7/12/2023

My strength is in my ability to feel & articulate. I love going there-- to the places that feel heavy or uncomfortable. I like leaning into the discomfort... the little parts of my personality that come out when I show up as myself. I like being loud, type-A, aggressive, intense... you name it, I've been called it (comes with the Leo territory). I love that I can be quiet, too (she’s a Taurus moon). Staying in with my cup of tea and a good book or watching the sunrise still up from the night before. The duality. They're both me, and I don't have to meet in the middle. I can show up as all parts of myself or just as a portion... it's my choice. 

My vulnerability... my self-reflection... my ability to look inward, to see myself as I am in this moment and as I am in relation to my environment, my friends, and my surroundings.

I feel more comfortable going there in my writing than I do getting just about anywhere. Just me on a page. No distractions. No intrusive thoughts knocking on the door. Everything is on paper. Black and white and bleeding with color. 

7/10/2023

The subway is a slow rush. Time passes slowly on my commute, killing time with my latest hobby of the week & getting lost in the phone or book in front of me.  My mind is fixed, my body in motion — traveling and shaking, but unmoved. Living in New York City is constantly riding the subway; in motion even when I’m still. 

7/6/2023

I will always always always be blown away by the power of scents to bring me back to the places I forgot my mind could travel. 

The Meyer’s cleaning spray my mom used during the pandemic, that old perfume from high school, saging my apartment of the Sunday scaries… the smells bring back what my eyes can’t when scrolling through old photos: the experience, the feeling, the recollection of the then meeting the now.

The human condition is malleable; my life can mold into whatever shape I deem fit. It’s easier to forget — to think life is linear heading in one fixed direction. I’m finding my footing back in the stratosphere of old scents now layered in nostalgia.

Per NASA: “Strat” means layer. This layer of our atmosphere has its own set of layers. There are no storms or turbulence here to mix up the air, so cold, heavy air is at the bottom and warm, light air is at the top.

It’s like a tumblr girly wrote that definition ~ embodying just how I’m feeling on the cusp of 24. My concept of age + growing + maturing is always changing — coming up with some aha definition of what it all means in the grand scheme of things before throwing it all out the window and beginning again. Here I am, building and rebuilding my layers. The parts of myself that I’ve let fall are not lost; they’re finding their way to the surface in their own nuanced ways. I feel 16 and free again — the cold heaviness floating to the bottom to pave the way for more warmth and light of youth.

I’ll be 24 in August. I’m tired of the heavy air blocking my lungs. I want more mornings swimming in the ocean on Breezy Point, duck diving under massive waves as the sun rises over a neverending night. I feel younger today, and this past year I got so much older.

6/28/2023

Memes end when they become marketing tools. Case in point: Travis, I’m pregnant.

6/21/2023

When I started working on this website, I would go through bursts of excitement about the project. I worked non-stop for a few days, designing an entire page, nailing down a backend workflow, or finally finding a story I thought I'd lost long ago. Eventually, I would burn out because I was spending my already limited free time working. This Memorial Day Weekend was my very first federally funded three-day weekend since I began working full-time two years ago. The 24-hour news cycle doesn't take a three-day weekend. But I got lucky and wound up with a long weekend to get my passion project published. It was a hustle at the end, just like the other little bursts of energy that I found along the way. 

The website goes live, and I'm going through all the emotions--fear, excitement, and pride. But what really stood out to me? The jackass who told me I couldn't do it. 

During one of the bursts of excitement, I went out in Hoboken for my friend's birthday. I told all my girlfriends that I had been working on the website all week and was getting close to publishing. There's something so sacred about speaking about the thing you're most passionate about-- the color in my face and the way my eyes would light up answering my friend's questions lent itself to one too many spicy margaritas.

I'm squeezing myself up to the bar to order a few drinks when a guy moves over and gestures for me to move in. We start chatting and before long I forget all about my next round as I am sharing all things gallivanting with this total stranger. 

He stops me mid-sentence to tell me that if I was really going to publish my website and actualize my goals, I would have done it already. According to this random asshole at the bar, I was never going to do anything with my life because if I were, then it would have happened already.

*eye roll*

I proceeded to tell him what a negative asshole he was and walked away. The day I published my website was the day I proved to him (but more importantly; to myself) that success doesn't happen overnight. Success, whatever that means to you, is the culmination of consistency, progress, and commitment. You don't stumble upon the life you want to lead -- you choose to show up and make decisions every day to walk the path to that successful life. And that's exactly what I'm doing while Chad or Brad or whatever his name is probably sitting on the same bar stool telling a girl that her dreams are out of reach.  

6/12/2023

Sure, they’re just getting a new name, but Westfield–and its iconic red font–is synonymous with Christmas shopping with Mom, unsupervised trips downtown, getting fitted for my first bra at Victoria’s Secret, finding my first prom dress at Bloomingdale’s, and my family cry-watching Marly & Me in the moving theater with the reclining seats at the top of the mall. Westfield is sniffing coffee beans at Bath and Body Works (don’t ask). It’s Photo Booth pictures with my best friends. It’s my first pair of Lululemon leggings. Stopping for a Jamba Juice or grabbing a crepe at the cafe. Spending hours trying on clothes at the American Eagle or trying to catch a glimpse of the Hollister model standing outside the fragrant storefront. Westfield is getting off at Powell and walking directly into the biggest mall this city girl had ever seen. 

There’s an empty Century 21 on my street in Brooklyn. It’s been vacant since the pandemic and long before I moved into an apartment a few streets down. To me, it’s just an empty space. A bit of an eye sore to a half-in-half-out neighborhood where there have been 3 different owners of my local coffee shop in the year since I moved in. 

Will Westfield become Century 21?

Maybe if I still lived in San Francisco, I could find out about these things before it’s too late. I could start a petition or put together a fundraising committee — maybe even write up a story in the local paper. But here, 3,000 miles away? I’m just staring at the empty windows of Century 21 and praying my home city doesn’t share the same fate as my home away from home. 

6/9/2023

Words feel harsher when they’re spoken instead of sung.

6/5/2023

Vulnerable (adj): susceptible to physical or emotional attack or harm.

By definition, vulnerability is terrifying. I feel it in my chest when I think about the way other people will read my writing. My mind races through any potential reaction… the vulnerability manifesting into a fear of judgment and disapproval. 

The fear is speaking. It’s shouting through my chest. 

But, fear is not reality. 

Reality is the warm receptions, kind comments, and validation from the ones I love. Reality is the pride I have in myself for months of hard work and years of writing and documenting. 

It’s terrifying to be vulnerable, but the definition of vulnerability omits what makes it all worth it. 

The bravery. The growth. The ability to be the author of my own story. To use vulnerability as an anchor, an outlet, and a guide to living my authentic truth.

I can feel myself becoming the person I have always wanted to be. Yes, it is terrifying. 

4/18/2023

In my early 20s. Work will be stressful and life will feel heavy from time to time - regardless of where I am. 

But finding a place where I can soften the blow of those falls with the people I love, in a setting I adore, that brings me peace rather than chaos — that’s what I’m looking for. 

3/8/2023

I’m sitting on the subway listening to Kelsea Ballerini roll up the welcome mat, thinking about how my ex-boyfriend is getting married to his new girlfriend. I’m reading a book, but I can’t get my therapist’s latest assignment out of my head. She wants me to reread a triggering chapter from Trick Mirror by Jia Tolentino in which she describes a horrific culture of sexual misconduct on college campus. 

It just clicked for me. Jia’s story is so powerful because it speaks to a culture, not a one-off experience. She actually debunks the one-off experience, calling out how it creates a misconception about the severity of the environment itself. 

Maybe it’s not enough to just tell my story. Maybe, my job is to gather the facts, to tell the story from my perspective about the culture of the environment that allowed something like this to go on unprevented for…decades, maybe?

A few summers ago, I listened to indie music exclusively. Now I can’t stop listening to feminist country music. I’m about ready to hop on a plane to stagecoach, buy a ranch, and marry a cowboy. The version of myself that was listening to Sofia by Clairo on repeat is the same person who wants to buy cowboy boots and start praying more. I can be anyone I want to be. I can try on each version of myself like a new hat. 

