I got up a little EARLIER on Saturday, I would have some time to practice the piano.  If I don't practice this weekend I might forget everything I ever knew about piano.  Then I could drink coffee and relax--let's schedule 5 minutes for that between showering and getting dressed...."

I have mentioned before I'm bad at relaxing.  I'm apparently also becoming more self-aware in my old age because this week during my schizophrenic mental board meeting, I stopped to consider the idea that this plan sounded slightly overambitious.

Revised conversation with self, Wednesday 10:20 PM:
"Okay, I don't think I will go hiking this weekend.  There are 41 more weekends.  I might be able to do it another time.  I would really like to write this weekend.  It might also be nice to lay in the park and read a book.  I've done that before and its lovely."

I constantly try to do everything.  The problem becomes compounded on the weekend, because I have to try to do everything in only 72 hours.  Instead of making me happy and relaxed and grateful, it makes me a hot, crazy mess.  Not in that cute, flustered sitcom character way, but more in that foamy-mouth, rabid, murderous squirrel way. (see photo)

This weekend I am fighting to overcome my inner rabid squirrel and replace her with a slightly more Zen type of spirit animal.  Maybe a relaxing orangutan?  (See nicer, more relaxing photo)

Happy New Year

Hi readers,

Teachers (in their adorable, dorky teacher way) like to say "Happy New Year!" when they see each other in September.  I started hearing the phrase almost immediately when I went back to work 2 days ago.  This "Happy New Year" business means two things:

Fact 1: I moved to Spain a year ago.

Fact 2: SCHOOL IS STARTING.

Literally: school is starting in 24 hours.  What I really should be doing is rooting myself in the reality of Fact 2 and frantically preparing course materials, lab manuals, neatly organizing stacks of colored index cards, etc.  Instead, I have been lingering around in the dreamy realities of Fact 1 and spending the last hours of summer drinking wine, taking walks and reflecting on the last 365 days.

The events of 2015 are forever joined in my mind by the thread of my relentless attempts to learn Spanish.  In the past 12 months I have accumulated 4 Spanish translation apps, 3 language podcasts, 2 online video subscriptions and 1 Shakira album.  I have approximately 397 hours engaged in classes, note-taking, conversation and Spanish television shows.

The nicest thing anyone has ever said regarding my efforts is that I am able to "make myself understood".  They said it in English.

I spend a lot of time with a confused smile on my face, inviting conversation I don't understand then frantically nodding and watching carefully for hand gestures.

Honestly--its been fun.  It's been HARD and frustrating, but also fun.  I am slowly getting better at something new and that is an interesting process.  I'm learning lots about myself.  For example, I learned that I am kind of impatient.  I like to learn new things.  I talk a lot.  I dislike large piles of papers.  I find it very relaxing to listen to podcasts as I fall asleep.

Flannery O'Connor once said "...something is bound to happen; and you don't have to know what before you begin." Granted, she's a writer (who writes in English) and she was talking about how she invents the characters in her novels (again in English) but I think the idea is related. 

Maybe that is why I feel so relaxed about the start of a new year. I never could have imagined the things that happened last year. I never could have imagined that it would take 6 months to figure out how to order coffee I like, or that I would talk about milk in 7,000 different Spanish expressions or that my most successful language missions would take place walking next to a highway with a 54 year old Russian woman in Northern Spain. 

I'm happy not to know what's going to happen this year. It's exciting. 

Happy New Year! Off to focus on the whole 'job' thing for the day. 

Word of the Day

Hi readers,

You know that super-satisfying feeling you get when you learn a new word or phrase that helps to describe a situation in life?  For example:

FOMO 
"I hate "The Bachelor", but I get FOMO when I don't go to girls night"

Food Baby
"I can't fit in my new dress because I'm pregnant with my food baby"

First World Problems
"Friend 1: Waiting for the cable guy sucks!
Friend 2: Genocide sucks.  Waiting for the cable guy is a total first world problem"

I love discovering these words that help me to explain my life.  My feelings get lonely when I can't describe them.  Today I learned an important one:

Listicle
"I hate listicles!"

