I have not touched my camera in months. My interest in photography has not wavered, but my free time has mostly been dedicated to academics or other social activities that I don't feel comfortable bringing my camera to because I'm clumsy (ahem). But with graduation fast approaching, talk of having photoshoots is becoming more frequent, and you could only imagine my excitement. Annie, Stephanie, Shirein, and Mareena agreed to let me take their photos. We made it to Quail Hill Trailhead a few hours before sunset (golden hour), and the lighting was perfect. I'm happy with the end results, but there's always room for improvement!
Feb 9, 2014
5 Piece Wardrobe Wishlist: Spring/Summer 2014
I dug my photoshop skills out of the grave (wait...what photoshop skills?) to make this set. It brought back some fond memories of my friend, Kat, teaching me a few photoshop basics a few years ago. I think this set describes my personal style accurately. I love a neutral color palette. I also like to dress like an awkward boy, but I also love feminine silhouettes.
1. All-weather urban anorak. I love anoraks. I own two in longer lengths, but sometimes I'd love one in a slightly shorter length. This anorak is great because it's water resistant and the color blocking adds some interest. I can see this being worn for many seasons to come.
2. A white summer dress. This dress from Dolce Vita is great, but the price is too high to justify. I can see a white dress going with so many things...dressed down with an anorak and ankle boots, slightly dressier with a cardigan and sandals, casually with a chunky sweater...and the list goes on.
3. Clare Vivier Flat Clutch. I love the look of a simple clutch. I think black is a great color because it transitions from day to night well. I've heard about Clare Vivier and I appreciate the socially conscious construction and that her bags are "locally made" in Los Angeles.
4. Basic Trenchcoat. I was longing for a camel coat this winter, but let's be real, it doesn't get that cold in California. A trenchcoat, however; I can see being worn year-round. I like the simple design of this one from Madewell.
5. Dieppa Restrepo Dandy Loafers. As I mentioned earlier I like to dress like an awkward boy, and what better way to do that than with loafers? I love how simple these loafers from Dieppa Restrepo are and the fact that they aren't mass produced in a factory. I'm actually torn between these and the Gray Dieppa Restrepo Cali Oxfords. I love the classic, timeless design of these loafers and can see them becoming an everyday shoe.
Sigh. I need to become more conscious of my shopping. I've been clearing a lot of things out my closet lately, there's just too many things that have been sitting in my closet that haven't I found the "right time" to wear. If I could only add 5 pieces to my wardrobe to my closet this season, I'd have to be able to think of at least 10 ways to incorporate it with existing pieces to justify the price point.
Jan 5, 2014
I Travel To Feel Lonely...On Purpose
By Anna Davies
Right now, I’m sitting by myself in a café in Prague. I don’t know what the café is called, nor do I know what I ordered, except that the waiter nodded enthusiastically when I pointed to something halfway down the menu. I have no concrete plans for the rest of the day, or, really, the week, except the vague possibility of having coffee with an acquaintance from college who teaches English here. I am here all by myself. I’m lonely.
And, I’m also happy.
The art (and it really is an art) of traveling solo is complicated. Everyone always asks, "Don’t you want to go with someone?" And, yes, I absolutely do. But, it has to be the right kind of someone. Not the high-maintenance friend who freaks out if the hotel Wi-Fi cuts out. Not the know-it-all who acts like an amateur tour guide. Not the man you’re not in love with. For me, it's far better to be alone than to be with one of those types.
Sure, when I’m traveling by myself, I do occasionally feel sadness slice through my stomach when I see a couple engaged in a picture-perfect kiss in the middle of a bridge. I do wish I had someone to laugh with when I spot an enthusiastic-looking golden retriever lapping up muddy water from a puddle between the cobblestones. But, I also know that being alone right now doesn’t mean I'm going to be alone forever. And, for me, those pangs of loneliness serve as reminders of my priorities — and that the people I want in my life are ones who notice weird-looking dogs. While I’m content with my own company, I don’t want to be single forever.
In everyday life, loneliness occurs sporadically. There’s very little room for it between writing assignments and family obligations and spin class and Tinder dates and after-work drinks. But, when you're traveling, it’s front and center. It morphs from a slight ache to a purple-black bruise that’s tender to the touch. And, being able to see it and feel it makes me realize three things: First, I can survive being lonely. I will never be the type of person to settle into a relationship primarily because I don’t want to be by myself. Second, even though I can do it, the world is better and brighter when you’re surrounded by people you love. Third? When you anticipate and accept loneliness as a temporary inevitability, you can actually enjoy it.
The first time I traveled extensively by myself was a few summers ago, when I was heading to a wedding in Spain. I tacked a week onto the trip, starting in Paris and working my way into Northern Spain, stopping in San Sebastián, Bilbao, and Guernica. In my mind, I imagined a cinematic version of the trip: I’d write a novel in cafés by day, and spend my nights warding off the attention of sophisticated foreign suitors. So, the trip started frenetically, with me determined to pack as much as possible into each day.
After a whirlwind day of sightseeing in Paris, I ended the evening at a restaurant across the street from the hotel. There, I drank red wine and quickly struck up a conversation at the bar with a Parisian man next to me. We talked, we drank, we ended up kissing, and then, somehow, we ended the night arguing. I don’t remember what the contentious topic of conversation was — it might have been politics — but I do remember that I started to cry. I left the bar and retreated to my hotel, alone and exhausted. It was as if I’d had a relationship on speed, with a meeting and break up all taking place in one evening. And, suddenly, I felt lonelier than ever.
