26

25 has been a crazy year. I really thought I’d be writing something much different about it but nothing about this year has been what I expected it to be. 

Last year I planned to kick off 25 with a birthday hike. I wanted to wake up on the morning of my birthday in a beautiful place and come home triumphant with a picture of myself on the edge of the world. On the drive up my best friend was having painful cramps and we soon realized she was losing her first pregnancy only a few weeks in. We still went hiking, maybe to prove a point, maybe to salvage the trip, maybe to make her feel better, maybe to make me feel better, but we did it. Then we came home early.

So, on my 25th birthday, I was at home, confused about how to feel. 

I had been so scared leading up to that birthday. I thought 25 was the beginning of the end, the first year of being officially old, the end of my youth. There’s no going back. Time keeps moving as much as I wish it would slow down. 

Earlier that year I’d gone through an odd break up that was supposed to be mutual, but as it turns out, my heart doesn’t think so. I thought things were difficult but we’d get through it and move on slowly, then he suddenly ran away to Asia for 4 months.

Between being sad and single and scared out of my mind about turning 25 I fell hard into my quarter-life crisis. I started to plan how I was going to change my life, travel more, and work less. I made plans to go to Asia with a friend in November, and just had to work up the guts to actually quit my job and go.

Right after my birthday trip, I returned to work to be scolded for a long list of things I’d apparently been doing wrong for the past 2 years. I was infuriated for a lot of reasons but mostly because I had been feeling so nervous and guilty knowing that I was quitting soon to start traveling. Then I was suddenly in a position where I wanted to quit right that second. I sucked it up and kept working another month until I got the opportunity to leave. 

At the end of September my sister was going to Utah for a month and invited me to drive across the country with her and stay the month while watching my niece for her. I saw more of the country in that trip than I ever had before. We drove through 7 states, stopped in 3 national parks, and even spent a night in Las Vegas.

My sister was in medical school at the time, and we started making plans. I would watch the baby when I could so she wouldn’t always been in daycare, she would pay me and let me live with her, and I would move with them to whichever city she ended up getting assigned her medical residency. It wasn’t hard for me to love Salt Lake City, I already loved so many other cities on her list, and I loved spending time with my niece, so I was happy with this deal.

After I got back from Utah I started getting ready for my next big trip. I was going to meet my friend in Bangkok, Thailand after he finished his 2 year service in the Peace Corps in November. We planned a 5 week trip to Thailand, Cambodia, Japan, and Hawaii. To summarize: I traveled a part of the world I had never been remotely near and learned a lot about what I’m capable of. I plan on going back to Southeast Asia as soon as I have money again and staying even longer. 

I flew back on Christmas Eve and got to spend it with my family. The next few months I moved back and forth between Gainesville to babysit and Melbourne to relax at home. I explored some cool areas of Florida and visited family in New York. I planned to hike a few weeks on the Appalachian trail alone and chickened out because of the weather (and my often-crippling fear of being alone). 

In April I planned a road trip to Texas with a friend but he had to back out last minute. I spent days trying to convince myself to go alone. I didn’t want to chicken out of another thing I wanted to do so badly. So, I just went for it. It was a bit chaotic, at times boring, but I had a great time and spent quality time with good friends in great cities.

In May I set off on another big trip, this time with my family. I spent 4 weeks in Europe: Portugal, Spain, France, Italy, Ireland, and Czech Republic. Most of the time we were in Italy, visiting places we’ve been before, exploring new areas, and visiting distant relatives in the home my great grandfather was born in.

Toward the end of my trip, someone I idolized died, not passively, he killed himself, and I felt like I was on the verge of bursting into tears for 2 days. (What’s the point of me pushing myself to travel the world, face my fears, and live the life I’ve always imagined if I could live that dream life and still be destroyed from the inside?) But I cried and I ate good food and I drank good wine and I went back to traveling and appreciating the opportunity I had to see the world with people I love.

When I got back I started to prepare to move, somewhat reluctantly. My sister had gotten assigned to work in New York, on Long Island, where my entire family is from. I thought I was going somewhere new but instead I was going somewhere old, somewhere I had been many times. I didn’t want to leave Florida either. I love it there and I loved somebody there. I went anyway, I needed to make a change, and I knew I should spend time with my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins in New York while I have the opportunity to.

