Travel & Food Writer

 

I have discovered, yet again, that there is an inverse relationship between wanting to write (or feeling the pressure to write) and being able to produce something that doesn’t suck.

 

I have wanted to write a blog for nearly a week now, and even though I have a bunch of “material,” nothing comes out sounding remotely funny or interesting. I think “big” stories (i.e., real stories) must be too overwhelming for my small brain to put into words. For example, I have yet to chronicle:

 

– my road trip through New Zealand, during which I stayed in hostels for the first time, drove into oncoming traffic,  and picked up German hitchhikers—narratives to make my parents proud,

– my fulfilled quest to bungy jump and skydive, which was made scarier by flying up twice because of “poor conditions,” and I was certain my tandem-jumper-guide incorrectly put me into my harness because I could shimmy out of it by doing nothing except RELAXING MY SHOULDERS,

– and recently, my attendance (by force) at the first ever Bachelor Auction in Roswell, New Mexico, where the only “bachelor” I knew going into it—though not the only bachelor I knew once there—was the 82-year old Deacon from my church.

 

HEAVEN FORBID I write about those events. No, no. I prefer to write about things like trying to kill a spider late at night and eating a giant hamburger.

 

Much as in life, I cannot force anything to go the way I want it to. When I want to blog, it all comes out dull and boring (much like the “dull, pallid face of an ordinary sort” that my high school freshman wrote about, except that he wrote an interesting sentence and I wrote seventeen sentences that I crossed out just to make it this far).

 

However, when I have important other things to do, like grading a stack of a thousand papers or writing a thesis, I’m suddenly a blogging genius. IT ISN’T FAIR, OKAY?

 

But, because one of my New Year’s Resolutions was to be consistent in blogging, I’m going to post the worst blog ever while I continue to work on something better.

 

(Enjoy.)

 

VALENTINE’S DAY POSITIVES FOR SINGLE PEOPLE

1. There are ZERO expectations

a. from others of self (like the guy I heard about who neglected to do anything for his girlfriend of two years, but became motivated into action by fear of imminent death)

b. from self of others (like the said girlfriend of the guy above, and all other disappointed people [women, if I may be so bold], like myself from the age of 17-21)

2. All gifts received are EXCITING!

a. Thanks, Mom and Dad.

b. Thanks, Eva.

3. The gym is empty at night. 

a. I can park within a mile from the entrance? There’s mirror space? My favorite bike is available during spin class?

b. Holla!

4. Dinner can consist of salad and ice cream and no one complains.

a. In fact, there is much rejoicing.

b. The cast of How I Met Your Mother is also present.

5. The dress code is not a tiny dress and heels in cold weather.

a. It is pajamas.

b. Oversized pajamas, with fleece on the inside.

 

In case you’re wondering, my recent Valentine’s Day was one of the few days I spent this year not self-loathing. I woke up singing—yes, singing—in the style of a hyperstrung Disney character:  “Let’s narrate our life in soooong! I can’t believe it’s sunnnnnyyyy! Oh look, I forgot my haaaaaat”—and the rest of my day was pretty okay. My lunch with Holly (see “No Strings”), along with my descent into insanity (marked by joining MissTravel.com), kept me entertained during the day; since I have no college students on Thursdays, I only had to teach three classes, and I gave them a test (HAHA SUCKAHS); and I got to burn some calories and eat some ice cream.

 

So, it was just another day…except for the flowers. 🙂