Author: bwucinski

I think slow stories are a quickly dying art being replaced by 150 characters or less.

Possimpible

Posted on by bwucinski in Personal, Travel

“The place where the impossible and the possible meet. Nothing and everything is possimpible.” – Barney Stinston

For the majority of my short life, I’ve always assumed it would go one way. My life was like a set of directions on how to arrive at the final destination.  Turn right at high school. Make a left and attend college. Continue straight after graduation into your first job. In approximately 3 years, make a slight left at the promotion. Make a stop at marriage. Exit at 32 when you have a baby.

By now, I hope you get the metaphor.

As of now, that plan came to a crashing halt. Luckily the only damage incurred was the loss of that damn roadmap for my life. Now I have no destination and no directions and it’s okay. I understand that ‘real life’ doesn’t have to immediately begin as soon as a graduate. There are more opportunities for work than just that one perfect job. But most of all, I’ve realized there’s time.

“If you don’t know where you’re going, any road can take you there.”

My life now looks like one long, open road. I’m not sure where I’ll turn or where I’ll make a pit stop, but that’s okay because now is the time to explore. I watch my friends who are graduating in December stress ands struggle, throwing every fiber of their being into finding a job after graduation, fighting to plan every detail of their lives, and I feel anxious for them. Anything and everything will happen during our lifetime, whether we realize it or not right now. Why are so many young adults having a quarter-life crisis and getting burned out at 30 in demanding jobs they hate? Take a beat. Evaluate the possibilities, because once you actually take a look they are truly endless.

And whether this next part interests you or not, here are some of the paths I’m considering post-grad:

  • Teach for America
  • Grad School for either Religious Studies or Education
  • Seminary School for Inter-religious Studies
  • Copywriter at an advertising agency
  • Taking a year to figure it all out
  • Traveling

I’ll be sure to keep you updated on how things pan out this year. After all, it’s only October.

 

Disasters in Dating

Posted on by bwucinski in Dating, Drinking, Personal
WTF.

I apologize for the lack of posts. What with school starting up again this fall I haven’t been nearly as bored as I was during my internships. But there’s something else I’ve been doing lately – I’m kind of, sort of, seeing someone.

Oh yes.

I feel like just as I was getting into the whole idea of being single and gettin’ my swag on at the bars every weekend, I just happened to wind up dating someone. After of course, my mother asked him for his phone number and he subsequently wrote it down for us as a joke. And then I in turn left him a note reading, “If you were just working for a tip tonight, great job, but if you need someone to squeeze your flat ass sometime, give me a call.”

Oh yes.

And my crass humor and brazen (mostly delusional) self-confidence got me a lunch date, followed by many more drinks out and now I’m here. Dating someone. It’s new and it’s uncomfortable and I constantly feel like I have no idea what I’m doing or what I’m supposed to do.  It’s been almost 6 months since I ended things with my ex-boyfriend of over five years. He was my first everything. First real date, first time saying ‘I love you’, first date kiss, first sleepover, first fight, first struggle to find a balance in a relationship.

My most recent first date…ended in a high five.

And the awkwardness didn’t stop there. I’ve been fumbling my way through dating for the past few weeks and let me tell you, it’s nothing like a romantic comedy. I’ve said numerous things that have made me sound more idiotic than a drunk, blonde girl who ‘auditioned’ to be in a Girls Gone Wild video.  I told him I was scared of his penis. I’ve thrown up in his front yard and proceeded to pass out in his bathroom. Last night, on accident, I punched him in the groin.

Oh yes.

I’m sure there will be more stories to come. I can’t imagine I’ll get any better at this.

Hm…really? You don’t say.

Love Letters to Europe: Paris

Posted on by bwucinski in Love Letters to Europe, Travel

Paris,

You lived up to every single expectation I had of you.

I fell for you, like so many others before me. I dream of going back to you and living with you for years. We would have a fabulous life consumed with markets, gardens, the language of love, and croissants. Lots and lots of croissants.

