Why you must have a vision for your life

Have you ever gotten a bad haircut? Maybe the person cutting your hair wasn't the mot skilled stylist but I'd say that there's a high chance that you didn't communicate what you wanted sufficiently.

I've been guilty of this a few times. Maybe after seeing a stylist for a while I'll assume he or she remembers what I like and don't like and I'll say something along the lines of, "Just like last time!" assuming they'll remember the length or the way layers fell or the way I've been parting my hair lately. Then I'm surprised when the cut or color isn't exactly the way I envisioned it. Well of course it's not: I didn't articulated my vision to my stylist, or maybe I wasn't fully clear on the vision myself.

The same thing applies to your career and life overall: you must figure out what you want and clearly express it (first to yourself) before you can expect it to materialize.

Oprah approved coach and motivational speaker Tony Gaskins has famously said, "Build your own dreams or someone will hire you to build theirs." Not everyone has the itch to be an entrepreneur (which is okay!) but this concept still applies. If you don't have a vision for your own life and career chances are high that you will end up simply fitting into someone else's.

While having a vision for a hair style is far from having a vision for your life it requires a similar sequence of events and is based around a similar concept: know what you want, communicate that, and then become it.

It sounds simple but it can be extremely hard. How many twenty-, thirty-, forty-somethings, and beyond have fallen into a career path simply after accepting the first job they were offered out of college? 

I've asked many friends and colleagues what got them into their chosen line of work and a startling number say their company, or whatever company they started at, simply "was hiring." Now sometimes it works out; some companies hire a lot from within and are open to role and organizational changes. I was lucky enough to be at a company like that for four years. But not everyone is like that and even the best ones won't plot out your career for you.

The same way it's common for high school students to be encouraged to think through what they want in a college if they are planning on higher education we should all spend time thinking through what we want out of our careers and lives overall.

It's hard, won't happen overnight, and it can sometimes teeter into existential-territory, but it's important and worth it.

So spend some time thinking through your own wants, goals, and needs. Don't just let your life happen to you. Develop a vision for your life or you'll end up fitting into someone else's.

My trip to Cartagena and why you really need to take an international trip alone

It's no secret that I’ve become one of the newest fans of solo travel; solo anything now-a-days as I've finally embraced my introversion and have started to understand what things and people I need in my life to live my best life (but maybe that's another post).

You can read about my trip late last year to Italy alone here. 

A newly discovered reason that I am all about trying your hand at traveling alone is that it might happen to you unexpectedly and you should be prepared. That’s a pretty lame reason, but honestly I think it’s smart. 

Last month I took a trip to Cartagena, Colombia. (Yes it was incredible and everyone should go right now).

I went with my great friend Christina for most of the time. We planned the trip so that we'd arrive minutes apart in the airport then she'd leave Monday afternoon and I'd stay for one more day -- alone (bliss!)

I felt pretty good about the plans. And even though as loved ones reminded me South America is different from Europe and I am not fluent in Spanish, I had done this before so I felt confident.

And then our plans changed. 

Christina, my ambitious little continent jumper, was in Africa for about a week before heading to Colombia. She planned to spend 3 days back in NYC, where she lives, in between her vacations but some bad weather in Madagascar prevented her from flying out on time. 

This meant that I was alone for a little more than 24 hours upon first arriving in Colombia. 

Not that big of a deal considering I was going to be by myself for a day on the back-end of the trip. But arriving in the foreign country and being alone for the beginning of a trip feels different from being alone at the end of a trip. At the beginning you're getting the lay of the land, getting lost, seeing what's around and generally feeling out the vibe. At the end of a trip you have a sense of the city you're visiting; you have your bearings and at least know enough about the city and have associated the blocks and shops around your hotel as your "home" for your stay. 

Plus it’s very different to walk off a plane and know you’ll be with a friend within an hour versus a day and a half. That’s one thing I’ve learned by traveling alone internationally-- excitement feels different alone.

