Search website

Ya'll, can we talk about itinerary planning? I have gone on a few trips in my life that involved a hand-made itinerary, and they were all great experiences. But I've never written one myself. Ten's National Park Service covers fifteen national parks, a national forest, and two state parks. That's nineteen campsite reservations and over 70 hiking trails. My brain fries every time I spend over an hour working on it. Right now I have forty pages. I don't want to over-saturate my time, but I also don't want to walk into these parks completely unprepared. What trails get super busy in peak season? What major points should I hit in this park? Which hikes are appropriate for my fitness level? What weather does Northern California expect in early August? And Southern California in late August? Which parks provide shuttle buses and what are their routes? The research ensues. The chaos ensues. I started listening to this podcast, "Parklandia" now "Hello Ranger". A couple from Chicago sold everything they owned to buy an RV and travel National Parks full-time. (I initially skipped the show based on it's cheesy description, until I realized it was a gay couple. Interest peaked.) Their conversations are so detailed about so many minute things like trailheads and traffic patterns. I now feel under prepared. I think of the panic attack I had in the bathroom of the New York City Subway/Amtrak/LIRR. Enter, itinerary. My therapist and I have been talking recently about "my" way of doing things, and not to invalidate that process. She says it's healthy to embrace impulsive behaviors, on the condition that you think through and understand your steps. My attempt to observe this condition has manifested into a forty page, three-month, cat-friendly, National Parks itinerary. Itinerary (noun) Mid-15th century, "route of travel", from Late Latin itinerarium "account of a journey, description of a route of travel, road-book". Noun use of neuter of itinerarius "of a journey", from Latin itineris "a journey", from ire "go". The thought, "Where does the word "itinerary" come from?" popped in my head. I figured I might share the search engine results for those like-minded, generally curious folk. Although I still have a lot of research and 10am visits to recreation.gov ahead of me, I also have a surplus of time. Five months. Last week, I spent a while editing this website to better organize my pieces. I realized my older posts were drowning at the bottom, and that there wasn't any system of categorization. Very proud of the results :) My "Week 22" blog mentions Tatiana's travel business and adjacent podcast, I spoke on earlier this month. The "Car Camping in a Prius" episode of Tatiana's "Life's a Voyage" podcast goes live tomorrow, 01/24/22! Tatiana's travel business hosts all kinds of group trips and travel guidance, visit her website for more information. xxoo Ten

I started reserving campsites late last year, at that time most National Parks hadn't updated their websites for the 2022 season. I was able to get two campsites a year in advance, but my plans have changed a few times since then. My back-brain to do list is consistently neglected, and today I woke up not knowing what to do with the day. Finishing the window covers yesterday completed my front-brain to do list, so I figured I'd work on my back-brain. The campsites I already booked needed to be modified, so I started there. This was the third, and hopefully last, time I changed these reservations. Each National Park has different booking windows for campsites, this is where research is key. Some campsites have no reservations in certain seasons, like Death Valley, and they operate on a first-come first-served basis. Ideally, I want to skip campsites without reservations so I'm not leaving anything up to chance. But at Death Valley, we have no choice. I went the website of each park I intend to visit, and figured out the first day I could book each one. Took a few hours. Even the National Parks guide book I bought has outdated information on booking windows, and COVID has changed the way a lot of these parks operate. And so, between the dates January 18- March 30, I will be trying to book the majority of my campsites. Albeit I am nervous, places like Yosemite and the Grand Canyon will be competitive to score sites at. Most parks reserve six months in advance, and the majority of those dates are reserved already. Visiting National Parks in peak season is hard, but I need the good weather in order to avoid freezing while alseep in my car. I'm hopeful that I will get every campsite I want, and I can be flexible if need be. I'm prepared, I've done, and am doing, my research, I got this, deserve this. xxoo Ten

