A Very Lucky Girl

Words are weird. I can sit down and type out strings of words that mean something to me in record time. I trip over my fingers because those words have been inside me for so long and I'm anxious to spill my feelings in a tangible, manageable, form. But when I notice I haven't blogged in a while and it's time for a new post I am often stumped. Not because my blog posts are meaningless (although I did write about Tinder...so you be the judge), but because I'm nervous to share all of me with all of you (John Legend reference YES). Maybe you won't like what I have to say. Maybe you will criticize it. Maybe you'll think differently of me. Writing is risky. Writing is permanent. I need only to scroll back on my own blog to find posts with words I wouldn't write now. My words are permanent outward expressions of a constantly changing person. The words I'm currently most worried about are my two essays for the Fulbright ETA funding. I need to write a personal

I love my share of the little grey house on Brooks Street. Kirsten hasn't moved in yet, but I am eagerly awaiting her arrival, desperate for the sounds of an actual full house. The empty room by the front door is a constant reminder that we are not yet complete. But Kylie and I have had a blast as roommates for the past two months! Many many laughs have been had, so much so that I've begun thinking I need to start a monthly installment of a post titled "conversations in the little grey house on Brooks Street." We've discussed pizza and breadsticks at great length. We've lamented the shoddiness of our oven and the over-alert-ness of our smoke detector. Whichever it is, whenever the oven is opened to take out food, it must be aggressively fanned to prevent the screeching of the alarm. We have learned and often warn each other when removing meals. We've spent time arranging the word magnets on our fridge into inappropriate phrases, fitting for a 22 year ol

I danced around my home yesterday morning, torn between laughing hysterically and crying of pure joy.  Why? The direction of my life was so fantastically validated.  When I first started researching the Internet for information regarding teaching English as a second language, I signed up for emails from a job listings site. Just for kicks. I felt sure I would regret the enormous influx of spam, but instead I found something wonderful.  One morning, when I was taking that damn Ancient Art of War in June, I scrolled through the options of the day in my email and found a listing for online volunteers needed for a program in Rio de Janeiro.  Considering I have high hopes and crossed fingers to get into the Fulbright program, destination Brazil, I jumped at the chance to become more involved in this pursuit.  I sent the woman my resume and a short blurb about me and why I was interested.  She responded quickly and set up a Skype chat with me for Thursday, July 10. Because it is a vol

There's been an app floating around for probably a year or two now called Tinder. If you aren't familiar, I'll try to explain the basis for how it works. All users sign up through their Facebook account and the app reveals several profile pictures, the first name and age of the user, and their interests. Everything you've liked since you first signed up for Facebook in 2008 will appear on Tinder, including "Eating" and "Mama Mia." I do thoroughly enjoy both things, but I usually don't let strangers know right off the bat. On Tinder, I didn't have a choice. The language of my phone is currently in Portuguese, so I was even more at a disadvantage with how to navigate this new app. I eventually figured out how to set my preferences, and opted for people within 10 miles of me of the ages 21 to 25. If they couldn't buy me a drink they were automatically out of the running.  I added two more pictures to my profile, each user is allowed six,

I have done one of these blogging interaction awards before , but when my friend Amber, of Clearly Alive , nominated me last week I couldn't say no to a fellow Addison's fighter. And since today, July 1, is my day of birth it is socially acceptable to make it all about me for 24 hours.  Amber is a pretty cool person from what I've garnered from our conversations on social media. I first "met" her in an Addison's Disease Support Group on Facebook. She is currently working in Malaysia and her lifestyle there is encouraging when it comes to me wanting to pursue my own career abroad.  Her 11 questions for me: 1. How did you decide on the name for your blog? This one is easy. I explained it in my inaugural post more than two years ago #timeflieswhenyourblogisfun 2. What is your funniest "brain fog" story?  That time I couldn't even remember a "brain fog" story. AKA now.  3. Cats or Dogs?   DOGS. One in particular, my sister, my boo-