I feel the same way I felt when I discovered Twitter! Where has this word been all my life?! (Note: I discovered Twitter in 2012, so it is quite possible "listicle" has been swimming around in popular culture nomenclature since the dawn of the internet, or at least the dawn of BuzzFeed, but whatever)

Sometimes when I write I just want to remark on something or conduct a short, public discussion with myself.  Topics may include my favorite time of day or the smell of the beach or the way I smile when the NYC subway announcements can't be understood. The prevalence of listicles makes these observations feel invalid.  I don't want to invent 5 points of validation for every emotion.  Is this really how we want to utilize the Internet? No! We want to talk about our feelings and have deep observations about current events and look at cat pictures.  The realization that others also find this prevalence of list-writing annoying created a great sense of legitimacy in my day and it made me happy.

Thats it.  No list of reasons why.  I don't want to write in lists.  I want to write in sentences. And cat pictures (see below).

Summer of Gratitude

Hi readers,

I love summer.

Duh.  Everyone loves summer.  The problem is summer is ending.  For me there are 5 official days left.  I do not want to spend those days thinking "Gah! I wish I had been able to go to Singapore this year! (Seriously-read Crazy Rich Asians.  We all need to go to Singapore immediately).

I want to spend these days reflecting on all the great stuff I did this summer and being grateful that I have what most American adults consider to be an absurd amount of time to travel, relax and generally do whatever I want during each year.

For example...

Today I took 3 hours worth of Spanish classes.  I learned how to say "cooking pot" and talk about the five greatest fears of humankind in spanish.  (We decided they were: nuclear war, the ocean, pain, death and spiders)  I watched the sunset.  I ate dessert twice.  I bought 3 bottles of wine (but one is really small, so 2.5 bottles of wine).  Now I am going to settle in for an evening of reading "Wait...But Why?" articles about Elon Musk and the general future of the human race (hint: we're going to Mars).

This is way better than freaking out about all the stuff I didn't get to do this summer.  I think I am "living in the moment".

Zen is fabulous.

Finding Fabulous

Hi readers,

I am having an existential crisis.  At least I think I am.  Okay, to be fair, I'm not sure exactly what an existential crisis is.  But it sounds dramatic.  And I am certainly having a dramatic type of a crisis.

 About what?! You are dying to know.

I did something dumb a few days ago.  I started researching "how to write a blog" on the internet. Like all internet searches, it was a disaster that resulted in deep insecurities about all aspects of my life.

For example, the first thing I am meant to do is "define my readership".  Oh. My. God. I can't even define what I like to eat for dinner.  What type of people do I want to read this blog?!  To be perfectly honest...I don't know.  I spent days thinking about it.  Is this "lifestyle writing"?  Is a sarcastic sense of humor a lifestyle?  "Travel writing"?  I think I need to take much, much better pictures to qualify for a readership of travel writing.  Is there a readership category of "people who like to waste time on the internet"?  Sigh.  It seems broad, but basically was the best thing I could come up with.

Step 2: Target my writing towards my audience.  Gahhh! How am I meant to know how you like to waste your time?  More cat pictures?  Inspirational weight loss articles?  Sports statistics?  Self-involved drivel about my white-girl-blogging-life problems?  All of the above?  

All this thinking led to moderately enthusiastic drinking.  During my third glass of "existential crisis wine" I came to a few realizations:

1) I shouldn't be allowed to spend more than 30 minutes a day on the internet
2) I want to write about things that I think are interesting
3) My "readership" will likely also find them interesting (or at least pretend to, because it is likely my "readership" is composed of a small circle of close and very polite friends)
4) By the standard definition I am probably bad at blogging.
5) I don't care.

I'm bad at lots of things I think are fun.  Surfing, Spanish, rock climbing, piano, my job, being on time for things, running, having conversations about current events, dieting, drinking wine, instagram....the list goes on forever.  The point is: I enjoy these things.  I think they are fabulous.  And I am going to spend more time doing things I enjoy and less time worrying about if I am doing them correctly.

