Shake the Internet
When I hear the beat of a bongo and guera working together with a bass and some guitar plucking, my entire spine tingles. I can close my eyes now and imagine the flashing lights in the club, the hand guiding me paso por paso, vuelta por vuelta through a Bachata, a Salsa, a Cumbia. My heart feeling light, my brain empty of all feelings but the euphoria brought on by synchronized movement with friends and strangers alike. There is something about the connection that needs no words, the mutual understanding of you and I dancing while surrounded by others doing the same. Everyone from different backgrounds with different reasons, but sharing the same purpose, to move together. Dance heals us, dance creates a safe space, dance creates connections.
Bubble gum, bubble gum in a dish Skipping rope Bubble gum pink The color of my clothes My mom dressed me in femininity
Eight Weeks in Cali, Colombia
I’ve been traveling sola since I was eighteen and started college in 2015. My vacations were frequently filled with trips driving around the United States and several trips to various countries in Central America and one glorious trip to Senegal which were funded by my schools grant money. Some of my favorite travel experiences were in Costa Rica & Nicaragua. I loved Costa Rica so much I went back four times, one of those times was to live there by myself for a year. A trip I had to cancel due to a lack of funding while in college was to Cali, Colombia. I was heartbroken and ever since I had to cancel I have been awaiting a time in my life to return. My original plan was to stay for eight months to immerse myself in social dance culture and work for a dance school. I always travel teaching TESOL on the side, so I was connecting with a not for profit English school there too, but in the end was not able to go.
My 90 Day Fiance
When I tell people my husband and I did the K-1 Fiance Visa the usual response I get is “Oh my gosh! Like 90 day fiance!” To which I respond, “Yeah I guess so.” I have never seen the show, but yes we had 90 days to get married after he was finally able to get here. We lived the visa process, filled out all the paperwork, and this is our story complete with tips for anyone going through this. If you are not going through this, I hope it gives you an understanding of how ridiculous our immigration system is.
The yellow glow of a 3:00pm sun filtered through amber leaves and in through the West window of our campus cottage living room. Mac Demarco and King Krule were just two of the artists on our never ending and always extending playlist which we had on low volume to drown out the popping sound of needles going in and out of our skin. A lamp, with a golden hue sat to my left on a wooden side table along with my black ink, a few paper towels, and a little bit of water to wipe away the excess ink as needed. The aroma of our joint burning filled the air as we passed it back and forth to fill our lungs. The faintest hint of burning rose petals, which both smelled and tasted sour also filled the walls of the room. The two of us sat, spines arched on a wooden sofa with blue tweed cushions and a few burn holes. We both should have been reading Nausea by Jean Paul Sarte for our Tutorial in Existentialism the next day, but we figured the process we were putting our bodies through was equally as existential and nauseating so we had decided to take a tattoo study break for a few hours.