3/8/2023

iOS doesn’t want me to forget anything. 41,348 photos on my phone, conveniently stored in the cloud. When people ask me what defines Gen Z, I can tell them with certainty: it’s moments like this. Tens of thousands of photos dating back to sophomore year of high school ~ simultaneous to the iOS push to attach all iPhone users to their iCloud library, accounting a memory to a photo. Being a Gen Z means I can’t go on my phone without accounting a memory from my teenage years I’d prefer to forget. 

This morning, apparently, three years ago I was eating McDonald’s breakfast in Barcelona ~ smoking a lucky strike cigarette and drinking a Diet Coke at 7 am in Plaça Catalunya. My makeup looks like shit, probably from sweating my ass off at the rave all night, but my mind goes immediately to the expired matte foundation I had been using for two years in that era. The top, one I still have and will throw on from time to time, was blue and long-sleeved with a big cutout in the middle that was starting to make me feel self-conscious for the weight I’d gained in croissants and tapas. Of course, the corduroy pants I abused until they had holes big enough they were visible. That god-awful leather jacket that I made my dad buy for me. It’s easy to look at this picture of myself three years ago and see how strung out I was. But I was also carefree, going with the flow genuinely letting the wind take me where it wanted me to go. I cared less about my appearance and more about how much fun I was having :)

On this morning, three years later, I’m wearing more skincare products than makeup — allowing me to cover one big cystic pimple with the no-makeup makeup look of clean girl aesthetics. I’ve lost weight and my pants are loose a little in the waist. I’m curled up in my favorite fur coat and beanie, rocking an all-black look on my way to the office this morning. The office. It’s 5:38 am, and I’m traveling the distance of two boroughs to get to my (very corporate) first big girl job for my (very controversial) news company. I look great, I feel better. Thanks, therapy. The girl in that photo would be proud of where I am today, even through the ghosting and the rebound boyfriend, and the quitting nicotine of it all. My mind and my body are in a far happier place today than they were three years ago, in part thanks to the maturation of my good ole frontal lobe. But the truth is: I grew up. In three years, I’ve transitioned from the party girl smoking cigs at 7 am after a long night out to the corporate woman working her way up the corporate ladder and dodging the sketchy man smoking a blunt on the 5 am train. 

