As much as I love traveling, it only takes a few hours before I start missing home- my bed, my clothes, my roommates, my shower...that's why I'm so glad to be back.
Here's a quick taste of my weekend:
More photos and stories to come.
PS- thanks everyone for the birthday wishes!
When I got a text message from a Swiss boy I'd met a few days before inviting me to get "the best Cheesecake in Kensington," the next day at 3pm, I couldn't refuse.
We sat and chatted for about an hour and a half, taking turns spooning off pieces of our shared cheesecake slice. Sure, it was a bit awkward, but I really think that's because of some sort of cultural barrier. I know that if he were American, the conversation would have been a lot smoother and more comfortable.
Still, I'd say it was a good experience. I'm glad to have met someone outside of my program who can show me more fun places around the city, even if he is an exchange student as well.
Oh, and you guys are going to love this. After walking me back to my building, we stood in the vestibule discussing what to do next. I told him there was really nothing to see (although he was slightly fascinated by the fact that we have couches in our kitchens), and that signing him in would be a pain.
It was then that he said he wasn't sure what to do next.
"I don't know what you guys do. Do you shake hands? Do you kiss?"
In true Alana form, I simply replied:"I guess we do both. It depends."
Thankfully, a girl from my flat walked in and our conversation came to a halt. I ended up simply waving to him as he left. It was probably the most awkward goodbye I've ever had. Great.
P.S.- I'm stuck in Boston because of a yucky blizzard in Maryland. Hopefully I'll be back in Baltimore soon so I can pack up my life and leave for London on Thursday. Ahh, so excited!
Yesterday, I attended a pretty awesome fashion blogger mixer with Rachel on Newbury St- a super trendy shopping locale in Boston. The mixer's headquarters was at Luna Boston, a boutique stocked with cute purses, shoes and accessories.
The event, hosted by Punky and some other Boston-area fashionistas, consisted of mingling, drinks, special deals and giveaways.
Clearly, I am not a real fashion blogger (yet!!)- I just occasionally write about clothes and shoes. Still, Punky told me that I should definitely attend. It's safe to say I was super nervous. I knew everyone was going to be dressing up and I had no clue what to wear. I finally settled on my favorite strapless FCUK dress, a long grey sweater, a bright red heart belt, and a pair of black faux-suede boots. The outfit was very Alana, and I felt cute wearing it, so I think it was a success.
When we finally made it to Luna Boston (after first getting sort of lost), Rachel and I looked for our friend and fellow college girl, Anna. We proceeded to hang out with her for the entire event.
Rach and Anna
Though I wanted to talk to some of the other bloggers- I was a bit shy. I'm bad at mingling, especially when the other people are 1) dressed better than me 2) older 3) legitimate fashion bloggers.
Though I chatted with Punky a bit, I failed to introduce myself to the other bloggers. I wish I had, but I sort of freaked out. I did enjoy meeting Neira, who came over and introduced herself.
I think I need to get over my networking phobia, especially because I'm going into PR. Maybe next time?
Ok, I'm the first to say that I hate when bloggers apologize when they take blogging breaks, yet for some reason, I'm doing it right now. It's just that finals are approaching, I have a paper to write and my room is an absolute mess.
I'm freaking out about what to wear in London. I'm extremely tickled that Jaime decided to help me via her Style you Sunday post...but I still haven't found the perfect black shift dress. (Although, I did buy this one on sale at Banana Republic- a place where I NEVER shop. And um, it was only $25!) I still don't know what shoes to pack- I definitely cannot transport my entire boot collection. I don't know if I should invest in a new coat- one that is cute but actually fits and will keep me warm. I love this one from JCrew, but it's just so expensive even with the 30% off discount and free shipping.
I spent my weekend getting hit on by uber-Christian boys on the T, indulging in pop rock garnished drinks with friends and making my roommates sandwiches. I can't stop burning my tongue on hot tea and don't understand how I had an allergic reaction to a turkey sandwich last night...it must have been the condiments. I can't stop scratching- it's either fleas or allergy related.
