I’m back.

It’s been such a wild year.

WordPress looks different.

I don’t care, I am just going to start typing and not care.

It’s been over a year and I am STILL upset that I didn’t get to go to Germany. Lost Evenings 4 did not happen in May of 2020, and even if it had, I wouldn’t have been allowed into Germany.

Well, Lost Evenings 4 has been rescheduled for September. In London. I bought a weekend pass, but I am fully aware that I may not be allowed into England either, which sucks because a lot of other European countries are allowing vaccinated folks in. Not the UK, though.

It’s okay. If I don’t get to go, I will try to get some money back for my pass and head to Chicago instead for Riot Fest, which I also have a weekend pass for. Ha!

Either way, I will get out of Dallas and spend four days at a music festival. Aside from having passes to both, I also already have rooms reserved in both London and Chicago. I just haven’t booked flights since that’s all up in the air, pun absolutely intended.

I am BEYOND ready to solo travel again. I am itching for it, I need it.

I did start going to shows again, and man oh man, I HAVE BEEN MISSING OUT. Instant boost of serotonin. Instant feeling like I belong. Instant connection to complete strangers. I cannot believe I went so long without live music! How did I not have a complete meltdown?

To make up for lost time, I am going HAM attending concerts. I have already been to three so far this year, and I have another to go to in 10-ish days for my birthday. Then in August, September, and October… Oof. I hope my 37-year-old ass can still handle it. I did make the sad realization that I can no longer headbang, so we shall see.

Here’s to doing what I love, to making the most of what life has to offer, to setting boundaries, and to making the changes necessary to be happy and well.

Hello?

Does anyone even blog anymore?

Grandma Lupe

I’m about to lose one of my biggest sources of love, support, and strength. Even though she’s still with us, I know I won’t ever hear her speak to me again, she it crushes me. I knew this would come, but you just can’t prepare for it. You cherish all the time you have, and then you grieve.

Home.

I clicked on New Post without looking at when I last wrote, or what the last thing I posted was about.

I just felt like writing tonight.

I am having a quiet night in. I just got back to my apartment after spending a couple days/nights in Austin for a music festival and to visit my bff. I miss that kid so much. He can always make me smile, he’s funny as hell, and I fucking love our conversations. He had moved to California in the summer, but is now back in Texas, and I am thrilled about it. He may not be back in Dallas, but Austin is obviously much closer than Cali. Fucking hooray.

This trip also involved me staying at a hostel for the first time. Sharing a room with complete strangers of the opposite gender was an interesting experience for sure, but I enjoyed it. There were so many international visitors, and it seemed that most were there for the same music festival. There was a common area/lounge with a kitchen where we could all eat and just hang out. That’s where I noted just how international the company was. I felt this deep admiration for all my fellow travelers. Me, I was only a three-hour drive away from home, not only in my home country, but in my home state as well. Others… There were people who were obviously British, other Europeans, and travelers from Asia as well. I wish I had talked to them all, and that I had been able to stay the entire weekend like them, but oh well.

If anything, I am even more inspired to travel often and travel far, even if it’s alone. Actually, especially if it’s alone! Also, especially if music is involved.

This is it for me. This is where happiness and treating myself lies for me. In music and traveling and meeting people from all corners of the world.

2020 should be grand!

I have to keep telling myself that. My brain. My silly, naughty, troublesome brain.

My brain likes to think that all is doom and gloom and despair this time of year. Stressors that usually roll right off my back in the summer wipe me completely off my feet in fall and winter. In the summer, my problems can be shaken by just opening a window and letting sunlight bathe my surroundings, by going outside to the pool, by going for a quick stroll around the park… Now? It’s awful. It is often be cloudy out, and even on days with clear skies, the sun is not out for long. And then there’s the cold. Being outside is not enjoyable nor comfortable. At least in the summer I can hop in the pool and hang in the shade. How the hell am I supposed to warm up in the winter other than by going back indoors?

Being outside in the warmth and daylight is therapeutic for me. So yeah… This season becomes difficult. I feel trapped. I have already had one therapy session this season and will likely schedule another soon. As I am typing this, my light therapy lamp is shining brightly on me.

Shut up, brain. Everything is fine.

