It Just Keeps Rolling In...

How I stay grounded as a digital nomad and modern-day gypsy

I get a lot of questions about what it's like to not have a real permanent home. Not everyone is excited about having their entire life fit into two suitcases, but somehow, that's where I find myself now. Talking with a new friend the other day, I realized that the longest I lived in one place since moving away from Kansas back in 2018 was a year and a half...and even then, that included a three-month trip abroad. I've lived in cities with several million people, college towns, and tiny towns (e.g. Vergas, at pop. 350). And each experience has taught me a lot about myself and what I'm looking for in community. It's also forced me to come up with ways to stay grounded, despite all the change. For any of you out there that find yourselves in a similar, somewhat ungrounded state, here's what I have to offer: 1) Listen to music that reminds you of home 2) Make frequent phone calls to friends and family 3) Send random text messages and emails to people to tell them h...

Learning to Dance Kizomba in Austin, Texas

It's been a while since I've posted here. I'll admit it's been hard to keep up with all the traveling I've been doing this summer, both for work and for plesure. I'll be dividing what I write accordingly between this blog for pleasure and my business blog with Mezclada. As I write this, I'm sitting in a plane on my wya to Lyon, France. Soemthign I could never have anticipated. Today I want to take you back to July 20th-24th for the Neo Kizomba Festival in Austin, Texas. My first ever dance festival of its kind, and to be honest, my first rela formal introduction to kizomba, a dance with roots in Africa that was later popularized in the 80s in France. Most readers at this point probably know that I'm a fan of dancing. So investing in a festival such as this one seemed like a natural next step to take my dancing to the next level. Little did I know that I would find myself dancing in the pool, awake until 1 a.m., and comforted by how much Spanish I hear...

The wonderful world of CUTCO

I take a deep breath after ringing my neighbor’s doorbell. The weight of my book bag pulls on my shoulders, filled with a rather odd assortment of produce this time around: a carrot, a potato, and half an onion. The shape of the leather bag in my hands feels abnormally unwieldy. How many others have gone through this mental battle with themselves, wanting to flee the scene before the process has even started, I ask myself. My trajectory leading up to this moment feels like a whirlwind, considering this is my fourth week on the job. Back track to mid-December. My hours in catering are pretty much zero, I’m working a few hours as an intern for a startup which gives me hope for the future, but it’s certainly not going to allow me to put anything in savings. I’m recalling the last conversation with my parents, tears streaming down my face as I try to explain why taking out a loan to cover my living expenses is in the best interest of my mental health. The monetary str...

Traveling Insights: An Inside Perspective

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