I went to see my best friend before I left, and her new baby boy, proof that life comes around full circle. She got pregnant again not too long after our trip and now there’s a brand new person in the world, figuring everything out the way we all do.

So here I am, in my new bedroom on Long Island, over-explaining the year I was 25 and worrying about what 26 will challenge me to. This year has been more of a ride than I ever could have expected, but it was a hell of a lot more interesting than sitting at a desk the whole year I was 24. 

At 25 I got to quit my office job. I traveled to 8 different countries. I went to more national parks than I ever had. I loved and lost the same person about a hundred times (and it doesn’t seem to hurt any less each time). I moved to a new state. I made new friends. I reconnected with old friends. I got to spend more time with my nieces than I have in years. I gained a nephew. I realized I had let myself idolize someone for the first time in my life as I lost them. I was genuinely happy for significant portions of this past year. I thought 25 was old, but now I’m 26 and I’m still growing… like literally, I keep going up shoe sizes.

I’ve let myself be sad for the past few weeks, I’ve been feeling lonely, I’m running out of money, and I’m living in a place I never thought I would be. But today is my birthday whether I like it or not and I’m going to put my big girl pants on, eat some cake, and start a new year.

Anthony Bourdain

I’m sitting in the kitchen of a rented apartment in Pisa about to eat a "cup o’ noodles" that I doctored to make vegetarian. I just found out that Anthony Bourdain is dead. He killed himself.

I don’t think I’ve ever cried when someone famous has died but I’m finding it difficult not to cry now. I can’t stop sniffling over the notebook I'm writing in. I didn’t realize I cared so much but I do.

I rip the lid off the paper cup of soup. I'm trying to figure out why he meant so much to me, why I'm so choked up.

I've always been passionate about food, especially eating, but as I grow older and develop my own morals and preferences about food I've become passionate about cooking as well. I was always a little interested in traveling but until I was introduced to Anthony Bourdain's shows, I didn't ever think about traveling all over the world or making travel into a lifestyle.

If I hadn't spent so much time learning about the world through Bourdain's shows, I wouldn't be where I am today. I wouldn't have quit my comfy salaried job, left my favorite city, and made it a priority to travel.

Parts Unknown is one of the best shows ever made. It makes an effort to feature all aspects of

culture. It seemed that only in this one space, a show was allowed to be about everything all at once. In a world of targeted audiences and themes and hobby-dedicated channels, Parts Unknown was just a show put together by a guy who wanted to explore all of his interests and feature lesser-known parts of the world.

In my own little world, I've constantly been worried about picking my niche. It seems like I'm only allowed to have one interest, one focus, and one career. Instead of deciding, I've been kind of floating around lost, choosing nothing, accomplishing little. It started when they asked me to pick a major before I started college, and it hasn't ended. I wonder, what one subject of all the universe of things I'm interested in should I choose to focus my attention and energy on? Then everyone looks at me and says writing. But what one thing am I going to be forced to write about for eternity?

By the time Bourdain created Parts Unknown, he didn't have to choose anymore. I find that incredibly inspiring and intimidating. Bourdain was passionate about writing, cooking, music, eating, traveling, and talking to people. He was rebellious and steered his show how he wanted to, not to appeal to a certain audience of a certain channel. (It’s on CNN for God’s sake. It’s journalism, not just a food show.)

He travelled all over, not just the places people think they want to see. He interviewed people, normal people, talented people, powerful people, and he cares about what’s going on in their lives and countries.

It’s not lost on me that I happen to be eating a fifty cent cup of noodles while I’m in a country known mainly for its food. It’s also not lost on me that I happen to be traveling the world at this moment. I’m getting crumbs on the page as I dip something called “friselle” in the broth. It looks like a halved bagel that's been toasted until it's crunchy throughout. It's usually dipped in water before eaten so... in a way I'm doing it right. It’s a testament to my love of food that I’m still eating as I write this.

I wish I had a glass of wine in front of me but I’ll have to fall asleep sober. The wine would probably make me cry anyway. If I was alone I’d like to lean into this sadness and get it all out, but I’m not. I haven’t had much space in 3 weeks of traveling with my sister and her family and my family.