Tomorrow’s weather should be decent. I am looking forward to going for a run in the morning. I’m supposed to go to lunch with Dustin as well, then in the afternoon/evening, I’ll be off to hang out with my family because it will be my nephew’s first birthday!

That little guy. I will say this: I think the reason last fall/winter did not affect me as it usually does was because of him, my baby nephew. We were all just so overjoyed with his arrival and I was over the moon about being an aunt again. So, hey brain. Remember that kid? Abel? He still brings me joy, and he’s older now, much more interactive. Remember him, okay?

I started solo traveling because of Frank Turner.

I haven’t written in a while. I also have not been reading the blogs that I follow. It has been a busy couple months. I am not complaining about it, but, as I often must remind myself, I need to slow down sometimes.

Here’s what’s up…

In May, I took my first solo trip. I went alone, it was not work-related, it was not for continuing education, nor did I know anyone in the city I visited. I had recently been inspired by other women (some significantly younger than me and with less income to plan with) who travel the world alone. Solo female travelers. There is an entire network of them – on Facebook, on Instagram, on Meetup, on Reddit, on Pinterest – and they are fearlessly and joyfully exploring all corners of the Earth. They are #goals. The more I read about their adventures, the more I eagerly wanted to begin my own adventuring.

So I did.

I started close to home, and I started small: Tulsa, Oklahoma. Frank Turner (my favorite musician) was on tour in North America (he hails from England), and for the first time in the eight years that I have been a fan, he did not book a show in Dallas/Ft. Worth. I knew I would have severe FOMO if I did not see him during this tour, so I decided to consider my options to see him elsewhere.

The nearest stops to me were in Houston and Tulsa. Houston… No. Just no. I hate that city. It’s large and crowded with nothing special to offer. I have been there enough times, mostly for sports-related reasons, and I can say that I will be content if I never have to go there again. Ever.

Tulsa?

After a little bit of research, I decided that Tulsa would be the PERFECT city for me to venture to alone. It is small, walkable, with plenty to keep me busy during my three-day getaway.

I loved it.

First off, Frank’s show was held at a historic music venue/dance hall and it was on point. It was the kind of night that just… I don’t know. It’s the reason I love music, especially live. Here is an artist that not only writes music that hits me all up in my feels, but he puts everything he has in him into each performance. The energy is indescribable. His fans are my favorite – they are friendly, they do not talk during the show, and they sing along to every lyric. I was front and center at this show, up against the barricade. The ideal spot.

I have been to enough of Frank’s shows to know that he usually ends his set with a particular song, during which he comes off the stage, chooses a fan to dance with, and then makes his way back to the stage via crowdsurfing. He’s cool like that. A few nights before, though, in fucking Alabama, he was dropped while crowdsurfing and injured his back. This meant he wouldn’t be doing his norm that night in Tulsa. Still, I expected him to not play his guitar during this song, and I was right.

It was the perfect opportunity for me to hand him a challenge coin (he collects them) that I had brought from Dallas with me. He took it from me, smiled a ginormous smile when he realized what it was, high-fived me, and later on as he sang “I want you and me to join hands down at the front”, he looked and pointed straight at me and made the whole night even better.

I left the venue that night with $95 worth of merchandise, the show’s setlist, and happiness all in my core. When I posted a photo on Instagram, Frank was quick to give it a like. Aaaaahhhh.

I spent the following days exploring Tulsa. They have the most beautiful art museum with gorgeous gardens that I spent several hours at, even though that had not been my intention. The best part was that it was a weekday so I pretty much had the place all to myself! I also took in a baseball game (the stadium was literally on the next block from my hotel), a beautiful park, the art-deco architecture throughout downtown, a couple more museums, some historical landmarks, and quaint little shops. I could not have asked for a more perfect trip. It went so well that now I am encouraged to take even more solo trips!

We are getting to the part where I tell you why I am going to Germany next year…

It involves Frank. Ha!

You see, Frank now holds his very own four-day music festival each spring: Lost Evenings. Lyrics from one of his songs, I Knew Prufrock Before He Got Famous, go like this:

Life is about love, last minutes, and lost evenings
About fire in our bellies and furtive little feelings
And the aching amplitudes that get our needles all a-flickerin’
And help us with remembering that the only thing that’s left to do is live

A few weeks after I saw him in Tulsa, Lost Evenings III was held in Boston, Massachusetts. Last year and the year before, the festival was held in England. How exciting that he decided to change locales, right? All throughout the weekend that Lost Evenings was held this year, I kept seeing posts on Frank Turner Facebook groups detailing what an awesome time everyone was having. I lived vicariously through all the people who traveled to Boston for this epic event and vowed to go to it myself next year, regardless of the location, but also hoping that it would be held somewhere in the U.S. again to make it easy on me.