I found out about this glitch in our plans just a few days before I was flying out of the country. A shift that was sizable enough that I can tell you would have shaken me a bit if I had never traveled outside the country on my own before. But since I had done this before -- this being arriving in a city I didn't know where they spoke a language I couldn't speak and did fine -- I knew I could handle the change of plans.

And you know what? It was fine. More than fine, it was nice to explore and get to know the city on my own then introduce my friend to it. 

Christina joined me seamlessly enough and we had a ball. We explored the city, ate fresh, fresh fruit from street vendors, became addicted to chai frias (delicious/addictive iced chai drink that’s like ingesting heaven; I had two a day), had beyond delicious ceviche, tapas, seafood, and pasta, and listened to street performers day and night. 

And then the winter storm Juno hit the northeast of the United States. Which had, well, zero impact on me since I live in Georgia. But Christina living in New York was definitely impacted. As in her Monday flight was cancelled and she couldn't get on another until Thursday. Her vacation was extended by 3 days, 2 of which I'd be back in Atlanta. 

Now she's a pretty experienced traveler so she was fine. But I realized on my flight back to the states that this is just one more reason why I think it's really important for young people who are interested in travel to do some on their own: you never know how plans might change or get shaken up and you should be able to roll with any unforeseen and uncontrollable changes in your plan rather than let him roll over your trip. 

Maybe not *the* reason to try your hand at it, but if you’re the practically minded type maybe it helps make the case.

Now, since I need to get better about sharing photos… Some of the pictures from Cartagena!

MANGO (!!!)

Sunset from Cafe del Mar… A tourist trap but still came (and I agree is) highly recommended

The colors!

Look into one of the city streets. Fun fact: the building on the left --brighter yellow-- is the BEST restaurant in town, La Virtola. If you heed my advice and go to Cartagena (as you should) you must eat here. 

Me and the newest resident of Cartagena, at least for the last week of January

Picturesque beach day 🙌

And of course, come ceviche and divine plantain chips. 

solo travel: literally doing whatever you want

In November I took a trip to Italy alone for a week. While some might be nervous about how they’d pass the time alone or how they’d spend their days, I was beyond excited to get away and spend some QT time with myself. 

I won’t lie-- I was slightly apprehensive about doing this especially since I don’t speak Italian and had simply never done it, but that was a big part of why I wanted to do it-- because I hadn’t before. 

I had fantasized about the trip: the sites I’d see, how I’d spend my days, the people I’d meet. In some scenarios I fell in love with a tall, handsome Italian man. In some I galavanted around alone, gelato and a bouquet of flowers in hand, a scarf tied around my neck; Carrie Bradshaw in Rome. In some I sat in my hotel room alone eating the best take out pizza of all time (okay I never actually had that fantasy but it was my “worst case scenario” if the trip blew up in my face). 

Trying my hand at traveling alone internationally was really important to me. I had traveled alone domestically but this felt bigger; things were just different abroad…. there was a language barrier, this required a passport, my cellphone bill would be absurd if I got into trouble and had to phone home for help. I had to do it. 

The big pull was to see, well, if I liked it. I comforted myself (and others) by saying that if it was weird or lonely or I became flat-out miserable I could retreat to my hotel room and read the whole time (with that pizza…) Though deep down I knew that I would enjoy it. I had thought about it enough, I was at a point where I just needed to do it. 

Happy, romantic, or pathetic fantasies aside, the point was that the whole trip held endless opportunities for me.


Which is why when I met a very nice Australian man on a tour of the Colosseum who was also traveling alone I wasn’t quite sure exactly how to feel.

He was very nice, bought me a delicious meal and then my dessert of choice in Italy (gelato). But after the first fifteen minutes of being around hime I was reminded why exactly I went on this trip by myself: to be alone and to do literally whatever the hell I wanted to do.