So, with that experience behind me, the next time I went on a solo trip to Paris, I relaxed. One of my favorite days involved a Bikram class and then ambling home, sweat-soaked and exhausted. I sat on a park bench, drinking water and watching young families walking through the park. I meandered past the Seine, weaving my way through hand-holding couples as the sun set. I picked my way through club-hopping crowds near the Bastille. And, finally, I ended up at the apartment I’d rented, where I fell asleep to laughter wafting up from the bar on the street below. I hadn’t spoken to anyone the entire day, but I didn’t feel sad. Instead, I felt privileged to be able to observe the world around me — going on without me — and being able to totally lose myself in myself. I was able to do what I wanted, when I wanted. I was lonely, yes, but I was also happy.
To be honest, I don’t know what will happen in the next 10 days I’m in Europe. Maybe I’ll fall in love. Maybe I’ll make new friends. Maybe I’ll end up crying by myself in a bar, only to strike up conversation with the friendly and sympathetic couple next to me (which happened last spring in Amsterdam). I know I’ll definitely feel lonely.
And, I know that’s alright.
Right now, I’m sitting by myself in a café in Prague. I don’t know what the café is called, nor do I know what I ordered, except that the waiter nodded enthusiastically when I pointed to something halfway down the menu. I have no concrete plans for the rest of the day, or, really, the week, except the vague possibility of having coffee with an acquaintance from college who teaches English here. I am here all by myself. I’m lonely.
And, I’m also happy.
The art (and it really is an art) of traveling solo is complicated. Everyone always asks, "Don’t you want to go with someone?" And, yes, I absolutely do. But, it has to be the right kind of someone. Not the high-maintenance friend who freaks out if the hotel Wi-Fi cuts out. Not the know-it-all who acts like an amateur tour guide. Not the man you’re not in love with. For me, it's far better to be alone than to be with one of those types.
Sure, when I’m traveling by myself, I do occasionally feel sadness slice through my stomach when I see a couple engaged in a picture-perfect kiss in the middle of a bridge. I do wish I had someone to laugh with when I spot an enthusiastic-looking golden retriever lapping up muddy water from a puddle between the cobblestones. But, I also know that being alone right now doesn’t mean I'm going to be alone forever. And, for me, those pangs of loneliness serve as reminders of my priorities — and that the people I want in my life are ones who notice weird-looking dogs. While I’m content with my own company, I don’t want to be single forever.
In everyday life, loneliness occurs sporadically. There’s very little room for it between writing assignments and family obligations and spin class and Tinder dates and after-work drinks. But, when you're traveling, it’s front and center. It morphs from a slight ache to a purple-black bruise that’s tender to the touch. And, being able to see it and feel it makes me realize three things: First, I can survive being lonely. I will never be the type of person to settle into a relationship primarily because I don’t want to be by myself. Second, even though I can do it, the world is better and brighter when you’re surrounded by people you love. Third? When you anticipate and accept loneliness as a temporary inevitability, you can actually enjoy it.
The first time I traveled extensively by myself was a few summers ago, when I was heading to a wedding in Spain. I tacked a week onto the trip, starting in Paris and working my way into Northern Spain, stopping in San Sebastián, Bilbao, and Guernica. In my mind, I imagined a cinematic version of the trip: I’d write a novel in cafés by day, and spend my nights warding off the attention of sophisticated foreign suitors. So, the trip started frenetically, with me determined to pack as much as possible into each day.
After a whirlwind day of sightseeing in Paris, I ended the evening at a restaurant across the street from the hotel. There, I drank red wine and quickly struck up a conversation at the bar with a Parisian man next to me. We talked, we drank, we ended up kissing, and then, somehow, we ended the night arguing. I don’t remember what the contentious topic of conversation was — it might have been politics — but I do remember that I started to cry. I left the bar and retreated to my hotel, alone and exhausted. It was as if I’d had a relationship on speed, with a meeting and break up all taking place in one evening. And, suddenly, I felt lonelier than ever.
So, with that experience behind me, the next time I went on a solo trip to Paris, I relaxed. One of my favorite days involved a Bikram class and then ambling home, sweat-soaked and exhausted. I sat on a park bench, drinking water and watching young families walking through the park. I meandered past the Seine, weaving my way through hand-holding couples as the sun set. I picked my way through club-hopping crowds near the Bastille. And, finally, I ended up at the apartment I’d rented, where I fell asleep to laughter wafting up from the bar on the street below. I hadn’t spoken to anyone the entire day, but I didn’t feel sad. Instead, I felt privileged to be able to observe the world around me — going on without me — and being able to totally lose myself in myself. I was able to do what I wanted, when I wanted. I was lonely, yes, but I was also happy.
To be honest, I don’t know what will happen in the next 10 days I’m in Europe. Maybe I’ll fall in love. Maybe I’ll make new friends. Maybe I’ll end up crying by myself in a bar, only to strike up conversation with the friendly and sympathetic couple next to me (which happened last spring in Amsterdam). I know I’ll definitely feel lonely.
And, I know that’s alright.
Dec 31, 2013
2014
Here's to new beginnings. Goals for 2014:
- Remember to count my blessings.
- Have a little faith.
- Work hard. Play hard.
- Travel more (here's to hoping to book my plane ticket soon!)
- Budget better.
- Shop less. Shop smarter.
- Embrace change.
- Be more creative. Take more photos.
- Declutter.
- Improve my mile time.
- Run a 5k.
- Stop comparing myself to others.
- Stop waiting. Make things happen.
- Don't wait for doors to open.
- Chase light.
“Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it.”
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