Moving to New York

I think this topic could be made into a book if I’m being honest, but for the sake of all our time, I’m breaking it into two sections.

Section 1: Finally working up the courage to move/finding a home. 
Section 2: Getting chewed-up and then spit out by NY a month later- won’t touch on what the last month has consisted of until there’s a happy ending lol. 
Well, here we are, 2020. I’m at my recently acquired desk eating questionable pizza rolls since our freezer is broken- 
How did we get here? let’s begin. 
 (1) Anna on the phone with her lawyer father who we forced into reading my contract, (2) Magda and Keegan trying to find me housing via social media lol, (3) me sleeping on the ground of a random sublet. 
I felt really stuck last year. I would go to New York every weekend and then I’d have emotional bus rides back to Philly late on Sunday nights, making every Monday at work more and more dreadful. There came a point where I told everyone I was just going to leave, so I guess I did. Things moved strangely fast. A timeline of my move according to my memory: 

Oct 1– Interested in job. 
Oct 11– Interviewed.
Oct 15- Got the job offer. 
Nov 1- last day at work. 
Nov 1- Got a Uhaul and drove to NY.
Nov 4- First day. 
 (1) Keegan driving a Uhaul to New York- would strangely recommend, nice view? (2) Nick proudly sitting in our finally found apartment, (3) realizing we live two blocks from Mcdonalds and that my Freshman 15 is about to reappear. 
I don’t know what’s funnier, my Uhaul experiences or my apartment search. Let’s start in chronological order with apartment hunting, which in fact turned out successful due to my roommate being out and calling a broker at 2am ten minutes after the apartment was posted online. 
I can’t believe I’m not going to write a whole autobiography based just on my apartment search because I think it would be pure gold, but to sum it up, one time I went to an apartment that used catfish photos online and once I arrived with the broker the girl living there claimed she didn’t want to move out and the landlord is crazy and she has no heat. I politely said goodbye to the agent and then mentally bumped up my budget 200 dollars. 
The Uhaul portion feels like an inside joke so I’m going to write it in strange bullets just so I don’t forget it. 
-Uhaul from Philly to NY cancelled the day before the move.
-Dropped off Uhaul on a random street and wanted to break our phones due to the app.
-Second Uhaul driver called me and says he’ll be late because he has to go to church but “owes the boss man one.”
-Waited in the pouring rain for Uhaul-met nice man also moving.
-Owner said he “doesn’t care about the rules” so we took the Uhaul for the whole day and drove to Ikea for meatballs. 
Whatever the fuck you call my current stage.
(1) The first day I decided to walk around and take some time to take photos,  (2) Me enjoying a 2020 mimosa because why the hell not, (3) My new desk setup that is here thanks to one uberXL that hated me and one very nice lady on Facebook Marketplace. 
I think the majority of this post is for me to look back on one day and hopefully laugh at it. Another portion of it is to acknowledge that if you want to go somewhere, go. I’m 240% more unstable post-move and I honestly don’t regret anything and wish I would have taken a leap sooner, so please reach out if you ever need someone to convince you to move. 
(I told myself I wouldn’t write about Section 2 until I have a happy ending to put with it, so now we all anxiously await to see if New York wants to cut me a break or not yet.)
Until then, make yourself a mimosa and go for a walk. Send some I miss you texts. 
With love and tequila,
Lil Linds. 

The Sweetness of Doing Nothing

Dolce Far Niente: The sweetness of doing nothing. 

Well, here I am, a weekend almost coming to a close, a glass of wine at 2pm, and a new power suit in my closet. This weekend consisted of the most alone time I’ve had in over a year, I’d hate to admit it but I think my biggest struggle has always been spending time alone or not doing anything. A lot of this stems from my belief that I should always be working or trying to create something, which is a tough belief to shake. 

There I was, a Saturday night alone, and what did I choose to do? I watched Eat Pray Love, made mini chocolate chip cookies, and lit my overpriced Bath & Body Works candle. Yes, this is me admitting to perfectly fitting the basic girls guide to her 20’s, I literally couldn’t care less. 

There was a point in the movie where I literally felt like they were making fun of me and I had to pause. Ultimately, the wonderful Julia Roberts was in a barber shop complaining about her lack of accomplishments in a country as beautiful as Italy, and before she could finish she was stopped. The man she was with WHO LET ME NOT FORGET TO MENTION IS LITERALLY NAMED “LUCA SPAGHETTI” (classic), said the line You feel guilty because you’re American. You don’t know how to enjoy yourself! Americans know entertainment, but don’t know pleasure. You work too hard. You get burned out. Then you come home and spend the whole weekend… in your pajamas in front of the TV. But you don’t know pleasure. You have to be told you’ve earned it.” and then some unnecessary joke about sleeping with someones wife. 

