Welcome to my blog. I document my adventures in travel, style, and food. Hope you have a nice stay!


it's 6:30. AM, bitches. nothing like a nice dose of anxiety, uncertainty, and all-around ageda to get you out of bed nice and early in the morning.

I talked to raf last night about leaving for seattle, and about moving out, and about how much this hurts and how sad and tragic it's getting. see, while I've been planning the trip in my head, and starting to get it out onto paper, my heart - knowing full well that it was time to go - wasn't quite ready to leave. but two days ago, I saw clearly that I was sitting in front of a man who didn't know how to be in a relationship. now, I'm not a picnic, nor am I a wealth of relationship expertise, and I often wonder about my own capabilities - but when you hurt the people you love because you can't stand your own hurt in a way that you can't take back - well, there's no soothing or coddling or mom-role or any other of the dysfunctional roles that you can fill that can take care of that, or change it, or help it heal.

there's something to be said for people who get together and stay together. seriously.

so, for the three people checking the blog, who may have given up due to my lack of updates, hi. here I am. raf and I broke up. and I'm leaving for seattle in a a month.

there comes a time in intolerable situations, be it physical, emotional, spiritual, materialistic, whatever - that I wind up saying the quiet part out loud. here's my track record (with relationships, and sometimes with jobs too): go in, have a strong start under the flush of beginnings and wonder and possibilities, see something that doesn't quite sit well, compromise some critical area of my belief system (big or small) (because I'm too hard headed and critical and I need to learn how to bend anyways and isn't compromise what relationships are all about?) and piggyback on that behavior until eventually, I'm filling some role I don't like or understand, and I've given away so much of myself that I don't even recognize the person looking back at me in the mirror anymore.

and the kicker is, the entire time - save for glimpses of love, beauty, potential, elation, getting dealt hands of happiness and bliss - I know that things aren't right. I know it. and I deny myself, and make up a bunch of excuses for myself, and it's like I need to carry a psychoanalyst around in my back pocket to not only help me make decisions, but to point out the who and what and why of everything that I've got going on.

so here we sit. a fresh start, again. a new notebook, again. but this time, instead of switching seats on the sinking ship that is life in connecticut, I'm getting rid of all of my belongings, packing up the cabrio with chacha, a guitar, and a few of my favorite things, and heading off to seattle for some r & r. I mean, I have to go and work and all that - but I'm really starting to feel like I'm heading off for some kind of intensive rehab or something.

I'll take life for $1000, alex.

it's been a long... long... long time...