Starting from scratch

Well, I did it. I got the heck outta Dodge and after couch surfing for the last four weeks, I'm on my way to a new apartment. Please join me in shouting, Hooray!

Little did I know this is where the real headache begins.

It's been a while since I've had an apartment and I have forgotten how much stuff you actually need. Making it worse is that I'm no longer a college student, and so those luxuries I've become accustomed to in the last few years are not ones I'm willing to go without.

Last night, my new roommate (who in fact is an old roommate from said college days) and I planned a supply-shopping trip with excitement. On the list were two of my favorite places besides Europe and Disneyland: IKEA and Target.

IKEA was first on the list. As soon as we entered the doors, we were informed that the massive store would be closing in 30 minutes. Supermarket Sweep commenced.

After a half hour of hemming and hawing and picking up and putting back, we left empty-handed. "Big mistake. Huge," we told IKEA staffers as we departed. (Of course it was out of earshot, but we meant it!) We were ready to spend at least 40 dollars (that's right, 40 dollars!) and they blew it by closing. Ah well, at least there is Target.

At this point our heads were beginning to hurt and our tummies were growling, since we had planned on dining at IKEA and you heard how that turned out. But we braved on.

Indeciveness followed us around like an annoying little sister, but we were determined to have something to show for our shopping trip.

We ended up with some pots and pans, Brita water filter, towels, and a kitchen utensil set that we weren't entirely sure about. Oh and drinking glasses.

All and all, I'd chalk it up to a successful evening. We've barely scratched the surface of the things we need, but if we could just figure out what those things are, I believe we are good to go.

All signs point west

I have a lot to look forward to right now. And let me tell you, it's a wonderful feeling.

For a few years now, I feel like I have been in a rut, not quite sure where I was going... and suddenly it seems as those the fog is lifted and I can see a sign pointing "that way."

I still don't know 100 percent what is ahead, but even that is a thrill. Who knows what could happen? I'm going to find out. As along as I expect some good, some bad, I'll be able to cope with whatever is thrown my way. And worst case scenario, I'm not going to die, so why not just go for it?

It's hard to explain to some people when you are acting on faith, that you're not worried when they think you should be.

But as author H. Jackson Brown Jr. says, "Don't be afraid to go out on a limb. That's where the fruit is."

Expectations vs. Reality

I have a habit of being unrealistic. For those of you who know me, it's hard to believe, I know. Not sensible, head-out-of-the-clouds Megan, you might be thinking. But yes, let me tell you, it's true.

I have come to terms with, and enjoy, this fact about myself. However lately there have been a few instances of people telling me I have too high of expectations, need to get in touch with reality, and that what I'm expecting is unattainable.

They all have good points, but you know, I'm OK with spending some time in my land of make believe. I like imagining my life turning out like the end of a Drew Barrymore movie (unless it's Scream). So what if it doesn't?

Honestly, I know it probably won't. I'm not that crazy. And I'm OK with that. Really.

But until my life is over, I'm going to keep expecting and imagining the biggest and best is in store.

And in the meantime, until the Director of my life says, "Cut!" I can just rewatch the dailies of the amazing experiences I've had so far.

A quick rundown

I made it to England safely and it felt like I had never left.

First things first. Sunday roast.

Clara, her boyfriend Tom, and flatmate Adam were happy to oblige and so we went for a meal shortly after my arrival.

I fell asleep early that night with a full tummy and plans to meet Sofia the next day. I woke up and have realized how awful and discomforting it is to wake up and no concept of the time. I got up, got ready and turned on the news and saw it was 6:45 a.m.

Four hours later I met Sofia and we visited a Movieum (movie + museum) walked along the south bank of the Thames and ate delicious crepes.

Returning to Clara's I got a little lost but eventually found my way back.

We left that night for Pisa and arrived early the next day. The tower was amazing and I, of course, took the obligatory pushing-the-tower photo. We then hit the beach, splashed in the warm ocean, worked on our tan then came back and joined others at the hostel for a meter and a half of pizza.

