"Here I go again on my own..."

Ah, a little Whitesnake in the morning... which is essentially all I have as entertainment in my apartment. Ok, so that isn't entirely accurate, aside from Dad's XM Radio, I also have enough episodes of The X-Files, Dr. Quinn: Medicine Woman, Who's the Boss?, and How I Met Your Mother to put me in a catatonic coma. (Is there even such a things as "catatonic coma?" Let's just say there is.) Regardless of my fictitious friends, Mom and Dad left for Vicksburg yesterday so I am, in fact, alone and waiting patiently for classes to start. I'm not going to lie. It's a little deja vu, and its been making me think about my first weeks about Baylor.

I'm much more alone that when I started Baylor back in 2007, and yet I'm not nearly as alone as I was then. I remember welcome week fairly clearly, more so because everyone on campus seems to be enjoying themselves in similar activities. The dorm was constantly buzzing with excitement and enthusiasm and people trying to make friends. So, while I am not surrounded by the hustle of like minded freshmen, I, myself- who I doubted and only truly came to know after weeks of trying to figure out who I was, am much more "here" than in 2007.

Still, I've dreaded being alone with much more dread than excitement. I'm not really sure what the dread is for- the first day of class or the two days I have to complete to get to the first day of class. Even as I write, however, a little bubble of excitement is growing at the thought of sharing all I've been reading with others. The other night, I had dinner with my uncle in town and he said, "you'll love it, the long talks over a pot of coffee." Perhaps... probably... but I'm not expecting a sudden switch to be flipped. There's still alot of adjusting to be made.

Nevertheless, I don't anticipate this change to be as hard as Baylor. Yes, Baylor brought with it a huge adjustment to a workload I had never experienced before, and I anticipate that now, though I think I have an excellent foundation in good work habits, I'll experience another big adjustments in similar ways.

Baylor, however brought something else, the need for self-discovery, the selection of an identity. "You can be whoever you want to be, not who you were made to be in high school," everyone said. College was a 'fresh start.' Perhaps I wanted to be a people person, socially active, and , not a "partier" but a person who goes to parties. I know now that characteristics like that shouldn't be changed in a person. (they can be changed, mind you, but only with considerable effort and pain, then... why? What's the purpose, the payback?) The "Change" everyone spoke of was for those oppressed in high school, forced to conform to a role in the high school society that everyone though they filled. Looking back on my high school experiences, I realize I was so far out of my high school culture, I didn't really even count. Being out of the culture (or, as I would describe it, stading with one foot still chained to the high school side of life while all my weight balanced on my other foot, positioned on the exciting world ahead) didn't make a overly pleasant high school experience. Indeed, many times is was rather lonely.

Ironically, though, it was only until I learned to embrace what kept me alone so much in high school (which was often times just my desire to be alone) that I could settle myself and built the closest relationships of my life. And honestly, I don't fear being alone anymore. I enjoy it when I want to ( and trust me I do enjoy it, a lot) and know I have a place when I choose. That is the lesson Baylor taught me, and knowing that I don't have to go through the emotional stress of learning that again, I feel I can handle nearly anything Big Al can throw at me.

McDreamy, Fraiser, and a Cup O'Joe

There are towns in the Pacific Northwest that experience an entirely new kind of isolation. I"m talking isolation, isolation. Vastly different from the small town life that says "hy, lets go drive an hour to see a movie... or better yet, Walmart" (shout out to all you Rolling Fork folks out there!). No, these towns find themselves, when winter comes and the snow falls, tucking in to hibernate. Such is the case with Ocean Park, a small sleepy town we visited because Dad recalled seeing a little general store there on tv (if you build it... and put it on TV... we will come). I think we spent an hour wandering the aisels for any anomalies worth giving a try. And boy did we find some things. This little store was designed to provide for anything Ocean Parkers might need or possibly think they might need- and there was merchandise there that dated back to the 1970s, not because it was a "vintage" throw back but because they stocked the product in 1970 and no one has bought it yet. Aside from all the tin Scooby-Doo and Bonanza lunch boxes and Anti-Monkey Butt powder, we found many things with which to satisfy our curiousity: Moxie Cola, Pot- o-Gold chocolate cups, Mallow Cups, and... Flake! In case you haven't sampled it (and I'm sure many of you haven't) Flake is one of the yummiest chocolates out there simply because of its unique texture. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find Flake outside of the UK, except for Ocean Park, Washington. Who'd a thunk?