On the last night of Lost Evenings III, my social media feeds were all flooded with the announcement we were all waiting for: Lost Evenings IV – Berlin, Germany – May 2020.

Well, fuck.

I questioned my ability to pull it off for maybe five minutes, then saw a post on The Solo Armada’s Facebook page.

What’s The Solo Armada? It’s a group of music fans that formed in England in 2017 prior to the first Lost Evenings festival. Basically, it was a bunch of Frank Turner fans who were traveling to and/or attending Lost Evenings alone and agreed to meet up with one another during the weekend. They kept each other company and made each other feel welcome despite being alone. Following that successful weekend, the group continued to have meetups at other concerts and eventually grew to include fans from all across the globe! The biggest meetup of the year, of course, is still Lost Evenings.

So as I debated whether or not I could make a trip to a foreign country across the ocean all by myself, I jumped on Facebook to look through all the posts about Lost Evenings in Boston and remind myself of how amazing it would be to go, especially given the fact that I am such a huge Frank Turner fan! How could I not?!

It was while on Facebook that I read a post by the founder of The Solo Armada, adamantly encouraging anyone with any doubts of traveling alone to just do it. To know that when you get to Lost Evenings, although alone, you will certainly meet plenty of strangers who will help you out and quickly become your friends. That’s what the Armada is all about.

With that, ten minutes and 150-ish U.S. dollars later, my four-day pass to Lost Evenings IV was purchased!

Shortly thereafter, I was added to a Facebook group created for people planning to attend Lost Evenings. I excitedly joined the conversation and announced that not only would it be my first time to attend the festival, but it would also be my first time in Europe and that I would be there alone. As I mentioned, Frank Turner fans are the friendliest, and I immediately got words of encouragement from others. So nice! Then, in another thread regarding lodging, I was invited to stay in a hostel room with seven other Frank fans! A new friend, Francine, is from England and has traveled to Berlin plenty in the past. She is also attending Lost Evenings alone and graciously agreed to help newbie-fellow-solo-travelers out so that we are not completely overwhelmed. Get this: she already booked the hostel for me!

I mean, I can’t go to Europe and not experience staying in a hostel, right?! It’s gonna save me a shit ton of money, too! Why aren’t hostels a thing in the U.S.???

That’s not all. A few days after I had found my Berlin roomie, someone in one of the groups asked if there were any fellow runners who would be attending Lost Evenings. Not surprisingly, within a couple days, yet another group was formed: The Frank Turner Run Club! We will be meeting up to run the streets of Berlin while there for Lost Evenings! Isn’t that exciting? What a fun way to make even more new friends and see the city!

So… it is still ten months away, but I really cannot wait to meet my Berlin roomies, fellow Frank Turner Run Club members, and all the folks from The Solo Armada. This is going to be the trip of a lifetime. I get to explore a foreign city – one with centuries of history (I am a bit of a history nut), I get to make new friends from all over the world, and to top it all off, I get to see Frank Turner perform four nights in a row! My heart is all fluttered just thinking about it.

But ten months is a long time. How about another domestic mini-trip to help further build my confidence in traveling alone?

Hey, Frank. Help me choose another destination. Boulder, Colorado in October to see you during your No Man’s Land tour? Cool.

I love my life.

Deutschland!

I’m going to Germany next year! And I’m clearly too excited not to share the news.

Friday night musings.

April already.

These days, I really do feel that I am pretty much doing life right. I spend as much time as possible with my friends and family, but because I live alone, I get plenty of much-needed me time as well. I am reconnecting with old friends, and building foundations for new friendships all at once. I have become more willing to take chances and do things just to say that I tried and did it. I am learning, constantly learning, always observing, my mind is growing. I ignore those that do not vibe with my vibes. Everyone says to be kind, but I choose to simply not be mean. My kindness is reserved for those who deserve it, and I am good with that. Same goes for my friendship.

