Category Archives: Travel

Twenty-Nine

A few years ago, when I was feeling pathetic and homesick in Scotland, I saw a video posted on a blog I occasionally read. Its appeal was twofold: first, the creator of this video clearly lived in DC, a place I was desperately missing, and second, the content was so familiar that it could have belonged to any twenty-something living in the District [of a certain demographic slice of society].

Fast-forward a few years and I decided to make my own version. Despite never being without my phone, I found it surprisingly difficult to remember to shoot a couple seconds of video every day. Either things seemed too mundane to bother filming, or too engaging  in the moment to step back and capture from behind a lens. Nevertheless, I managed to grab something from most days between 29 and 30, and now here we are:

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Felicia Day, Fear, Failure, and Me

This past Thursday, I finally read Felicia Day’s new book. Well, technically, I listened to Felicia Day’s new book, for specific medical reasons. But we’ll get there.

To say that I enjoyed You’re Never Weird on the Internet (Almost) would be an understatement. I’d like to think that most people would at least enjoy this book. It’s funny and poignant and extremely weird–all the things you would expect from a memoir by Felicia Day. But I’m not convinced that most people would love it as if Felicia Day and the universe at large conspired to write and publish this one specific book to be found and consumed by one specific reader at one specific point in their timeline.

That’s the degree of my love for this book. It was only a couple days ago, but I’m pretty sure this book changed my life.

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cows and st andrews

A Love Letter to Scotland

A few weeks ago, I was talking with a good friend who is also a trauma survivor and has grown to hate the ubiquity that is trigger warnings. My own feelings on such disclaimers are very ambivalent at the moment, but I guess all I’m trying to say is: this piece is going to go to some very dark places, but I promise we’ll come out the other end ok. Consider yourself warned.

Yesterday, I celebrated my 27th birthday, or rather, my last day of being 26, by walking along the Fife Coastal Path between St Andrews and Kingsbarns. The Coastal Path is a 117-mile stretch of trail that runs along the edge of Fife, roughly between Edinburgh and Dundee. It is my favorite thing about living here. I took my sister and brother-in-law there last July, and I remember my sister saying, “anywhere you live after this is going to be incredibly disappointing in comparison.” She is not wrong. I would run along the path in spring and summer, and I used to do eight to ten mile walks along it with a group of friends from my graduate program. We’d take the bus to our starting point and make our way along the coast to the next town. I’d bring scones, and we’d stop often to lay in the sun or watch dolphins and seals in the sea. After one trip, I badly Photoshopped some dolphins (and myself) into a group picture. Hilariously, some people on Facebook thought it was real.

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And It Was Fun, Fun, Fun, When We Were Drinking…

Yesterday, the pope put in his two weeks notice. Despite my uncharacteristically Baptist love of Lent, I am not Catholic, have never been Catholic, and do not plan to become Catholic anytime soon. But pope-deaths (or in this case, resignations), will always have a special place in my heart. Pope-deaths will forever remind me of the first time I got drunk.

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An excellent tree at Brú na Bóinne

Éirinn go Brách

Tonight is my last night in Ireland, where I have been bumming at my cousins’ house like the unemployed, freeloading student that I am during my school holidays. They’ve now fed and clothed me for four weeks, while all I’ve accomplished in the interval is overstaying my welcome. This comes as no surprise–my cousins are always the most gracious and wonderful hosts. Over the years, I have spent many moons under this roof, with or without other members of my family, and occasionally, even with friends in tow.

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