Doing whatever the hell I wanted largely consisted of me wandering the streets, taking photographs, looking at fine leather goods I couldn’t afford, looking at cheap leather goods I did not want, trying to rationalize buying the fine leather goods, then later deciding against it rather rationally over a bottle of wine. I also spent a lot of time finding outlets to charge my phone and free wifi to look up restaurants on TripAdvisor then eating the best pizza and pasta of my life in these restaurants in blissful solitude. 

I would walk the city streets for hours. I got lost in the tourists and the history of the city. I did a lot of tours at the big sites like the Colosseum and The Vatican, but mostly I wandered, got to know the area of town where I “lived”, and fluttered around. 

I am a quite social person but really love my space so when I met this young man who was traveling alone on my tour of the Colosseum again, I wasn’t quite sure how to react. He too was alone and was excited to meet someone else -- a girl at that! -- who was in the same boat. I told him my plans for after the tour and invited him to join if he so desired, trying my best to exude the very truthful air of “I literally do not care one way or another if you join me but I will be sticking to my plans.”

He decided to come along and it wasn’t an hour later that he was driving me crazy. 

Ultimately this was unfair of me. He did nothing out of the ordinary, wasn’t specifically annoying, never made a pass at me or even suggested anything of that nature. Simply it was his presence and the fact that I had to now decide with someone on what to do. Simple actions like where to get off the bus, which street to turn down, should we stop into that shop or the other, where should we eat. This all drove me nuts.

I held it together for a couple of hours but ultimately I just could not maintain the facade. In a way I was beating myself up inside-- I should be kind to this person! He was a fellow solo traveler! He was young and kind and bought me dinner! I was being a rude American and may be hurting his feelings.

Then I remembered my intention of this trip: to be alone. I had left one of my best friends in London to come to Italy for no bigger reason than to just be own my own. What I wanted for that week of my life was to be able to stroll the streets aimlessly, to be able to dine and shop wherever and whenever I wanted, and to be able to meet a nice man, enjoy and afternoon, then never see him again. 

I said goodbye to him after declining his invite to meet up at a bar late that night. I told him I had to be up early, hugged him goodbye, and turned down the side street of my hotel. Then after he had been out of eyesight for a good thirty seconds I turned around and made my way back to the wine bar I had eyed earlier in the walk and ordered a glass of wine and a small plate of olives. I sat and watched passer-byers on the street for an hour then left and walked for another thirty minutes before retuning to my hotel. 

Maybe this was rude but it was my vacation and I was going to enjoy it the exact way I wanted. 

that time I drove 250 miles on the “wrong side” of the road

Last month over Thanksgiving I went to Europe for 10 days. You can read what I posted before I left here. 

I spent some time with a great friend of mine in the UK then spent 5 days in Italy on my own. 

Trying my hand at traveling abroad alone was really important to me, I’ll share more about that another time, but even when I wasn’t alone there were some things I felt were really important for me to try on this trip. Some were specifically meant to challenge me. Not because anyone put me up to it or ever doubted me or but simply because I wanted to challenge myself.

One of these little adventures was driving a car in the UK. 

My friend Marie who’s studying in London and I decided to getaway from the city the day after my arrival. Some friends of hers joined in on the fun and the 2 of us (3 Americans, 1 Britt) rented a car, drove out to Stonehenge, then to Bath, returning to London late the next evening. 

Easy enough... In theory. And it was... In retrospect. But I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit to realizing only when I was behind the wheel, about to turn into traffic on a Saturday afternoon in central London, that this adventure was a little ambitious.

I wouldn’t call it one of my bucket list items, I’ve just always thought it’d be fun, just a different sensation, to drive “on the other side of the road” in England. 

I was confident while planning the trip with Marie, it was actually my idea; and I kept reiterating my confidence while she relayed the plans to her friends. But again I’d be lying if I said that deep within me (maybe not even all that deep) there was a twang of anxiety. 