I'm off to the San Sebastian mall with my Spanish homestay mom (at least I think that is what is happening-read above where I am bad at Spanish).  Picture of the San Sebastian beach (where I go to be bad at surfing) below.

Hello from Bilbao

Hi readers,

I am back in the land of small meals, copious wine and terrible coffee.   Spain! It feels wonderful to be home.

More accurately, it feels wonderful to be holed up in a 4-star hotel room at Abando Bilbao, where I have been placidly binge-reading on my Kindle, drinking powdered cappuccino and half-heartedly considering if there is anything else I would rather be doing with my time.  Conclusion: there is not.

That is not to say I have not explored the town.  I went to the Guggenheim Bilbao and met Puppy (picture below).  I strolled through a captivating exhibit on the life, times and art of Jean-Michel Basquiat, a contemporary of Andy Warhol and Keith Harding in 1980s New York.  I contemplated the meaning of art, and life, and inspiration.  I bellied up at a pincho bar for terrible Spanish coffee breakfast.

When all that was done it was 11 AM yesterday morning.

There is a great wireless internet connection at my hotel.  I am here by myself and feel no need to be interesting or engaged in all available tourist activities. I do feel a need to thoroughly check my e-mail, gently stalk my acquaintances on the newly public Ashley Madison database (such a fun activity! Do that here), slow-walk on the hotel treadmill and start thinking about heading back to work next week.

As I was contentedly laying in bed last night, considering if I should actually bother to eat dinner, I realized: There are all different kinds of vacations.  This is a resting vacation.  Some people spend whole vacations/weekends/sick days from work doing this. I'm going to indulge for one more day.

Some Bilbao photos below.  Only a couple, because the inside of my hotel room/delightful haven of solitude is probably not that interesting for others.

Puppy!

Pinchos

Adventure Continues...

Hi readers,

Successful evasion of fly family from the Istlewald hostel. Woke up this morning to a day of wonderful travel adventures. Highlights below:

1) Driving Jaunpass road through the middle of Switzerland from German-ish Bernese Oberland to French-ish Gruyere.

2) Finding Jaunpass road instead of accidentally driving to Italy. 

3) Eating fondue twice, in one meal (pictures below, obviously)

4) Discovering the best airbnb property on Lake Geneva. Remote-controlled curtains, anyone?

5) Taking a nap. Whatever, always the best. Also, remote-controlled bed. Seriously. 

Pictures below!

The view from Jaunpass. 

Fondue #1

Fondue #2. (Note adorable Swiss flags firmly implanted in both cheese and chocolate fondue.)

View from Gruyeres. 

View from magical airbnb 

On Growing Up

Hi readers,

This week I decided I'm too old for my hostel.  I'm 32 and sitting in the communal room at Lake Lodge in Istelwald, Switzerland. The conversations in the room include: 

A girl and her Korean roommate talking  about a tv show called New Girl. Also, about how many cities in Italy it is possible to visit in 5 days (it sounds like 6? Which seems high.) Also, apparently traveling in the summer is more expensive than traveling in the fall but it's okay because you can use a credit card. 

A table full of Canadian college boys (young adults?) playing iPhone charades. They actually asked my friend and I to join in and explained they had 'cool, interesting rules'. They seemed sad when I declined. I felt bad. 

A detailed small group discussion about how to play Uno that has somehow resulted in applause. Drinks are present. 

So, what is the problem, you ask? These conversations sound lovely. Or, excluding lovely, a strong cause for skeptical amusement. The problem is that as I sit listening to all of this youthful banter, my arms are sort of sticking to the plastic, red-checked table cover and I am surrounded by flies. There are 45 plastic grocery bags piled on top of eachother in the fridge covered in tape and permenant marker. Our tonic doesn't fit correctly. Our ice displaced several large bags of frozen croissants, which seemed to upset the hostel hostess. The walls are thin and covered with weird hostel "word-art" (read: large post-its stating ideas like: Elvis is a state of mind). The hallway door starts slamming at 7 AM. The communal shower is full of weird, half-used products covered in other people's hair. 

