Dear Diary, I am…in Wisconsin.

I live in Wisconsin, but not for long as I am actually leaving the state. But before I leave Wisconsin, I had to write about it. People don’t think much about Wisconsin—we have our cheese curds, cows, beer, “bubblers,” weird accents (even after having lived in Florida for four years, I still say “bayg” instead of bag). But really, Wisconsin is so much more than that. Really, we are an underrated gem in the treasure box of America.

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Dear Diary, I am…being fired.

Thank goodness, not from my full-time job. I couldn’t afford that. But I was fired from my nanny job. I am so angry. Let me tell you! The mom waited for the dad to return home from his business trip. Then without telling me anything, she took the kids out to a restaurant. The kids, MY kids, that I had so many memories with—my fuzzy socks that brought them so much excitement, the boyfriend that the little boy was going to find for me, the countless hours I spent teaching the little girl math. They were being taken away from me, and I didn’t even know it yet. She took them away, and I didn’t even get to say goodbye! Continue reading

Dear Diary, I am…at Ft. Pickens.

Well, not right at this moment, but I was back during my last semester at college. I went to school in Pensacola, Fl. Just a 20 minute drive from the beach—something I happily left Wisconsin and its subzero winters for. Pensacola Beach is nice. Often it is hard to remember things like taste and touch, but when I stepped into the water at Pensacola Beach for the first time, I distinctly remembered how much colder Lake Michigan was, and I called my family into the water saying that this was bath water. But Pensacola Beach, the glowing sand (just a little, not like in those pictures you sometimes see on Facebook), and jellyfish are not what I am here to reminisce. Continue reading

Dear Diary, I am…a writer.

And not just because I decided to start my own blog. I do make a living writing, both full-time and part-time freelancing (I know what you’re thinking, “Who’d she sucker to pay her to write for them?” But believe it or not, I live off my writing. That should give you not-so-confident writers something to have confidence about. If I can do it, anyone can.). The thing I love most about writing is that as a writer you are always (or should be) growing and learning. I know I am. Continue reading

Dear Diary, I am…exploring close to home.

I love traveling. I love visiting new places, exploring different states, and flying around the world. Although I have visited a couple foreign countries and a few states, I don’t often get the chance to go on big trips. My budget screams louder than my wanderlust. And sometimes my mode of transportation that brings me to my new adventure is my bike.

When I moved into my new city, I was excited. This would give me the chance to explore something new. However, what I had seen of the city of about 60,000 was not very impressive. Continue reading

Dear Diary, I am…a dreamer.

It happened all at once—the shooting. People were screaming, everyone was running away in different directions. It looked like there would be many casualties. I heard the shooter running in my direction. I grabbed my knife and crouched. Just as he ran past, I stabbed him and grabbed his gun, saving the remaining people in the area. Once the mess settled down, ambulances cleared out the wounded, and police started their investigation, it came out that I was the hero. I saved the day. Continue reading

Dear Diary, I am…in London.

I thought I would finally do it…write about my experience in London. Not that it was any more special than anyone else’s trip to London. In fact, it may be even less special as half my time was spent handing out Bible study invitations.

But what made this special for me is that I didn’t see all the sights, but I did get to stay in the home, not a hotel. I put my clothes in a wardrobe, not a closet. I got to comfort a lady about her deceased husband, not talk to a tour guide about some sight I would eventually forget. Continue reading

Dear Diary, I am…on an adventure.

My skin burned in the subzero January wind as I stood soaking wet on the snow-covered beach smiling for my parent’s camera. I had definitely picked a good year (2013) to do the annual polar plunge in Lake Michigan—the worst in fourteen years some said. I bundled up as other people ran out onto icy Lake Michigan to dunk into a hole of water that the firefighters had cut away. I ran to the car as fast as I could. Fortunately, God created the body with amazing survival skills, and I managed to warm up faster than even my parents. I looked at my legs, bleeding from running through the icy water. I would definitely have a story to tell my friends when I got back to Florida. Yes, it might have been extreme and maybe even a little crazy—stupid was the word Grandma used—to jump into Lake Michigan in the middle of winter, but after growing up thinking that my life was extremely boring, I realized it didn’t have to be boring; and in fact, maybe it wasn’t. Continue reading