When I was younger more naive, I associated coming of age with a number. Depending on how old you were determined your level of kid vs. adult. Age nine and below, you are a kid; plain and simple. Then you have this weird purgatory of not really being a kid and definitely not a teen, but as soon as you turn 13, doors just start to open for you. Not literally though–that’s just what my little brain told me. Continue reading
I’m a second generation motorcycle rider. Growing up my dad always had a motorcycle; at one point he even had 4. Mom and I would take turns riding with him most weekends running errands, visiting family, and sometimes just going out for ice cream. We joined a local motorcycle club when I was 12, so our rides became more frequent. In the organization, we were Chapter Z or by those who knew us, the Zaniacs. We would ride out to other chapter meetings, go on poker runs to raise money for local charities, ride in parades… It was an amazing feeling to belong to this amazing group of people who loved riding just as much as we did.
This is a piece I wrote 2 years ago reminding my readers of the tragedy that took place on April 16th, 2017. For most people, today is just another day, but for those who have a connection to Virginia Tech in some form, today is a solemn day; a day of mourning, a day of remembrance. Today we are all Hokies.
Yesterday… the Mondayist of Mondays. I left work early because my boss took so much pity on me, and this streak just doesn’t seem to want to end.
Let me explain…
Yesterday: I woke up and got ready per usual. I knew my day at work was going to be a full one because I had spent all of last week working events out of the office (happy belated National Public Health Week ya’ll!). I was planning on spending my morning in my meeting then the afternoon playing catch up with missed phone calls and emails from the week before. Continue reading
I’ve made a recent realization that I’m an adventurer. I’ve always enjoyed traveling and participating in fun outings, but because those things didn’t happen very often for me (or so I thought…), I never considered myself worthy of the description. But after the past couple of weeks, I think I’ve earned the title.
When I first started flying, I had my own personal pilot. My ex obtained his pilot’s license in the middle of our on-again-off-again relationship which meant free flights on the weekends to neighboring airports. It was fun to be able to hop on a plane and take off with no real destination in mind, no required hoops to jump through with TSA, and no hassle of what to pack for the trip; just grab a pair of sunglasses, a set of headphones (the aviation kind), and away we went. Continue reading
Seriously though. Where did all this hatred for Valentine’s Day come from!? Is it because you’re single? Is it because you’re cheap? Is it because you’re cynical? Is it because you hate chocolate (if this is the case, then you have a bigger issue)?