After I eat I'll spend the rest of the night and most of the next day alternating between trying not to cry and crying. I want to say I've been crying for the loss of someone who inspired me so much but I know there's more to it. I've been crying because someone who was such a spectacular human being didn't want to be in this world anymore. The world needs more people like Anthony Bourdain, not less. When the world we live in pushes people so wonderful out, it's hard to want to be here anymore.

I hope a wave of change is coming.

More people should meet others from around the world, sit down with them, and try their food.

Quarter Life Catharsis

Today I posted a picture on instagram that’s a little immodest. It’s just me in a bathing suit but the bottoms are what would just be “cheeky” on most girls but are what I’m going to call “very cheeky” on me. I’m 25 (almost 26, yikes!) and I feel pretty old sometimes, but honestly I’m more confident now than I ever have been. I’ve spent plenty of time over the years wearing ill-fitting bathing suits trying to cover up to avoid attention. I’m too old for that nonsense. This is the body I was born in.

When I turned 25 I was so scared of how old I had gotten and how fast my life was flying by. Actually, I’ve always been scared of how quickly life can move. For months and months before my 25th birthday, I started planning how I was going to quit being a normal, working member of society and travel the world while I was still young. So, I did. About a month after I turned 25 I quit my full time office job and started traveling. 

First, I went on a cross-country road trip and spent 3 weeks in Utah. Then, I spent 5 weeks in Asia, visiting Cambodia, Thailand, Japan and then Hawaii on the way home. Then I spent a lot of time with family, took some trips around Florida, visited family in New York, and relaxed. Last week I drove out to Texas by myself and spent the week visiting friends. In 2 days I leave on another big adventure and will be spending 4 weeks backpacking around Europe with family. 

It’s been a slow process but I’m starting to feel like myself again. I’ve been taking care of my body and mind better than I have in a long time, maybe ever. I still get stressed pretty easily and I still get sad pretty often and I sometimes I get pretty lonely, but I can honestly say that I’m happy with my life. 

At age 24 I wouldn’t have been able to look anyone in the face and say I was happy.

I’m still growing and figuring things out through trial and error. I’m learning how to identify what’s missing in my life and what I need to let go of. I’m re-learning how to accept people as they are and not let small relational issues bog me down. I’m learning that I need balance in my life and in my relationships with others. And of course: I’m still figuring out how to make money to keep living my dreams. 

I try to do more things alone now. I’ve always hated going anywhere alone (which is crazy because I actually thrive when I have plenty of alone time). I would ask people to go to grocery store with me and avoid going until someone else was going too. If I was craving a certain restaurant and no one was available to go, I would just eat whatever I had at home. Last week I drove to Texas alone. I didn’t expect to but my friend got a job interview at the last minute and had to cancel. It took me a few days but I got up the nerve to drive out there on my own. I spent most of the week in Austin and while my friends were working I went to parks and restaurants and coffee shops accompanied only by a good book. 

When I got home from my trip I was worn out from driving. I told myself I wasn’t going to drive for days, and I didn’t. Yesterday I drove for the first time in 5 days and it was to treat myself to a Starbucks date with my dog. I’m taking care of myself while still pushing myself to do better and be better. 

Mermaids & Meltdowns

I had two meltdowns today. I thought I would spend tonight writing about my trip to Weeki Wachee. Maybe I’d discuss the importance of the classic roadside attractions or the natural beauty of Florida or the complications of being a tourist in your own home state. Instead I find myself wanting to sort through my feelings.

I’ve wanted to visit Weeki Wachee for while. It’s a classic Florida tourist attraction. Going to Weeki Wachee as a Floridian is kind of like visiting Coney Island as a New Yorker. If you haven’t heard of it, maybe it’s a little too “classic.” Weeki Wachee is a natural spring that someone turned into a small theme park in the 1940s. It’s famous for having live underwater mermaid shows. For a while it was owned by the American Broadcasting Company (ABC), was flooded with visitors, and attracted huge celebrities like Elvis.

Today I had two goals: to have a nice day and to get a picture of myself doing the former. The issue arose when I tried to get a photo of myself. I have been riding a high of confidence lately. I’ve been working out and trying to eat well. Unfortunately, I can’t pose for a picture to save my life. Like, what do I do with my arms? Sometimes I look fine in pictures, this either takes a lot of time in front of my bathroom mirror or a few vodka-sodas but today I had neither of those. I took a few awkward pictures, got discouraged, and had a mini-meltdown. 

