Posts Written On May 2011

Why Going To A Therapist is Badass

If anyone knows me, you’ll know how much I preach the praises of my therapist. For the past 5 months, I’ve been seeing my therapist once a week. It’s been my saving grace. She’s the one who helped me realize I need to travel, helped me decide I needed to quit my job, and helped me realize my passions and goals. She’s awesome, and going to therapy is something that’s really helped me a lot.

I don’t know what the stigma is, but it seems a lot of people feel that going to a therapist means you’ve sold out, that you have a shit ton of problems, that you are a crazy ass bitch. But au contraire, mon frère, going to a therapist makes you a badass.

I’ve seen therapists since college. While in college, I saw my therapist whenever I needed to vent about classes, my long distance relationship and my job. It was when I first fell in love with the idea of having a therapist, someone who you can confide in and feel safe around. I made the decision to see a therapist when I felt like I needed an outside opinion, someone who wasn’t biased, someone who could come into my life and tell me how it is without the fear of hurting my feelings or making me upset. I needed advice from someone who didn’t know me.

I’m here to tell you that going to a therapist has saved me. When I was in the depths of my depression, she was the one I could talk to and get real, thoughtful, truthful advice. Yes, at first I was intimidated. And don’t get me wrong, something about crying your eyes out in front of a complete stranger and telling them your secrets is a little weird at first. But it also makes you a badass.

Keeping your feelings bottled up and feeding into your depression is not fun at all. Baring your soul and not being afraid makes you a badass. Acknowledging that you are hurting and you need help makes you a badass. Stepping outside of the box for alternative options to help you with your depression makes you a badass.

Now I know most of you are like….well….aren’t therapists expensive? If you aren’t insured, yes, it might be hard for you to find an affordable therapist. But there are also TONS of therapists that work on a sliding scale, meaning you pay whatever you can comfortably afford. If you are in the Los Angeles area, here is a good source for you. If you live anywhere else, a quick Google search should lead you to affordable therapy.

Your health is so much more than your physical health. Your health includes your mental health, so just as you go to the doctor for regular checkups and physicals, make sure you take care of your mental health as well. Because being healthy in body AND mind is badass.


Marriage Completely Freaks Me Out

I wrote on my personal Facebook account a few weeks ago about the recent HUGE influx of my friends all getting married/engaged/having babies. It’s seriously like my Facebook has turned into a giant wedding and engagement photo book.

While I am genuinely happy for all of my friends, and wish them all the best in the future lives, it’s completely freaking me out. After looking at pictures at one friends particularly gorgeous wedding, I felt my chest tighten up and I couldn’t breath. Really? An anxiety attack over looking at another friends wedding? What the hell?

After I calmed down a bit, I realized that marriage completely freaks me out. Not to say I won’t ever get married, but definitely not anytime soon.

Like every woman, I’ve envisioned my “perfect” wedding. A short dress  (yes, a SHORT wedding dress), Louboutins, gorgeous hair, a bouquet of wild flowers, a touch on vintage, etc. I could go on and on. But here’s the difference. A wedding is just the ceremony. A marriage is fucking forever.

Of course every girl wants a day where she is doted upon, gets to dress up in the most beautiful dress of her life, and spend it with everyone that’s close to her and her husband. Then there’s the honeymoon to some (hopefully) exotic and romantic destination with tons of champagne, sex and lazy time. Then what? That’s the part that freaks me out. Will it be the same? Does the title of “husband and wife” change the dynamic between what used to be “boyfriend and girlfriend”? That’s what freaks me out. Sigh.

Despite the fact Johnny and I have been together over 5 years, and we’re most likely going to be with each other forever, I just can’t imagine calling him my husband….not now. That word feels so heavy in my mouth. Husband. Wife. Mrs. Whoa. I’m not ready.

The fact that all of my friends in the same age group as me are getting married freaks me out. I know I shouldn’t compare myself to other people, but I can’t help but thinking about why I feel this way. Am I not mature enough? Nah… maybe I’m the one smart as hell to be freaked out. Who knows.


Las Vegas Hot Mess and Bacardi 151

Oh Vegas.

Oh my poor, poor, sad liver.

But what an incredibly amazing time I had!

Like I said earlier, I went to Vegas with my best friend from college, Colleen. She flew all the way from Tampa, FL on Friday afternoon to meet me in Vegas.