I've gotten so much closer to finishing my car window coverings! This project began a few months ago with a $50 trip to JoAnn Fabrics, 7 yards of cloth, and 3 yards of filling. I felt very intimidated by this, my largest sewing project. Having thoroughly blacked-out windows while sleeping in my car is extremely important to me. This will keep me safe from wandering eyes, and give me a sense of security and privacy on the road. Now, most generic car window coverings cover about 3/4 of your windows and don't have enough pieces to cover every one. This might work if you're just trying to block sunlight or prevent thieves from window shopping, but not for my purposes. My Prius has nine windows, all varying in size, and a custom window covering set would cost me around $200. Enter, sewing machine. I started by climbing awkwardly into my car to measure each window with my pink, flexible measuring tape. I first assembled the smaller cut-out pieces and absolutely butchered their stitches, but I quickly got the hang of the process. An obstacle I hadn't anticipated, was the thread spool I bought was too thick around to fit on my machine. And so I had to tape a cuticle dowel to the existing spool pin, in order to use the thread I bought. Unfortunately this modification did not spin the thread smoothly, and made the process more difficult than necessary. That first night I worked all hours, finishing the cut-outs, lower rear windshield, and rear side windows. I didn't touch this project again until yesterday. Last night, the uncut fabric in my closet guilted me into working on the front side windows and back windshield at midnight. In the morning, I took those pieces to the sewing machine, and later went back to the store for supplies to finish the front windshield ($30). The fabric I bought was only 40" in width, and my car's front windshield is 50" wide, so this meant I needed 100 more inches (3 yards) of fabric to completely cover the area. This time around, I accidently bought too thin of quilt filling, and ended up using left-over fabric glue to form the scraps into a second layer. And then, I realized I had been threading the machine wrong for two hours. Now the task is attaching these coverings to my car windows at will. My mind immediately went to magnets, but my car's interior is mostly plastic. So that wouldn't work. Then I thought of velcro. But if I use that on my side windows, they would stick when I roll them down. So, I've decided to attached velcro onto each piece, except the four side windows. I have a few ideas of how to secure those, but only time will tell. In the end, this project cost me around $80 and tens of hours. Despite all of this, I still don't regret the hundreds I saved by not buying a custom window covering set outright. Also, I have news! A good friend of mine, Tatiana, hosts a travel platform on social media that includes a podcast. She speaks all about her experiences in travel and invites guests to share their stories as well. Last week, Tat asked me to be a guest, and I accepted! She'll be releasing the episode "Car Camping in a Prius" on her "Life's a Voyage" podcast Monday, January 24. I hope ya'll tune in and support Tatiana on her podcast. xxoo Ten

I've always loved watching early 2000's romantic comedies. My mom and I would watch them together, and the promise of a happy ending was generally comforting. One of my favorites was Confessions of a Shopaholic, Isla Fisher can get it any day. The story follows a shopping addicted young woman drowning in credit card debt, and her journey to pay those debts (and fuck Hugh Dancy). Isla's character is a small-time magazine writer with big dreams (ironic how I gravitated towards a journalist's story). Throughout her writing career she develops this character: The Girl in the Green Scarf. In the movie, there's a scene where Isla's character is seduced into yet another designer store. The store mannequin becomes lucid and starts encouraging Isla to buy the green scarf it wore around it's neck, promising her loyalty and happiness. Isla's character gives in, and thus begins on the quest to pay for that hundred dollar scarf. I identified with Isla's character from a young age, and whether it be chance or a self-fulfilling prophecy, I've too struggled with credit card debt. And so, my job loss and rejected from unemployment payments, has made me determined to keep within a budget. Going on this road trip is non-negotiable. A friend of mine, Lauren, invited me to go shopping with her for a specific item at one of my favorite stores. Danger. I agreed because I adore spending time with Lauren and I told myself I was just browsing. I picked up a few spell candles for the future, and a new journal to finalize my road trip itinerary. Of course, I also saw the cutest hand-embroidered, orange, multi-color purse. $10. Fuck. Danger. I could see myself rationalizing the purchase. $10? Cheap. But instead I walked away. Reminding myself that I recently purged my closet to cut-down, not to replace. I walked out of that store feeling regret, and also pride. Proud I kept a promise to myself. Last night, I had the pleasure of seeing Lauren, again, for a small game night/engagement party at her house. I packed up two of the homemade cat treats I baked for Egg, for her cats Moscato and Pinot, and the last two tall boys in my fridge. Lauren greeted me with a warm hug and said, "I have something for you". She went back to the store and bought me that hand-embroidered, orange, multi-color purse. I had my own Isla Fisher moment. xxoo Ten

The hurt part of me wants to say 2021 was the worst year of my life. She wants to say that going to college was a waste of time. But I’m more emotionally mature than that, so I made a list. A list of all the experiences I had in 2021. My cousin, like brother, left for and returned from, deployment safely. I graduated college and turned 23. I move apartments, got two tattoos, and started removing two others. I traveled to New York City three times, and for the first time. I visited Utah and Florida, Chicago and Boston. I went to Lollapalooza. I adopted a cat and started a blog. I fell in love. I got two bartending jobs, and got fired from one. Somehow that sticks out the most. I try and remind myself that I am not my job. I’m not a capitalist. I spent this New Years Eve surrounded by people I love, a good omen. I look forward to a new year full of new lessons. Happy New Year. xxoo Ten