Aside from Isolation, there is another issue Pacific North westerners deal with: volcanoes. Mount St. Helens, I think might have been one of my favorite stops on our trip. Many of you know the story of the 1980 eruption. I mean the story has a little taste of everything, suspense, tragedy, adventure... It has captured my imagination.


Also, did you know that Mt. St. Helens is a part of the Pacific Volcanic Arch? and that many of the mountains in the area are volcanoes including Mount Rainier. Indeed, Mount Rainier is listed as one of the 16 Decade Volcanoes- a list of the 16 most dangerous volcanoes with regards to loss of life and property pending an eruption. From my understanding the things that scores Rainier her spot is her proximity to Tacoma and Seattle, both of which could suffer devastating consequences if Rainier were to erupt to the same intensity St. Helens did. This calls to my attention a very important question I want an answer for. You know all those movies about natural disasters and volcanoes erupting and destroying Los Angelos? Why is it never Seattle where the story line could actually be plausible. Would that not be more suspenseful?


Mount Rainier is one of the reasons we visited Washington in August. In the winter (which sometimes creeps into May) many of the roads close due to snow. And let me tell you snow + driving up the side of mountains= not a good combination. But even so, there was snow on the ground. The drive was beautiful, and we even stopped by to take a short jaunt through the woods (no snake, ticks or spiders webs- oh happy day!)

Before heading to Seattle, I had Dad take us on a quick detour over the infamous Tacoma Narros Bridge. Built in 1940, the original Tacoma Narrows Bridge, the third longest suspension bridge at the time, lasted only 4 months before succumbing to the vibrations created by the strong winds across the water. Ever seen the video?



The original bridge is now an artificial reef and the new bridge looks like this!

In Seattle (which we all know I now cannot move to because of the impending apocalyptic volcanic disaster) we fulfilled our desire to visit the least known/ cared about/ visited National Park Service Sites in America by visiting the National Klondike Gold Rush Historic Site Seattle Unit ( in lieu of the Alaska Unit) and took Daddy to a Mariners game (which they actually won 5-4 over Boston). But let me tell you, the best part was Mecca. Ok, not the Mecca, but close enough. The original Starbucks is located on the North end of Pike Place Market- a shopping district crammed full of vendors, street performers, and shoppers. Du woop music fills the air while the aroma of fresh seafood mixes with flowers. Starbucks was a mad house with a line out the door and barely room to turn, but after we got our coffees (yummy, yummy coffee) we wandered and looked, which as you know by now, we are masters at. We tasted unbelievable crab, watched the guys at the fish market throw mackerel over everyone's heads and did a bit of shopping ourselves. My terrific find of the trip? An original 1863 copy of the New York Tribune detailing the breaking news of the surrender of Vicksburg.



That was teh last hurrah of vacation. It's hart to pin point a favorite part, but I'm most thankful for the "boring" moments: walking through a grocery store, driving across a bridge just because we can, an watching men throw fish across a market. So few people would enjoy that with me, but honestly, those are thie stories that make life truly interesting.

The Trail Ends Here

I can't tell you how wonderful it is to have another travel post to write. I feel that for the first time in a while, I actually have something to say. Ah well, I suppose that's the challenge of actually writing about daily life as opposed to a 3 month stint in Europe.

I call this post, "The Trail Ends Here," because, in a way, this vacation was the end of a trail, both figuratively and literally. When I was littley my parents decided we should try and see all 50 states by the time I finished high school. We didn't make the deadline, most notably because of the hopportunity to go to Europe. Who wants to see California when Paris is knocking at your door? Nevertheless, this trip completes us, as far as the Continental US goes at least. (Hawaii is all thats left, but will wait until after... what else? Europe.) That's the figurative end of the trail, now on to the literal.

Q: Does anyone know which two trails end in Oregon?
A. The Oregon Trail and Lewis and Clark's Expedition of Discovery.

We've often done "nearly" themed vacations- one year we went to nearly every significant site Abraham Lincoln ever lived in KY and IL. Our GA, TV, SC, VA, and MD vacation was like the Civil War on steroids. Lewis and Clark have always been intriguing to us, me in np articular because of Sacajawea, whom I honored at the end of the trail by buying a biography of. But I"m getting ahead of myself.