It hit me more than I’d like to admit. Mainly because lately I’ve been overworking myself, only to reward myself with laying in bed and watching romantic comedies from the 2000’s. I’ve been trying to figure out how to find more pleasure during my work day, this past week it started with me actually taking a lunch break for the first time in a year, I honestly felt uncomfortable siting and not working. I’m not a source to provide the ultimate guide to relaxation and acceptance, but I mainly wanted to share my realization for anyone else who might be living the lifestyle and hasn’t been told yet to slow down. Slow down. 

Here’s a few things I’m going to do this week.

  • I’m going to set aside time to write. Step away from the computer for a second and see how I actually handle it. 
  • I’m going to eat lunch everyday. Regardless of how much I should be doing. 
  • I’m going to walk around my neighborhood every night after dinner, get out, remind myself that there’s other things I could be doing after getting off work besides working more. 
  • I’m going to pour myself a glass of wine after this and cook myself dinner while listening to some Diana Ross. Dancing optional. 

Alright, that’s it for this strangely warm September Sunday. 

With love and tequila, 

What Went Down in DC

I’m just going to start this off by saying never eat buffalo chicken pizza at 3 am to try and prevent a hangover. It’ll make things worse.

The series where I write vague, step-by-step timelines of what I did in different countries/cities/let’s be real, bars. I mainly write these so I can re-read them years down the road, but I mainly think I’m just going to regret them when people start blackmailing me with them or my parents pull the “Internet is forever Lindsey!”
With that being said, let’s do this.  

-Left work and headed to 30th street station
-Somehow told myself Wendy’s was a smart decision, it wasn’t
-got on the jam-packed train to DC
-Arrived and met Meg in the rain
-decided we wanted to go to the bars, dressed to go to the bars, went outside, decided to go back home. 
-stopped at grocery store and got large bag of frosted animal crackers(important)
-watched Sabrina until we went to sleep
-Woke up and went to brunch, got the Lox bagel of your DREAMS
-walked around little leaf covered residential streets that would make your heart hurt
-went out and explored all of the monuments
-went back to Meg’s and started getting ready for the halloween bar crawl
-ran around DC in zombie makeup
-went to the SiPS 2.0 with the tiny mugs. rip.
-Waited in line for Madhatter(vodka and gingerale lol)
-Got into Madhatter and danced our lifes away for the rest of the night
-went to a slice store, ordered 2, needed 1. 
-went home and took a shower with white towels while I was covered in black face makeup
-somehow recovered from Saturday.
-went to a cute little part of town and stopped in a bar for an unecessary cheese platter
-Shopped dow the row, hit up FP, couldn’t get away
-went back home and watched Sabrina while Meg made homemade potato soup
-ran to the train station in the rain again, holding a mason jar of leftover soup in one hand and animal crackers in the other
-got back home at midnight
-woke up at 7 for work 
With love and tequila, Lindsey.

"Help, I’m bored"

It’s been almost a month since I’ve written a blog post. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been writing, my journals are slowly become sappier by the minute, but I haven’t felt the need to put anything out there for a while. 
My life a month ago: 
Look, I’m in Paris
Look, a cute British boy at a bar
I shall eat this whole table of pasta and have 0 regrets
Is it normal to wear this furry coat to an Italian Mcdonalds?
My life currently:
Forgetting I’m in an online class a week into school
Is it okay to wear my sweatshirt two days in a row?
Can I count a trip to AJ’s as an adventure?
Why the EFF won’t the boy follow me back on Instagram. 
Wait, I’m graduating, this isn’t fun. 
I’ve legitimately felt trapped in a box for the past month. There’s a lot of things I’d warn someone of if they’re transitioning from living abroad to being back home. Things that used to feel fun don’t feel as fun anymore, college bars make you want to scream, and the concept that you could be traveling in Europe but you’re spending your time in Ames, Iowa crying about classes is hard to grasp. People reach out and ask how things are and the only thing I have been able to respond with lately is “boring”. 
“Help, I’m bored.”
“Ugh, there’s nothing to do in Iowa.” 
I had a conversation with some friends recently that really hit me hard. We were talking about if we regretted not going to a big city for school, and they both instantly said no. Their mindset was that being in such a small town with limited access to things blocked out distractions, and forced them to really get to know themselves. I’ve been thinking a lot about that recently and felt inclined to just put it out there for other people to think about. 
Are you really stuck and bored or are you just constantly comparing? 
What a classic line. 
“Stop comparing yourself to others!!!!!!!! Love yourself!!!!”
This is actually a very important statement regardless of it’s overuse. 
BUT . . . I’m talking comparison within yourself. 
I’ve realized I’ve been constantly comparing two completely different times in my life. 
I’m a firm believer in stages of life. Each stage has a different purpose, and holding on to one will only hold you back from what the next one is supposed to show you. Traveling was a huge stage, but is it fair to say that it’s provided me more than the stage I’m in now? I’m in a small town surrounded by some of the greatest souls I’ve ever crossed. I have more time to work on passion projects and art than I have ever before. I have more time to invest in friendships and my own happiness. I mean. CMON, if there was ever a time for me to try and start a girl band it would be now. 
Everything has its time. 
I think I’m just now learning the importance of now. 
I hope you do, too. 