I had been dreaming of visiting you since I was 10 years old. From the very moment that I arrived in your city, I thought to myself who utterly chic everything and everyone was. That woman on the subway, who at 11 pm at night was still wearing a gorgeously put together outfit, sleek hair, and spoke amazing French accent. While I on the other hand, wore a slob-tastic white v-neck which was inevitably stained.

I met Zachary and Emily, who at the time I didn’t know, but would change my life once we got back to Florence together. Emily’s sassiness, her utter lack of respect for anyone until proven otherwise, combined with her intense sensitivity brought on by books and art made us fast friends. Zachary was a different story. Luckily, It only took 9 bottles of wine on Easter to change that.

Garrett, Jennifer, Javon, Kaylee – those amazing people – who I ended up falling in love with too. Our ridiculous bike tour, the boat ride on the Seine afterwards, calling it a night because we could barely stay awake. Drinking wine in the park, taking the subway to the bars, not being able to fit us all in the crowded bars, and finally finding a place after what felt like forever. Ordering every single colored drink on the menu. The journey was always so much fun with ya’ll and I never want to forget it.

I felt so lucky to have finally met you Paris. I was finally getting to experience everything you had promised me: breath-taking art at the Louvre, the magnitude of the Eiffel Tower, and the interesting texture of escargo. I wanted to learn French so I could get a job as a copywriter just to be nearer to you. I wanted to marry a French man. Any French man.

I had just ended my relationship with Tyler when we met. I was worried about being in arguably the most romantic city in the world and feeling utterly alone and hopeless. Instead you showed me things that I would eventually focus on in single life – friends, exploring, travel, art, and thrill of meeting new people. I learned how much more open I could be to people. I enjoyed just talking with people and getting to know them because I knew that I no longer had someone anymore who would always be available to listen.

You get a bad reputation for being stuck up. Which, you are. But you are also filled with lovely people who don’t detest tourists. Stefan Francottee – if you ever read this – you are the kindest, sweetest, and cutest stranger I ever had the pleasure of getting directions from. You were also the first person I attempted to flirt with in five years and I apologize that it took me a while to pick up on the clues you gave me – sorry. Emmy, who let me stay in her dorm for the night and made me pasta, bought me breakfast, and made an entire list of things I needed to do in Paris – I’m eternally grateful to you.

Paris, you and I will be reunited again. I’ll be older. I’ll have the money to treat you right. I also want to bring someone with me, someone who will appreciate your beauty as much as I do. When I watched Midnight in Paris my intense desire to see you again interrupted my light-hearted laughter at Owen Wilson. I cannot wait to walk your streets again and stare out at the glittering city reflected on the Seine and thank God that I’ve finally made it back to you again.

Love Letters to Europe: Budapest

Posted on by bwucinski in Drinking, Love Letters to Europe, Travel

Budapest,

You are the bad boy my mother always warned me about.

You were dirty, you smelled, you were rough, and you were a blur of boys, booze, and baths. Yes, I said baths.

You were also the craziest, most adventurous, and epic weekend of my life.

As soon as I got to the city I got lost. I got on the wrong bus, took a wrong turn, and ended up sitting outside a cafe just to use the Wi-Fi to look at a map. Your language was so confusing and I didn’t understand you at all.

And then I found Retox*.

Retox Party Hostel is where dreams are made, beds are broken, and non-stop drinking began and hasn’t stopped since. I showed up at 11 am and was ushered upstairs into the common room where roughly 8 shirtless dudes were nursing hangovers or still rockin’ the buzz from the night before. At the time, I didn’t know this was an every day occurrence.

I was the fresh prey. I felt like you trapped me, Budapest. You created a booby trap lined with alcohol and penises and bad decisions.

The clap-out. I was pulled into a hostel room and told to clap. Mindlessly I did, slowly looking around and panicking at the amount of dick in this hostel. Then I realized what we were clapping for: a dreadlocked guy, naked, in bed with a redhead who was also naked. Apparently this was her fifth night in the hostel….and she wasn’t staying here. I would later learn more of your traditions like M-I-N-E and Buffalo. I took a tequila shot with cinnamon and orange instead of salt and lime. I remember thinking how bizarre everything felt.