The good news? I am officially too old to do something! I feel very grown up. Most people my age are worried about childbirth and home mortgage payments. I'm launching a plan to stop getting attacked by this family of flies and I'm estatic to be celebrating this monument of adulthood. 

Pictures of Switzerland below. 

Jetlag

Hi readers,

I woke up about 7 hours early for my alarm this morning. Since I had nothing more important to do than make it to the airport on time for a flight to Zurich, I decided to indulge in it. It's interesting the places your mind will go with hours to think uninterrupted (or at least only moderately interrupted, by binge reading Amazon Unlimited best sellers such as "Maximum Insecurity: A Doctor in the supermax". It's a true story and surprisingly funny)

I considered if I read too much. I wondered how to quantify the time we spend doing anything as "too much" or "too little". I had a little sojourn into thoughts about passion and life and purpose. I remembered beautiful details about some of the places I've been lucky to live. I worried because I did not remember more details. (If anyone reading knows the name of the street I lived on my junior year of college, I would tremendously appreciate if you got in touch) I went on Facebook and read an article about how I could get better at running and another about how Bernie Sanders could get better at politics. Actually, it might have been more about how the rest of the world could get better at appreciating Bernie Sanders. The writing was a little hard to follow. 

I wondered if I packed too much for my trip. I read an article about packing. Apparently I own too many dresses and not enough "puzzle piece match" options. I am bringing too many socks and not enough jewelry. 

I decided that's okay. Also, I decided the next 7 books I want to read on my kindle and that I need to streamline my hobbies for next year and talk to my brother more. 

I'm glad I had the time to think it all over. Off to the airport.

See you in Switzerland. 

Finding Peace

Hi readers,

I think the hardest thing is to be happy right where you are. There is something about the American South that always highlights this concept for me. 

Human nature slows south of the Mason Dixon line.  Communities thrive on small beauties, warm normalcy and delivered satisfaction. 

I thrive on hurried, fretful decisions, screaming adversity to normalcy and a constant search for deeper meaning. It's important for me to come South and Slow Down. 

I'm writing from Oklahoma City. The business district lays on flat, functional ground. The hotel manager calls me ma'am and shook my fathers hand after breakfast, just to say good morning. Signs politely advise against bringing your personal firearms into government buildings. 

Somehow, this all feels very peaceful. Existence is matter-of-fact. Happiness exists between people, instead of tortured, questioning souls seeking it out on their own. Slow, polite behavior provides an unshakeable code of infrastructure. 

There is a certainty in the South that allows for peace. It is sure enough of itself to slow down. 

I ache to be sure enough of myself to slow down.  Hopefully the formula can be absorbed. 

After all, I'm here for 72 whole hours. 

Image credit: itskat.wordpress.com 

Check her out! 

Eat, Pray, Love

Hi readers,

As one does on vacation, I have been amusing myself all summer with thoughts of what I would do if I quit my job and was able to focus on what I really wanted. Normal jobs only give a few weeks to consider the topic, I have been turning it over in my head for almost 2 months. Yesterday my thoughts turned to Elizabeth Gilbert and her darling 2002-ish plea to 'Eat, Pray, Love': 

http://www.elizabethgilbert.com/books/eat-pray-love/

I think it is phenomenal she distilled what she wanted into 3 simple words. What would my words be?! 

Surf, read, skydive? (Not that I actually know how to surf, but something about the ritual of it always features into my carefree ideals about finding deeper life purpose in the present moment) 

Tents, roadtrips, France? (I have been having this fascination with France)

Piano, eavesdropping, journals? (Noted-a piano would greatly decrease mobility. But I feel I could really express myself through music. If I knew how to play an instrument or read any kind of music or carry a tune)

Brunch, cupcakes, champagne? (self-explanatory. Proseco would also be acceptable)

Islands, boats, oceans? (All summer I have been pretending I know how to sail. And I do kind of know how to sail. You pull the ropes until the boat moves.) 