Sometimes small things hit me hard in the chest and I can’t help but want to cry. 

I just want to feel good about myself— and that’s hard when I walk around feeling confident and then see a photo of myself and look completely different than I feel. I wanted to cry but I told myself that would be ridiculous. Instead I got mad and blamed the person taking the pictures. I felt stupid for getting upset but I was flustered and disappointed. 

Later in the day I had a full blown melt down. Like, crying hysterically in my car. Like, had to pull over and let someone else drive. Why? Because I wanted to watch the sunset over the Gulf but left the house too late.

Sometimes pressure just builds for a while until I have to explode. For days, maybe weeks, maybe months I’ve been planning exciting trips and events and goals and then failing to make them happen. I hate being disappointed—by the people I care about and by myself—and I don’t want to disappoint others either. 

I feel a lot of pressure to look like I’m having a great time. I quit my job in September in order to travel more while I’m still young and without too many responsibilities. Even though the goal was to be free of obligations and schedules, now I feel obligated to use all my free time and constantly schedule exciting trips. 

For years I’ve been trying to convince myself that having feelings is okay. Sure, it’s embarrassing to cry to a sad song in traffic and maybe it’s unproductive to spend a day in bed watching old movies and eating ice cream, but sometimes I need that catharsis. Feelings are normal and sometimes meltdowns happen. 

I’ve spent too much time not getting attached to anything, avoiding getting my hopes up, and running to the bathroom to wash my face so I don’t cry. It’s better to have two meltdowns in one day, in between having a great time with someone you care about, than to not feel anything at all. Highs come with lows, lows come with highs. The only way to avoid lows is to stay neutral and sacrifice the highs.

I spent the last few days with my significant other/ex-boyfriend/best friend. My feelings are more volatile around him because of our sort of ridiculous relationship, but I’m happy to have someone I can be emotional around. I guess when there’s someone there to pick you back up, you can really let yourself fall down hard. There’s something comforting about having the privilege to break down and still be loved.

Trying to be Grateful

My blog is titled “somewhere I have never travelled,gladly beyond” but lately my life has been more like “somewhere I have been every morning at 8:30 AM.”

***

That’s how far I got into writing before my computer froze up under the pressure of word processing.

Sometimes being grateful is difficult and now is a good example. Part of me wants to set this computer on fire. Instead I’m going to keep writing. My parents actually bought this computer for me. They spent way too much, way more than I wanted them to, but my mom knew I would be happiest with the Macbook. She told me it would be worth it. We agree that it was.

Despite my complaining, this computer is actually 6 years old. That doesn’t seem like a big number but a lot has changed in that time. Google Chrome was just beginning to become popular then or at least that was when I first began using it. Now it’s the most popular browser in the US. Some people’s cell phones still had keyboards in 2010. I turned 18 that year. I started college that year.

A lot has changed. My computer got slower over the years and my life moved faster. I’ve been out of college 2 years now. I have a full time job as a content writer. This computer is older than my dog who is about to be 5 in August. Somehow, despite it barely working, I’m still writing this now. So I have reasons to be grateful, and yet, I’m not feeling especially grateful.

I go to work Monday through Friday and I hate it. I hate going to work. I really do. I’m trying to be grateful. I have bosses who are kind, give us bonuses, listen to what we have to say, and want us to have fun and feel relaxed at work. I want to be grateful and I’m trying. So I decided to start writing about it.

In a way the blog name still works. This long stage in my life where I’m anxious for change but continue to work every day is going to take a lot to move on from. Besides feeling stagnant, it’s comfortable to live like this. This is somewhere I have never travelled gladly beyond. Hopefully I’ll find my next adventure soon but for now I’m just trying to be grateful.

420

Today I noticed that the status quo has adopted 4/20 as a holiday. It is no longer an immature holiday for 12-year-old outcasts and rebels. It’s a full on celebration for normative adult society, complete with commercialization. There were $4.20 pitas at Pita Pit. They offered free broth at the hot pot restaurant. Moe’s used the tagline, “packing bowls all day” on an advertisement featuring a picture of a burrito bowl set in front of a tie-dye background.

Although the transition into normalcy is not complete, because marijuana is still technically illegal under federal law and most states’ laws, it is quickly becoming ingrained in everyday American culture.

