The Daily Routine

At 6:00am every day when my alarm goes off for the first time, I cry inside and then blindly take my frustration out on my poor phone as I suffocate the noise by stuffing it under my pillowcase (too much effort to open my eyes and you know... turn it off) or hitting it repeatedly against my mattress.

It sucks, because I don't even get up for another hour. It's just that I like to torture myself by making irrational decisions every night such as, oh of course I can wake up at 6, make some coffee, answer some emails, clean my room, and save the world. Every night I fool myself. Every morning I hate myself.

I mentioned the other day that I recently started a new gig, which is fine and dandy (VERY fine and dandy in fact because my overpriced coffee addiction is not funding itself, and also because I'm minorly obsessed with everything about my company) – mental note that I need to share more with you in due time – but the ONE thing I don't think I can ever make peace with is that Monday through Friday, my days look almost exactly the same.

I miss college where one day we could drive to the next town for boba, and the following day we could nap two hours after waking up and then spend the afternoon hammocking or doing something equally as productive. Spontaneity! No planning ahead! Footloose and fancy free!

So yes, my days go something like this more often than not now:
Cry to self. Too early. Drag self out of bed. Shower. Make self look not-so-scary. Read some blogs, maybe make a cup of coffee, fry an egg if I'm feeling particularly crazy. Leave apartment. Buy coffee on the way to train. Train [Instagram, e-book, mental movie montage, etc.] for way too long. Work work work. Lunch. Treat self to coffee.* Work work work. Train home. Putter around the kitchen until 1) I eat a weird dinner of three meatballs or corn and black beans or like, IDK, pasta and pesto, 2) I think 'wow I was so ambitious this is such a joke' and go order Mexican food instead, or 3) a roommate takes pity and makes extra food for me. Hog the TV for a couple of hours. Fall asleep reading Tumblr.**
*Ah, now you understand when I say addiction, I meant it's getting out of hand. **If I had to choose a social media network as a spirit animal – website?? – it would be Tumblr. Dorky, TV-loving, hilarious, concerningly obsessed with shipping certain TV couples, a little loony but ultimately know-what-they-love, homebody types. 
What's your spirit social media network? If you say Instagram or Pinterest, teach me your ways please.

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A Letter To My One Year Ago Self

Hey there old chum,

This is yourself speaking. From the future. #Technology and all.

I know you're having a great time, soaking up all that senior year has to offer, which was a lot as I recall. This weekend was homecoming – the first time you can really call it that – and I thought you'd want to know how it went. Bittersweet, my friend. Heavy on the sweet because let me tell ya, recent alumni tailgates are where it's at. They really like to butter you up with an open bar, free food everywhere, and shiny beads. Stanford knows perfectly well those are the things that'll bring in the donation money one day - the shiny beads, especially.

But no, the real sweetness came from seeing favorite people, and hearing all about everyone's new normal. It is strange, being fully immersed in this fleeting weekend of old normal, bookended on either side with a completely different lifestyle. Walking with Lauren to our old stomping grounds - Starbucks - was particularly brutal, but man was I grateful to have that once more.

Your new normal's not terrible at all, in case you were wondering. You're at a job you love. Startups... startups are THE LIFE. Somehow, you got so incredibly lucky and found the one place that combines all of your biggest passions in one colorful office space occupied by brilliant people and a serious Maltese of a security pup. The decisions you're making now are about weird acronyms like MQLs and SQLs and tricky little things like 401Ks (which, by the way, pro tip... perhaps you want to consider skipping one or two fewer classes of Financial Literacy. I know going to Philz with your friends sounds like the better idea, but you just found out this week that your favorite drink there is TWELVE HUNDRED CALORIES. Oh your sad, sad arteries. So, go to class. It'll be better in the long run on multiple fronts).

You are probably having nervous breakdowns during this whole overwhelming recruiting process, but girl. It all works out in the end. More so than you could've ever imagined.

(Except the commute takes up about 30% of your life but we all have problems, now don't we.)

So you know Hanna? And how you guys are just now starting to hang out more often? You live with her in a year, and it couldn't be any more fantastic. You call this wonderful apartment in San Francisco home (which you found within a week of beginning the apartment hunt, MAN did we sprinkle lucky fairy dust all over that situation). The real world's exhausting, but not too shabby a place at all.

I couldn't be more thankful that you trusted your gut and made the decision to spend the summer after graduating traveling through Europe with Cassandra. It is an adventure you'll never forget, and a last hurrah as a student. One final time, you get to do nothing but learn and absorb knowledge, this time in a hotel classroom next to the Adriatic Sea where you'll learn about the history of former Yugoslavia as you practice broken Serbo-Croatian.

This is an experience that'll change you at the core, just a little bit, but enough.

Your sister's getting married this weekend! It's surreal, really, but wildly anticipated. I have a feeling that you – well I, I guess – will ugly-cry the night away because that sister of ours... well, she's going to make the most radiant, beautiful beaming bride, isn't she?

