Travel shoes.
I'm less than three weeks away from my month-long European voyage, and my mind is in full-on panic preparation mode. 'Three weeks?' you may be thinking. 'You have plenty of time to prepare!' Well, sure. But if you know me at all, you know that packing for a trip of more than four or five days is not my favorite thing to do. Nor is it something I'm particularly good at. And as this one is a fast-paced tour with many different stops (rather than a come-and-go-as-you-please study abroad program with a home base), I'm trying my best to pack light (an impossible concept for me to wrap my head around).
Dresses, cardigans, swimsuits, hats, sunscreen, camera lenses, memory cards, plug adapters... the list of things I'll need goes on and on. But for right now, my most pressing concern is choice of shoes to bring. Obviously, this is a big one. Every day for four weeks, I'll be on my feet constantly—whether it be meandering through the cobblestone streets of Amsterdam, hiking along Interlaken's rugged mountain trails, or dancing the night away in one of Berlin's exciting nightclubs. And I'd rather not be worried about the state of my feet during these (and other) international shenanigans.
When I spent a weekend in Paris two summers ago, I made the rookie mistake of only packing a few pairs of cute-but-less-than-functional ballet flats. (See photo above.) By the end of the second day, my right heel felt like it was going to separate from my ankle, and I was forced to buy a cheap pair of ugly sneakers at one of the train station shoe stores to get me through the weekend. Now that I'm aware of the difference a comfortable shoe can make when traveling, I'm on the hunt for the perfect pair of women's travel shoes.
I'd like to bring no more than three pairs on my trip (including lightweight tennis shoes for outdoor activities), which is easier said than done when you have an array of different outfits to complement. I recently bought Cushe Women's Hellyer Ballet Flat in Sand for everyday comfy wear but I'm still searching for the aforementioned sneakers and another semi-fashionable shoe that offers enough support. For a while, I planned on bringing this cute pair of strappy black sandals I found at Target for nights spent on the town, but after several hours of testing them out, I felt the familiar throb of my heel begin to flare up. Needless to say, those will not be making the cut.
I guess my question for all of you travel gurus is this: Where can I find an (affordable) shoe that's lightweight, durable, and comfortable without skimping on style? My one worry is that my poor heel will crap out on me mid-trip and I'll be stuck wearing bulky sneakers for the rest of my stay. Sundresses + sneakers? Not exactly fashionable. But of course, at the end of the day, I'd rather be comfortable than cute. Perhaps there's something I can find that combines the two.
Any suggestions? At this point, I'll take all the traveling advice you've got. I'm learning that packing is somewhat of an art form, of which I have yet to master.
Star Harbor.
Nothing beats a summer weekend spent on the lake with friends. And those Texas sunsets? Absolute perfection.
A film about time and love and other things.
We're all traveling through time together, every day of our lives. All we can do is do our best to relish this remarkable ride. | About Time
My father is out of town, so naturally, Mom and I decided to spend the evening watching a chick-flick. OnDemand offered a few decent options, but in the end there were only two that caught my eye. Labor Day risked being a tad too heavy for our lighthearted moods, so About Time seemed like the next best choice.
Truth be told, I didn't expect to love this film based on its trailer, which paints a cute but rather unmemorable picture. Halfway throughout, however, I found myself completely invested in this insightful mess of a movie, delighted that my night wasn't being wasted on some run-of-the-mill sappy romance. (Not that I can't appreciate a good sappy romance every once in a while... I mean, it is ME we're talking about here, the girl who makes it a point to watch this tear-jerker at least once a year. But I digress.) On the contrary, I was smitten with the sincere story and charming characters right from the start. In fact, About Time has everything I could ever want in rom-com:
1. England, England, everything England.
2. a kindhearted boy with witty one-liners and an adorable accent.
3. a quirky main gal with short hair and a job in publishing (played by Rachel McAdams, a definite plus).
4. ginger babies.
5. a meaningful message that goes beyond the familiar true-love-inspired "happily ever after."
And so much more! There's not a lot I can say without spoiling it, but I do encourage everyone and their sister (or brother) to give this unconventional feel-good flick a chance. You may not be as obsessed with English accents or Rachel McAdams as I am, but it just might teach you something (or at least, make you smile).
Sorry I'm not sorry.
Some people have an inexplicable tendency to lie. Over and over again, for whatever reason, they feel the need to make up stories or throw out false statements as if they're universal truths. It's a strange and messy habit, but for a select few, the struggle is real. For me, an addiction of a different nature exists. I am a compulsive apologizer. And I've known it for years. I rely on one simple phrase to get me through the day.
I'm sorry.
When I'm happy for no good reason, I apologize. When my feelings are hurt, I apologize. In a talkative mood? Oops, I'll shut up now. Or too quiet? My bad, I'm all up in my head. Feeling hyper? I really shouldn't have had that extra cup of coffee. Or sleepy? I'm sorry, can we stop and get some coffee? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
As if everything I do, everything I am, is a regrettable mistake. Every choice I make, a bothersome burden on others. I'm constantly apologizing for being real. For stating my opinion, for making a decision. For giving too much or not giving enough. Even, on occasion, for the way I look. For being myself.
It's become an all too common reflex.
And the worst part is, I mean it. At least, at the time, I convince myself I do. What is so tremendously frustrating is my inability to figure out why exactly I do this. I don't feel my sense of self-worth to be suffering or anything like that. In a room full of twenty-something year old women, I might not take the cake for possessing the most confidence, but I'd be willing to bet I'm not on the lower end of the spectrum either. I'm probably somewhere right in the middle of awkward and easygoing, near the general sphere of caring-enough-but-not-too-much. Regardless, I'd like to think I'm always being myself.
Throughout high school and college, I chalked my chronic apologizing up to being a Grade-A People Pleaser. Can you believe I would actually make lame excuses for my frequent usage of the S-word? "I'm just trying to make everyone around me feel as happy and comfortable as possible," I'd exclaim when someone called me out on it. But taking a harder look at myself recently has revealed a different (less noble) truth.
I'm scared of negative reactions. Harsh judgments. Any kind of punishment.
So how do I cope? By hiding under an umbrella of apologies. I see my own traits, mannerisms, and habits through an overly-critical eye, aware of which ones might come off as offensive to some people. And I punish myself before anyone else gets the chance.
At best, this behavior is pitiful. At worst, it's egotistical and self-absorbed. Do I honestly believe that people really care if I decide to go makeup-less one day or gluten-free the next? Do I think my little "flaws" and interesting habits—like rambling when I'm excited or taking photos of what I eat—is going to throw someone over the edge? No, because it's not that big of a deal. Those tiny little Emily-isms aren't affecting anyone, they're just a part of who I am.
I don't mind them, so why do I feign guilt?
Oh, wait. It's because I fear the eye roll, the annoyed scowl, the biting comment. The words "I'm sorry" allow me to beat others to the chase in pointing out my idiosyncrasies. "I'm sorry" says, "I know I'm weird, I know I can be annoying, I know I deserve the worst reaction from you, but please be gentle." It's only okay for others to make fun of me if I make fun of myself first, right?
This coping mechanism usually backfires, though, because it gives the person on the receiving end of my apology a right to dwell on my "faults" as much as I am. Even if they're simply not. worth. dwelling. on. Even if they're not really faults at all.
See what I mean? The reflexive apology is self-obsessive. And a habit I need to kick. Because I'm not sorry for who I am, or what I believe, or how I do things. I'm not the least bit ashamed either. It's about time I stop pretending to be.
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