My online scrabble obsession is turning into full on addiction. I haven't made my bed in about 25 years, which is hard to do, considering I'm not yet 22. I need to stop buying lattes. I miss cuddling with my non-existent boyfriend. My dark green nail polish is chipping and looks terrible.
I want to celebrate my 22nd birthday in London with the queen. Yes, the queen of England. I want her to come to a tea party. Ha. Wouldn't that be the best?
I'm about to listen to Taylor Swift's "You Belong with Me" because it reminds me of someone special. It's the third time I've played it since last night.
I told myself I would start working on my paper at 9:00. It's now 9:38. Ugh.
Bailey!
I've been back in Baltimore since Wednesday morning and it's definitely been a fun and food filled experience. It's also been full of allergies. Let's start at the beginning.
I arrived at the airport around 10am on Wednesday and then went home and met my new puppy, Bailey (yes this is another new puppy, but this one lives with my dad) and the allergy fest began.
Unfortunately, I was forbidden to take any anti-histamines because of my allergy test that took place just a few hours later.
I now know that I am allergic to:
I am not allergic to:
So, basically, I get sick whenever I come home because of the abundance of animals (3 cats, 3 dogs), the trees and the overall country air.
I guess this means I'm a city girl for life- there are very few trees near my Boston apartment. And um, the cold air probably kills all of the allergens.
Last night was our final concert of the season and my last concert ever. Though I wasn't really psyched about being there for a few reasons (recent breakup, feeling unprepared, nervousness, etc.), I went because I had to. After a day of barely eating and way too many hours spent sleeping, I got myself together, put on a pretty dress and made my way to the concert venue aka BU Central.
As the choreographer/costume designer/fun machine, I'm responsible for making sure everyone looks good. So, right before the show, I gave this inspirational speech:
It must have worked, because last night was our best concert ever! I will admit that I freaked out a bit during my solo- my song, "Why Can't I," is all about the beauty of starting a new relationship. As I stood there onstage, microphone in hand and staring at an autographed photo on the room's back wall, I willed myself not to be nervous. I think it was the words "...isn't this the best part of breaking up, finding someone else you can't get enough of" that really got me.
Though I tried to be happy, those words really spoke to me. Yesterday, my perfect, new relationship was dissolved- no longer was I sitting around, waiting for him to figure himself out. He says he can't love anyone right now, and that's a real shame.
Like I said to him in my final text message:
"I think I would have fallen in love with you if you'd let me. That's what hurts the most."
Like all great irrational fears, this one stems from my childhood. After the weekly Friday night dinner at my Gigi's apartment, my sisters and I, along with an older cousin, carried the garbage from the apartment to the trash room.
Of course the job was slightly stinky, but I always enjoyed playing games on the way to the trash room, pretending scary animals lived in the spaces between the large patterns on the carpet. Sure, the animals were "scary," but at least they were imaginary.
No, it wasn't the stench of the garbage or the trip to the trash room that scared me, it was the room itself. Tiny and lacking a doorknob on the inside, that room was no place for a child, especially one who was afraid of getting thrown down the garbage shoot. What made matters even worse was that the light in the room mysteriously turned off when you closed the door. Add a clown and it was every five-year-old's worst nightmare. I remember my sister shoving me in there quite a few times, and while she never actually left me there, I still hated that room.
Now let's jump back to today:
In my new apartment, the girls and I take turns bringing the recycling to a room next to the elevator. Though it's bigger than my Gigi's trash room, it's the automatic light that throws me off. I know, I know, it's to save electricity, but still. As soon, as I open the door and see the light turn on, I chuck the bottles and paper as fast as I can, not wanting to get stuck in the room alone. I will say that this door at least has a knob on the inside, and the light takes a bit longer to turn itself off, but I can't erase the childhood trauma.