As much as I’d like to hop on a plane to Barcelona and party until the cows come home, I have obligations and goals keeping me here in this place that I (so desperately) do not feel I belong. For 20-year-old me, I refuse to stay here, complacently waiting. But I’m working toward the life that I truly want, and I’m only getting started. If I can just stick it out for a few years, I know I’ll find my place. For a 23-year-old me, I owe it to myself to stay patient. Something good is coming, and I know I’ll want to be here when it happens.

~~~

I have a hard time with compliments. When I started exploring my inner child (essentially all the ways my parents fucked me up), I realized how invalidated I had felt my entire life. It became my void ~ that cute little hole in my chest that ached and waned for someone, something to come along and make me hole. But when my new girly pop coworker (one of those goat friendship gals who you know is a real one for life from the moment you meet) started saying things like you’re so involved and you got it together and whatnot — idk it started to sink in. I’ve been working so fucking hard to become this person, to evolve into this version of myself that I became her along the way (without even noticing). 

And that feels great - receiving love, accepting validation, validating myself (filling the void my inner child has been lugging around like a big empty suitcase). I know exactly who the the fuck I am so when someone comes along and says nice things about me ~ it’s not some slice of chocolate cake while I’m knee-deep in anorexia ~ it’s Justin’s cashew butter cup, one bite at a time, while I’m 2 months deep into my meal prep journey. 

2/24/2023

I spend more time sitting in restaurants with books than I spend sitting in restaurants with friends. That tells you everything you need to know about me. I’m a pulsating cliche, shaking from my oat milk latte with the plot of Persuasion in my ears. Here I am, waiting in a window to meet my prince, I’ll never actually muster the courage to speak to someone I find remotely attractive unless I’m a few tequila shots deep, of course.

2/20/2023

They say you should write like no one is ever going to read it.

2/19/2023

10 Things That Make Me Happy:

1. Fitness & yoga

2. Cooking & Healthy food

3. Coffee

4. Rest

5. The occasional beer or wine with friends

6. Writing

7. Sweets

8. Time in the sunshine 

9. Trying new things & meeting new ppl

10. Reading

-Everything is negotiable

-You can opt-out

-What are you optimizing for?

-Everybody is the star of their own movie. You are just an extra in their movie. 

2/17/2023

When a man harasses me, I have one of two internal responses: I cry it in or I laugh it off. On the outside, I look the same-smiling politely, awkwardly thanking him, looking ahead to hide my acknowledgment. Today, I cried it in. I felt really fucking uncomfortable standing in my perfectly strategized spot on the platform, using the pole as a shield, and listening to my little podcast. Then this big ugly sweaty man has the audacity to come right over to me, screaming over my noise cancellation AirPods about my beauty and yadayadayada. I can live with some basic unsolicited cat calls, but what sent me actually FUMING? This disgusting fat old man started getting closer, hammering me about my age. Not just my age, asking me if I was younger than 18 or older. Sir, that’s none of your fucking business and skating far too close to the edge of the sexual harassment of a minor for me to sit here and smile at your ugly ass. 

2/11/2023

I don’t trust apps that claim to measure your level of success. My Apple Watch is lying uncharged in a drawer somewhere in my apartment, and I’ve never worked out more. I deleted Instagram, and I’ve never felt more connected with my loved ones. I stopped updating my Goodreads, and I’ve read more than I have in years. 

2/8/2023

I open my eyes and realize I’m not leading the life I want to live. I wake up at the ass crack of dawn, before the squirrels on the fire escape start their squirming or the sun even rises over my Bay Ridge apartment. I open my eyes and I wonder how long I’ve been going through the motions. 

There’s this mindset shift I use when I’m on a particular arduous run (so all of them). I tell myself to stop letting the run run me. I’m running the run. The run isn’t running me. 

I’m only 23 and the run is running me. 

But here’s the kicker — I’m only 23! I have a lifetime of trails ahead, a lifetime of time to shift my mindset. I’m 23, and you best damn believe I’ll be running a victory lap by the time I’m 103. 

Maybe it’s the narcissism (or maybe it’s Maybelline), but I’ve always believed I’m going to make it big. I have faith in my plan, faith in my potential, faith that this won’t be my life forever. I’ve been talking about writing my bestselling novel for as long as I can remember. I’m ready to take the leap. I’m sprinting up this mother fucking hill. 

2/1/2023

I certainly don’t have the best, nearly the most, or by far the funniest stories to share about Bart Heavey. But then again, none of that ever really mattered to Black Bart. 

The earliest memory I have with my Poppy was the first time I was old enough to remember Grandma Debbie and Poppy visiting us in San Francisco. They had no doubt visited us out West more than dozen times before that, but it was the first time I can remember comprehending the magnitude of the trip—something about the 3,000 miles and the gaps of time between us finally clicked. We were living at the “Sundial House” at the end of a culdesac with a big old Spanish sundial in the middle of the block. I had spent most of their visit with my Grandma, going shopping, getting our nails done, and getting spoiled in all the best ways only a grandmother can. But when it was time for them to leave, I most distinctly remember the way I bear hugged my Poppy’s legs when he was about to leave for the airport. I hugged and I hugged and I hoped that my Poppy would stay right there with us in San Francisco. And let me tell you, Poppy couldn’t get enough. From that moment forward, my little 5-year-old bear hug around his legs became our own private joke—a representation of the two of us holding onto a relationship between grandfather and granddaughter despite miles and miles between us. 

As I got a little older, Grandma Debbie and Poppy began meeting us across the country for Gaelic football tournaments. They didn’t miss a single tournament for as long as I played–even coming along on the tour bus of the first ever San Francisco girls team to travel to Ireland for the u12 fiele tournament. Poppy loved to cheer me on the pitch, and I could tell how happy it made him to see me out there representing the Heavey name. 

On the trips out West, Poppy became acquainted with the pride and joy of my childhood: Andrew, an orange tabby cat with a masculine face and doglike, almost human-like, qualities. As a lifelong lover of animals, Poppy took a special liking to Andrew. I’ll never forget the way his face lit up when he would tell us how Andrew came along for the walk with our dog or followed him all the way down the path into town. 

When I moved to the Bronx to attend Manhattan College, I knew my dad would be proud. But when I made my decision to move back East, I didn’t realize how unique the opportunity would be to reconnect with Grandma Debbie and Poppy, developing an adult relationship with them in the process. I remember Poppy in bits and pieces from my childhood, but my fondest memories come from sitting with him and Grandma Debbie in the Colony Grill, a half sausage half cheese split between the two, telling stories about the men in the pictures on the walls, the couple who once lived across the street, and all the tidbits in between about this person or that person or another.

I looked forward to those Greenwich afternoons, and my roommates did too as I was never sent back without a few sweet treats in my bag. Grandma and Poppy would pick me up at the Greenwich Train Station with the Heavey license plate standing out loud and proud like clockwork. We’d go have a nice lunch or breakfast somewhere, more often than not at the Colony Grill or the Little Pub. I’d tell them about my classes, my latest boyfriend, and all the things I’d been getting up to since the last time I saw them. Eventually, Poppy and I began to exchange our stories from our little corner of the Bronx. I loved listening to his stories about Gaelic Park, about the hundreds of footballers lined up outside the nearest Catholic Church on a Sunday morning. 

The last time I saw Poppy, he told me about all the homes he ever lived in. Each one, from the day he was born, to the apartment he shared with his buddies, all the way up to the Heavey house on Lewis Street, concluding on Putnam Ave. He exhausted himself trying to remember each little detail, but he didn’t miss a sing one. Even down to his final weeks, Poppy was as sharp as a Hurley. 

It’s been a few years since I’ve found Poppy waiting for me at the Greenwich Train Station, the Heavey license plate welcoming me back to my grandparents. An animal lover, someone who was constantly moving - whether his mind or his body, and someone who could find joy in the ordinary, it was difficult to watch him fade away, more and more with each visit. So while I’m devastated that I’ll never get to hear another story from my Poppy, I know his stories will live on in me and in the lives of each person he touched in his long beautiful life. Today, he can rest easy. I know he is up there smiling down on all of us, with a pep in his step he had not seen in years. 

1/6/2023

Crossing the Manhattan Bridge into Brooklyn and the days are getting shorter as we pass by. The sun sets her eyes over the skyline just like every other day, but my view is contrasted by the darkening sky on a barely rainy day over the understated lights of Long Island City. The real beauty is lying to rest behind me. Subway riders turn their heads and their phones south, standing closer to the window now. It’s quiet on the subway. The lucky folks either worked from home or were already headed to the mountains for the weekend. None of us would choose to ride the D Train through two boroughs on a Friday night, but the sun setting to the south of us is objectively beautiful. I crank my head left and right with no luck-I’m gridlocked from the view. But I can see its beauty clearer than I’ve seen anything all day. Objectivity is just collective subjectivity. Some things are just beautiful.

1/3/2023

When I turn 13. If I just had more money. If I lived here. When I’m an adult. After I graduate. As soon as live alone. When I’m in love. If, when, after, so so so — they’re all the same iterations of the same craving for happiness. But what does that even mean? I’ve spent every day of my life wishing, hoping, and working toward the next milestone that’s assured to bring an end to this plague of the self.

