Travel Is…

June 18th 2013

“Travel is little beds and cramped bathrooms. It’s old television sets and slow Internet connections. Travel is extraordinary conversations with ordinary people. It’s waiters, gas station attendants, and housekeepers becoming the most interesting people in the world. It’s churches that are compelling enough to enter. It’s McDonald’s being a luxury. It’s the realization that you may have been born in the wrong country. Travel is a smile that leads to a conversation in broken English. It’s the epiphany that pretty girls smile the same way all over the world. Travel is tipping 10% and being embraced for it. Travel is the same white T-shirt again tomorrow. Travel is accented sex after good wine and too many unfiltered cigarettes. Travel is flowing in the back of a bus with giggly strangers. It’s a street full of bearded backpackers looking down at maps. Travel is wishing for one more bite of whatever that just was. It’s the rediscovery of walking somewhere. It’s sharing a bottle of liquor on an overnight train with a new friend. Travel is ‘Maybe I don’t have to do it that way when I get back home.’”

Nick Miller, Isn’t It Pretty to Think So? (via ethereally)

An Ode to IHOP

May 6th 2013

BananasFosterBrioche

There is something about chain restaurants, like IHOP, that makes me feel a giddy ‘Merica pride; I’m a child again, with too short shorts and a hankering for hash browns; a hungover college student with a penchant for milkshakes and cheese fries on the cheap.

And yes, I know this is just IHOP but unironic irony is my thing, like McFlurrys and amusement parks and trips to the Halloween store in April. Like following Paris Hilton on Twitter for her motivational quotes.

And so I recklessly abandoned my bikini body plan, per usual, and got started. The four different syrups on the table are exciting: Old fashioned, blueberry, strawberry and boysenberry…which one am I going to choose, what am I going to order, why am I so bad at making decisions?

I was craving eggs but obviously wasn’t going to not order pancakes at IHOP. Lucky for me, you don’t have to choose because here in heaven, pancakes come with eggs. So I opted for the double blueberry stack with 2 eggs over easy, hash browns, bacon and the new bananas foster brioche french toast (pictured above).

(Sidenote: Raquel, my server, answers Tropicana when I ask what kind of fresh juice they have soo, don’t come for the beverages. Also, the entire experience is best enjoyed when you ignore the disclaimer on every menu page about healthy diets being 2,000 calories blah blah buzzkillll.)

When the food comes I snap three pictures and pull my hair back, which means you know it’s getting serious. The meal was delicious though the portions are small. (I know, I’m everything that’s wrong with this country.)  Regardless, for a girl who likes good pancakes, this place more than stacks up. And who cares that it’s a chain or totally déclassé! In the wise tweets of Paris Hilton: “Anywhere is paradise; it’s up to you.”

Throwback Thursday: Outback Edition

April 11th 2013

AustralianOutback

Remember that time I road-tripped the Australian Outback? Click, click.

The Plan

April 11th 2013

I’ve been writing, I swear! Just lots of drafts.

Most of it has been fairly dark, despite the fact that I feel happy. And when it’s not depressing it’s weird and ADD-ish–haphazard, unedited, far-from-finished. One of my latest masterpieces starts with the title “I Cry While Watching The Voice“. It only goes downhill from there until it tapers off because I got distracted YouTubing videos of past season winners and their auditions. (Wait but seriously, does anyone else cry? Watching people’s dreams come true is BEAUTIFUL).

Speaking of crying, I spent a different half-piece musing about the evolution of tears…from what they mean scientifically to why in the worldd I’ve been crying so much. Not sad tears at all but sort of cathartic, empathetic and sometimes even happy ones (like at The Voice and Lentil). My conclusion, so I can spare you that hot mess of an essay, is that it’s either severe overtiredness (probably) or that I’ve been feeling so acutely alive lately (eye roll, but really). There’s also a lot of anecdotes about how I feel pretty when I cry. My face gets flushed, my lashes look glossy and my eyes are sweet and round. Vulnerable baby deer pretttty.

In way more important news, I’ve been writing a book. Which is the purpose of this whole post: I have a new idea for a book that I’m so excited about! After digitally stopping by a James Altucher Twitter Q & A (from my bed, at 3pm, on a Thursday…before I wasn’t not depressed), I went from a bad place to an inspired one. I am going to self-publish an e-book, a How (and Why) To Quit Your Job and Travel The World manifesto, title TBD, 30-40 pages-ish, talking about the practicalities of leaving interspersed with anecdotal stories, inspiration, advice, etc. Thoughts? What would you want to read? Anything specific? Something totally different? “I Cry While Watching The Voice”??

LMK.

4:43AM

March 25th 2013

That’s what time it is.

I actually haven’t slept in 44 hours save for three hours last night which barely count because I spent them nightmaring that I was on a flight with this random guy I knew in boarding school and he set himself on fire. Normall.

Usually I giggle and say “I’m like Jack Bauer” when I don’t sleep for more than 24 hours straight, but sometime after hour 30 I feel less cute, more cracked. Thankfully my serious dream googling discovered that fire isn’t a bad thing as long as you’re not the one burning. What it can mean is that you’re being consumed by your own ambition (likely), passionate sexual feelings (rearr) and I’ve already lost interest in googling this further. It’s a fun side effect from lack of sleep, my normally rapt attention span starts waning. That and my appetite.

I ordered mozzarella sticks from Moonstruck diner tonight (last night?) because it was the only thing open at 11:15pm when I got hungry for dinner; then I ate half of them and watched the oozing cheese harden on the remainder as I chugged Activate water (stocked in my fridge thanks to a generous publicist). The Defend flavor felt right. So did a good scrub with my new La Prairie Cellular Mineral Face Exfoliator which is just the perfect amount of rough–like a fancier, better-smelling apricot scrub (a middle school favorite that I still use but only on my arm bumps now)

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