It was an ugly, brown polyester gas station attendant’s jacket, made all the more unsightly by large rips, frayed edges, and a phalanx of safety pins. I thought it was the coolest thing I'd ever seen.
A New Journey: A little chaos can be exhilarating, to be sure, but living without any parameters, well, that’s frankly terrifying.
Chapter IV: It's hard to express just how disastrously those first months in San Francisco went for us, but consider this: we moved to one of the priciest cities in the world in the month that economists have identified as the nadir of the worst economic collapse since the Great Depression. So, not great.
Chapter III: At 24, I was single, young (not that I knew it), and living in the land of milk and silicone.
Chapter I: Loss is a fundamental part of traveling; people rarely tell you that.
The last day of February means one thing: Six months until I move. That's what this date has meant for most of my adult life. I thought I would be sticking around longer, but it turns out that the siren call of the road is just too enticing. Even New York City couldn't silence it. … Continue reading Six More Months in New York City
For a variety of reasons over the years, I've held on to a great many items. Some for practical purposes, some because they function as a surrogate for my memory and, yes, even some for sentimental reasons. It happens.
I'm gradually acclimating to the idea that I will still be here for a second autumn, winter, spring, summer...