I know there is a book in here somewhere. Until I figure out I'm just going to keep considering how I enjoy spending my free time. Important literary research. 

Walking along the East River, August 2015

If you don't let go you won't get anywhere

Hi readers,

Like many white Manhattan girls, I depend on Soul Cycle classes for wise sentiments and Zen-like peacefulness. 

https://www.soul-cycle.com

For those of you not familiar with Soul Cycle, I will outline the explanation I gave my boyfriend the other night:

"They are these absurdly expensive spinning classes, but it's more than just spinning class-they are a lifestyle brand. It's like Anthropology but for exercise. It's sort of like belonging to a cult."

I paused in my explanation and realized-it's actually exactly like belonging to a cult! Entranced in my newfound sense of community, I considered the similarities:

I happily give them all my money.

I believe everything they say. 

I like to think about them when I feel sad and misunderstood.

I often feel like other people 'just don't get it'. Except, of course, my awesome cult friends! 

For a girl with lots of self-admitted 'friend insecurity', I am thrilled to have found my tribe. Only in New York.

Top pieces of Soul Cycle wisdom/cultish lifestyle advice:

1) Imagine who you want to be in 45 minutes. Let's work to get there. 

2) Embrace the climb. Struggle is good.

3) You choose to be here. You are in control (best cult advice ever!)

I can't wait to see what gems of wisdom and acceptance are waiting tomorrow. 

Hello from New York!

Hi readers,

Now that I have successfully redecorated my bookshelves in my current home (see: yesterday) I am thrilled to be writing from my forever home, New York City. Details on my flight below.

The flight from Madrid Barajas to New York John F Kennedy takes approximately 7 hours (longer on the way back going against the wind). I have broken the experience into time intervals for easier reporting.

Minute -30: Spanish nationals start lining up for the plane. Spanish people simply adore standing in line--it's very puzzling. 

Minutes 0-45: Board and promptly fall asleep. All going well according to 'napping and reading' flight plan.

Minute 46: Helpful stewardess wakes me up to ask if I would like something to drink. I unenthusiastically accept some tepid water in an akward plastic cup

Minutes 60-90: Airplane 'semi-food' lunch service. Delighted to be awake to invent mental expressions including 'pasta glue' and 'air prison'

Minute 100: Oratory discovery of the esteemed college-aged world travellers sitting behind me. Loud discussion of merits of European living ensues.

Minute 101: I didn't bring any earplugs.

Minute 105: Or an eye mask

Minute 125: Or any Xanax. And the current discussion about the merits of the European gay pride movement is much too loud for reading Don Quixote. Or even Spanish Vogue.

Minutes 126-360: American Ninja warrior followed by the Avengers. Thank God.

Minute 361: Accept 'American Airlines hot veggie snack' mostly because not accepting would clearly ruin helpful stewardess's whole day. 

Minute 371: Return unopened veggie snack to passed trash. 

Minute 385: Peanut gallery now discussing 'the woes and excitements of their new Americorps positions'. Was I ever that annoying? Probably. In total desperation, strike up a conversation with the man sitting next to me. 

Minutes 390-420: Light-hearted discussion of my terrible Spanish language abilities and uncertainty about my future in education. 

Minute 421: Touchdown! Disembark the plane and interestedly watch an unlicensed Pakastani taxi driver get arrested outside the airport. Welcome home! 

Feeling at Home

Hi readers,


Today I bought $75 worth of silver-plated picture frames from Zara Home.  In the category of "picture frames" I also include whimsical candle holders and decorative boxes.

I'm nesting. 

This is not a skill that comes naturally.  For 5 years, the sum total of my furniture consisted of 2 beat-up, army-green ammo boxes.  My last coffee table in California was made out of a cut-up 2x4 and 8 nails.  I once lived in a high-rise on 67th Street for a month and didn't bother to buy any pillows.  I don't mean "picture-frame-decorative-pillows".  I mean "the-pillows-you-put-on-the-bed-pillows".