What Went Down In Germany

To the week of runny noses and running to pubs . . .


I’m actually not surprised at all. I was dead for half of this trip and frostbitten for the other half, but for memories sake, LET’S BEGIN. 
I started off being sick from Budapest the last weekend and then preparing for my weekend in Germany with my typical winter plague, which resulted in me going to bed around 7pm some nights and ended with me someone sitting underneath a cold shower completely clothed in a German hostel at 3 am? stay tuned. 
-flew out late from Rome
-arrived in Munich
-met Pia at the airport, took the subway to the city centre
-checked into our hostel 
-got some free hot wine, chugged and left
-realized there wasn’t much food around the main city area
-went into mcdonald’s (lol)
-walked home and tried to go to bed at 8pm, I suck 
-woke up even more sick, yay!
-experienced snow for the first time this semester
-went to car rental place and somehow convinced the sales guy in german to get us a larger car so one of us wouldn’t be in the trunk 
-drove a couple hours to a mountainous region that was EPIC. 
-ended up at some castles
-literally froze my toes on the way up to the castle and stopped in to get some soup and tea 
-missed our tour due to soup and tea
-went into a later tour that lasted 10 minutes, didn’t even take a picture of the castle, HAH
-drove back home and felt like death
-got dropped off and tried to go to bed at 7pm, I suck 
-had to deal with couple that was baby talking in hostel room 
-made up elaborate plan to get baby talk couple out of room
-Libby, Jess, Brooke and I went exploring for Christmas markets. 
-ate some market food and pretended like it wasn’t just hot dogs and fries.
-stumbled upon Pizza Hut on the way back. 
-I insisted on Pizza Hut
-my dreams came true
-walked back to the hostel
-Brooke and I went to the hostel bar next-door
-met Stew, Danny, and Daniel. 
-decided to walk to a beer garden with some strangers at 10pm
-walked to opposite side of town
-somehow ordered a beer glass the size of my head without realizing it
-ate some strudel and all of the salads the guys weren’t eating 
-walked back to hostel bar
-had a snowball fight in the middle of the street
-had some life talks 
-went back to hostel
-got ready for bed and took my medicine
-realized medicine wasn’t supposed to be mixed with alcohol
-felt like I couldn’t breathe
-called meri at 3am thinking I was going to die
-wrote some last words to people in my phone notes
-sat in a cold shower fully clothed in the hostel to slow my heart rate as people casually walked by 
-decided to not sleep in fear of death 
-watched Netflix until people woke up 
-sort of
-still progressively getting more sick
-went to cute coffee shop with Meg, Brooke, and Pia, where the barista of every human’s dreams was working
-revisited Christmas market 
-explored bookstore and the wonderful world of Topshop
-Went back to hostel to grab stuff and went to Meg’s Airbnb. 
-stopped by cool soup place near Airbnb that has quality packaging and fancy soup to go.
-drank soup in two minutes
-napped on Meg’s floor
-napped in Meg’s fancy bed
-napped on floor again
-took train to airport
-somehow got a whole row of seats to myself on the flight back 
-happily made it home to my own bed and continued to die from my sickness (the sickness has not left and it’s been over a month, EAT YOUR VEGETABLES CHILDREN).
Munich left me with some good memories. I wouldn’t recommend anyone to travel if they feel deathly ill, but if you’re in Europe for only two more weeks, yolo. 
Here’s to oversized beers and castles. 