We had a handful of CDs in the green expedition growing up that we would play on the rare break from my mom’s beloved 104.5 KFOG. Our CDs would pale in comparison to the local indie boy who grew up on classic 80s rock, but we had our own classics in the back of the expedition. When I look through your eyes from the Brother Bear Soundtrack belonged to my mother and me. Singing everything changes but you’ll be okay if you just look through my eyes we belted the lyrics of the bear and his cub. That was our language. 

Ra Ra Riot on the aux in Olympic National Park. I’m crying because I forgot how good it feels to just drive. My heart is in the driver's seat belting out the lyrics to the song inside me. My mom is with me now, two state lines away. The “when” I have been waiting for is now. It may have taken the words written above strung out on double overtime shifts and the bullshit jumping down my throat, but it was also me. And all 22 therapy sessions leading up to the trip. My break before the big break. 

You’re not a New Yorker anymore when you stop taking the train. I’m not waiting for someone or something to take me where I need to go. I’m in the passenger seat. It’s a rental and I’m on the open road. 

12/18/2022

You should never waste today on tomorrow because you don’t know what tomorrow will bring.

10/18/2022

I imagine circling the globe in search of home — avoiding due west in pursuit of some other storm. Life exists there. Once again, life feels possible back where it began. My full self in my full ranges. She wants her family to know her. 

Now I cry because I’m so light I can’t feel the ground. 86th Street is 2,928 miles from home. 

10/16/2022

The day I traded my boyfriend for my therapist was the day I chose myself.

10/8/2022

My one critique of the twilight franchise is Bella’s normalized depression and dependence on Edward. It drives me crazy that Edward abandoned her like that and drives me even crazier the way she crumbles into a million pieces without him. 

I read this for the first time during such a formative time in my adolescence. I was becoming a woman and starting to think about dating for the first time. Reading it now, I’m shocked at the red flags in New Moon. 

It’s too easy for young girls to pick up this book and get swept away by the dreamy vampire - on cloud nine with Bella one moment and plummeting to the depths of depression the second he leaves. The potential for us to internalize this message — the idea that we need a man to be happy and we won’t be happy without one – is so problematic. 

New Moon is definitely my least favorite book in the series for this reason. Team Jacob in New Moon for sure. 

9/14/22

My mind is at battle. My regrets are armed with AK47s, my job anxiety is a capitalistic h-bomb, and my artistic pipedreams carry a dozen lilies chanting “peace not war” as they’re blown into a million pieces. It’s the fucking one Hundred Years’ War in there one minute until suddenly my soldiers take the negotiation table. 

I’m waving the white flag. It’s no longer a matter of perseverance through yet another botched peace talk. They dropped the nuke and the sake of my brain is at stake. 

9/10/2022

An Australian shepherd passes me on Brennan Street in Brooklyn Heights, and I’m back. I’m so far back that I pull out my phone and race to my google doc to recount the pure bliss on Cowboy’s face when he sees me running toward him on the cliff behind the stables over the Pacific Coast. I’m so far back that I’m smiling at strangers in a city where it could get me bitch slapped back to Bay Ridge. I smell the sea air rather than the shit wiped on a homeless man’s pants. 

I see my dad for the first time in months and all I can do is survey his face for signs of a heat on. He looks tired, I think. A bit red in the face. It must be from the flight. Now, let’s pray he orders his Pellegrino with lime instead of an extra shot of tequila on top. Let’s pray we’re able to make it to our respective beds for the night. This time, I’ll order first. A bottle of Pellegrino for the table, sir. 

It’s gonna take a bit of work. My dad is no longer someone who puts dinner on my table every night but someone I get dinner with every once in a while. Tears stream down my cheek behind my glasses with a mound of work and a gush of August AC in my face. I’m not looking for a boyfriend, I want a family like the one I had before I got everything I ever wanted. Now all I want is the one thing I had before. 

For an alcoholic, my dad doesn’t know shit about alcohol. He couldn’t tell you a Cab from a Grigio or a Budweiser from a Lagunitas. With the drinking pallet of a 15-year-old girl, he never drank to enjoy the delicacy— crushed white claw cans crumbled in the back seat of my convertible, frozen strawberry margaritas so cold they give him brain freezes, a glass of the house red without the sommelier sip to sample. Is he still an alcoholic if he only has 2 drinks and doesn’t black out? We made it home that night. He walked me to my subway stop, and handed me my new favorite Ocean Beach hoodie and a pink cheetah journal to match. This man knows me so well it swelters my freaking eyes. Take the good with the bad.

I take an over-the-counter allergy pill every day. If I miss a day (and even sometimes when I don’t), I sniffle and cough and struggle to breathe through my nose. Apparently, I’m entitled to a nose job because this reflects the deviated septum in my nose which I’m sure is derivative of the total lack of cartilage on my button nose. I’ll gladly suffocate through my deviated septum for freshly mowed grass. The crisply painted lines of an 11v11 pitch, the ground spots that never quite patch with green, and the thick mounds of shaved grass is my very own delicacy. I can smell it now, that field on the hill with my favorite coaches in the world. The place I became myself before I knew who I was. It’s a cliche as recycled as my growing mason jar collection but it’s the one I’ll always return to; soccer is the place I learned to set free and find control, to take risks and remain secure. The soccer field is where I learned to be myself, and the place I go to return to myself. My first love affair and my longest. Soccer is my center. Writing is my muse. 

I just attended a concert sober for the first time in my 23 years, aside from the Jonas Brothers back in the fourth grade of course. Allow me to rephrase — I just had the best concert experience of my life. I’m choosing to get dumbfoundedly high on sobriety & finding myself past the abyss of hazy nights and hungover train rides through the five boroughs. Winter is coming and I’m being called home once again - to reconfigure, to question, to call out, to cry, to shout, to fuck, to confront. Maybe my acne will even clear up. 

I’ll never forget the night my dad crept into my childhood bedroom in the house he built with his own two hands. Audible tears poured down my face in a moment of overwhelming grief for no apparent reason. Even then, immersed in the emotion of the moment, I remember the unknowing — the inability to pinpoint what this rush of despair was in regard to. I thought, as I still think sometimes now, that emotions had to have a reason. I’ve learned since that you can’t rationalize your way through the scope of human emotions. At the time, I lay in my dark room peacefully crying in the dark with no one watching. Whether this was ritualistic or a spur-of-the-moment crying spree, I simply don’t know. But I remember being seen, and realizing that once my emotions had been seen and heard with someone else’s eyes they became real. My dad was a mess the next morning. He didn’t understand why I had been so upset, but of course neither had I. I must have taken extra caution not to trouble others with my hyper emotions after that. I cried many nights in that childhood bedroom, sometimes scratching my leg so hard it left a scar, other times tossing and turning all night until sunrise. I remember hating myself there, and I remember how it felt when that self-hatred was seen. 

I don’t lie awake at night anymore, praying to fall madly in love with a Prince Charming or contemplating the ways I might successfully shut it all off. 

These adult nights I sleep like a baby. I’ve ebbed and flowed through some waves on this beach overcoming melatonin dependencies, nicotine addictions, and the intrusive thoughts of suicide.

Those days are behind me. I read my stories before bed. I write little notes to myself. I have lavender and incense and crystals around me. I do my skincare routine with precision. I braid my hair. I paint my nails. I gouache. I pray sometimes when I need something. I thank myself daily. I’m driving and running and grabbing the leash. I sleep like a baby knowing who I am, knowing that it’s okay to unleash your feelings in the middle of the day with real humans with their eyeballs open watching you (in fright). I know I can ask for help, and I do. I see my therapist. I cry to my parents. I sleep like a baby at night because I live my truth during the day. I exhaust myself that by the end of the day, it just takes two seconds for me to lay and fall down the rabbit hole to my own private Idaho. 

9/2/2022

On the R. I’m sweating out my insecurity—fueled by half a glass of orange wine and the enormous sweater I’m wearing on the second day of September. The insecurity sits in the forefront of my mind like an energizer bunny running circles around my temples. They’re noticing. They’re looking. They’re judging. Who are they? As far as I’m aware, no one told me to crouch in the square corner of my confidence hiding my head between my legs in a fetal position. I wish I wasn’t such a bitch. I resist looking too good, so good that it looks like I might be asking for it. I learned to internalize the accusations in order to get ahead of them. Of course, I didn’t realize it at the time, but I can see it now clearly as the tattoos on my skin. Far worse, I feel it every time I leave the house looking hot in my working-class neighborhood. It’s like I’m asking for it all over again.

8/19/2022

One copy of Raymond Carter’s what we talk about when we talk about love is my lone survivor of Dasa Book Cafe. A book about two women who cross Antarctica and develop interactive childhood education along the way and Jack Kerouac’s On the Road are held hostage by the ones I once loved. I don’t want my books bad enough to unblock them. I don’t crave a souvenir book carried across continents desperately enough to call them up, to puncture the wound, to muster up old feelings I caught and lost like the flu.

7/30/2022

I was in such a rush to get out that I never stopped to appreciate what I was leaving.

