Moved Locations

Thank you all for your years of support, curiosity, and comments!

The status update on my travel book is still in progress, but almost finished! I hope to have  it published by spring and available on my new website. I have simplified my life and created a website with all of my creative writing, blogging, and wellness obsessing. I’ll still share my travel stories there, but with more of a personal development perspective—taking the lessons I learn while traveling and applying them.

I hope you’ll all join me over there 🙂 See you soon!

What I Learned On My Summer Vacation In Turkey

“I returned to the states with a renewed sense of purpose.”

It’s been two months since I left Turkey.

After getting off the boat trip from hell, I took a bus up the coast to where my aunt and uncle coincidentally live on their sail boat. I recovered there for a week with the comforts of family, good food, and real sleep. I headed back to Istanbul where protesting continued and, within a few days, decided to throw in the towel and go home.

Home.

I felt defeated considering America home. I had always envisioned myself living on the coast of Greece or in a tiny cabin near the Himalayas. Having hours to myself admiring the beauty of wherever I played house, learning new languages and cultures daily. I wanted to be Hemingway—and I still do, minus the majority of his life choices and his final chapter. Mostly, though, I wanted to be a writer.

The importance of my uncomfortable situation in Turkey is it made me realize that haphazardly throwing myself at half-assed, drunkenly concocted plans to have material didn’t make me a writer. But guess what does? Drum roll please. Baddadadadadadaddddaaa (drum noises) ccchhhhhaaaa (cymbols) Ta da! (Me jumping out of a cake). What were we talking about? Oh yeah. Writing makes me a writer.

I had been so focused on this idea I had of what it meant to be a writer that I missed what it meant to be a writer. And that’s whatever I want it to be as long as I’m writing. Writing articles that don’t get published, reasons to move to [insert city here], a review of a movie/book/Piggly Wiggly coupon, and ANYTHING else I can find. Because one day the things I really want to write about will get published. The things with earth shattering ideas and prose like Hemingway. But even if they don’t, I can’t stop trying.

That. Is what makes me a writer.

So I’m recognizing the pattern and making a change. I returned to the states with a renewed sense of purpose. Never again did I want someone dictating my every movement. I would take a realistic amount of control of my life and choose which direction I wanted to go.

In addition to taking any and all writing opportunities I can find, I enrolled in a certification program to become a wellness coach. I am acknowledging yoga as a more central part of my life and preparing for a teacher training program in the spring.

I am using every gift I have to inspire others to live a joyful and fulfilling life, because I’ll be damned if I go out without a fight. They tried to get me down, but when you already have the knowledge that life can be as beautiful as you want it to be, no one can take that away from you.

So, here I am giving you permission to stop whatever pattern that’s preventing you from being you. I’m giving you permission to change. Because sometimes we’re waiting for someone to tell us it’s OK.

Who do you want to be? What patterns are preventing that? I encourage you to think about this, even if you’re not ready to act. It’s like yoga: there’s no rush to reach a pose, you have your whole life to work on it.

So long. Farewell. Al – I don’t know any German sooo… See ya!

I type “awk” in the URL bar and my blog name fills itself in the rest of the way. My blog’s homepage opens up and I see my last post. A video preview for a documentary. Scrolling down the page I see some attempts at making my traveling ideas work for my stationary life in Savannah. Why can’t I seem to find inspiration for what used to be my diary of Cambodia, my connection to distant friends and family, my platform for every weird idea that popped into my head? And then it hits me. It’s not the traveling part, or even the American. But that word.

Awkward.

It’s interesting what a simple adjective can do to a person. But looking back, I was pretty awkward when I started this blog; especially when I started my new life in Cambodia.

I had recently graduated from college and for the first time in my life I had no freaking idea who I was or where I was going. I was so lost. The funny part was that in no way was I going to admit that. No. I knew what I was going to do. I would move all the way around the world so that it looked like I was doing something, while really I was just sh*tting my pants out of terror and hoping my parents wouldn’t notice.

So yes. I’d say I was awkward. Or like every other college graduate. It’s pretty much the same thing.

Thankfully now I’m so much wiser, so much more successful, so much more beautiful. That’s obviously not true either. Except the beautiful part. That’s quite accurate. This is also a waste of a paragraph, but hey, it’s my blog so . . .

Anyway, what I’ve realized is that I’ve outgrown my self-descriptive adjective. I’m not at all the same person who started that blog or even who came to live in Savannah almost exactly one year ago. I’d like to think I’ve grown up a bit. I’d like to think I’ve figured out a few of the who I ams and a few of the who I’m nots. And I’d like to explore more; see what else I can set my mind to and what results.

My reasoning for abandoning this blog? Like all footy pajamas, we end up needing a bigger size at some point. I’ll let everyone know where I’m taking this circus act when I start a new blog. Oh yes. There will be more. Mwahahaha.

180 degrees South

I’d forgotten the pull I get from traveling. This rekindled my desire.

Life questions from a college graduate

Please excuse my absence and lack of posts. My dog ate my homework and my life.

No, but really.

One day I was bee boppin’ along in school and then out of nowhere BAM! I was in Cambodia—pretending to be an adult, but failing miserably.

I mean, after college they just cut you loose. Like, “Here we’ve given you everything you need to know, now fly fly.” They forgot to tell you to watch out for the brick wall you’re spastically flapping toward at full speed.

And all of this flapping has finally caught up with me. For the past month I’ve been having my first life crisis. I rehashed every decision I’ve made in my life and seriously considered buying a sports car and a trophy wife—googling mid-life crisis didn’t really give me helpful answers.

So I took out my fine-toothed comb and meticulously went over the overwhelming questions that were reaching maximum density in my mind. Brace yourself.

Why am I in Cambodia?
Why am I teaching instead of writing?
What am I actually learning here?
Why do Cambodians pick their nose all the time?

Am I happy here?
What did I do today that made me happy?
What did I do today?

Can I write anywhere?
*Yes

Should I keep traveling?
Will I even have enough money?
Will I ever have enough money?
What defines enough?
Why does that word look weird now? Enough enough enough. Like dough, but not.

Would I miss my family and friends?
How important are relationships versus a career?
Can you have both?
What if I never get a job?
What if I never get a job.
*Small heart-attack

Will I always have to work an irrelevant part-time job so that I can write?
Will I ever write anything relevant?
What if I never get published?
Did I remember to buy toilet paper?

Do I really have to figure out my life right now?

Can I just try to take it a day at a time?
Will things still work out no matter how much I stress?
Can I take a deep breath and keep pluggin’ away?
Am I going to win a million dollars? What, the other answers were yes.

Even though every tiny fear and doubt I had erupted like Mount Vesuvius, it was actually a cathartic experience. I started checking off all the questions I could answer and crossing off all the ones that were absolutely ridiculous. Of course I remembered to buy toilet paper.

I never anticipated how stressful graduating from college would be, but I’ve since realized this is the first time in my life where I actually have a say in what direction I go. Not just a say, but complete and terrifying control.

I don’t think I’ve fully passed the hard part, but at least I’ve unwound myself from a shaking fetal position for the time being. Now it’s time to put on the big girl panties and give my adult life another shot.