As always this is a case of cultural appropriation. I know--insert eye-roll here--but it’s worth noting. For the past few decades smoking weed was part of a subculture, and now, it’s just part of our culture.

Picture from Alan Turkus on Flickr

Decades ago:

Hippies, dirtbags, deadbeats, and losers smoked their lives away. It was quickly labeled as a “gateway drug” and a slew of propaganda was released to scare kids away.

Now:

Smoking weed is normal. The people who don’t smoke or never have are squares, conformists, old-fashioned, or closed-minded.

The upside is that marijuana is being celebrated for its amazing medical properties. Just this week I read the story of a man with mesothelioma (a rare cancer) who is treating his condition with only a healthy diet and some supplemental oils including cannabis oil. He’s doing better than doctors ever expected him to do with traditional medical treatments.

It’s natural. Unlike cigarettes, marijuana is not some science experiment formulated in a lab paid for by big business (at least not yet). It isn’t packed with chemicals, it’s just a plant.

The downside is that this is all being sold to you. Clothing companies put marijuana leaves on socks and hats and sell them for 3 times as much. You buy food from the “cool” restaurants that offer deals on 420. You’re being sold on items you wouldn’t normally buy the same way as the millions of people who run to the store on Black Friday to waste their hard earned money on material things that their kids will return in a month and a half.

It’s not a subculture now, weed is part of American culture. It’s “NORML” like the group has been campaigning toward for years, but will they regret it?

Legalized it’s taxed and regulated. The government profits off the very plant for which it has been criminalizing people for decades. Instead of being punished for their hypocrisy, the government is being rewarded by even easier money. They benefit from taxing legal marijuana sales and fining citizens for illegal marijuana sales.

Dealers who sold drugs as the only way to pull themselves out of poverty will soon no longer be relevant. Maybe he’ll get put in jail for drug dealing, if not he’ll have to find a new way to get by. Drug dealing will become a trade of wealthy businessmen and the government (what’s the difference though, amiright?). If you want to get into the business, you’ll need a lot of money to start a dispensary, money for licenses, registrations, and retail space.

In all honesty I hate it all. I don’t like smoking (I’m a square) and I think it’s an annoying habit. 420 has never been a celebration for me (although I did eat Pita Pit for lunch today) and likely never will be. I’m excited for the advances that medical marijuana will make. I’m also happy for those who will be less persecuted for using a drug less harmful than many prescriptions. However, I can’t shake the thought that this situation is unnerving.

Marijuana has finally been adopted by the majority and is no longer exclusive to subcultures.

It’s normal. Is that what you wanted?



**Note: this was part of a 10-day writing challenge I started last week. (I'll add a link to it when I get to a fully-functional computer.) Everyday I write something starting with "today I noticed" and today's happened to develop into a blog-worthy thought.

Owning a Pit Bull, Despite the Bull$h!t

For the past few months I have been struggling to find the words to explain to others why I exert so much of my time, energy, and money to keep my dog. Now that she is napping on the couch next to me, I think I can attempt to rationalize.

Since I was a little girl, I have always lived by simple virtues: Family comes first, always be honest, and everyone carries their own burden.

Nobody leads a life without trouble or difficulty. I have always been aware that all people suffer in their own way. I wasn’t born with some incredible gift for understanding, this was just something that I observed early on.

What I failed to see, and continue to struggle with, is the way people choose to carry their burdens. Not only that but I’ve been baffled when I see people choosing to bear a weight that they could easily put down.

Over the past few years I have carried an unnecessary burden for the sake of proving a point. Why? Maybe I'm just stubborn. I won’t change my mind about what’s right just because it’s difficult.

You won’t hear me say this often, but, Olive is just a dog. Yes, she is my friend and I love her a lot, but if I lost Olive I could get a new dog, or just not have a dog. The world would not explode and I would not die.

When I was about 9 I had a Golden Retriever. I loved that dog more than anything. He was my best friend, just like Olive. If Olive were a Golden Retriever I would never have to fight to have her. That’s not okay with me. She deserves a happy life as much as any other dog and to me that’s worth fighting to prove.

I have always chosen the simple path, the easy way. It was just efficient and peaceful. Now, I choose to work hard for what I have because it benefits me greater than simply receiving. 

The lessons that I’ve learned by keeping Olive are invaluable.