On Tuesday we landed in Portland, Oregon. Surprisingly, many things in Portland remind me of European culture- small cars, biking lanes, attention to recycling, and being environmentally friendly. The people, however, remind me of being in Austin. Indeed, I think one of the most sought after past times in the town is people watching.

Our first task was to find Fort Vancouver, an old fur trading post and commonly accepted as the end of the Oregon Trail that was established in 1825. It sits just across the Columbia River from Portland in Vancouver, WA (raise your hand if you knew there was a Vancouver, Wa...) Then we headed over to Portland's famous Japanese Garden.

After dinner we went to the voodoo doughnuts, home of the Maple Bacon Log, the most bizarrely, delicious thing ever:

This store could have been in the heart of New Orleans. The outside is painted this strange silver with glitter, and on the inside is pink and neon. They only let one person per cashier in at the time which results in a line that wraps around the block. Our wait, apparently, wasn't so bad, only 15 min.

Lindsay's foodie recommendations for Portland:
Lunch: Beaches Restaurant, fish and chips
Dinner: Jake's Famous Crawfish Grill, crawfish Etoufee'

The next morning we paid Portland adieu and headed to Astoria. We made a bee line for the 101, otherwise known as the Pacific Coast Highway, and detoured to Seaside, OR to dip our toes in the sand. We also picnic lunched at Sunset Beach State Park- what is now one of my all time favorite picnics of all time (trust me, we've picnicked all over the country). Making it into Astoria, we stopped by Fort Clatsop. Clatsop is the fort Lewis and Clark built in 1805 after finally reaching the Pacific Ocean. They spent the winter of 1805-1806 there. After we left Clatsop, we explored Astoria. It's a good size little fishing community built on the side of hills that would rival San Fransisco.



Lindsay's foodie finds of Astoria, OR:
Dinner: Bridgewater Bistro, clam & mussel gnocchi
Breakfast: Pig'n Pancake, sourdough pancakes

Well, that's all for our Oregon travels. From Astoria we crossed the bridge into Washington, but that's a whole 'nother post.

'Cause I'm a Grown Up Now

With in the past few months, my friends and I have crossed the threshold from simple college student to grown up. Unfortunately this change (that came along with a piece of fine paper and a mortar board) came about like most birthdays. Have you ever woken up on your birthday morning and thought "oh, wow, I feel a whole year older today?" I didn't think so. Becoming a grown up is much the same way. You see, circumstances say I'm an adult now, but inside I feel no differently than last year.

I've noticed a phenomena among my friends. It started as a phrase that reoccurred among our Facebook message thread in several variations: "Grown-up" "Because I'm a Grown up" "If I'm a Grown up." We're all doing things for the explicit purpose of making us feel more up to the role of being an adult. The amusing thing is that we all started doing the same things without consulting one another and, in the process, inadvertently compiled a definition of "grown-up." Everything in this post has been tackled by at least two of my friends (myself included).

Since I'm a grown-up... I need to own breakable dishes. It's upping the responsibility level to know you can't just chunk them into the sink at the end of the meal. As one of my friends said, "I could have used my own dishes, but I feel a lot more grown-up picking out my own set."

Since I'm a grown-up... I may have to move someplace I don't really want to live because the job offer is too good to pass up. Sometimes the best things for us aren't things we would necessarily choose otherwise.

Since I'm a grown-up... no more roommates! So this isn't always plausible, but those of my friends who could afford to live without someone else, have taken that opportunity hands down.

Since I'm a grown-up... I need a Queen Size bed. Apparently grown-ups do not sleep in twin beds, or full sized beds for that matter. Then we go around referring to our new furniture as our "grown-up beds" (which makes them sound decidedly less grown-up).

Since I'm a grown-up... I don't have to pay for my own laundry. If the apartment did not include washer/dryer hookups, it wasn't even considered.

Since I'm a grown-up now... I need heavy furniture. Ladies and Gentlemen, enter Lindsay's super heavy, solid wood desk. Good luck to my dad getting up the stairs into the apartment!

So there you have it, the definition of a grown-up. I've got to ask, do you fit the mold?