But the girls trusted me, the rental car company trusted me (I am 27-- well beyond the minimum age to be eligible to rent a car!), and I trusted me. Which is why the moment I drove barely 10 feet in the parking garage and realized, “Okay, this would have been enough of a British driving experience for me” I knew my confidence and I were in for an interesting next 36 hours. 

But I felt good. I still held a majority of my confidence. I also had a hotel booked, dinner and brunch reservations made, and had the 3 young women I had sold on this trip in the car with me. I was stuck. 

I took a deep breath, told myself and the girls that I was ready, and pulled out onto the street. 

I drove nearly 100 miles from central London to Stonehenge (including about 20 minutes through the heart of London) without issue. I navigated the car through round-about after round-about with the help of my patient passengers. We missed exits and re-found our way. 

But as it became dark I grew tired and the rural roads between Stonehenge and Bath had no (and I mean no) street lights. On top of this the road we were driving along was literally on the edge of a cliff; fortunately I had to really focus straight ahead so only learned this after the fact.

I kept reminding myself that this was an adventure; that this was a challenge I had wanted to undertake. And that there was literally no way to stop. 

I only realized my own exhaustion and desire for the journey to be over when I started to mentally calculate how much longer we had before we reached Bath. We had been on the road for nearly an hour and a half since leaving Stonehenge. I expected there to be about 15 minutes remaining but when I learned that my cautious driving put us 35 minutes away from Bath my stomach sank. Everyone in the car could feel it. 

It was then I realized that I had a choice. I could let my stomach stay dropped and spread my anxiety I was in or I could be positive and tell myself, and the girls in the car -- who had entrusted their safety to me on this trip that I had planned to push myself -- that we’d get there soon enough! I went with the latter. 

We made it to Bath probably 40 or 45 minutes after that estimation. 

Bath was well worth the at times stressful journey. And the drive back to London, while riddled with traffic and a slight rush to return the rental car before the office closed, was relatively easy.

I had certainly gotten the hang of driving in London. So much so that looking back on the trip now, a month later, the drive seems so easy.

What’s also funny to think back on is that when Marie and I got back to her flat on Sunday night I exhaled deeply, she once again told me what a good job I did, and I admitted to her the thought I had the moment before driving out onto the busy street of central London. She looked at me, her mouth slightly open with a look of disbelief, regret, annoyance, relief, and maybe a little proud of me and said, "Ohh Scudds. I’m really glad you didn’t tell me that right then. Maybe don’t tell the others." 
  Adventure/challenge #1 of my trip down fueled by British diesel gas and positive energy; adventure #2 was up. 

off I go!

Tomorrow I am hopping on MARTA, heading to the airport, and flying over to Europe. This trip is one part vacation, one part adventure, one part avoidance of the Atlanta airport over Thanksgiving, and one part personal challenge.

I say all of these things because I will be spending some of my time in the UK with one of my very best friends who is studying overseas right now then hopping a flight to Rome on Monday to pop around the city (day trip to Pompeii included) by myself. I have shared some thoughts on solo travel and solo international travel here but this is the first time I have done it for an extended period of time and abroad. 

While I know that loads of people -- women of course included -- have ventured off on their own many times before me, this is something new for me so something I am really looking forward to, but with slight reservation. 

No reservation because I’m scared or even anxious, my anticipation is truly all excitement based. I just have no idea what it’s going to be like. I have no idea what it’s going to be like staying by myself in a hotel for 5 days and 4 nights. I have no idea what it’s going to be like to have no one to meet up with or really talk with for those 5 days and 4 nights. I have no idea what it’s going to be like to decide entirely what my plans are, in a foreign city. And I certainly have no idea how it’s going to be communicating with my Italian counterparts, since, well, I don’t speak a lick of Italian. 

It might be terrible. But I might love it. And even if I don’t love it I am excited for the experience and the adventure and to learn whatever it is I learn about myself during this trip.