In my defense, I often live in mostly-furnished places.  Also, I move a lot.  Also, buying things makes me uncomfortable.

Normal people buying decorative home goods:
"Oh, this end table would look divine with paisley-seashell decorative lamp!"
Me buying decorative home goods:
"If I buy an end table, do I need to get a lamp? Should I get a matching lamp?  What matches wood-colored?  Do they make wood-colored lamps? Maybe a contrast color lamp?  What is the contrasting color of wood?"

It's one of those skills I don't quite understand.  Where do people learn how to do this?  Needless to say, I gave up the Ikea-induced panic attack trips as soon as possible in my fledgling career as an adult.  I am good at buying functional things, but decorative shopping has never been my forte.  

For example, this fall, when my roommate and I arrived at our apartment in Madrid, I gleefully bought us a coffee pot, a yoga mat (for "non-yoga" where you lay on the yoga mat and pretend to do sit ups while you watch TV) and a set of shiny new kitchen spoons.

Nested. 

Fast forward 9 months later.  I was sitting on the couch this morning, happily reading Don Quixote, when I looked around.  I realized:

A) My roommate has very graciously decorated our whole apartment (love you!)
B) It is time to get off my lazy ass, go buy some votive candles and give this "feeling-at-home" thing a try.

I told myself I would not leave the store without a purchase.  After all, it is segundo rebajas (Spanish for: the best sales in the world) in Madrid right now, what better time to try my hand at home decorating?  Some photos of votive candle holders below.  I'm off to read House Beautiful.

Like a Painting

Hi readers,

In the continued trend of 'Fashion at the Museum', Vogue magazine opened it's archives for the privately-owned Thyssen museum in Madrid. In my continued trend of 'Pretending to Know Things about Fashion and Art', I carved a hole in my busy summer day to check it out. Photos below. 

The exhibit, entitled "Like a Painting" is on display until October 12. See website for info:

http://www.museothyssen.org

Monday Facts

Hi readers,

Below please find a list of facts I made up that make me feel better about my life.  Happy Monday!

1) The movie "Heathers" is a loose interpretation of Shakespeare's "Othello".  Think about it.
2) The Obamas own matching pajamas.  Including the dog. They wear them on Sunday mornings for "Obamas in Pajamas" quality time.
3) Harvard Business School curriculum includes a class called "Fanny Facebook: The Role of Gender in Social Media Marketing"
4) The cast of "California Dreams" is staging a musical reunion tour, set to premier in Paris on New Years Eve 2015
5) Katy Perry owns a unicorn named "Fluffy Buns".  Madonna gave it to her.

If you need me, I will be lying in bed eating spoonfuls of Spanish olive oil and reading. See you tomorrow.

Think about it.

What is "Calfornia Dreams", you ask?  We can't be friends until you watch this video

Celebrating Fluffy Buns.  These are their happy faces. 

How to Make Vacation Longer

Hi readers,
I have been back from my latest vacation for approximately 36 hours.  I have already:

Gone out to an amazing dinner with my boyfriend, read a book, ran 4..ish... miles in Retiro Park, written a blog post, caught up on my e-mail and started harassing my friends about my NEXT vacation.  

Not good at relaxing?  Who, me?!

At around 7 PM I realized-I needed to get my head back in vacation mode.  I immediately booked an appointment at the Hammam Arab Baths.  By 8 PM I was floating blissfully in a pool of hot water, debating the merits of a rose oil massage.  (Pros: Rose oil benefits circulation and rejuvenation.  Cons: No cons)

Vacation is all about relaxing, so in order to stay in vacation mode it is important to do relaxing things.  Obviously, it is important to do relaxing things anyway, so that one does not die in an un-fabulous attack of high-blood-pressure-related illnesses, but immediately after a vacation the state of relaxation is still so close to the front of the mind.  It is easy to coax the mellow vibes back out to play for a few more days if you purposefully create a relaxing atmosphere.