Sometimes I still feel like a five year old.
To my dearest readers,
I've been holding out on you. I admit I've been selfish, kept something to myself for close to two months. Though I hinted of its existence here, you'd have to either know me very well, or be at least an ammeter detective to figure it out.
So here goes:
I've been seeing someone and he's really quite amazing. It started out as another jdate. I had a nasty cold around our first date, but I spent two days staying home and eating chicken soup so I could meet him in person. We met at a fancy French restaurant and got to know each other over a bottle of wine. He was tall and blonde, intelligent, caring and easy to talk to.
The more he shared with me, the more I reveled in our similarities: 13 years of Jewish day school, divorced parents, a need to travel and see the world. It was like I'd finally met that one person who truly understood me. I know that's a hugely sweeping statement, but I think shared childhood experiences make for a great foundation for any kind of relationship.
I let him kiss me goodbye under my pink umbrella, forgetting about my cold and feeling horribly guilty when my cough came back after we parted ways. It's like I was so happy to be with him that I forgot to feel sick.
We continued our courtship, making time in our busy schedules to grab dinner or take a walk around the Boston Common. He met my roommates, watched chick flicks with us and even cooked me dinner. I'd make fun of the two sweaters he always wore on dates and he'd tell me he liked my new boots. We'd communicate via DMs on twitter and laugh at how nerdy we both were.
I think the best date we ever shared was a rainy day brunch together. We were both in need of caffeine and in search of a dry place with excellent food. After brunch, he came back to my apartment and endured my roommates' extremely loud chatter. I saw him fading and offered him refuge in the form of a nap. We fell asleep together for less than an hour, and only left each other so I could go to a cappella practice. It was a seemingly unexciting date, but it meant so much to me.
Though our relationship continued to grow, something dark and ominous threatened to tear it apart from the foundation: an expiration date. I leave for London in less than 6 weeks. I've tried to push that out of my mind, to live in the moment and to move forward, but that ticking clock was always there.
And now I don't know what will happen. Two nights ago, I called him after dinner, expecting to hear excitement in his voice after a week apart. Instead, I heard something else. Maybe it was dread, or nervousness. Something was wrong. When I saw the look on his face, I just knew.
And that's where we stand right now. We had a talk that lasted three hours. He voiced his concerns and I sat there listening, unable to cry. There were so many thoughts swirling through my head and I had no idea what to say or how to fix something that might be too far broken.
Maybe my life was going too well or maybe I was just too happy. All I wanted was for him to stay, to comfort me and hold me in his arms. But that wasn't what he needed. I guess I learned that when you care about someone so much, you have to give them space and let them go.
I hid my head under my covers, unable to watch the door close behind him. As soon as I heard the click of the door, I broke down. The tears I'd held back before finally surfaced.
Is it over? I don't know. Will giving him space help him figure things out? I don't know. Should I protect my heart and just move on? I don't know.
The one thing I do know: it's out of my hands.
So, as I sit here in my pajamas, hurt, confused and helpless, all I want is to help him, to make him happy, but I can't.
As you all know, I'm studying public relations, and in order to succeed in PR, you need to be good at talking with people. And promoting your company. And getting people pumped.
Well, I'm pretty sure I've almost mastered all of those skills. When I think back to my role at Blogher09, I remember smiling my face off and trying to get people excited. I remember using little rhymes and mnemonics, trying to make people laugh and being, well, extremely perky.
Every time I watch those annoying Progressive commercials with Flo, the extremely upbeat salesperson, I see myself. I would totally get excited about a "big tricked out name tag," or try to make really awkward jokes. My perkiness would overwhelm the tv watchers, yet somehow charm the pretend insurance customers in the commercial:
I somehow simultaneously love and hate Flo....and I'm pretty sure that if I worked at Progressive, I would simply be her. Only difference? My name tag would say: LAN
photo via
Recent Comments