7/21/2022

TikTok remembers every person I’m trying to forget.

7/20/2022

The one thing they don’t have in New York City is solo car rides with the windows down belching lyrics you’ve known longer than you’ve known yourself. 

It’s safe to get lost here.

In the car on the road going nowhere fast. 

7/17/2022

On Mom…My mom DMed me on Instagram about a place we should go next time “I visit” because my home is no longer a place I live but a place I visit. 

As I put my inflationary $222 groceries away in my own little apartment on a Sunday night, it’s Stick Season that leaves me in tears and aching for my mom. I love Vermont but it’s the season of the sticks and I saw your mom and she forgot that I existed.

7/16/2022

Live news is just throwing darts at a wall and seeing what sticks.

7/2/2022

Well, if you’re worried about the weather, then you picked the wrong place to stay. I’m smiling, genuinely grinning to myself in my very own kitchen as I cook the very meal and listen to the very song that have traveled with me to this very place in my very own kitchen. It’s a moment of grace. I’m holding onto it with the hope that this too will travel with me. 

Joy is radical. I’m choosing to be happy, even when bugs fly around my heat waved apartment and my ciabatta molded. I cut my mango and I dance; I grin because I’m no longer living my life for the approval of others. I’m leading the life I want to live. I love myself. I’ve never loved myself like this before. 

If a partner spoke to you the way you speak to yourself, you’d dump their ass. You have permission to dump the version of yourself that speaks to you like that.

7/2/2022

We need to stop referring to photos as memories.

7/1/2022

“If you’re not waking up with regrets, you’re not living.” - Casey

6/28/2022

It’s always “I never do this” as we do this.

6/22/2022

I ached to escape. Now that I’m free, I choose to return. 

3/29/2022

Some days I wake up and feel an internal rumination of hatred toward the racist and misogynistic structure of the Catholic Church. Other mornings I wake up and imagine making my way into a cold wooden pew and praying alongside women who resemble my late grandmother. My feelings toward Catholicism are similar to that of an estranged relationship—I know something is jagged between us but rather than work to fix the problem I allow it phase out into a half-in-half-out connection.  Perhaps one day I’ll be inspired enough to salvage the relationship. 

4/29/2020

I woke up on Friday, March 13, in sunny Barcelona, Spain, to a notification that the Spanish Prime Minister had declared a state of emergency. The country would be going into lockdown at midnight, meaning no one in Spain would be allowed to leave their homes for any nonessential reason.

That morning, my housemates and I sat around the table on our balcony as we debated whether or not we should book flights back to our home countries. We cried and we laughed as we questioned how we were going to leave the beautifully blissful city of Barcelona. For the last time, we sat around the table and enjoyed the presence of people who we probably would never see again despite living under the same roof for months.

Later that evening, my three best friends that I had met in Barcelona came over for dinner. We prepared dinner together, making use of the food I had stockpiled earlier in the week when I thought there was nothing that could make me leave Barcelona. We sat around the table on my balcony, listening to Frank Sinatra, passing around patatas bravas, and sharing our highs and lows of the past few months we shared together in Barcelona. My flight was booked for the following day. We watched Call Me By Your Name, because it was on Spanish Netflix, and all cried when it was time to say goodbye.

Around the table of my balcony in Barcelona on what became my last day in Spain, I shared moments of authenticity with those who had become my family in just a few short months. Each of us had come to Barcelona in search of something unique, and each would inevitably leave for the same unavoidable reason.

Just a month ago, my community was large and expanding each day. I was making new friends from around the world as I laughed and learned in kinship with international students. Today, my community often feels small and limited as I approach my fourth week of quarantine in my hometown of San Francisco, California.

Earlier today, I was hiking my favorite trail near my house, Mount Davidson. I was playing “No Woman” by Whitney out loud on my phone when someone passed me saying, “Hey! That’s a great song.” Then, I didn’t feel so alone.

As our world collectively grieves from COVID-19, I have found solace in recalling my final moments in Spain. While I was upset to leave the beautiful people and places that became my home, I am comforted by the little moments I share with strangers amidst the madness. I am grounded in the positivity shared between strangers as well as the authenticity shared with loved ones. Let’s show up for one another during this time by reminiscing with friends about better days and never forgetting to manifest happiness for the future.

4/29/2020

Time, as we know it, has come to a halt. I’ve been in quarantine for 5 or 6 weeks now? Yesterday feels like an extension of today and tomorrow seems like a few hours from now. Each day is as seemingly insignificant as the one before. The days come together into one big day of quarantine. I look down at the scar Aidan gave me on my pinky as a child. I apparently asked him to pinch me because I wanted to know what it felt like. I thought the coronavirus sending me home from Spain was the pinch that woke me up from a dream. It seems like instead I’ve entered into some sort of time lapse nightmare. You know the one where you live the same shitty day over and over again until you realize what you’re doing wrong. This nightmare is giving me plenty of time to think about my wrongdoings. 

2/1/2020

Saturday / sunny / @ Citadel Park in Barcelona! Such a perfect sunny afternoon in Barcelona. It’s easy to forget that seasonal depression is a universal phenomenon. Sometimes all a city needs is a sunny day.

I picked up some fresh bread, orange juice, and cava! Sitting on my Bangkok blanket, waiting for the homies, and soaking up the sun.

Last night, Olivia and I found a fun game bar and had a blast just chilling out + grabbing a drink. This is bliss for sure. I love Barcelona!

Side note: I went on the worst hinge date yesterday with a German man who doesn’t believe in climate change, his grandfather was a literal Nazi, and he said he doesn’t like Erasmus students. Such a bad, bad date but definitely made me realize a couple of things… it doesn’t matter how attractive someone is, a bad personality/no vibe/no chemistry makes them automatically unattractive to me. So while it may have been a bad date, it was a good learning experience.

Tomorrow, I’m going on an Erasmus trip to Montserat… I don’t know too much about it, but I’m definitely looking forward to meeting some new people + taking in some Catalonian views.

I’m having myself a “chill night” tonight rather than hitting the club, which has really been the move for me lately… haven’t been feeling the party pressure as much + it’s refreshing.

Everything here is just so relaxed + chill that I’ve been feeling content with just listening to my body + taking things sloooowwww.

The pace of life here is so ridiculously slow + relaxed — even much more so than in San Francisco. It’s taken me a couple of weeks to realize that… coming from SF definitely created a smooth transition because I can imagine how coming directly from NY would create some serious culture shock… It’s so rewarding to feel relaxed + it’s certainly a feeling I haven’t experienced for such a long time… It’s insane how much my brain + body have grown accustomed to the never-ending stress + grind that comes with being a working student in NYC. It’s absolutely wild how my entire well-being has become an afterthought from the complete overwork + burnout culture.

It’s almost as if… when you’re in it, you’re in it. It feels like there’s no way out. So you have to just work as hard as you can + meet everyone’s expectations so you can be successful. There’s no time to think about yourself + do what you actually want to do… how NUTS is that? America, a country founded on FREEDOM, makes me feel that I have no freedom. This “freedom” comes at such a high cost. Sure, I’m pursuing a career in what I want to do and living where I want, yet there are so many limitations to it, such as required courses, honor societies, extracurriculars, etc.

Here in Spain, I feel absolutely free… unsettlingly so at first because I don’t think I’ve ever experienced freedom like this before… no work, no job, no boyfriend, no supervisors, no boss, no anyone to tell me what I can or cannot do. It’s all about what I want. (lol such a leo)

Now that I’ve been able to hone in on my emotions (after the chillest day of just chilling in the sun @ the park), I’ve realized how free + relaxed I truly feel here in Barcelona.

This is my time to go with the flow, to accept what life throws my way, to embrace each moment, to seize each day, and to appreciate where I am + what I get to experience… let’s learn :)

1/27/2020

I’m sitting in the cutest cafe in Barcelona + getting my things in order for classes to start tomorrow. I just had my first-ever cappuccino and it did NOT disappoint, though it lowkey just tasted like a latte.

Yesterday, Liv and I hiked seven miles to Tibidabo! Tibidabo literally means “I will relieve you.” It’s a beautiful chapel + cathedral at the top of a mountain overlooking Barcelona with a statue of De La Salle at the top. Such a beautiful spot equipped with 360-degree views of Barcelona + stunning architecture. It was definitely one of my favorite places so far + I will certainly be back for the amusement park when the sun is back in April.

The night before we walked around Barcelona @ Placa Catalunya and stumbled upon a jazz club called the Harlem Jazz Club — super cool! The musicians were the sweetest + cutest old men + they put on an amazing show. Such a wholesome night.

It’s been so refreshing to have conversations with like-minded individuals from around the world + to feel so similarly about life despite growing up in such different environments.

I’m so happy I met Liv! It’s eye-opening and special to have a friend from across the world that I can relate to so much + see things similarly. It’s nice to have my fellow American hippie gals too. I’m hoping to make more international friends too.

Two hinge boys have asked me out, so I’m excited to see what those experiences have in store. Going to be nerve-racking as hell, but I know it’s time to get back in the game. Meanwhile, I have to edit my ex-boyfriend’s cover letter now…definitely out of love with him but still love him. (editor’s note: cringe)