Cherish this time in your life of living with swell people (and um, having the best in-house chef of all time because just so you know, you and Hanna live off of rice and kimchi now), learning from the best of the best, and being concerned about nothing but when you should take your nap of the day and whether three Taco Bell runs in one week is overkill.
Bidding farewell once again to the old normal at the end of this weekend was difficult, but strangely enough, returning to this new normal of buying rugs at IKEA and preparing for Monday's meetings has become enjoyable in its own right too.
Now go find your friends and hop in a car to get some Cheesy Gordita Crunches. 

4

The Wackiest Graduation Of All Time

Why graduate with pomp and circumstance when you can graduate with something a whole lot more representative of your college experience? Tomorrow is our homecoming and I thought it was fitting now more than ever to finally share some photos from the big day four months ago when we were evicted from this "home," consolation prize of a diploma in hand.

Oh man, that reminds me. Will you guys tell me at the end of this post to go and actually pick up my diploma?

So anyway. One of Stanford's time-honored – quote unquote – traditions is the Wacky Walk: a final collective embracing of being weird. Undergrads come to commencement in any strange get-up they can dream up as we listen to the Greats before us espouse wisdom and the like. Rewatch that famous Steve Jobs "Stay Hungry, Stay Foolish" address and see what ridiculousness you can spot!

This year, for example, we had some ominous warnings.

Some sweet messages, too.

Some, silly.

Why not play a game of catch or two? Or perhaps a round of cards, if you'd like?

Here's a bold statement to the world that you know what? I don't think we'd like to grow up, after all.

And here we have a simple plea for help. (No really, please help.)

Some of us brought it back to grade school. Was this not the BEST part of second grade?! 

Others decided to envision the future.

A couple of my diver friends decided Speedos were more appropriate. One of them may or may not have an Olympic medal too. Do you think that was a prouder moment than this one?

Can't forget all those who showed up in onesies. There were a LOT. Comfort first, you know?

After shedding the struggle bus because all that yellow spray paint was gettin' to us but also because they were a tad hard to sit in. Can you spot Kylie and Anna as bananas?

The Band (the ULTIMATE definition of weird and wacky) performed one last time for the graduates as we all shed a silent tear or two.

Those were the only Wacky Walkers my parents and my friends' parents caught on camera, but other favorites included my friend Dylan who showed up as a box of Franzia, a group who attached balloons to their back as a homage to Up, and a revealing of our very own resident gossip blogger. Our alternate ideas were: a group of lobsters as someone announced "bring in the dancing lobsters!!" into a megaphone in front of us, and a full recreation of the FRIENDS theme song. Plastic orange couch, boombox blasting I'll Be There For You, and all. But all of that was so much more ambitious, which brought us right back to our true selves: the struggle bus.

And I couldn't end without thanking these three sillies. The road to now wasn't easy, but it was so worth it to have them by my side. I still talk to them every single day, thank goodness –

This one, too. For mother hen-ing me all four years and being so, so kind, always. (And for all of the brunches and mani-pedi dates and European adventures.)

This one gets a special mention. You guys see her here all the time, but did you know that we were randomly assigned as roommates? Didn't even know so much as the other's name before we stepped foot in our room the morning we moved in freshman year, but even without communicating, we brought all matching decor and she had a microwave and I had the fridge, and so began four years' worth of roommatehood and best friendship. Couldn't have done this without her.

And most importantly, them. For everything, everything, everything.

Aw, shucks.
"Coming home" tomorrow is going to be bittersweet. Because "home" really is the right word for this place. It's where we grew up. It's where we began to find ourselves as people. It's where we dreamed. And where some of those dreams were shattered. It's a place that allowed us to embrace our weird, and our inner nerd. It was the place where friends became family.
/sap over.
/pats at eyes.
Happy Friday, y'all.

11

Last Minute Napa Getaway

When you wake up on a Sunday mid-morning to a text from your roommate that says something along the lines of: how do you feel about escaping to Napa for a tasting and some lunch, there is only one proper answer.

When do we leave.

Steadfastly ignoring the work piling up in my inbox, I tagged along with Susan and Cronus, enjoying the views of the city from across the bay, sipping the thermoses of chai that Susan prepared, and then dutifully obliging as Jane of Hill Family Estates poured one generous glass after another of tasty, tasty wine. We admired the tasting room's West Elm vibes (uh, look at that insane copper tray on the top left corner of the photo below... Susan had to forcibly pull me away as I tried to toss $75 in the general direction of the cash register), and everyone else admired studly Cronus.

Popped over to the best seat in the house, a chair from The Voice.

I think this might be the closest I'll ever be to Adam Levine, but I'll take it!

Yountville was adorable. Straight out of Gilmore Girls (DID YOU SEE THE NEWS DID YOU DID YOU) but a smidge more pristine and frou-frou. So think Stars Hollow, yes, but with a pinch of Richard and Emily too.

Perfect, 70 degree weather [okay, and a giant dog] called for a lunch out on the patio at the Pacific Blues Cafe. We shared a scrumptious veggie pesto sandwich and a crazy amazing steak sandwich WITH GOAT CHEESE & mushrooms and onions. I'd eat cardboard if it came topped with goat cheese and all that good stuff. Happily. I hate writing food-related blog posts at night. Totally drooling, with no hope of satisfaction until the morning hours.

