New, New, New, England, Jersey, York

Lots of pictures coming your way….

But shoot, so it’s been about six, maybe seven weeks since I last posted. And these past weeks have been nothing short of eventful. Seriously, it’s been a roller coaster. Last time I wrote, I was in Peabody working at the Cheesecake Factory, and well, that’s done with now. I finished just before Labor Day weekend. I left about two weeks sooner than I had originally planned. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I have worked in several restaurants, and I’ve never experienced a place so horrible. The evil that is hiding underneath some of the workers there. Don’t get me wrong, I met some wonderful people that I went kayaking and fishing with, but many others have some serious demons.

Beside having some insanely absurd rumors completely made up about me, the attitude that was given off by these catty girls, who I earlier thought were good people, just drove me out. I did absolutely nothing to have pissed them off besides be myself. I’m this harmless bubbly girl who just wants to laugh and be friendly with everyone, and apparently I crossed some territorial line that made them feel they had to piss all over to guard me out. Aside from that, I also ended up crossing paths with some cowardly, shameless liars in the process. I made money but overall, it gave me more stress than I needed to endure. That’s not what this trip is about. I don’t have space in my life for drama or negativity. I’m trying to RID my life of that and find new ways to channel being positive, and being in the eye of the shit storm wasn’t helping. So I gave them notice that straight up, I was quitting. I’m sorry ccf, but I’m not about that life.

So a week after the Red Sox game (while I was still working at the cheese) I decided to head back into Boston. I was interested in checking out the gardens and the Sam Adams Brewery, and so I did. I walked around Newbury Street, smelled some amazing flowers, saw some amazing sights, window shopped, and awed as the T mazed its way around the city. It amazes me just how everything connects, and how the subway system is all underground, beneath your feet on Commonwealth Ave or as you sit at your desk in the Prudential. It always has, and will continue to astonish me–the old architecture and functional structure of the subway. I met up with my high school friend for dinner and some drinks, and ended up getting a $75 parking ticket while I was out. The unfortunate costs of the city I suppose…

A few days later, I ended meeting up with an old girlfriend from elementary school! Last time I saw her, we were probably no older than 11. She was in the area, and we decided to hang out at the beach and enjoy some sun. The planes were flying super low right overhead, making their way into Boston. But it made for a beautiful day and catching up was great. I had gone a few days without a shower, so I told her to excuse me while I jumped into the ocean and (in a bathing suit) lathered myself up with my Camp Suds and washed my hair, allowing the sun to dry me off.

After I quit working, I knew I couldn’t stay any longer. I met up with some old friends from high school, at separate times, but both named Jay. I went to the Isles of Shoals with one, and went back out to Durham, NH with the other. I had previously been to to the Smuttynose Brewery and wrote about it in one of my posts earlier, but Jay wanted to go and so there I went. After hanging with him for a couple days, I went back up to spend Labor Day Weekend (LDW) with my dad, since it would probably be the last time I’d see him for quite a while.

Isles of Shoals and Portsmouth Botanical Gardens, Above.

Durham Adventures, Below.

My dad and I just relaxed for the long weekend; spent some time in the garden together, and I tested out the pickles he canned a month prior… they were amazing! We went apple picking together, something I haven’t done for many, many years, and I also was able to catch up with some extended family too. Both my dad and mom pitched in and bought me tires as an early Christmas gift. They should get me around another 30,000 miles, hopefully!

I was getting anxious and itchy feet, so I decided to pack up and head back out, after clearing my dad’s blackberry bushes and making myself a nice snack for the road. I drove through Boston and headed down into Cape Cod, heading straight to the only place I really knew, Kalmus Beach in Hyannis. My mom spent her summers there as a kid, and my dad has videos of him and her married, before I was born, sunbathing and enjoying themselves on the soft, white sand.

I sought out a camp ground in the northern part of the cape, and set up camp for two nights. I went to watch the sunset on the beach, and it just calmed my soul. I wrapped myself up in my red tapestry, and watched as the sun painted the sky an equal color.

The next day, I ventured up to Provincetown, at the very tip of the Cape, where you can be as unorthodox as you want to, but as long as you’re nice, you’re accepted. I came at just the right time–on a Tuesday, after all the traffic and crowds from LDW had their fill of the seascapes and headed back onto the mainland. Provincetown was quite beautiful and very colorful, in more ways than one. Known for being artsy and gay friendly, the atmosphere and mood was so delightful to be around. Everyone was beyond friendly, and I just felt comfortable for the first time in a while.