1/24/2020

What a whirlwind these past 3 days have been! Orientation was 10/10. I asked someone for directions on the bus when Olivia from the UK comes up to me asking if I speak English + if I’m heading the University — and boom! Best of friends right from there. It’s cool to get so close with someone from such a different upbringing and learn about a different country through her experiences.

We have met so many people from around the world and some super sweet girls from St. Louis! We’ve been drinking all the coffee + sangria + eating all the tapas + croissants. It’s been fun to get to know the city and all these new people. From shopping in Placa Catalunya to touring the Gothic Quarter, walking around Parc Guell, and exploring dainty neighborhoods, these last few days have been brilliant! (don’t mind me, thinking in a English accent because I’ve spent so much time with Liv)

Last night, Liv, Nicole, Sarah + I got sangria + tapas and then hit the club. We went to Apollo where the DJs were crazy. I had so much fun + I’m feeling so alive. I have certainly found my groove here + I’m feeling as comfortable + confident as ever… after struggling through some jetlag (again, it was fully covid) and loneliness. The sun is out, and I’m feeling GOOD.

1/21/2020

Greetings from Barcelona! Or shall I say hola? Now that I’ve recovered from the jetlag (editor’s note: it was actually covid), I’ve hit the ground running on this gloomy day in the city. I saw the Arc de Triumph + a beautiful city square at Catalunya. Now, I’m sitting in a coffee bar next to the Picasso Museum, which is in a back alleyway complete with the cutest shops stocked with handmade goods. The architecture here is gorgeous. Everything feels gothic on this rainy day, which just adds to the mystical allure.

Yesterday, I met my landlady + housemates. My landlady is quite the character — boy does she love to gossip. She reminded me of the classic old Irish lady and made me feel that maybe we’re not as different as I would think.

One of my housemates is from San Diego - such a small world. I’m excited to get to know her and the rest of the house better. I also scored an upgrade to a bigger room for the same price. Things are good.

Need to remember: I am so lucky to be here. I have dreamed of this day for years. I owe it to myself to make the most of every day and every opportunity. Who knows the next time I’ll be back, so damn sure better make these moments count.

7/29/2018

I’m writing this from the Avenue of the Stars on Hong Kong’s pier… it’s fucking 4:15 AM + I’m on edge. I took an hour-long bus ride to this pier to watch the sunrise, but the city is literally a ghost town right now. I have about an hour + a half until the sun is supposed to rise. I hope it does soon so I can get to a market without jumping at every minor thing.

The first man to see me in Hong Kong looked at me, laughed, + proceeded to stare… he ended up being nice though + found me an English speaker to make sure I was going to the right place. I didn’t have change for the bus, so the bus driver quickly made change for me which was so nice. Good start.

I was the very last person dropped off @ the last bus stop, so walking to the Avenue of the Stars was a bit frightening. I think I’m the most scared of the unknown right now because I really haven’t done too much research on Hong Kong. Being a girl alone in a foreign country, I am scared of being sexually harassed or assaulted… like seriously shaken down to my core.

Flying into Hong Kong, I could literally see the smog & pollution hanging over the skyline. I can see it now too. I knew there would be air pollution, but actually seeing it is so disheartening.

7/28/2018

I’m sitting in Bangkok Airport waiting for my flight to Hong Kong + I’m overwhelmed with nostalgia. It’s been a pretty ideal last couple of days in Thailand… today I realized how much of a home it has become + how sad I am that I don’t know when I’ll be back to this place + or when I’ll see these people again.

I just reread my first journal entry + it’s insane how different my mindset was on the first few days compared to my last few days.

At the end of the work day on Thursday, I had about an hour-long conversation with my coworkers Milk + Mary. We discussed everything from the allegory of the cave, philosophy, sociology, religion, death, reincarnation… crossing cultural boundaries, language, and just about anything else meaningful to interrogate the way the world operates. It felt amazing to find the middle ground between our different backgrounds + cultures. The final conversation is what the world is all about…

3 strangers, 2 months ago, who work beside one another every day who have lived and worked all over the world, sharing in a cultural convergence under a shared cosmopolitan canopy… exchanging opinions, and viewpoints, listening to others, sharing our experiences as we try to make sense of the world in the best way we know how: through language.

Bangkok became home for me… it became a place where I could be a whole new person. The beautiful thing about going to a place where no one knows you is you can act however you like because no one knows your past or identity. And almost always, you become a better version of yourself… a more authentic version of yourself.

Thailand left a mark on me + opened my mind to my potential to grow when forced outside my comfort zone. It’s beautiful what happens when we’re open to change. Bangkok — forever a place in my heart. Until next time…

7/26/2018

Today is my last day at Thailand Tatler! It’s been 2 months/8 weeks at this office + it really became home. This has been my first experience actually working as a journalist + I realized it’s absolutely the job for me. To be able to write all day every day, traveling + interviewing for a living, is simply the dream.

Not many 18-year-olds have the opportunity to work at a company they genuinely love… across the world! I’ve established a family through my connections at AIP + Tatler.

This has truly been the most fulfilling summer of my life + this week has been the cherry on top of the cake.

Chiang Rai on Sunday was like a mental health day. I had forgotten the power of prayer + spirituality, but I certainly reinforced my beliefs at Wat Rong Khun, Cherntawan International Meditation Center, and Wat Rong Sue Ten. I left feeling calmer + with a deeper understanding of my spirituality. It made me appreciate growing up in faith.

On Monday, I went to the Jam Factory on the river in Bangkok. It was a cafe, gallery, restaurant, + bookstore. I grabbed a yummy tea + relaxed while reading a book.

The book was on the free shelf + was one of the only English books… so I sat down + started reading the comic. It was a quick read about a boy who travels into the future + discovers his gf will break up with him. I learned that we’re not supposed to know how it ends. As far as we know, we get one incredible journey to live, and one book to write, so we better live in the moment + trust that fate will take us where we need to go.

Afterward, I went to a small market and then saw the exhibit “Exodus” at River City which was absolutely breathtaking. I have never been so moved by an exhibit before. It used photography to capture the suffering experienced by the Rohingya refugees in their exodus from Myanmar.

This was the very first time I learned about this international crisis. It made me realize that the media has an agenda. As a journalist, I want to travel the world, shedding light on the humanitarian crises that deserve attention and support on an international scale. Life is too short to focus on what the Kardashians are wearing.

My week ended with a cover shoot at Diplomat 39 in Phrom Phong, bottle service and a silly sleepover with Lucy in my sandy bed, and then sushi with my coworkers on my last day!

7/22/2018

~

Zut,

Please help me to be more…

patient

open-minded

accepting

empathetic

selfless

Please keep my friends + family safe from harm.

Please help me resist societal pressure + to act in a way that promotes both my own personal well-being and happiness but that of my friends + family as well.

Please help me see the bigger picture.

Thank you for all the blessings I’ve been given in this lifetime. There are simply too many to name. I’m happy to be here + as healthy as could be.

~

The Sleepwalker Poshtel @ Chiang Mai was bliss. For 600 baht, we spent two nights in a totally low-key, clean, + decorative hotel. The entire staff was accommodating + friendly + we loved staying in our comfy bed cubbies.

On Saturday, we woke up early + had some classic toast + bananas for a free breakfast. Then, we piled into a van + headed up the mountains into the forest for white water river rafting! We arrived + were seated riverside + presented a lovely buffet of Thai food. When we finished up, we got our little lifejackets + helmets on + listened for instructions on steering with the oars + all the safety/emergency protocols. With that, we were ready to get on the river! We yelled for Robert, as directed by our tour guide, + Molly, Mia, Lucy + I hopped into the first raft with him. Robert was teasing us about snakes + crocodiles, yet taught us the cutest elephant song… “Chang, Chang, Chang…”

Robert was witty, whimsical, + so willing to get to know us. He made sure we were having as much fun as possible. This was my first-time white water rafting + it was so much fun. My group even jumped out of the raft at the calmer spots to float down the river. The whole company was so sweet; Thailand truly has the nicest people. It’s not called the “Land of Smiles” for nothing.

After getting back to the hostel + changing/showering, we went to get Khao Soi down the street. So yummy, I could eat it all day. After dinner, we hopped in the back of a red pickup truck + went over to the Night Bazaar.

It’s mindblowing to me that in one small country, there can be a huge industrial, consumer-driver city 3x the size + occupancy of NYC + then just a couple of hours away, there can be some of the most beautiful, natural, + rural areas. Bangkok seems to have no regard for overproduction and its environmental impact, while places like Phi Phi, Koh Tao, + Chiang Mai live so minimalistic + really live off the land.

I want my children to someday have the opportunity to experience multiple cultures. The more we interact with people outside our comfort zone, the more we realize that our comfort zone is just an illusion and there’s a whole world out there to discover + appreciate. It’s really easy to live in a bubble your whole life, never expanding it out of fear of bursting the bubble.