Here you see Cronus taking a break from crashing into wooden fences trying to say hi to all of his friends. "Friends," meaning any living, breathing creature.

Before too long, it was time to go home and tackle a lengthy to do list.

This is how we felt about that:

Man, I love the Bay Area. Never more than a two hour drive tops away from vineyards or redwood forests or the seaside or the city. This was my first Napa jaunt and quick and dirty as it was, it most certainly won't be my last. 
Wine country. Ya been? Do you have any favorites for my next trip up?

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Plitvice Lakes National Park, Croatia :: The Most Beautiful Place on Earth

"Beautiful" is one of the most overused adjectives in my book.

Duchess Kate? Beautiful. A sizzling pizza fresh out of the oven, oozing with greasy melted cheese? Beautiful. An evening spent nestled in the best spot on our new couch – we've named it The Crevice – watching ABCFamily Christmas movies while petting the sweetest dog in the world? Beautiful.

But if you forced me to describe ONLY ONE thing on this entire planet as being beautiful (you probably threatened me with No Carbs Forever, you evil!) - I'd say Plitvice National Park in Croatia.

If you've ever read any of Buzzfeed's Places You NEED To See, you'll have probably already caught a snippet of this heaven on Earth. It's what initially lured me in. And when Cassandra and I agreed to participate in the Croatia seminar (twist our arms, right?), Plitvice was at the top of our non-negotiables list. 

Plitvice is in northeastern Croatia, very close to the border of Bosnia & Herzegovina. It's about a three hour drive from Split (and near Zagreb, as well), and to make it easier on ourselves, we booked a day tour with a company through Viator. We were with 10-15 other people, and two tour guides who were extremely knowledgeable and friendly. Highly recommend!

After a long bus journey gazing at impressive mountain sides and finding important photo opps (see above) #CokeWhyYouNoSponsorUs, we arrived at the national park ready to rumble.

You board this little choo-choo train type thing which takes you down a steep pathway surrounded by towering greenery, and it drops you off right at one of the entrances. There are 16 lakes that make up the national park, and basically you "hike" your way around them - about 8 miles total. But the scenery is so gosh darn stunning, you don't even realize you're physically exerting so much energy. Sneaky.

Uh. Unreal.

Colors so incredibly vibrant – I described the water as "Listerine blue-green" – the water so unbelievably clear (you see all the fishies darting to and fro... well, actually they were all quite lazy and simply floated close to the water's edge... I can relate.), birds squawking and waterfalls rushing with urgency. Even with thousands of tourists roaming around, there was a certain peacefulness engulfing the grounds.

It's what I imagine the world in Avatar to be like. Well, before all that went down the drain.

Cassandra and I were so overtaken by the sheer beauty, we were at a literal loss of words. The only phrases we could muster to describe our feelings were,

"This is so stupid."

"I can't."

"I'm done with this."

"This is DUMB."

Not that we actually thought that any of this was dumb or stupid, you see. It was merely that, there were no words in the English language to adequately encompass what a spiritual, unbelievable sight Plitvice was to behold.

At one point, we were so enthralled with the nature surrounding us that we didn't even realize our entire group had meandered about 15 minutes ahead of us, and our tour guide Haris had to double back to retrieve us. Embarrassingly enough, the reason we thought we were alone was because "everyone else has to be behind us." Nope. Not even the seventy year olds.

After a fair bit of "hiking," we stopped for a beverage and a break, and Haris turned to us with a knowing grin – "so are you ready to see the really beautiful parts?"

Our jaws dropped.

"But... but how can it get any more beautiful?"

"Ah. You've seen nothing yet."

With that, he hustled us all on an electric boat that took us across a sizeable lake, and we continued gasping in awe every time we blinked and were faced with a new picture-perfect scene.

^ Like, what. 

^ K, nature. Ya gotta chill.

♫ Don't go chasin' waterfalls ♫

TOO LATE, TLC. TOO. LATE. #noragrets

Once the tour was over, our guides whisked us off to a restaurant right outside of the park borders. It was cafeteria-style and the old woman working it chattered a mile a minute in Croatian as she pointed to each dish, with brief pauses as she looked expectantly at Haris, cueing him to translate for the rest of us.

He recommended the hearty beef borscht over a huge dollop of mashed potatoes, and so we obediently complied. Oh my word. With each bite, I could tell that this was ultimate comfort food – it made my heart warm and happy thinking of how this dish must provide so much familiarity and joy to so many. Then, we treated ourselves to a generous slice of a traditional Croatian cake because hey, we did hike eight miles. 

I find blogging and words and photographs to be frustrating sometimes. Because try as I might, there was no possible way to capture the magnificence of such a place. It's one of those things that you'll have to experience and see for yourself – and please, go see it soon because tourism is going up, up, up at a very rapid pace in the area.
Next time, I'd like to visit Krka National Park as well, reputedly just as divine but with the bonus of being swimmable. Yes please.
What is the most beautiful place YOU'VE ever seen? I'd like to put it on my list!

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