A Love Letter to 2017

It’s almost 2018, it’s about time love letters become visual.

I feel like I almost have so much to say about this year that it’s a struggle to try and find the right words to actually put down and compile into a blogpost.

This post is dedicated to the year of self-love.
The year of self-discovery.
The year of dream jobs.
The year of new friends from around the world.
The year of running to airports at 3am.
The year of crying over FaceTime to friends across oceans.
The year of last minute bus tickets to New York.
The year of running into oceans.
The year of pure bliss.
Pure bliss. 

It’s hard to wrap my head around how much I’ve grown within 365 days. I remember sitting in bed at the beginning of this year and worrying about the dumbest things. Am I good enough to get this job. How do I get this boy like me. Should I start watching my weight. Will I make enough money. Will they look at me weird if I wear this. I literally feel like a new human.

This year consisted of buying a plane ticket to visit my best friend in New York and running around the city in the freezing cold with my brothers, meeting a friend at a coffee shop in the worst blizzard ever while wearing cut-out shoes. Dancing my heart out.

Packing a backpack and hiking part of the Appalachian Trail. Getting blisters all over both feet and washing the dirt off in fresh streams leading to waterfalls. To getting lost in the rain and having to go to the bathroom as the sun started to disappear. To feeling the most connected with nature that I’ve felt in years.

Getting my dream job and running piles of clothes from fashion closets to photoshoot sets and making small talk with my favorite models. Creating art and meeting people who made me believe that my opinions and visions are important and should be heard. Happy hour margaritas and Friday trips to the Megabus station to go to New York for the weekend. Going for runs at night to rooftop views and spontaneous trips to beaches. Going to outdoor DJ sets and running around cities in torrential downpours.

Flying to Rome and living in another country for four months. Planning out weekend trips that always ended in me saying “That was the greatest weekend of my life.” Meeting people on boats in Budapest and in pubs in Germany and clubs in London and staying up all weekend running around streets of cities I can’t even pronounce. Dancing by myself in the corner of every foreign bar when the song New Rules comes on. Sneaking my way into London fashion week and running around town with the coolest people I’ve ever encountered. Dancing with bottles of wine at the colosseum and planning picnics under the Eiffel Tower. Learning to appreciate myself for who I am and where I am.

I’m almost already nostalgic of this year and what it contained, but I have a newfound belief that the best is yet to come, so, 

the best is yet to come. 

To 2017, with all my love.

What Went Down In Budapest

New York is no longer the city that doesn’t sleep . . .

It’s 3am and I’m in bed writing a blogpost. Mainly because I don’t want to forget a single thing about Budapest but also because my sleep schedule is the most messed up thing you’ll ever come across. 
(I’m going to be a little vague for parts and then leave it to my personal journal to remind me of certain points because the internet is a scary place to be extremely open on. I like to push it, but just enough) 
LET’S START THE SCENE. 4 am, Thursday morning.
-booked taxi
-took taxi to airport
-realized Nick didn’t have his passport
-turned around and got passport
-got on plane with some serious anxiety leftover from thinking we’d miss it
-stepped into the freezing cold, took a bus to the hostel
-got our beds and met up with Colton, Nick’s friend from Philly who decided to spontaneously buy a ticket to Budapest for Thanksgiving break
-decided to buy tickets for every event possible in Budapest
-started to walk to the thermal baths
-ended up hiking up a hill instead and got this view of budapest
-walked down to the Gellert thermal bath
-watched Nick and Colton embarrass themselves as they screamed while entering an ice bath in a quiet zone spa area
-Ran between the Finnish sauna and the outdoor ice bath
-stumbled upon a Christmas market 
-decided to head back to hostel and get ready for the night
-Met some cool people at the hostel bar
-started walking to a boat
-met Danielle at some point on the walk, decided to force myself into her friend group for the rest of the trip
-went on the boat and danced around and had great girls bathroom conversations as we passed some of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever scene (key words for my future self to remember- mouse in jumpsuit, champagne, dance floor, those two brothers, Georgie with hair, under bridge kiss-HAHA)
-walked to a local club (forever remember the bathroom)
-Woke up the next morning
-stayed in bed until noon
-ran into an Australian guy I met the night before 
-decided to go out for breakfast and ate the greatest avocado toast of my life
-walked back to hostel and slept again until we had to leave
-realized I only brought healed booties to climb caves, borrowed sneakers from the sweetest hostel worker in the whole world
-started walking as a group to go caving
-thought we were lost until a guy who looked like Indiana Jones approached us at the train station and introduced himself as our tour guide
-made it to the caves, changed into some of the coolest outfits ever
-climbed and squeezed through some scary holes, listed to Nick loudly swear each time we approached a scary section
-turned all of our lamps off in a big opening and sang build me up buttercup acapella style in a completely dark and silent cave
-finished three hours later completely covered in dirt and sweat
-went to another Christmas market and got some hot food and warm wine, laughed and talked about stories of love and parents and everything else under the sun
-got back to the hostel, got ready, went to ruin bars 30 minutes later
-Bar hopped, ran around secret places, explored the basements, got official bar tours from the cute New Zealander who I later danced like a manic to 90’s hits with, so much hair flipping. 
-decided to go back to hostel to pack since our flight was in an hour
-took a side trip with Kim and ended up at a fried chicken restaurant where we laughed about inappropriate things really loudly. 
-got back to hostel and found Nick 5 minutes before we were supposed to leave
-got in the taxi 
-Nick decided he wanted to stay in Budapest and made the driver pull over and ran out of the taxi
-Nick then proceeded to run back into the taxi one minute later
-taxi driver didn’t speak english and was genuinely terrified
-somehow made it to the airport at 4 am
-fell asleep on the airport chairs
-got on the plane in the FREEZING cold 
-made it home and slept until it was time for dinner
-facetimed my parents and brought up the option of permanently working at a hostel
-continuing to question my life decisions 