When I first met Egg I knew that he was sick. I knew he had FIV and FeLv. I knew he couldn't be around other animals and that he was immunocompromised. But I didn't expect his life to be so short. I took Egg to the vet yesterday, our first appointment together. I made it a priority to ask how long they expect him to live, expecting they'd tell me I had a decade with him. Three years after infection. Egg is three years old, roughly. He was diagnosed on September 7th this year, but diagnosis date is different than infection date. He could be gone tomorrow. Yes, his gums are healthy and his nose is pink. But there's no telling how long that will last. I adopted Egg so that he could go on this trip with me. So we could see the National Parks together and travel the country. My car camping buddy. Now I'm not sure whether he'll make it. Even if he's healthy by the time we leave in August, there's no guarantee he'll make it to January. And if something were to happen to him on the trip, I think I would have to go home. I couldn't continue without him. So, this is for egg. All of this. This blog, this trip. Egg's National Park Service. xxoo Ten

I've been trying to write this for a week, didn't post anything last Sunday. Part of me feels like I should stop updating this so often, maybe monthly until we get closer to August. All I know is I'm unemployed for Christmas again, and I'm not exactly eager to share my life right now. I ran the numbers for my trip again and there's no way to do my cross-country trip safely with less than $6,000. I'm not trying to stay at a truck stop or behind Cracker Barrel. So it's a job I need right now, any job. The ship for the job has sailed, we now just need to pay the bills. Maybe I'll be unhappy for a while. xxoo Ten

I've been spending a lot of time with my resume lately. I compulsively applied to every full-time position on Aldi's website, I haven't seen the bar this low in years. And so, I've been thinking about my old job, two jobs ago. The job I quit, to work at my dream job, from which I was fired. Two jobs ago was a toxic work environment. One girl was fired for drinking at work, another was a fully-functioning alcoholic. The money was great but I couldn't stay. Two weeks before I left that job, I moved off of South Avenue and onto Park Avenue. Turns out, one of those toxic coworkers rented from the same landlord two houses down. I think of her whenever I pass that pink house, hoping I never run into her again. Two weeks before I left South Avenue, the apartment across the hall welcomed a new roommate. But I was half moved out and half moved in all through August, so I never met the new tenant. After turning in the apartment keys, my partner and I went for sushi in the restaurant two stories below my new "old" apartment. We got food poisoning. Then I got a new job! A dream job. My boss realized I had been his "new" old neighbor from South Avenue, the one I never met. I thought maybe the universe was putting us into each others path, that this was a good sign. Two weeks ago, today, off Park Avenue: the number 8 apartment adjacent to my number 9 gained new tenants. I hadn't met them yet, everyone in the building seems to come and go at opposing hours. This "no-vacancy" motel feels abandoned at times. One of the new voices I heard through the walls sounded familiar, but I convinced myself I was being paranoid. Although I wasn't being paranoid, her voice was familiar. Yesterday, we bumped into each other in the hallway. I used to work with her at my old job, two jobs ago. My mind flooded with the memory of her, in the back seat of a car, stopped in a liquor store parking lot, five minutes before dinner shift, doing a line of cocaine. The universe wasn't putting anyone into my path, Rochester is just too fucking small. xxoo Ten

This week has been a blur. I hardly know what day of the week it is, begrudgingly leaving my apartment for groceries and kitty litter. Yesterday I spent 12 hours on my couch, bingeing "The Queen's Gambit" from start to finish. I've seen this sequence before: our protagonist hits their lowest low right before falling into spiritual alignment. Unfortunately, David Fincher isn't here to write my character arch. I am Edward Norton in Fight Club, "Tyler's not here. Tyler went away. Tyler's gone." All the while, being Tyler. I haven't reached the part in the script when they successfully demolish Wall Street. Does that part only happen in the movies? I've pushed my roadtrip start date to August 1, 2022, two months later than plan A. I've also adjusted my savings goal to $4000, two-thousand dollars below plan A. I've mourned the death of plan A, and now plan B is underway. Plan B takes advantage of free campsites along the way, still makes 23 stops, and gets us home by Christmas 2022. I applied to Brockport's EMT course for the Spring 2022-23 semester, hoping that route will provide more job security than bartending. A job that can't be swept out from under my feet at any moment. xxoo Ten