Elsewhere on the Cape, before I crossed the bridge west, I spent some time with distant relatives. I visited with my (get this) mother’s cousin, and met her husband, Mick, who’s a writer and is in the process of publishing his third book. Over dinner, we discussed a whole slew of topics, but I was interested in knowing more about book publishing and how to go about it. He liked my idea of traveling, and when I ran the idea by him that I’d like to write a book, he loved it, and encouraged me. So if I’ve been slacking with my blog writing, it’s because I’m spending some more time focusing on a book, which is going to include a LOT more information, and be more detailed.

I ended my time on the Cape with a trip to the aquarium in Falmouth, and then to Martha’s Vineyard with a friend I made from the local Cape Cod brewery. We took the day ferry over as passengers and discovered some good food and beer along the way, and enjoyed the weather that day had given us.

After spending time on the Cape, I traveled to Newport, RI where I accidentally (but I believe it was by fate) ran into my cousin’s cousin. Ponder that for a second. My father’s brother’s wife’s sister’s son. Or my cousin’s cousin, but I’m not blood related. Anyway, he invited me over to spend Sunday watching football with him and his housemates, which of course I accepted, and had an absolute blast. He had a three story house with a rooftop deck overlooking the harbor. Watching the sunset with an ice cold rum and coke in my hand was a moment that will be hard for me to forget. It was breathtaking. While I was in Newport, I also had the chance to catch up with a friend of mine from Florida who was spending his summer (and supposedly now the winter) in the area. He showed me the Newport nightlife and took me to a local hangout spot where I had a stuffed quahog with sausage–they call them “stuffies”. And they were delicious!

After Newport, I headed up to Cumberland, RI (the northern part) and had dinner with my Dad’s side of the family, and slept in a big, comfortable bed and had a nice hot shower. The stay was short lived, but I enjoyed catching up with them nonetheless.

I met up with my friend in New Jersey who was visiting from Florida. Coincidentally, on my way, I drove through New York City on September 11, and went over the George Washington Bridge where they were flying the American flag high overhead. It’s had to believe it was 13 years ago–half my life ago–and there are some kids who are in school now that don’t remember or weren’t even born yet to have witnessed the disaster. It’s baffling.

After visiting with my friend from Florida, I bounced around other parts of New Jersey, seeing my college roommate, Michelle, and a high school girlfriend, Meridith, both of whom’s families were super welcoming and hospitable while I stayed with them. Thank you again! I enjoyed the laughs and warmth you provided for me during my travels.

After my time in New Jersey, my travels took me to Pennsburg, PA, about a half hour south of Allentown. I stayed an old high school friend of mine who teaches math at a boarding school. We spent the weekend playing lacrosse and Mario Kart, drinking cold beer, and eating at the different restaurants in town. It turns out, you can only purchase beer at a bar, unless you are looking to buy a case, in which they have actual stores dedicated to that. He also lives close by to a chocolate factory, so every night I would fall asleep smelling brownies and hot fudge.

Finally, I had to leave and go to the one place that has been on my mind more than anything in my life; the one place that i can call home and be so comfortable with it. The town I left my heart in… and I have come back to retrieve it. Ithaca, you are my love; you have been so good to me… I’m excited to breathe you in and fill my lungs with the sweet smell of autumn that you have given me for five years. I need you back in my life, and I can’t wait.

North Shore Surprises…

     

It’s been about two weeks since my last entry but fret not, I’m still alive!! The days have been flying by, and I can’t believe it’s already a third of the way through August and I’ve been traveling for 6 weeks now. The job at Cheesecake Factory is going fairly well. For the most part, people are nice and welcoming. It’s been almost ten years since I’ve been surrounded by New Englanders, and the attitude is far, far different from that of South Florida. Everyone comes off “hard.” Not to be belittling or demeaning, but I feel like there’s a little cold left inside certain people from the winter months. The chill hasn’t quite come out of their bones yet. The accent is one thing (apparently I’ve brought back a southern one myself). I love the Boston accent, but it brings about a sharp and stern way of talking. It sounds as if people are constantly pissed off at you, when that’s just their true tone (at least I’d hope). It’s been weird to get used to, but I am. In some ways, my New England accent is starting to slowly remake an appearance and burst through the southern one I’ve picked up, but it’s not to the extreme as these wicked Bostonians.