How to create a relaxing post vacation atmosphere, you ask?

Spa appointments are wonderful.  My favorite facial (the Triple Crown at Joanna Vargas in NYC) is so relaxing that I usually fall asleep.  Massages, oxygen chambers, fish pedicures, chocolate body rubs, anti-gravity lights...the list of things you can find at a spa is basically endless.

No money?  Make your own spa.  Light a candle, take a bath, read a magazine, give yourself a foot rub (hint: use a golf ball. You're welcome).

Do something creative.  Draw a picture, write in a journal, cook a meal, go to a museum...do something a little out of the ordinary that makes you think.  About something other than work and your 37 Groupon update e-mails.

Feel sexy.  Vacation is super sexy.  Channel that.  If you have a boyfriend, dress up for a date night or fool around in that slow kissing vacation way.  No boyfriend?  Flirt with some tinder match handsome stranger.  

Beach in Cadiz photos below.

How to Increase Traffic to Your Blog

Hi readers,

The blogging life reminds me of a playground.  More specifically, the blogging life reminds me of a playground where all the popular girls are standing around the tire swing, loudly laughing and thoughtfully adjusting their adolescent "I LOVE TAYLOR SWIFT" concert tee-shirts while I am lurking around the potted trees with the rabid squirrels, dying for someone to notice how awesome I am.
Oh, the joys of childhood.  The point is--ALL bloggers want to know how to get more people to read their blog.  I have been thinking about it lately.  The best advice I can come up with below.

Ways to Get People to Read Your Blog

1) Talk about your blog.  I know.  Yes--you need to be that girl.  Sample conversation below:

Polite stranger at a party: Have we met?

That girl: Not yet.  But you might know my BLOG.  It's called Rhymes with Fabulous.  Do you happen to have a cell phone? 

Polite stranger, now standing slightly further away: Ummm...

That girl: Of course you do! Why are you standing over there?  Take out your phone and give it to me, I will download the Blogger app for you and add my blog to your list of favorites so you can read it every day.  Do you promise to read it every day?! I will give you my e-mail address too, so you can keep in touch and tell me what you think.  Or even better, you can COMMENT on my BLOG.  I loooooove when people comment on my blog....etc.   

2) Instagram.  How does ANY entrepreneurial 20ish-something white girl get anything done these days?! INSTAGRAM! That little self-descriptor line was basically invented for your blog link. The little self-descriptor line also exists on facebook.  Also there are approximately 1,945,752 writer groups on social media sites.  Get busy on linkedin/facebook/pinterest/etc.  Get your name out there. Don't be shy. #blog #fabulous 

3) Make friends.  Friends that write blogs.  They will read your blog AND will probably let you guest post on their blog, which Ramit Sethi promises is a sure-fire way to increase traffic (and I believe him).  Check out some blogger events here

How to Buy Souvenirs

Hi readers,

Cathedral Saint Alexander Nevski, Sophia

 I was traveling with a friend in Bulgaria this year and we found an adorable handicraft shop (in the lobby of Bulgarian National Art Gallery and Ethnographic Museum in Sophia, in case anyone is interested). Turns out Bulgarians make delightful pottery, woven rugs and these adorable red thread friendship bracelets.  Who knew? 

After a few minutes hours in the shop, we had our purchases lined up.  After careful consideration, my friend bought an amazing set of dishes, mismatched in that purposeful, whimsical way and complete with a serving platter. I went to dinner at her apartment recently and she served vegetable-stuffed mini-pumpkins and Greek salad in her new set of dishes. When she is not using them, the dishes sit in a fashionable break-away cabinet, on display with a well-cultured and useful mix of other international treasures.

I bought 2 friendship bracelets friendship bracelets and an impractically-sized, oven-safe dish.  I made nachos in my lonely little dish once and occasionally my roommate uses it to artfully display lemons.  I have my friendship bracelets carefully stored in a plastic shopping bag, so I can bring them back to the 1980s if I ever find a time machine. 