Spirit airlines is a piece of shit, so my flight was delayed by an hour. No worries though, I just hung out in the airport bar to get my weekend started of right. My boyfriend says that all trips to Vegas must include drinking at least 2 days before, and I couldn’t agree with him more ;).

Once we both arrived and met each other after 2 years (!!!!), we made our way to the gorgeous Paris hotel. I’ve only been to Vegas one other time, and I stayed in a cheapO hotel, so I wasn’t really expecting something super glamorous, but the Paris hotel is just that. Everything was gorgeous: the replica Eiffel Tower, the chandeliers in the lobby, the ornate elevators, how the entire inside of the hotel and casino was designed to look like a Paris street, I loved it all!

Obvs not the real Eiffel Tower, but close!

That night once we got freshened up, we headed over to Planet Hollywood to party it up and get the infamous frozen daiquiris. I decided to get mango, with an extra shot, and my best friend got a blend of strawberry and mango, again, with an extra shot. The extra shots were only a dollar, and, c’mon, it was Vegas!

The drink of drunk hot messes

With our drinks in tow, we set out to play some slots and catch up. And by play some slots, I mean put $1 in a penny machine and pretend to play while we sat and gossiped about all of our friends from college getting married, having babies, generally being a hot mess. Soon enough, she and I were feeling pretty toasty, but we hadn’t even finished half of our drinks. Then…man oh man. We were DRUNK. I don’t know if you follow me on Twitter, but I went back and read through my tweets, and they are a mess.

Oooh girl. These drinks are just…… Wooooooo!

Omg. This is the best night ever. I’ve won so much money. And I’m drinking champagne like a boss. BALLIN!!!!!

Drunkest ever.

Hottest mess evaaaaaaaaaaaaa

So yeah. I was wasted. I forgot to mention that we were also drinking champagne at the same time we were drinking this giant slushy daiquiris. Worst/Best idea ever? It was around 3am when we finally stumbled back up to our room, completely wasted and happier than I’ve been in a long time.

drunk slushy face.

As I laid in bed trying to make the world stop spinning around me, I thought of how I would’ve never been able to come to Vegas if I was still at my old job. How much my life has changed. How awesome my life is now. Just a new months ago, I didn’t think ANYTHING about my life was awesome. And here I was, in a gorgeous hotel room in Vegas with my best friend. Who would’ve thought?

The next day was spent in a slightly hungover daze, with us wandering up and down the strip. We had lunch at New York, New York, saw the super cute lions at MGM, gambled a bit at the beautiful Aria and lusted over the awesome pool party there as well. After a long day of walking and sightseeing, we decided it was a good idea to get another one of those daiquiri drinks. This was the result:

I’m drinking another one of those giant ass drinks. Hottest mess.

And again. I’m drunk. These drinks are potent as hell! These gogo girls at Planet Hollywood are a hot mess though….

They all just look so bored. And sad they have to dance. If I was up there I’d be putting on a show Beyonce style

I just found out the slushie drinks are actually made with 151. This explains why I was a tragic hot mess last night… 4.5 shots of 151!!!

So. Yeah. Motherfucking 151. I don’t know if you know anything about 151, but lets say this. It’s called 151 because it’s a 151 proof. Normal alcohol is 40 proof. FORTY. People use 151 to do flame/fire breathing tricks. And here I am ordering extra shots of the stuff. This would explain why I was wasted after drinking half of one of those drinks. In college, I swore to never drink 151 because it basically equals instant flame breathing death, and here I was in Vegas now having at least 8 shots of the stuff. My poor liver. He normally has it easy, and here he was, working at least 90 hours of overtime. Sad, sad liver indeed.

The next day we went to the Venetian (which is by FAR my favorite hotel), The Mirage for the fire show, and….well honestly it’s all in a drunken blur at this point. I think Vegas trips should have some haziness involved…right? Right. Basically, I just did a bunch of sightseeing, drinking, gossiping, and eating. But those are the best types of vacations right?

My breakfast everyday, delicious!

I’m so glad that my life has turned into an awesome ball of amazingness. I can’t describe to you all how much happier I am. And thank you ALL for reading and keeping up with my fabulous shenanigans. I love you all!