Being new at the restaurant, I was immediately judged, and I could feel it the moment I walked through the doors. I heard people whispering (apparently not quiet enough) “Who’s that?” I’ve always been “the new girl” my entire life. I attended four different schools before even starting college, and have never seemed to fit “the mold” exactly. And I still don’t! So as I walked in, being this blonde, bubbly, outgoing girl from SoFla, I stood out amongst all of them. I could begin to see their thoughts of me develop behind their irises. It has taken a while for some people to warm up to me—some still haven’t yet–and of course, there are the few who warmed right up to me immediately, only because they shared the same sense of humor, same affinity for love of life, and same craziness as I do. Those people are the ones that stand out for me, and who I am going to be sad to leave. But for those who are still weary about me, I can understand. It’s difficult going about your entire life trying to make everybody happy. The good Lord knows I have tried immensely, and it never seems to work. There will always be that one person that’s pissed off at me just because of who I am, not because of anything I’ve ever done to them. I crave to make those around me like me, but I must learn this won’t always be the case. It hurts to know that people want to hate on me just for the sake of it, but every day I pray to not let their negative thoughts consume me. So far, so good.

With all that being said and done, at the end of the day, it definitely is more difficult a task to not judge a book by its cover than one would wish. I try to not judge, but it’s ingrained within me. At least, as a female traveling by herself, I’m on the judge and watch all the time. I have to be. Just because someone looks harmless doesn’t mean they’re not, and just because someone looks sketchy doesn’t mean they are. Case in point. I’ve been camping in the same campground for a few weeks now, give or take a couple of nights where they have been full and I’ve had to bunk in my car. Two guys who looked to be in their early 30’s pulled into the lot across the one way street from my lot. It was getting dark, so I couldn’t make them out well, but they were puffing away cigarettes while bickering at each other trying to pitch their tent. I saw them in the shadows of the moon and the bathhouse light, and they looked a little scruffy. One had long hair and a long black t-shirt to match. The other was shirtless with a backwards ball cap on. I wasn’t sure what to make of them yet, but was sure enough to sleep with a bottle of mace beside me. Of course I woke up the next morning unscathed, and quietly went about my business.

Later in the day, as I came back from the grocery store, I pulled up to the two of them throwing a baseball around. I smiled at the idea, of me thinking earlier, that these two guys were punks. But I still wasn’t ready to completely take my judgment down. I was setting up a campfire when a baseball comes close to colliding with Blue (what I’ve named my mini SUV), and one came running over apologizing. I threw the ball back to him with a chuckle. “As long as you don’t hit my car, then we’re good!” His friend responded with “Nice arm!” We got to chatting a little bit, and turns out they were just out here for a few days to get away from the city. They were 26 and 36 I believe; respectively, Craig is gearing up to have a kid in a few months and Matt is a scene builder for many top selling movies that I have actually seen. I asked if he’s met anyone famous, and he elaborated on how, yes, he’s met several famous actors and actresses. But above all that, one of the best moments he remembers about his job was not necessarily meeting famous people, but about all the coolness and calamity outside of that. For example, his job took him to a Zoo where he met famous ANIMALS that were in movies! Such as a brown bear, tigers, etc. It was a situation like that that allowed him to appreciate the random yet amazing experiences life, and a job you love, can provide.

They made friends with the neighbors earlier in the day, and therefore introduced me to them as well. Turns out this family, two daughters, a mother, and a boyfriend, for reasons unclear, are living here for the summer. Not the classiest bunch, but certainly a fun, expressive, and sharing family. I came upon their campsite in tow of Craig and Matt, and introduced myself. Immediately they warmed up to me, invited me “in” for a beer and some grilled meat treats. The next few hours were spent socializing, but headed to my tent well before the rest of them—I had a double to work the next day.

After a long day at the Cheese, I went out with a few girls from work and got CONSIDERABLY inebriated. They lived close by so I crashed with them instead of driving the 13 miles back to my camp. I snuggled up on the couch with their newly adopted, amber-colored kitten, and tried to sleep off what I knew was going to be the hangover of death; and it most certainly was. The next two days—long, grueling, and sickening—were spent hunched over in a toilet, a bush, or a grocery bag. Where did my inner party girl go? It’s been a long time since I’ve had a night at the bar like that. And I most certainly don’t plan to have another night like that again. I think a proper three-drink MAX should suffice for both my wallet and myself.

