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.