Stay tuned-- pictures to come! 

sometimes you have to hit pause

I have been beyond delinquent on posting this fall. I have been busy with some side-projects which anyone who follows my blog will surely learn about soon (....) still, I have been frustrated with myself in just how long I've gone without posting anything. I have found myself time and time again beginning to write something, sometimes drafting nearly an entire post, or just jotting down a few notes for an idea on the blogger app but then never coming back to these for weeks.

So why this big pause? 

There's been no funk, no mild seasonal depression with the one cold snap we've had here in Georgia (40s during the daytime a handful of days which earns a "brr" down here... I barely recognize myself anymore!) 

I just needed a little break to focus on a few other things.

Taking a pause like with without having to explain it is something we all need sometimes. It's not something we can enjoy in all facets of our lives-- most of us can't simply stop showing up to work without any notice or reason, mothers and fathers can't stop being parents, and there are other consequences for simply "hitting pause" on other relationships we have. So when and where we can take a necessary pause we should do it.

This is why when blogging --something I enjoy but is not critical to my existence or livelihood-- began to become something that was more taxing than enjoyable I cut myself some slack. I hit pause. 

I've been enjoying this little re-set button for my personal and professional mental state. Which is something I think we all require sometimes.

With the start of November, new projects, and new adventures coming up I plan to getting back to posting regularly but in the meantime cut me some slack :)

decide what to be and go be it

For much of last week I was so swamped that I wasn't thinking about how I wanted to show up and what my intentions were. Those days my mind felt clouded, my purpose wasn’t clear, and while I had happy and productive days, there were certainly things I dwelled on that I didn't need to and equally things I didn't think enough about.

On a stroll to Starbucks early Sunday afternoon I realized that I hadn’t thought about my intention in days. Since it was Sunday I decided that my focus didn’t need to be anything monumental. I had felt immensely fortunate over the past couple of days and I decided, with that in mind, that what I wanted to really pay attention to was being kind. I don't consider myself an unkind person by any means but I'm not sure that we all spend enough time really focused on and wanting to be kind.

The universe didn’t waste any time to put my intention to the test. Not a middle aged, homeless man was standing at the front door of Starbucks; his strong, musty scent introduced him before I looked up and saw him. He was thin with wild hair and oddly placed tatoos. He wore very loose, ripped shorts and a baggy tshirt. I couldn’t help but think that with his thin frame he could have been a petite model dressed in hipster fashions that girls like me would pin to their street style Pinterest boards.

I walked inside and he followed close -- very close -- behind. He stood no less than 6 inches behind me in the uncrowded line. He seemed a but many and was standing so close that in an effort to back up I walked out of line so he approached the counter before me. He ordered a cup of coffee and pulled out one dollar bill. The barista asked him if he had any more money; his drink was $1 and some change but he didn’t produce anything else. Not wanting to make a scene I stood quietly for a moment. I then asked what he was trying to order. The barista smiled and shook her head at me; she had just run the transaction and just charged him $1. He stood by me, still very close by, as she poured him a cup of coffee. He wasn’t looking at the pastries with any real longing but the least I could do it seemed was to ask if he’d like anything. He quietly scanned his options for a few seconds without even acknowledging my offer; then he declared, with the same excitement of a child after finally choosing an ice cream flavor, “Coffee cake!” 

I don’t post this to make myself feel good or to receive kudos for purchasing small pastry for a homeless man at a coffee shop. People do acts of kindness like this all the time. If I’m being honest I could do them a lot more frequently. 

I post this because it’s not everyday when you decide you want to do something and then are presented a perfect opportunity to do so, literally moments later. I felt lucky to have the opportunity to do something kind for someone else and be able to see the real result.

It was a good reminder about my intention to be more purpose oriented this month. Even though I got a little side-tracked some days, all of the days that I did operate with clear thought and intentions I was more productive (and not just with those specific plans or goals), more content, and I think happier.

Happy Tuesday, decide how you want to show up today and keep your eye on your own prize.

2nd PSL of the season. Don't hate, we all know these are delicious.