To help sweat out the toxins and get back into shape, I’ve been focusing on running a little more. I used to be big into running a year or two ago, but just lost the bug for it. I’m slowly getting back into it, and I mean slowly. I used to run just over an 8-minute mile. Now I’m a good plus two minutes atop that. But, to succeed, one must start somewhere. Slow and steady ultimately wins the race. The only person I am competing against is myself; just a little farther or a little faster than the day before. That is my goal! Something feasible and obtainable to start with, so I don’t feel so defeated. That was my problem before, setting goals too high and holding myself to such a ridiculous standard. I need to learn to love myself more, for who I am and what I can accomplish.

A quick blurb in the week provided me with some alone time with one of my favorite people in the world, Mazza. He drove us up to this amazing smoke shop in NH that sold every item a hippie could ask for. I was in love. Two weeks prior, my chillum had the unfortunate encounter with the pavement, so I was in search of a new piece. Low and behold, I found a beautiful baby steamroller for $16. It was a good day for the two of us, as we christened my new member of the family on our ride back to Mass.

I closed out the weekend with something I’ve ALWAYS wanted to do: go to a Red Sox vs. Yankees game, at Fenway itself! My friend Lenny was given tickets from one of his coworkers, and we took full advantage of the day. But before we met up, I spent a couple of hours touring around the city. I parked on a side street by the Museum of Fine Art and took the T into downtown. The first time going into the city by myself, I had no one to help me get around. I’ve been to Boston a few times before (last time was half a decade ago) and was usually accompanied by someone who knew their way around well. So I was left to my own skills to find my way around. The T, for those who aren’t familiar, is the subway system in Boston, and it’s comprised of a red, blue, orange, and green line, with many subdivisions branching off those lines. Luckily I did not have far to go from point A to B, but it still was thrilling.

I got off at Park since Government Center was closed, and had to walk a half-mile into downtown. I encountered a parade celebrating something Mexican or Latino, not exactly sure what, but all the YA-YA-YA-YA-YA’s and loud music blaring through the crowd gave it away that I was surely just a little gringo meandering through the sea of ethnicity.

I finally spotted the famous Samuel Adams statue standing mighty and tall in front of the Historic Faneuil Hall, and Quincy Market hidden directly behind that. I moseyed around, looking at all the different vendors and smelling all the delicious food being made. As I walked from one end of the court to the other, it was like walking through a sea of vines, getting tangled in the crowds of people, swimming my way through. I was being thrashed and bumped around by overstuffed backpacks, guide dogs, and little kids on leashes. A situation I normally would let overwhelm me, one breath in through my chillum and I let it wash over me without consuming my emotion. I contemplated ending my journey with a lobster roll, but there was a girl outside on the street doing theatre performance, and I figured that was more worthy of my money and time. Kate the Great put on one hell of a show—juggling machetes and balancing on one hand high in the air. It was awesome and inspired me to get back into my yoga poses.

So I met up with Lenny and we bar hopped our way around Yawkee. When they opened the gates up to the stadium, we rolled in on a good buzz. I pointed to The Red Seat across the park, and he grabbed my arm and took me all the way across. I actually got to sit in the Ted Williams’ seat! It marks the longest home run in Fenway at 502 feet. A happy experience it was!

The Red Sox lost to the Yankees (figures) but I still had an amazing time! Lenny was so nice to have provided such a great experience for my trip! Unfortunately, I was far too drunk to drive home so I crashed in the back of my car outside the Museum of Fine Arts. I woke up with yet another fine hang over. I thought I learned my lesson that first time but apparently not. At least I didn’t have to work, so I sluggishly made my way back to Andover to set up camp. But before doing so, I stopped into a laundry mat and washed some clothes… I was running low on freshness.

Right as check-in opened, I was back at camp to sign up for another four nights. The rawness of nature is something I’m falling in love with. So what if I’m not enclosed between four walls and a roof? I don’t have the same amenities as those living normal lives, but I also don’t have the same worries. Granted, it’s a day-by-day situation: I always have to fend for food or shelter or a shower. Lately it’s been pretty easy (finding a shower is the hardest) but I’m making do. Having an air mattress that sometimes leaks air, leaving my ass to touch the ground by morning, really gives me appreciation for a real bed. Although the shower is meant for someone no taller than 4’9’’, I’m blessed to be able to have warm water. I may not be able to eat a full course meal, but the will to cook my own food over an actual fire is more deserving and appreciated than using a stove or microwave. The struggles are still real, but they’re different. And it’s giving me such a greater insight about my life, one minute, one moment at a time.