Farm Stays? Hell Yes!

Have you heard about the latest trend in travel?

Farm stays.

Yes, you pay to stay on a farm. Why would anyone ever want to do that?

Especially me: the high heeled wearing, makeup obsessed, jewelry wearing, self proclaimed lover of all things glamorous. What the hell is glamorous about staying on a farm? Overalls are not my cup of tea.

But since I made the best decision of my life to leave my job, I’ve been searching deeper into my passions, finding things that really get me excited. I watched the movie FoodMatters (actually I’ve watched it about 5 times now), and I felt something inside of me like the first time I found out I could travel.

Food. We all have to eat it, but rarely do we know exactly where it comes from and just exactly what we are putting in our bodies. Take a look at any cereal box in the grocery store and the list of ingredients is a mile long. Lord willing, I’m trying to be alive and glamorous until at least 110 years old, so I’ve been making choices to only eat foods that are from local, sustainable sources. The fact that most tomatoes in the grocery store are ripened with ethanol gas makes me cringe.

So me, the girl who wears 5.5 inch heels pretty much at all times, wants to get my hands dirty and learn how to farm. I want to be able to grow my own food, to know exactly what goes in it, and feel the satisfaction of knowing about all the nutrients my body is getting.

So, I was poking around on the internet and found out it’s possible to actually take vacations on farms! Some places include meals, some places allow you to actually work, and some places just want you to sit back and enjoy the farmlands. But I sadly found out that most farm stays are well out of my price range.

Then I found out about WWOOF, or World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms. WWOOF is an exchange program, linking volunteers with farmers in exchange for food, lodging, and incredible learning opportunities. I’ve heard people on Twitter talk about WWOOF, but I never realized what is what or how awesome the opportunity seems.

I’ve done some research and found a few places in California that seem to be pretty awesome. Johnny and I are actually thinking of taking a summer vacation to a WWOOF farm. From what I’m gathering, it seems the cost would be pretty minimal compared to an actual farm stay. That way, we could still go on a mini vacation for a minimal cost before our big trip to Argentina. Or should we just wait and stay on a WWOOF farm in Argentina? Or do both?! I don’t know!

So that’s why I’m reaching out to all of you. Have any of you done a farm stay or stayed on a WWOOF farm? Is the opportunity worth it? Let me know in the comments!


What Happened to Enjoyable Travel?

Let me preface this post by saying I’m sorry for the ridiculous lack of posts this past week. I moved to a new apartment, then the day after I moved I went to Vegas for 4 days. I also didn’t have wifi access in my apartment available until late last night. But now I’m back and with a vengance baby!

This past weekend, I took my first flight in over 3 years to Las Vegas. I was excited to finally be in an airport again, to go to the airport bookstore, to get snacks for my flight. But all of that was immediately gone when I went up to the check in counter.

I flew with Spirit Airlines, the self proclaimed US budget airline carrier. I chose Spirit, because it was the cheapest flight, but I’ve learned cheaper DEFINITELY does not mean better. From the start, I could already sense it was going to be a terrible time. The people at the check in counters were rude, uninformed and impatient. I found out my flight was delayed by an hour, no biggie. I shrugged off the rudeness, excited about seeing my best friend in Vegas.

And once I got to the security checkpoint, I immediately noticed just how unhappy people at the airport seemed to be. The air was filled with anxiety and anger. People weren’t laughing or even seemed to remotely be enjoying themselves and their next destinations. I heard more complaints about travel than ever.

“Ugh. Why do I have to take off my shoes?”

“I can’t believe I had to pay for my carry on luggage!”

“I really hope my luggage is okay, they’ve lost my luggage over 3 times!”

And it just went on and on and on. Gone was the excited chatter of new destinations, of new possibilities. Everyone was more concerned with everything else besides the enjoyment of travel.

What happened to that excitement? I remember when I used to be so excited to go to the airport. But with all the negative energy surrounding me, I couldn’t help but feel anxious as well.

And it seems to not just be me. Everyday on Twitter I see someone in my timeline writing about their horrible experiences at the airport. Of course, people are more inclined to write negative reviews, but I rarely see glowing reviews of fantastic travel experiences.

Why do you think it’s happened? Do you feel the same? It it just LAX (which is probably the worst airport ever)? Let me know in the comments!