Though I still don’t consider myself an ‘outdoorsy person’, my friends, my pictures and my membership to REI would disagree. I’m still not the person who will ask you if you want to go hiking this weekend, but when an invitation is extended, I’ll happily accept–with a disclaimer that I’m slow but not a quitter and don’t want to hold you back.
My Bucket List
This whole blog started for a few reasons. As much as I love a good story, my memory isn’t what it used to be and this was going to be my way of capturing and documenting the stories and moments of my life. For a while, it always seemed like I was doing or preparing to do something on my bucket list. This list is a living document. I’ve added new ideas and experiences that have caught my attention.
My Relationship with my Yoga Mat
I have an on and off relationship with yoga. When we’re together and see each other often, it gets hot and heavy on my mat, I feel more at ease, I sleep better, I’m happier. When we’re apart, I miss it and reminisce about our time together, but also feel overwhelmed at the idea of hanging out again. But there’s always a reason that I stopped. Sometimes it’s schedule. Sometimes it’s laziness. More often than not, it’s price. Yoga is expensive. Especially in the Bay area. You know what else is expensive? Spending time being unhappy, unhealthy, and overwhelmed.
30 Days, 30 Posts: Day 1 of NaBloPoMo
Today is November 1st. It’s the mark of many things. Halloween candy is on sale. The weather is cooling down here in Northern California so I’m swapping my tanks and sundresses for sweaters and boots. The holiday season is approaching and for the first time in years, I have the holidays off. Today marks 7 months of being in a different work role, one where I’m not flying around the country sleeping in hotel rooms, but rather in an office environment, instructing, and returning to my own bed at the end of the day. And it’s the countdown to the last few months of the year, that final push to reach those goals you had set at the beginning of the year or a chance to end the year strong.
Here we go, again.
Testing, 1 2 3. Is this thing on? (Do you test a blog post the same way you test a mic?) Who knows, but I’m going to give it a chance.
Hi! Hello! How’s it going?! I’d say it’s been a minute, but that’s a blatant lie. It’s been 547 days. That’s a lot of minutes. Tons. And I wish I could catch you up on all that’s happened, but I can’t. I don’t know what to say or where to start, but I’m hoping that by starting to pick up writing again, I’ll be able to fill in the gaps for you–and for me.
If You’re Reading This, I’m Still Here
This week was tough. Mentally, emotionally and physically. There were moments where I flung up my arms because I just didn’t care any more. There were moments where inside I wanted to cry but I kept it together and kept it moving. There were moments where I had to drag my limbs to take that next step and to keep it going. This week was tough. But I made it. I’m here. If you’re reading this, I’m still here. Hopefully still kicking butt and taking names, but if not, you can bet your bottom dollar that I’m giving it my all and I’ll eventually get there.
Support and Inspiration from the Sixth Grade
It has been just over a week since I left Lesvos to return back to the USA and I just got home on Monday. I took the longest route home, partially because it was cheapest and partially because I made a detour to see some friends on the east coast. Since getting back to Portland, it’s been a whirlwind few days as I tried to get my bearings, as I pack for a move to the Bay on Saturday and as I try to say hi (and bye) to as many people as I can. One of the highest items on my to do list during my 5 days in Portland was to stop by my friend, Ms. Maynard’s, sixth grade class.
The Tears That Did Not Fall
A month ago I was packing my bags for what I know was the biggest adventure I’ve had to date. A month later, I’m sitting at the Thessaloniki Airport, enjoying my last bit of genuine Greek food, waiting to take the second of seven flights to eventually get me back home to Portland, OR. Once I get back to Portland on Monday, I have 4.5 days to catch up on what I’ve missed, pack up what I need, and say my farewells as I leave for San Francisco on Saturday for 5.5 weeks of training. Yes, it’s a crazy schedule. Yes, I chose to do it this way. No, I don’t regret it (at least not yet).
The Worst Phone Call
The mood around the bonfire when on night boat patrol is usually jovial as volunteers chat with each other in the warm of a cackling fire while keeping an eye on the horizon for a speck that turns into a boat. Usually. But not tonight. Tonight I made the worst phone call I’ve ever had to make.
I’m Glad I’m Here
Someone asked me last week, “How is your volunteer trip going?” I’ve been quiet. Not because I have nothing to say, trust me–there’s a lot that’s been happening, but more so because there hasn’t been as much time to sit and write. Or I’m simply too exhausted to. Or more often than not, there’s so much to say and share, I struggle with where to start.