A Winter Ocean

Bournemouth is usually a summer town, from what I hear.


I think it’s beautiful in the winter.


(Even if it is a bit cold for me.)




Some day, I’m going to have my shit figured out enough to actually have a *working phone* when I fucking *land* in a country and I have half-baked fucking plans for someone to pick me up.


That didn’t happen this time around.


What did happen was getting picked up by my beautiful fucking Writing Buddy.

She and her husband got up at fucking *four in the morning* to drive to London to come get me.


They even got a loaf of tiger bread for me to eat in the car.


I’ve been trying to get back for five fucking years.


People talk about those moments when reality doesn’t quite feel like something that’s actually happening. (Or maybe they don’t. I don’t probably have any idea what people actually talk about.)


I’d been up for what felt like four days straight, and it seemed like the first time in a month that what I was doing wasn’t carving the rest of my life in stone.

It wasn’t decision, it wasn’t huge things, it wasn’t hoping I was doing the right thing.

It was my Writing Buddy pointing out landmarks she’d used in her work, and getting a little bit lost on the way out of London.

I got to her house, and she’d fucking bought me a mug with the union flag on it, because neither she nor her husband drink tea, but she’s listened to me be a tea snob for long enough that she decided I needed my own fucking mug.



A Note on American Media Coverage

I flew to England on November 14.

I got to the airport on the 13th, after turning in my keys to my apartment.

(I’m once again on the move. I have gotten *so much better* at packing, and how do I still have this much shit, but, whatever, not the point.)


I’m sitting at the airport, trying to stay up so I can check in at stupid o’clock in the morning to get on my early fucking flight.

But. All over the internet is news about shit going down in Paris.

And – I get most of my news from questionable sources (A.K.A., links my friends post on social media), so most of what I saw… was all of the incredible ways that people were supporting each other.

People opening their homes to those who couldn’t get out of the city. Taxi drivers who weren’t charging anything for people trying to get home.


It wasn’t until I was catching my connection in Chicago, and I realized just how fucked up American news coverage is.

I was sitting there, in the airport, about to catch a flight to London, and – I think it was CNN that was showing – and, of course it was 24 hour coverage of Paris, and the headline along the bottom of the screen, was ‘WORLD WAR III HAS BEEN DECLARED’.

That was the fucking line, scrolling, non-stop, along the bottom of the screen.

It took about fifteen minutes of watching to find out that it was actually a quote from a tweet by the pope.

Because that’s fucking responsible news reporting.

Quote the most sensational thing you fucking can, even if it’s a fucking *Tweet from the Pope*.


I had to get online and talk to my friends in the UK and Europe, like ‘what the fuck is actually happening out there?’

and they were all like ‘…you’re news is insane. It’s bad shit, but it’s fucking *fine*.’


It felt like a very good sign of why I was leaving the country.


So, part of Coast Guard Training Camp was that it was the final part of training to do with the cruise ship that I was thinking of working with.

However, after training, I realized that all of the parts that I really liked were things to do with working on ships.

The training for specifically working on the cruise ship made me… sort of horrifyingly, despondently miserable.

I graduated, got my Merchant Mariner Credentials all sorted, but when I got home to Texas, I realized…

The timing wasn’t very good, and things with the cruise ship had taken a really long time, and I was feeling more and more like not only would taking the cruise ship position make me really unhappy, but it would also put me in a position where I would lose my shot at going to New Zealand.


I don’t love making decisions. I talk about this a lot. Another thing that I talk about, is choosing love or fear.

If I wanted to choose for love, there was no decision to make.

I bought my tickets to New Zealand.


However. I’d already put notice on my apartment in Texas, so I couldn’t exactly hang out.


I’ve been trying to get back to England since I left. It just so happened if I spent my downtime in England, I would get there in time for my Writing Buddy’s birthday, as well as giving myself a chance to meet some other friends I’ve made, and, of course hang out with Paul.


Choose for love.

I bought my tickets to England.

So Hot Selfie!

I’m pretty sure that I take about one good selfie per year (and it always seems to be in November?)


Part of Coast Guard Training Camp was fire-fighting.

It was fucking *awesome*.

(And weirdly close to scuba training in a surprising amount of ways that wasn’t actually all that surprising when I thought about it, but hey, whatever.)




Words of the Week



Subrident – adjective

1.) Characterized by a smile

2.) Accompanied with smiles

3.) Smiling



Now, I’m not usually into old words that I feel are just sort of dated references? Things that were at one point topical, pop-culture references.

But… I really love this one.

It’s based off of a work by Lord Byron, about a Ukranian noble named  Ivan Mazepa. In Byron’s poem, Mazepa is tied naked to a wild horse that is then set loose.



Mazeppa – Noun

A person likened in some way to Mazeppa, esp. in being the unwilling rider of a wild horse.


How ‘Bout Those Fall Colours?

Alright, folks, so. I know I’ve been gone for a while, so what have I been up to?

I’ll do my best to keep it (mostly) in order. 😀


There was a whole lot of ‘maybe’ happening for a while (not that there isn’t *still* a lot of maybe happening in my life, and honestly, I don’t know if there’s any way I know how to live that *doesn’t* involve a lot of maybe. If *anyone* knows a way to live that doesn’t involve a lot of maybe. But I digress…) but the long and short of it is that I went to Maryland to go to Coast Guard Training Camp to get my Merchant Mariner Credentials.

Now, I’ve lived in a certain climate for quite a while at this point, bouncing from Australia to Cambodia to Texas.

So, I got off the plane in Maryland, and I remembered that it was the first of November, and just why New England is known for the fall.






It smelled like fall.

That smell of cold that isn’t quite enough to make it all the way down your throat to your lungs. It’s got just enough bite to linger, but not enough to go anywhere.

And maybe it tasted a little bit like freedom.

Hi Friends!

Once upon a time, I was all like ‘Oh, I love my blog, I’m going to keep it and update it every single day and never ever leave, and me and my blog will be best friend forever, and nothing will ever break us apart, and everything will be beautiful.’


Which… clearly didn’t happen so much.


I keep trying to come up with plans like ‘no, post this many times a week, do these things, keep it going’.

The problem with that is that I just had so many other things that I was doing, and I didn’t (and still don’t) want to commit to something I’m not sure I can maintain.

This being said.


I miss this blog. (I love you guys! I’m sure there are still some of my lovely readers out there…)

So, I’m just going to try and get to it when I can.

I can’t promise anything, but I can say that with any luck there won’t be any more silences that last 3 months.


I’m back! ❤