I went to the pharmacy this week, had to pick up some birth control and acne medication. The uptick in my sugar intake since being fired has been unkind to my face. Fridays are busy at Wegmans, and so I waited in a small line. The old man in front of me made loud conversation with the pharmacist. He said, “I feel like this winter’s gonna be a bad one, I can feel it in my bones. And these bones have never steered me wrong.” He paused for dramatic effect, and continued, “Except when I try and walk.” Laughing, he motioned down toward his wheelchair. My mouth made one of those involuntary “Pfff” noises and I reflexively covered my masked face with my hand. Fortunatley, my reaction went unnoticed and he left before I could do that thing, where I anxiously say something stupid to a stranger. For example, that time I was, again, at Wegmans. Only this time in search of gummy bears. I was distractedly, one might say frantically, pacing close behind a woman in flats. She was booking it too, until her path was obscured by an RIT couple. Taking far too long to pick an egg carton. Not noticing the change of pace, I smashed the back of her exposed ankles with my empty shopping cart. Why did I grab an entire shopping cart for a single bag of gummy bears? The first phrase of apology that came to my head was, “Sorry, I’m slow.” and abruptly continued on my anxious pursuit of gummy bears. The first time I told this story, I realized I accidentally told Wegmans I was mentally disabled. I have a good friend staying with me this week. Jenna’s a travel nurse, and last month I asked her to spend this stretch sleeping on my couch. I’ve missed spending quality time with her since she moved, and my “acts of service” ass has enjoyed taking care of her. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and we’re planning on going out. Like the kids do. The holiday season typically gives me anxiety, and there’s a big probability I’ll remain unemployed through Christmas. Humbling, let’s say. Creativity has come easily to me this past week, I plan to focus my energy there. xxoo Ten

I can’t describe this as anything other than heartbreak. An unrequited love from one to another. She who loved so dearly, but that love fell into uncaring hands. Rough, textured hands. Uncaring hands. I wanted to believe in you. I swept aside all my anxieties. Not being good enough. You finding someone better. You knowing I didn’t belong. Figuring me out. An alien amongst humans. I was myself with you. Let my guard down, and thought I’d found a place to lay my head. A bed to stay the night. Someone had finally taken me in. I forgot myself with you. Showed my rough edges and felt comradery in imperfection. I told all my friends and family about you. Told your stories around the dinner table and funny anecdotes at parties. Now, I’m in attendance to your dinner party. Only not a guest. I lay on a silver platter in the middle of the table. Apple in my mouth, and chest split clean down the middle. You neatly tuck in your napkin before grabbing at my ribcage, cracking off a few, then dipping them into barbeque sauce. I left my toxic ex for you, and you left me feeling more helpless than the first. The worst part is, I miss you. I want to see you again, explain myself. Stay in touch with your friends and stay in your life. But they all say it’s best to move on. To forget about you. That you didn’t deserve me. But the truth is, I didn’t deserve you. You were right. I still want to be good enough for you. I try to sleep, but the slice through my chest grows with each breath. Like air slipping into a fractured straw. I told you I loved you, and you asked me to leave. Ten

I got fired today. I’ve said it out loud to myself ten times now. “I got fired today, I don't have job, I am not a bartender.” Over and over. All facts, no feelings. Although many feelings came up. Feelings like, “You’re not good enough, No one takes you seriously, You were right.” Susan says, in a moment of anxiety or panic, to focus on the facts and not the feelings. It helped me stop crying. But it didn’t help me stop feeling like the punchline to some cruel joke. Two months of employment. At a job I loved. The first job I’ve ever even liked. Yes it was hard on my body and only mildly lucrative, but I had started looking forward to work. And now I have to start all over again. I walked into that meeting thinking my boss and I would have a constructive chat about my brief time there. Complemented his hair, and greeted my co-workers like they were long-time friends. I told my boss, “This is the best work environment I’ve ever had. This is exactly what I was looking for in my job search, and I’m so glad to have found it.” Verbatim. And then I was fired. He called it “the hardest conversation he ever had to have” because I “didn’t deserve to be shit on”. And he shit on me anyway. The Swan family shit all over me. The unnecessarily aggressive geese on the eerie canal. The Geese family. Growing up, my grandparents had a small piece of land on Lake Norwood. During summer visits, my cousins and I would swim and camp there on occasion. But you always had to pick up the goose shit first. You see, no matter the string fence that my Taita made herself and kept along the shore, geese would come onto the land and shit. I’m familiar with picking up goose shit. I genuinely thought that last year would be my only year on unemployment. November 17, 2021 I filed for unemployment, again. At 23. I have to cancel the tattoo appointment I just made. And I’m not sure I can keep up with my savings goal on unemployment. Which means pushing out my National Park trip start date. The light at the end of this tunnel is beginning to dim faster and faster. xxoo Ten