Savannah | Travel Essays

“I didn’t think you were coming back,” says the tall, lanky man behind the bar. I laugh, and we have a momentary stare down. I playfully order a Ramus Gin Fizz. He pretends to grimace, and soon enough, he’s shaking that big silver cup, in an expertly sexy way only bartenders can do. It’s a Wednesday night…

þetta Reddast | Travel Essays

The theater is dark now. A solitary couple, with matching grey hued short haircuts share a cross look. Glancing behind them, they look at the girl, who is shamelessly drinking a tall glass of wine, munching on popcorn, and snapping pictures.

Morgan Freeman

I walk up to my building, and there standing at the corner, is Morgan Freeman. Or at least, a man that looks just like him. Like any person, when faced with a Morgan Freeman lookalike, on a serendipitous and sunny day, I looked up and said – “God?” Just kidding.

Red Lipstick

When I was 20 years old, I left my family and moved to Philadelphia. I knew one person that lived in the city, a boy named Andy that I had gone to high school with. Aside from some family at least an hour away… that was it. For my 21st birthday, I got a tattoo…

“Where are your cardigans?”

“Where are your cardigans?” Annabel asks, leafing through the large pile of clothing on my bed. “I don’t have any.” I reply, rustling through some crop tops. “Do you have a collared shirt?” she tries again. Over the next few hours, it would surface that besides cardigans and collared shirts, I also have no belts,…

Kiddo

For a few weeks, I’ve have this… idea stuck in my head. I couldn’t quite put it into words. Through scattered talks with my co-worker Annabel, I tried to summarize it. Finally, she sent me a post on Elizabeth Gilbert’s Facebook page that of course, said everything. She talked about how when you’re lost, you…

Melted ice cream sandwiches.

“Stop being a melted vanilla ice cream sandwich,” I said. I don’t remember who it was directed at. I just recall that they were being kind of negative. I was tired, and the only thing I could compare how I felt to was the feeling of sticky, chocolate caked fingertips. I hate vanilla ice cream…

I fucking love this movie.

This movie never ceases to remind me how right, and how wrong, I can be. I saw 500 Days of Summer six years ago. I was sitting in my apartment at The Piazza at Schmidts, one of many residences over the past decade. I had never seen 500 Days before, but had heard good things. The various messages…