(^that’s a deer playing hide and seek)

All I’m focusing on now is getting through the next few weeks, exploring a little bit more of Boston, meet up with some friends and family, and then head off to my next adventure! For all that have been following my blog, THANK YOU!! If you have any questions or comments, please feel free to post.

As always, have a peaceful, happy, blessed day 🙂

Bay State Exploring…

So my first shift at the Cheesecake went well, even if it was just a training shift. I needed to have one before hitting the floor live, just to get acquainted with the floor plan, table numbers, and the general flow of the restaurant… of which I must say I really like, so far. I got out of training around 9pm and decided I wasn’t going to sleep in the parking lot again—I made a general rule to try not to sleep in the same place twice in a row if I’m in my car. So I searched Massachusetts’ crime rates by town/city, and saw that one town by the seacoast, Gloucester, had a pretty low crime rate. Boom—I set off, figuring I’ll probably sleep in my car again, but at least it will be in a safer area.

Thirty minutes later and I reach Gloucester. I parallel parked between two other cars under a street lamp, across the way from what looked like the local bar (with a biker couple sharing a cigarette outside the front door), and a marina storing lobster-trapping tugboats. To ensure people passing by wouldn’t see me, I put my sun-shade up into the front windshield. To my left (if you’re looking out the back of my car) I have a three-tier plastic bin holding my clothes, accessible by opening the back passenger door. It’s tall enough to block the entire window. To my right, I have my work clothes hanging up, plus a soft, roll-out storage set that is meant to hold make-up, but instead I have lighters, sunglasses, headphones, a hairbrush, mints, batteries, and more. For the back window, I have hung up my red, lion tapestry that my friend Dan gave to me for Christmas. I have two bungee cords hooked onto notches in my car, which allows me to drape the tapestry over. Then, I use clothespins (purchased from a thrift store, 50 for a buck, and have been one of the best investments for this trip so far) to pin it up onto other notches in the car so it drapes and covers the back window. All people can see from the outside is a gold lion with a jeweled crown holding what I think is a trident. So hippie, so rasta. I love it so much.

The next day (Friday) I woke up to the sound of families rolling in for their weekend vacations. As I took down my tapestry and crawled my way into my front seat, I tried to avoid any eye contact from those walking by, but was definitely seen by some. I wonder what they are thinking. I don’t necessarily care as to what they think, but I definitely wonder. I made way to the closest Dunkin Donuts I could find. It’s 9am, I am wearing raccoon eyes, and have a wrinkled, stained t-shirt that I’ve been wearing for three days now (however not to the Cheesecake). I had to slip in to the bathroom for a painfully long morning pee, and then ordered an iced butter pecan coffee. I figured I could use a shower, but before going through the hassle of all that, I decided to go to the beach, and maybe go in the water, providing how hot I got. I drove to the next town east, Rockport, and realized that, for what little beach they have, the price of parking was horrendous. I mean we’re talking $25 for the day. YIKES. I’m used to not paying a dime for parking at the beach in Florida. Granted, we have more real estate for beach-goers than Massachusetts does, but I didn’t expect to pay a whole week’s budget of food on parking. So, I did the unthinkable. I parked in a motel parking lot labeled “PARKING FOR MOTEL PATRONS ONLY, CARS TOWED AT OWNERS EXPENSE.” I figured I’d test my luck, again. I was less than 500 yards from the water and another 500 yards from the pay-to-park lot. I flipped open my computer to realize that they even had free Internet; I just had to type in some bogus email address and voila, instant access. I lay in the back of my car and began to do some tinkering online. I think it’s against the law to tow a car if there is a person within the vehicle, so I was comfortable enough relaxing watching tourists trek to the beach with arms full of chairs and coolers.