What Went Down In Paris

How many crepes were actually eaten? One will never know. 

Welcome back to the What Went Down series, where I specifically lay out what happened to me in a foreign country and people who don’t really care still read about it for some reason. 
A childhood dream since I was able to conceptualize what Paris even was, maybe it was the Kanye influence or maybe it was every line in every rom com ever that went “Let’s go to Paris,” BUT I WAS GOING TO MAKE IT TO PARIS ONE WAY OR ANOTHER. And I happily did. 
Let’s start from the morning of November 10th and start this diary of a blogpost. 

-Woke up at 4am and rolled out of bed to some perfectly folded piles of clothes to put on 
-The next 20 minutes were a blur of brushing teeth and me lying on the floor for no reason
-Had two cups of coffee
-Got a cab
-Arrived at airport and flew to Paris
-Navigated the frustrating transportation system 
-Arrived at the airbnb
-First crepe run
-Went to Musée D’Orsay, saw the larger collection of Monet’s ever 
-Stumbled upon Notre Dame, ran through a bunch of pigeons
-Went grocery shopping for a picnic
Let’s pause and acknowledge Meg, who was in Paris with me, and who somehow had a magical way of turning grocery aisles and rainy outdoor coffee shops into photoshoot sets and who said “fuck it,” multiple times with me. 
-Went to the Eiffel Tower, sat and ate our dinner (bread, the best jam in the world, some quality cheese, some not so quality cheese, lots of rosé)
-Danced and laughed and chased off rats and watched the lights go off
-Said “THIS ISN’T REAL” a lot of times
-Tried to somehow do a photoshoot that involved us taking over the dead center of the Eiffel Tower and getting down on the ground
-Went home and passed out
-Woke up and went to corner coffee shop
-Ordered a piece of cake instead of the expensive brunch
-Paid and then asked to bring a coffee cup outside for pictures and made the baristas laugh 
-Went to the Louvre
-Wasn’t sure what to do with life after awkwardly standing in front of the Mona Lisa and not knowing what to do with our hands
-Left and walked around the streets aimlessly trying to find food
-Ended up in a really expensive shopping district where we couldn’t even afford a single macaroon
-Somehow stumbled upon a PRET and stuffed our faces with 1.50 croissants and weird quesadillas
-Went to the Arch De Triomphe
-It was down-pouring rain with wind at this point
-Tried to figure out how to actually get to the arch, which ended with us somehow entering through an exit and dodging the security line. 
-Did some more dancing and running in the rain. 
-Bought the second crepe of the weekend (there was a deal that involved a can of coke, CMON PEOPLE)
-Bought myself a rose because get your own damn flowers
-Stopped in every souvenir shop possible to find meg a patch, ended successfully  
-Revisited Notre Dame at night
-Went home and re energized
-Went out to a late night dinner in a cute little restaurant we found that had movie posters all over the walls and candles all over
-Turned out the food was Italian 
-Did we eat Italian pasta in France when we’re studying abroad in Rome? Yes, we did
-Talked about passions and laughed about secrets and dreams over rosé
-Realized we had a flight at 5 am in the morning
-Heard screams coming from a corner pub on the way home
-Made eye contact with Meg and both smiled, then proceeded to BOOK IT towards the pub
-Got beer and cider and screamed for the wrong rugby team 
-Headed out 
-Stumbled upon a restaurant with neon lights outside of it on the walk home in the rain
-Proceeded to have a photoshoot in the rain with said lights shamelessly in front of locals on the street
-Went home, went to bed
-Let’s not talk about waking up in the morning and struggling with speaking French and running to the airport bus and making it home very sleep deprived. 
Paris, you truly were nothing but magical, thank you. 

