Today is a good day in New York: it’s blazing hot, I found a place with affordable coffee near my new place, and only once did I have to sidestep day-old vomit on the sidewalk. Success!
Maybe I should start again. In the few months that I’ve lived here, I surprised myself by coming to love New York — albeit in the complicated way that you love a best friend who is all sorts of awesome but goddamnit does he have to chew everything so noisily? — but I never actually expected to like it. You know how some people have those fantasies (read: delusions) about a place? That if they move to New York, they will instantly become Audrey Hepburn beautiful, develop a cast of Friends friends, and finally make it big?
I didn’t. (more…)
I’ve been playing shadow games with transience lately.
I never see it directly; rather, it disguises itself in snippets. It’s too new a figure in my life for me to recognize it by its own face. It propels itself on the fast feet of happiness or slips by under cloak of sadness. (more…)
January 1st, 2014, and I wake to the sound of talking. I’m still new to Australia, it’s still new to me. These days are spent maneuvering the wrong side of the road, flicking the windshield wipers on instead of the blinker, breathing in salty air. (more…)
You arrive at a city. You’re confused by the ticket-eating machines at the train stops and the backwards spiderwebs of the transit lines. (more…)
I’m in the early stages of planning a trip around Queensland, which I’ll most likely be taking on my own. On that token, I thought I’d share an article I wrote for WildJunket a while back on the topic of solo female travel, which remains just as relevant today as it was then.
A ten-minute drive away from Cape du Couedic lay Remarkable Rocks, which sounded too much like a tourist trap to be true. However, the sight was definitely worth the trip, with several behemoth boulders blown into bizarre configurations by time, wind, and natural erosion.
Remarkable, indeed. (more…)
The longer I live, the more ghosts live with me. They twine themselves around locks of hair, tuck in behind my pierced ear. One lays in the scar sliced into my shin during my summerful of biking. One swings from an anklet given by a boy whose memory is as persistent as an earworm. One tries to be a guardian angel against both bike injuries and broken hearts, and that ghost lives beneath the bracelet my father gave me years ago. The ghosts flit over eyelashes and warm themselves under rings. (more…)
Keep moving, because the water shifts and the tides change, and it’s going to make you uncomfortable. (more…)
When I left the Dominican Republic after high school graduation, my goodbyes all crackled with an unspoken electricity – one which I tried, and failed, to contain. I was too excited about what lay ahead to truly let the endings sink in. (more…)