I am terrible at buying souvenirs.

Some people can walk into a shop with a sense of purpose and all the right questions:

Is this locally produced?  Are you the artist? Is this dishwasher safe? Do you ship internationally? 

I am more likely to walk into a shop and awkwardly attempt to sputter around in whatever the local language is, ignoring the fact the shop keepers obviously speak English, and walk out after admiring the postcards. (I actually used to COLLECT postcards when I was a little girl. Obviously my fascination with being terrible at buying souvenirs started early. File under "most pathetic hobbies in the world")

Currently, in my always-present attempts to be a more useful adult, I am working on my souvenir buying ability. During my trip to Portugal I studied another adept souvenir purchaser (my mother) and came up with some guidelines:

How to Buy Souvenirs 

1) Know your purpose. For example, my mother shops for Christmas presents.  My brother decorated an entire room in his house in an "African art and music" theme.  Some people collect something more interesting than postcards.  Maybe you are hosting a lunch when you get back and everyone wants a friendship bracelet.  Perhaps the region where you are traveling is known for something (Turkish rugs, Venetian stained glass, Andalusian tiles, etc).  Figure out a purpose-it will make shopping more interesting. 

2) Know that the souvenirs are weird-looking by themselves. There is a reason my (very knowledgable) friend bought a set of Bulgarian pottery.  Don't be afraid to buy in bulk. If you really like something and you don't want it to look weird surrounded by normal western things, buy more than one.

3) Just buy something.  Remember at the end of the day you are supporting the local economy.  It's an important part of tourism.  Be proud to buy something, even if you end up simply using your large Portuguese rooster as a bookend.  

Me in Bulgaria, being terrible at buying souvenirs, below. 

Star Magazine is Ridiculous

Hi readers,

I do not often read gossip magazines. No judgement, just not my thing. I generally actually don't read any kind of magazines-I'm too cheap and prefer to spend my extra time and money in convenience stores and airport shops agonizing over which combination of candy will make me "least fat". Not a lot of spare energy left for the whole "Jennifer is pregnant/not pregnant/overweight/now anorexic" cover wars.  Which Jennnifer, you ask? Not the point. (And...all of them).

The point is, even if you read these magazines you must know--the content is a little ridiculous. The same way White Girl Rose or Pucci dresses or Fredricks of Hollywood nightwear is a little ridiculous: it's good marketing. There is nothing wrong with being a little ridiculous. 

The problem I had flipping through an old issue of Star (though can't be that old because Bruce is Kaitlyn and there is lots of talk about Dad Bods) was the content of the advertising. The advertising is NOT just a little bit ridiculous, the advertising is 100% off-the-ringer-batsh*t-crazy-INSANE! 

Pictures below. File under #icant. Someone find me a back issue of Town and Country immediately! 

1) Snickers Ice Cream Bar

Warm up photo. Mildly rediculous:

A) Choice of slogan is bad. Obviously should be "it's like you're tonguing a chocolaty, peanuty, caramel iceberg". The verb form evokes a much more powerful mental image and it's not like this magazine is a damn Golden Book. Let's get a little racey. 

B) Snickers ice cream bars do NOT need to waste money on advertising. Even someone visiting from the moon could figure out they were delicious, all by themselves. 

2) Astronauts Wives Club

Now we are getting somewhere. Seriously? THIS is the next best thing after Mad Men?! No. 

3) Litter Lifter

Honestly? Ridiculous because this advertisement probably moves a lot of product. Something about carefully reading reviews of upcoming mediocre TV shows in summer issues of cheap gossip magazines scream 'A little lonely and I own lots of cats', don't you think? 

4) Jitterbug

I'm sorry, did we step into a time machine? Are "you and your friends" all Eastern European mail order brides? WHO has a cell phone that looks like this in the year of 2015?!

5) Annabelle the Monkey

Know what? I'm actually not going to talk sh*t about Annabelle. Because I'm legitimately terrified of her. 

Off for a sunset sail...soaking up the last few days in Portugal.