A few hours went by and I got a good whiff of myself—I was in desperate need of a wash. So I locked up my car and walked to the bathhouse to use the shower, which was outside, and freezing cold. I wore my bathing suit and lathered up my hair and body with some Camp Suds, bathing me over in the rich smell of mint and pine. My feet started to hurt from the hard plastic mats they laid down, and I started shivering when the sun got caught behind the tree. After showering and changing, I headed into town to get some food, and I instantly fell in love with the area. Downtown Rockport is made of these tiny shops that are painted a mix of bright colors. There were shops selling sandwiches, ice cream, beads, books, and paintings created by local artists. The blend of languages spoken by passing tourists filled my ears—French, Spanish, Chinese, Indian—to think they all flocked to this one little sweet piece of paradise on the east coast. As usual, I wasn’t up for spending a ton of money. I had an apple and a peach for breakfast, so I figured a good ice cream cone would suffice for dinner. I ordered a peanut butter soft-serve with chocolate jimmies, and for fifteen minutes, I was enjoying a little slice of Heaven as it dripped down my chin.

I drove about half a mile out of the hustle-and-bustle of town, to discover some free parking (until 10am) right beside a mini beach. I made the decision to give it a real effort to wake up at 5am so I could see the sunrise. And to my surprise, I actually did wake up. It was the most pristine, beautiful sunrise I could ever imagine. I grabbed a coffee and sat down to enjoy the view of this burning orange and red ball cresting the horizon. God and Mother Nature, when they combine, become two vastly astonishing, powerful forces that can create the most peaceful moment in time; so serene, it’s a type of feeling that calms the soul, and brings you back down to earth, even if for a second, and lets you forget all the calamity occurring in this busy world.

I spent the whole day being happy, and thankful, that I woke up so early. I love to sleep in late, but it’s not conducive to being productive. So getting up THAT early, for me, was a real treat. I spent the morning by giving my car a little love (cleaning it out and reorganizing everything), and then enjoyed breakfast at a busy diner closer into town. I drank about three more cups of coffee while savoring my egg and cheese omelet with a side of rye toast.

Afterwards, around noontime, I was starting to crave a nap. I drove back to the motel and noticed the lot was full, so I pulled around to the pay-to-park area. This time, there wasn’t a sign stating “$20 to park” so I pulled in, but was immediately stopped by some kid in a blue shirt demanding money. I mentioned that the sign was down, but he still demanded I pay. “No way! You can’t advertise parking without the price.” I started to drive away, but figured I’d test my luck out once more. What’s the worst that could happen? I swung by him once more, threw up my hand and spread out my fingers, and yelled out my car window, “How about five dollars?” He shrugged and responded, “Yea, sure I don’t care.” Awesome! I hand him the five and thanked him a couple of times. I parked and walked over to the beach, where I proceeded to take a two-hour nap.

As for sleeping arrangements that night, I just stayed in the lot I paid to park in. Several nice beach houses surrounded me, with much activity going on outside and in them, and there was plenty of light around so I wasn’t blacked out of society. For dinner, I made a tuna fish sandwich with mayonnaise and whole wheat bread, and dipped some carrots into a spicy chipotle hummus I purchased a few days earlier.

The next morning, a knocking on my glass window woke me up. An older man, wearing the same blue shirt as the kid from the day before, said to me, “I’m sorry miss, but you cannot be here.”

“But I paid to park here!”

“Yes miss, but that was for yesterday. It’s Sunday now.”

Shit. I had planned to wake up at 5am again to hit the road, but I slept through my alarm clock and it was now 10am. People were getting parking-hungry.

“Okay, I’ll be out of here in a minute, I’m so sorry.” I stumbled out of the trunk door and hopped into the driver side, still in a daze from my overnight coma.

“It’s okay miss, you may use the restroom to freshen up if you need to.” He was doing his job, understandably so. But when he asked me what I was doing sleeping in my car, I could only tell him the truth. “I’m road tripping and needed a safe place to stay. I felt this was sufficient.” He smiled and said back, “A road trip eh? God I wish I could have done that at your age. The bathroom is right around back.” I sensed his understanding, and could see him picturing himself doing the same thing at my age.

I drove back to the place I slept two nights before, beside the beach. It was after 10am so I threw a few quarters in the slot and rested in the back of my car while listening to the waves, the gulls, and the people meandering by. I ate two Nutri-Grain bars and gave my back a few good cracks. That’s when I felt it hit me—I needed to sprawl out! I needed a bed! After a couple hours passed, I headed west towards inland to find a place to camp. That’s when I remembered reading about Harold Parker State Park; it’s only a 30-minute drive from work (which I had the following day), so I pulled it up on my GPS and headed that way.