I feel as though I have so much to look forward to, and it’s because I do.

Life is so dreamy right now. It’s romancing me, I am in love with it again. It’s all so rosy.

Look at how far I have come, how much I have changed in the past year. It’s like I am finally becoming the person I was meant to be.

This is good.

The Opening Act of Spring.

And just like that, my favorite day of the year has arrived.

Technically, the event happens middle of the night/wee hours of the morning, but still. I am thrilled!

Daylight Saving Time.

I have made it through the past four months without needing to see my therapist, without having to take medication, and without using my phototherapy lamp. Shorter days, lower temperatures, and the absence of volunteering for Beto were all factors I thought would do me in, but BEHOLD, they did not. I kept on, and now I am heading into the happiest time of year already in high spirits.

Grandma, I am happy to say, is doing well. She’s in high spirits herself and does not appear to be sick nor show signs of slowing down. For that, I am grateful. When I first learned of her diagnosis, I immediately started grieving and mourning. I made it to the acceptance stage of that grief rather quickly, thankfully, so now, I am able to spend time with her without my heart completely breaking and without succumbing to my tears. We are joyful when we are together, which is something we both need. I know the grief will eventually return, but for now, I am not taking these happy moments for granted. As an atheist, I live for the present, and it is life circumstances such as this one that remind me why that is a good thing.

She is in Mexico this week. She loves going home. I love visiting too, even though technically, it has never been my home. There is just this warm, welcoming ambiance all about, and Grandma is well-known and adored in her little home town. I hope she enjoys her getaway. The forecast there is in the mid-80s, something I am certain she will relish. And when she returns to her home here in Dallas, she will get right to prepping her garden for the arrival of spring. Last year, we went shopping for plants and flowers together. I am hoping to do the same again soon.

With that, I am out. It should be another lovely day. Last night, some friends and I enjoyed dinner and drinks on the patio of a nearby restaurant. Today, I am off to an Irish festival that is always one of my favorite annual local events.

Thank you, life.

Monday morning blues.

I cut myself some slack this morning. I didn’t iron my scrubs, I wore them nice and wrinkled without any shame. If my Mom were to see me, she would shake her head in disapproval. That was the law of her household when I was a kid: Go to school in perfectly pressed clothes, come home with straight As. I can report that I did well.

It’s ingrained in me, I iron all my clothes to this day, carefully and meticulously. It wasn’t until a few years ago that I learned that a lot of people simply throw what they’re wearing into the dryer and sooth out wrinkles that way. That doesn’t work for me. It’s just not enough, I can tell, and Mom would also be able to tell.

Today, though? I don’t care.

I received some bad news yesterday. Grandma Lupe – my last living grandparent, the one I have always been closest to, the one I have bonded with the most – was diagnosed with cancer. I don’t know the full details, because she’s being very secretive, but she’s in her 80s and, like my grandfather (her husband), will likely not seek any sort of treatment. I know what this means.

Do you understand why I don’t care about my stupid scrubs? I’m more concerned about breaking out in tears at any given moment. I am about to do so now sitting here waiting for this bus to leave.

I want more details. And I want to be with her.

I didn’t set any resolutions, goals, or intentions for this new year. I figured I was on a good roll last year and that I would simply keep doing what I was doing. I would maintain my focus on self-awareness, keeping those winter blues and depression at bay, controlling my thoughts. That’s it. Nothing grandiose, no deadlines, no milestones.

Now, she will be my focus. I know what I’ll be doing on my days off. If her prognosis is anything like Grandpa’s was, time is going to fly by.

Holy shit, I’m not ready.

My mind is trying to comfort me by telling me that I have been an exemplary granddaughter. I have always had a wonderful bond with her, I have visited so frequently, we have shared innumerable memories. I guess I should also take comfort in the fact that she’s a godly woman. It comforts me not because I believe she’ll just go to Heaven and meet Jesus and find my Grandpa. I’m atheist, I don’t believe any of that. But she very likely believes it, so she’ll be at peace. Right?

The bus is moving, I am crying, I have a few stops to get myself together. Maybe people will focus on my wrinkles and not notice the tears.

Does it even matter?

Storytelling.

All I can say is that I will have stories to tell. I am not quite ready to tell them here yet, but one day.

Keep life interesting, folks.