Promises to Self

Because we all need to eat cucumbers and do yoga here and there. . . 

Here’s the cheesy as fuck moment. We were on a train going through Switzerland and we were passing these random cottages on open prairies and mountains consumed in fog. Long story short I was listening to my emotional playlist and looking out the window thinking HOLY CRAP LIFE IS SO BEAUTIFUL AND WHAT’S HAPPENING IN MY LIFE CURRENTLY IS SO BEAUTIFUL. 
I want to feel like that everyday. And ever since then I have. 
I feel like I talk about self love 24/7 yet I can’t think of anything I’d do in my day to day life that actually enforced caring for myself. I made new promises to myself of things to do on a daily basis to appreciate life and to appreciate myself. 
If you’re in a rut, make some promises to yourself. Write em out. Put them on your wall. Set reminders on your phone, I don’t care what it takes, just make it happen, make time for yourself. 

Promises to Self:

1) Once a week, make a family brunch with my friends. 
Put on the fall music playlist. Open up the windows. Laugh about the night before. Burn the french toast. Make mimosas out of fresh squeezed oranges. Talk about life over cleaning dirty dishes. Hug and go our ways. 

2) Cook yourself some damn food. 
Tie your hair up. Go to the store and buy ingredients. Pull out the old family recipes and get cooking. Find therapy in hours spent by yourself listening to music and chopping up vegetables in the kitchen. Put quality food into your body, as my mom would say “You can’t put a price tag on health.”

3) Put the past in the past. 
Be open to meeting new people finally. Text back the nice boy for once. Stop giving people who don’t deserve any more chances chances. How you let people treat you can say a lot about what you think you deserve, let yourself deserve more. 

Treat your body well, keep working out, do some morning yoga before class. You always feel better after and you’ll thank yourself down the road. 

Keep making lists.

Lists are my favorite.

& call your mom. 


Nice Is Nice

To that one weekend where we sat on rooftops and cried in bed hugging.


This trip was pretty spontaneous. Laura sat on Mariah’s bed next to mine and said “We’re booking a trip to Nice, wanna come?” So I checked my bank account and said, my bank account advises me not to, but yes, yes I would. Booked the ticket. 
This weekend in France was much needed, it was filled with overly happy moments and canned Guinness, what more could you ask for. 
I’m not going to go into listing specifics, mainly because no one wants to hear about the 5 euro Chinese food or the weird french guys outside our hostel. This story does end with bed bugs though, you win some you lose some?
Highlights for future reference:
We sat on the rooftop of the hostel, what started out as a “Lindsey, fit through that window” joke turned into all of us ending up on a roof in France drinking beer and eating candy and listening to our favorite music. 
Laura and I closed down the McDonalds at 1am or 2am, either or. Stalked some well dressed french boys and ended up laying down in the middle of the checkered plaza in Nice. 
Played drinking games in the hostel and danced around, which quickly turned into us talking about love and playing sad songs and literally hugging each other and crying in bed as we passed cheap champagne. 
Found the cute bar in the center of town that we went to both nights, listened to live music and watched as locals embraced and laughed over the bar counters and dramatically reacted to the rugby game on the screens. 
Found a Pizza Hut and brought a pizza to the beach. Ate said pizza on beach and realized I was thriving.
Watched the sunset on the beach, had some nice life thoughts. 
Laura and Mariah, you are near and dear to my heart. 

Thank you for thinking it’s normal to hug and cry in bed on a saturday night. 

Thank you for the most marvelous weekend a girl could ask for. 

Here’s to stuffed crust pizza.