Upon arrival, I was greeted by a couple of friendly faces. I purchased a campsite for three nights, one close to the bathroom, and of course close to other people. For dinner, I cooked lime-vinaigrette marinated chicken over the grates of the fire, along with asparagus that I covered in garlic salt (my favorite). And finally, I busted out the cast-iron skillet and cooked kidney beans on it. It had that smoky flavor from the flames and the firewood. I ended up making so much; I was able to have it for dinner two nights in a row. S’mores are always on my agenda when a campfire is in sight, so I divulged in about three or four. I didn’t go to bed hungry, that’s for sure.

Monday, I worked a double and made $200 in cash, so that started off on a positive note. I was off Tuesday and spent it by relaxing, reading this new book I picked up a few months back, titled Dewey’s Nine Lives. If you’re an animal lover, especially cats, this one is perfect. Although I just started, it’s a nicely written and an overall inspiring book. Dewey is a gold and white, long-haired tabby that, as a kitten, was thrown into the book chute of a library on a cold winter night. But for 19 years, he roamed the shelves of a library somewhere in Iowa, inspiring and touching every person he met. It’s a sweet story.

I worked Wednesday morning and then headed back up to New Hampshire, but only a couple miles into the state, near the seacoast. Some close family friends are allowing me to stay with them for a few nights while I’m in the area, which gives me the opportunity to continue to explore more and see friends in the process. Yesterday, I visited the new Smuttynose Brewery and proceeded to get nicely lit up in the process, and only enhancing my buzz by getting a margarita with a friend from high school. I ordered a plate of killer BBQ pork nachos and dove right in.

After two nights of sleeping in an actual bed, I’m back to the woods, camping again in the state park from earlier in the week. I have to work practically all weekend; any other of my free time will most likely be spent sitting beside a warm fire, popping from the sap on the pinecones mixed in with the wood. I’ll be bundled up in my Ithaca sweatpants and a grey knit sweater, drinking boxed red wine, with ice, in a pilsner glass. Weekend, I’m ready for you!

Tomorrow I depart…

I started writing this blog post while I was laying on an air mattress on the floor of my empty apartment, but am posting it two days later.

I get this deep feeling of sadness when I give my mind enough time to think about leaving my beautiful home. But I have come to accept that I can no longer afford it 😦 It wasn’t always like that, but things happen to people for the craziest reasons. So why is packing up all my stuff and leaving my home, job, friends and some family easier to do than, say, move back with mom? That is the burning question…

While I love my life here in Florida, I’m craving something more. I need some type of fulfillment that only mother earth can grant me. I’m taking this time to open up and let the world soak into me… and I need it to bathe away all the toxins of my life. See, I believed I experienced a true “quarter life crisis” recently. I had quite the turn of events happen to me within the last year, some so bad that they completely rocked my belief system to its core. Where I THOUGHT I would be now, at 26, compared to where I ACTUALLY am couldn’t be more polar opposite. I truly believed I had my entire life figured out, clean cut and planned; all for it to be totally shook up spit out and strewed across a table for all to judge.

Well, those who want to can judge this. I’m 26 and I’m doing something that many would consider as immature, “escaping my problems”, or simply having a failure to cope with the real world. Nope, I’m just a girl with the wind at her back, ready to set sail. How my stars have aligned ever so perfectly, I’ll never know, but it has allowed me to embrace a dream. Because who am I really living for to make happy? No one but myself.

Ok ok, so now the question you’ve probably been itching to ask, where exactly am I going?? Well for the first leg, I’m starting safe- for four months, I’ll be spending my time in the Northeast- an area I’m comfortable with and have dozens of contacts to keep me afloat. Spending time with family in NH and RI, friends in the Boston area and northern VT, camping and exploring the coast of Maine, and then journeying my way out to one of my favorite places on earth, Ithaca<3 I’ll be (tentatively) staying in the northeast until around September… and then slowly make the trek back to SoFla, traveling through the Virginias, Carolinas, and Georgia. From there, I’ll pick up my wonderful brunette friend, Alexa, and head west… But for now, I plan on taking it one step at a time.

I’m excited, nervous, and of course scared. I know this is a crazy, wicked, ridiculous idea, but honestly, I can’t believe I am doing it… and I can’t wait.

So if you’ve read through this whole first post, thank you for your sincere interest! Send me recommendations, suggestions, comments…what have you! And if you’d like a visit from me, well, let me know that too, and I’ll see what I can do 🙂

Peace, love and happiness y’all.