Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. There always seems to be high expectations surrounding this night. You need to end it big with some huge party and sparklers and champagne and kissing someone at midnight…

The street lights were reflected on the wet pavement as I walked back to my car. I had a good night celebrating a friend’s birthday. And like most good nights, it ended late. I was ready to get home and change into comfortable sweats and sleep without setting an alarm for the next morning…

I received an email the other day, “I had a particularly difficult day yesterday and in my helpless pathetic state a friend of mine tried to convince me to believe that I’m worth more to people than the ways I’m able to enhance their lives, the things I can do for them…”

I came home for a day to spend time with my little brother. He called asking me to bake cookies with him. He’s only in the fourth grade, and it’s been hard balancing coming home to be a part of his life, while living my own life away from home…

The trail had a light elevation gain. It felt less like a hike and more like a walk through the redwoods and sequoias. The giant trees provided a welcomed shade against the clear bright skies. We got a little lost and walked across the same river three times using large rocks and fallen logs as a bridge. The ones who hesitated in their footing tended to be the ones who walked around with wet socks…

I was on my way home after a 15 hour flight from Barcelona to San Francisco. I sat on the bart train in the late afternoon and dreamed of wrapping myself in my blanket like a burrito and laying in bed for the next three days…

I was sitting at the kitchen table of a hostel in Barcelona when another guest walked by, “Are you writing a postcard? I didn’t know people actually did that anymore.”

I walked aimlessly through the cobblestone streets of Barcelona. Aimlessly, but not passively. I was actively engaged with my surroundings. Because everything was different and new, my eyes saw only beauty. I let my fingertips run along the brick walls as I walked and I felt happy to be alive…

I spent the afternoon journaling at a coffee shop. I then walked a few blocks to a local bookstore and bought a copy of one of my favorite novels. I walked further down the street to the city park and found a tree stump to sit on and read for a bit…

It’s late at night and I’m alone in the house with warm acoustic folk/pop music playing in the background. I’m feeling a little sentimental so I reach for some old journals and remember where I’ve been…