Last night we went to a very hipster Thai bar called “Walk-in!” It was reggae night, so there were live performances + singers + people playing the trumpet. We got some tasty craft beer + edible chocolate chip cookies.

This time next week, I’ll be in Hong Kong for my layover home. I just really can’t believe it’s almost over + I have to leave this beautiful place with amazing people. I’ve had the best summer of my life + I can’t even put into words how much this experience has meant to me in the shaping of my worldview.

I’m on a bus to Chiang Rai for one last Thailand excursion.

7/20/2018

On Tuesday, I went to Dasa Book Cafe after work + bought four books and a cup of tea for 500 baht. How amazing is that?! They were all used vintage books that I’m excited to read. There were three floors of cheap books and I got to sit with some tea + read — ugh, my kinda place! I grabbed some pad thai + then called it an early night.

On Thursday, Jessica + I met for dinner at Cabbages + Condons by Asok which was honestly a TIME! The decor was subtly decorated in condoms. The string lights in the outdoor patio were all large colorful condoms. But it also had a rich history as the first Thai establishment to support safe sex so vocally… since Thailand is so traditional it took a while for the conversation to get started.

After the amazing condom experience, we met Lucy, Ally + Will at a restaurant in Thong Lor for unlimited drinks for 1.5 hours. 500 baht later we were buzzed + rolled into Havana for a spicy Spanish night.

Thailand regions traveled:

*Chaing Mai

*Bangkok

*Chiang Rai

*Koh Phi Phi

*Krabi

*Railay

*Koh Samui

*Koh Phanghan

*Koh Tao

7/15/2018

Greetings from Krabi! When we arrived in Krabi on Saturday night, we were told that we would have to take a boat and a taxi to get to Railay Beach where we had booked rooms. It’s 9pm… it’s pitch black out…when a really nice taxi driver pulls up to this small dock with longboats lined up. We hop in a long boat + another man takes us to Railay! As we pull in, we see bright neons from the beach clubs lighting up the island.

We settle in + walk to the beach/pier’s edge to eat dinner at a quaint restaurant overlooking the water. The setting was so romantic. There was a small white cloth hammock tied between two trees + lots of places to lounge around at the restaurant, but the best part was the wide open deck with seat cushions lined around the short tables. All the girls got to sit in the comfy setting together, laying out on the deck overlooking the ocean with an amazing pad thai + mai tai.

After dinner, we went out drinking at a beach club. When we walked over, the DJ announced that the first people on the dance floor would get a FREE bucket, so we got our asses out onto the dance floor, claimed that free alcohol, + danced the night away.

A couple of doors down, there was a Bob Marley-esque bar that was selling “Happy Cigarettes” and “Happy Shakes” which was code for a joint + a weed shake.

On Saturday morning, I woke up early and booked a boat to Phi Phi. Afterward, I swam in the pool + read a book in the sun. When the girls woke up, we checked out + walked over to Railay Beach. At the beach, there were massive groups of rock climbers scaling some of the biggest, most breathtaking boulders I’ve ever seen. When we got back to the pier, we sure as hell had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. We booked the direct ferry/boat from Railay Beach to Phi Phi. But, because of the massive waves and the Chinese tourist group who died in Maya Bay a few weeks ago, everyone was taking extra precautions.

We ended up taking a speed boat to Krabi, so we could take a shuttle to Krabi Pier + a ferry to Phi Phi from there. We arrived to Phi Phi at 4pm which was pretty late, but we hiked a beautiful path to Long Beach + finally got to swim around under the beautiful views. It was super satisfying after a long of day of traveling.

This trip was especially good because we got together with a group of 7 girls! We all got to stay in the same room @ the hostel which was so much fun. The group included Ally + Jessica from Cornell, Tyler from Philly, Lucy from Spain, Molly + Mia from Chicago, and our hostel roomie Helga.

After the beach, we walked back to town, and me + Lucy did a little shopping. We even jumped into some fancy pool.

We got back to the hostel + got dolled up for the night, then me, Lucy + Mia went for dinner + drinks. We met two Icelandic men who definitely knew how to party. After dinner, we grabbed the best bucket I’ve had so far and went dancing at a bar with live music — Lucy and I even ran on stage to sing Despacito.

As we moved along to the next bar, I was stopped and used in a fire show. Literally, a man stood over me with flaming torches of fire which was actually so scary, but I just sang the Shape of You by Ed Sheeran to get through the pain — naturally.

Back at the hostel, I started taking tequila shots which means the rest of the night is definitely foggy… but I do remember a delicious plate of noodles, sand everywhere, loud music, and some laughable moments in the morning. I woke up still drunk so I guess it was a good night.

Today was absolutely breathtaking. I’m totally + completely in love with the island life. I know where to go when I’m ready to write my little books.

We did a full morning boat tour + got to see some of the most beautiful landscapes I’ve ever witnessed. We started @ Monkey Beach where Mia literally fed a monkey our leftover avocado toast — they loved it! It was so funny to see how smart these monkeys were + to actually get to interact with them on this Thai beach was epic.

Next, we were off to different beaches + bays for a day filled with snorkeling, sun, sand, + swimming. Despite being pretty hungover, I thoroughly enjoyed every second of my Sunday. Such a perfect girls’ trip that I will truly cherish forever. I’m so lucky to have found a family across the world + to feel a sense of belonging in such a precious + overwhelmingly beautiful place.

7/13/2018

I’ve always felt like I’m supposed to be older. I tell people that I’m 18 and living in Bangkok by myself + they act so surprised. People tell me it’s admirable, but I don’t think it’s something that took a whole lot of courage. I think it just took a willingness to know + learn as much about this world as possible. As far as I know, I only get one life on Earth before my soul travels to some distant time or dimension. While I’m here, I better go out + see the damn place.

Life is all about cherishing the moments we get to spend here + embracing as much culture + as many opportunities as possible. If I spent my entire life living in California, right in the Sunset District of SF, I would be missing out on so many beautiful opportunities to grow, discover, learn + make connections. It’s easy to live in my safe little bubble of SF, but I feel it’s my obligation to go out there + learn how to live like others + understand why they live the way they do. 

I don’t think someone’s age determines their knowledge. Wisdom does come with age, but knowledge can be obtained at any age. It’s like what Priya said today… going to mass every Sunday + confessing your sins to a priest doesn’t make you a better person than someone who only goes to mass on Christmas. There’s no guidebook to life. The truth is: at the end of the day, every author has their own plot. Every individual faces different obstacles that mold them into the person they become. We learn about ourselves + our morals + the “how to” as we put ourselves through situations that test our limits. I might be only 18 years old, but I’ve been in a lot of situations that have forced me to re-evaluate who I am + who I want to be + for that I’ll always be thankful. It’s because of these experiences that I’ve wanted to continue to expand, learn, grow, + understand. We have to get out there + enjoy the beautiful life we’ve been given because before we know it, it’ll be gone… just like everything else. Cherish. Immerse. Learn. Grow. 

7/12/2018

What an amazing experience to meet my cousin across the world. Family is timeless and without boundaries…Family is family anywhere you go! No matter where life takes me, I will always have my family to fall back on. Whether that’s in San Francisco or Bangkok.

As much as I love Bangkok + I’m enjoying myself a lot, I’m starting to itch for New York City. I really do miss Manhattan + my bf + all my friends. 2 months is the perfect amount of time because it’s long enough where you can really become a local + adopt the way of life without getting too homesick. 

I’m writing a ton for Tatler right now. I love getting to write about topics I’m really passionate about. I’m ready to write for myself again. I think I want to create my own publication or magazine someday so I can choose the content + audience. For now, I am eager to get started on a travel blog. 

~

“There’s something wonderful about doing the type of work that is a part of you because you can give it everything you’ve got. And it gives so much back to you as well. You become better. You become a better person.” - Saoirse Ronan

~

~bookstores in bangkok~

*dasa book cafe @ phrom phong bts 

*kirohuniya @ emquartier siam paragon

*passport bookshop @ old town

7/3/2017

Just like that, I’ve been here for an entire month! It’s easier to feel homesick on the long work days, but I’m so happy I’m here + I know I’m going to miss it so much so I’m going to cherish every second I get to spend here.

I’m sitting in Lumphini Park overlooking the sunset peering through the skyline onto the lake’s reflection. I’m surrounded by trees that smell like the Oceana soccer field + my ears are being penetrated by obnoxious Zumba music… pretty funny. 

I’ve discovered that regardless of where you are in the world… mondays universally suck. 

Thai:

Hello - Sawadeekah

Thank you - Kom Koon Kay

Left - Leo Sai

Right - Leo Qua

Straight - Dong Bai

Sorry - Komp Toe

Good luck - Cho Dee

Yes - Chi

No - Mi

6/29/2017

At the full moon party, I somehow managed to stay up all night just by eating, dancing, drinking, smoking, and having the best conversations all night. Dominique and I watched the sunrise on Koh Inanghan + it was truly something special. To see figures, faces, and bodies find clarity from the dark night (lit up only by the paint + the moonlight) come to life in the light of the pink, yellow, and orange sky was magical. It was like a rebirth + cleanse from the questionable antics of the night. 

After taking a quick short nap on the lawn chair outside our hotel, we embarked on our journey to Koh Tao with all of the other hungover partiers. The boat was the refreshment we all desperately needed, and we arrived in Koh Tao new women. 