Today we headed to Florence and there are so many details I'd like to share, but they will have to wait for my return, when I have more time and a few less glasses of wine.

Ciao!

Drive thru

I have my best ideas when I'm in my car.

There's just something about being behind the wheel, the scenery whipping past, that just ignites my imagination.

In my car, I'm a rockstar singing my heart out to an adoring audience. In my car, I'm an explorer headed for my next adventure. In my car, I've written best-selling novels and award-winning screenplays. In my car, I'm a philosopher having serious discussions with God.

I've really come to cherish the time I spend in my car. Maybe because it's the one place I can go to be alone.

Alone time is important. Because who else wants to hear me sing at the top of my lungs?

Scaling back

I bought a scale tonight.

Realizing that in three short months I'm going to be on holiday and hopefully lying on a beach in Italy, I've decided I only want to bring about 75% of my current self with me.

That being the case, I've been waking up early enough to dance to my cardio cabaret DVD, led by two yoga-loving ladies who show me stretches that are perfect "moodras for my lower shakras." Whatever that means.

I'm trying to eat less too. Emphasis on the trying. Before each bite, I try to picture myself in a bathing suit, which is usually enough to scare me away from the fridge. Sometimes not.

But back to the scale. I had a scale, but with this new one, instead of rounding it will give me my weight to the tenth decimal. So any bit of progress will hopefully show up and keep me motivated.

As soon as I arrived home, I unwrapped it and tentatively stepped onto it.

And quickly stepped off.

I have a lot of work to do.

There is an 'I' in Italy

It seems that the rain is gone and summer is nearly upon us.

With that comes the excitement of swimming, a suntan and flip flops. And the best part of all...

Vacation.

Thanks to Uncle Sam I have some money to invest in a nice, but modest, trip. At first I was debating between saving that money, but then the world called and invited me to visit again.

Visiting the U.K. again is definitely high on my list. But for some reason, I feel that somewhere a little more south is beckoning.

It all began with the book "Eat, Pray, Love." I checked out the audio book when I drove down to L.A. a few weeks ago. The author spent three months in Italy; eating the food, drinking the wine, meeting the people. Those are three things I like to do!

Italy called again last Saturday. "Under the Tuscan Sun" was on television and once more the idea of basking in the Italian sun stirred in me. Just a few hours later, I had Italian food for dinner, which sealed the deal.

I want to go to Italy. More than that, I think Italy wants me to go to Italy.

How can I refuse?

Time travel of the mind

At this time last year, I was (fill in the blank).

Am I the only person who thinks like this? I seem to have this recurring string of thoughts at least once a day. At this time last year, I was climbing a mountain in Austria. At this time last year, I was running around a castle in Wales. At this time last year, I was lying on a beach in Greece, eating gyros.

My mind is a time machine, transporting me back to good memories, good friends and adventures not too long gone.

I take comfort that while I can't physically be everywhere at once, in my mind, I am. I'm back in the Austrians' flat, laughing over the way they say "make a picture" instead of "take a picture." I'm in Holland, trudging through the mud as if my life depended on it, because in fact, it does. I'm sitting around with Sofia (English) and Sarah (Welsh) as we say words like "tomato" and "stupid" to hear them in our respective accents. I'm having hair wars with Clara as we're on the train to Tenby.

As time passes, I'm sad that these thoughts now begin with "Two years ago, I was..." And soon it will be three and four years. The flux capicitor of my mind is getting weaker and the delorean needs more plutonium.

And then it hit me...

The great thing about time travel of the mind is, that while I'm back in the past, I'm still making memories in the present. Like meeting my nephew for the first time after being away from home for a year. Floating down the river with friends, and after five hours, learning we're only halfway done. Making a trip to the airport to pick up one person an adventure requiring a car full of people. Seeing friends get married. Strangers too, now that I think of it.

What I guess I'm really trying to say is, as great as the past was, the present is pretty terrific and the future doesn't look too bad either.