Koh Tao was easily my favorite place in Thailand so far. The people were undeniably friendly + made sure we had everything we needed for a great experience. The resort was on a hillside overlooking the ocean. We had two bungalows with great ocean views. Then, at the bottom of the hill, we had a restaurant, a pool, beach access, and spots to lay out in the sun or shade. Such a great place to recover from the full moon party. 

We started the day with lunch then swam + laid out in the sun before heading to Ao Leuk which was a beautiful secluded beach with little huts + a great beach for swimming. We had a private taxi driver hired for the day who drove us down there per his recommendation and waited for us while we enjoyed the day. We swam + laid out on the beach. I read + fell asleep in the sun then got up + had a great dinner on the beachfront. When we got back, I had the best night sleep ever. 

We spent the next day on a really pretty island just off Koh Tao (Nangyuan Island Dive Resort). The water taxi picked us up at the hotel and took us there for some snorkeling, sun, and views! I think that was my first time actually snorkeling and it was amazing. The coral + the rainbow fish were magical in the teal-blue water. Me + Ally also hiked up to the top of this rock for an amazing view after lunch! Such a great day of swimming, snorkeling, reading, + writing. 

Now, we’re on a boat to Koh Samui + I feel so content with life, love, + the beauty of nature. Koh Tao… definitely the most beautiful island I’ve ever been to. 

~

“You’d better find a way to laugh at life, because it will certainly make you cry.” -Scott Newhall’s San Francisco Chronicle 1950s

6/20/2018

Bangkok observations:

*over-population/densely-populated 

*overcrowded public transportation

*standstill traffic

*motorbikes everywhere + they won’t stop

*there are actually lines for the train here, rather than clumps of people on the platform

*I’ve witnessed one person reading in public…everyone is always on phones

*people walk slow (at least compared to nyc)

*street food is delicious

*restaurants on the street make you feel comfortably @ home like you’re in someone’s living room

*you can really find anything on the streets for sale in Bangkok

*everyone in bk is friendly/welcoming even if they don’t speak English (or you don’t speak Thai)

*thai food is amazing

*the king shouldn’t be spoken about/always respected

*have to stand for Royal song before watching a movie

*probably just as much cig smoking as nyc, maybe less but more socially-acceptable

*the malls are huge and great for shopping in Bangkok

*weed is awful

*BK has a lot of international high schools

*air pollution makes it hard to breathe

~

“Travel changes you. As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life—and travel—leaves marks on you.” -Anthony Bourdain 

~

~vellichor~ (n)

the strange wistfulness of used bookstores, which are somehow infused with the passage of time — filled with thousands of books you’ll never have the time to read, each of which is itself locked in its own era, bound and papered and dated over like an old room the authors abandoned years again, a hidden annex littered with thoughts and left just as they were the day they were captured 

(via the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows)

6/13/2018

I met a super dope Vietnamese woman and ate dinner with her at Terminal 21. Her name was Li. We spoke about politics and social issues. I would have never crossed paths with her if she didn’t ask to sit down and eat dinner with me at the restaurant. I think that’s the power of international travel: building relationships with people you wouldn’t ordinarily meet and realizing we’re really not all that different.

6/1/2018

After months of preparation, the time has finally come to embark on my two-month solo trip to Thailand at just 18 years old. I’ll be staying in my own condo in Bangkok and working Mon-Fri at Thailand Tatler. I’m filled with a specific type of butterfly: nerves meet excitement. While the idea of spending two months in Thailand by myself just out of my freshman year of college is frightening, it’s also one the coolest and most exciting opportunities I’ve had the privilege of facing.

A few goals going in:

1. learn how to talk to myself positively

2. learn basic Thai

3. make friends I usually wouldn’t

4. immerse, immerse, immerse

5. gain a greater understanding and appreciation for Thai culture

8/20/2017

I’m sitting in my family’s town house @ 167 Lexington in NYC, and I couldn’t be happier right now. I spent the past couple of days exploring the City with my fam, shopping, eating at the best restaurants, and visiting fam. I’m completely obsessed with this lifestyle, and I never want to come down from this high. Tomorrow, I move into my dorm at Manhattan College, and I couldn’t be happier with the place I’m in right now.

This is the moment before it all starts. I hope I can look back on this moment with a firm appreciation for where I am right now after I’ve achieved everything that I set out to accomplish in my life. I’m so grateful for this opportunity to study what I love in the greatest city in the world.

San Francisco will always be my home and my city, but I am fully in love with New York and all it has to offer.

7/17/2017

Mentality is key. I am a firm believer that any situation can improve with a positive outlook and attitude. I’ve been trying to live in the moment recently—using what I’ve learned from life’s experiences and channeling them into subconscious mediators between regrets of my past and fears for my future. Life is short and precious and deserving of all efforts to live to the fullest.

I’m learning to put myself first more and more every day. Finding the fine line between selfish and selfless is essential.

The little moments in life are what make it all worth it. Cuddling in bed and talking about life after taking someone’s virginity, sitting on a rock with my feet in a watering hole admiring the views, enjoying my high surrounded by some of my best friends, watching the sunset from the hot tub with my besties, all of my friends cuddled up together for one of the last times—sharing laughs and memories. These are the moments I’m going to miss the most. These are moments that make life worth living ~ my little moments of grace.

4/26/2017

I’ve officially decided to attend Manhattan College in the Fall, and I could not be more excited. I want nothing more than to be able to read back on this when I’m established and settled living in an apartment in New York City and writing for a newspaper or magazine. My goals are finally being pursued and put into action, and I cannot wait to start this next chapter in my life in the Big City. Being in NYC put everything into perspective for me. I feel like I’ve finally discovered who I am and who I want to be.

3/20/2017

I’ve been thinking about my friends throughout high school, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I am constantly rejecting belonging to any one group or person for an extended period of time. I’m terrified of vulnerability. I let the people around me see only mere portions of the person I really am.

I’ve done this for as long as I can remember. When I was really little (maybe 5 or 6), I would mentally prepare for how I wanted to act in a certain situation (girly, tomboy, etc). It’s not that these aspects of my personality were fake or pretend, but that the given aspect of my personality that best fit a particular scenario was the one I’d roll with. I struggle to portray my whole self— the weird, quirky, serious, funny, competitive, and passionate sides—all the time.

For this reason, I struggle to form relationships. I latch onto small groups of people, getting really close. Then, something always happens, and I find myself moving on to the next group. I think about what people think about me too much. I love being surrounded by great friends who love me for who I am and make me grateful to be alive.

I want to be a journalist because I think words on a piece of paper can carry a lot more weight than spoken words. With a carefully drafted essay, I feel like I can perfectly articulate exactly what I mean to say, unlike when I speak. I would love to be a journalist in a big city like NY or LA. I’d love to intern for some cool magazines when I’m in college. When I graduated college, my goal is to travel the world writing.

1/29/2017

I’m sitting on a rock on a more secluded hill at Mt. Davidson, and I’m overwhelmed with content. There’s something about feeling alone in a group of strangers that I find oddly satisfying. Just sitting on a bench overlooking the beautiful city with my grande iced white mocha and California rolls alone with my thoughts is just good/chill vibes. It’s interesting to watch people that I don’t know, and perhaps never will, walk past me and know that each and every one of them has their own story and unique set of circumstances and life experiences that brought them to this place on this very day.

I see tourists from across the country. I see boys who appear to be old grovers. I see little kids with their parents, dogs running around, bikers, and runners getting their exercise in for the day. Despite where they came from or what brings them here on this Sunday afternoon, we all share the same appreciation for this space. Mt. Dave is easily my happy place.

This place is my outlet. I never thought that when I started running here that it would come to hold such a big place in my heart. I want to make a pact — to come here every Sunday until I graduate, whether to eat lunch, go for a run, hike with friends, or just walk alone. The view helps me see that my problems, although they may seem like the only issue in the world, are truly microscopic when it comes down to it.

No matter where I move, I will always come back to Mount Davidson.

1/1/2017

Some of my fav feelings include:

* the pure sense of content laying in bed with nothing to do in the morning

*hearing a song/smelling a scent that brings you back to a certain point in your life

*singing (convertible top down) to my throwback songs in the car with my bffs

*when someone tells you how much you mean to them/reciprocated love

*scoring a goal and watching your teammates run over to high-five you

*the feeling you get when you know you just had a bomb ass workout

*seeing a puppy/kitten/baby

*new clothes/shoes

*getting into a freshly made bed

*moving my toes to the cold side of the bed

*having a really deep convo with someone that brings you closer on another level

*making it to the top of Mt. Dave with Cowboy on a run and just admiring the views

*when you perfectly put into words exactly how you’re feeling

*There are so many feelings that stick out to me that I can’t even describe. I want to be able to create my own definitions for these feelings and put into writing what I can never verbally describe.

***