I wasn’t kidding about the plethora of dick at the hostel.

Budapest, you were so bad for me. Instead of giving me water, you handed me pints of beer. Instead of meeting your friends, you introduced me to men whose only interest was getting laid. Instead of sightseeing, you showed me the hostel bar and held me captive for hours drinking with the British guys.

Still, I wouldn’t change you for anything. I laughed so hard. I pushed my comfort boundaries to levels that are unheard of down South. I made friends with anyone and everyone, and it wasn’t just because I was drunk for the majority of the three days.

I wasn’t myself. I was Texas. I was ballsy, brash, blunt, and an overall badass – or so I felt anyways. I’m not really sure what everyone else but I didn’t care. I was so drunk on beer and confidence that I felt like I could take on the world.

You were gentle at times though. Like after I got back from touring all day by myself and I felt lonely, you introduced me to the Aussie who gave me the kind of hug that changes your day. Then he invited me on that alternative walking tour where I got to see your ruin bars and street art. God, you were so cool**. 

I cuddled with boys who reminded me for a few moments what it felt like to just lay next to someone. I remember feeling desired by guys. I left with friends who I wouldn’t ever see again but I knew I wouldn’t forget.

When I left, I cried in the taxi. It was so bittersweet. Boss telling me that I was going to be legend. I told Johnny next time I came back I wanted to work there. It was 4:30 am and I remember thinking, “This is it. I go home in 36 hours. My trip is officially over.” It was the end of Europe, not just you and me.

I know when I come back to you Budapest, I won’t be leaving for weeks because you’ll trap me again. There won’t be a plane ticket or a plan to interfere this time. I’ll give into your temptations without a shred of guilt, without looking ahead, and never looking back.  

Love,

Briana

*I would recommend anyone visiting Budapest to stay at one of the party hostels, preferably Retox, if you love to meet people, go out, and get crazy. Just make sure to prepare your liver beforehand.

**Check out the blog Postcards to Budapest for cool photos of the city, since I was too intoxicated to operate a camera for the duration of my stay.

I’m Drunk and You’re Pretty

Posted on by bwucinski in Dating, Drinking

The following have been said to or by yours truly.

Things You Don’t Want to Hear in a Bar:

“If they don’t take you home, I will.”

Man: “Usually you would buy me a drink.” Uh actually I wouldn’t and I won’t. I have boobs. Boobs trump penis any day.

“Look, they’ve been laying the groundwork, but I’d much rather go home with you tonight.”

“I’m not with her, she’s just a friend. She’s actually on the Varsity Swim Team.” Yeah, she’s just a friend. And I’m just tipsy.

“I went to BYU.” Mormons.

“How can I get you home?” If you have to ask, it’s not going to happen.

“I’m not doing well, am I?” Not after that comment. Maintaining what little confidence you had is only going to get more difficult from here on out.

“I know your mom.” Although it would be worse if they said, “You look like your mom.”

“Oh you’re from TCU? You’re one of those girls.” Actually no, I’m not one of those girls, but you are, in fact, one of those assholes who assume stereotypes are always correct.

“I would hit that.” And I would hit your face.

“Please stop. You’re messing with my other options.”

“I remember your white blazer from last night. It’s very…um…unforgettable.”

“In my free time I play video games.” Guys, even if this is all you do in your free time, never say it to a girl. I watch Sex and the City all day, every day and I would never admit that to a potential.

Things I’m Fond of Hearing in Bars:

“Could I buy you a beer?” I don’t care that my Shiner is $1 tonight and that’s why you’re offering, a free drink always taste better.

“I’m from Britain.” & “I have a Swedish passport.” Anything that tells me that you are not American and I’m dropping my jaw (among other things) at the bar.

“I’m 24.” & “I work [here].” Job, check. Not a boy, check. Got your shit together, check.

“Would you like this seat?” Thank you for checking out my ass and then noticing how good it looks because of my 5 inch heels that I can barely walk in.

“I can’t concentrate because you’re smile is so pretty.” Aw, shucks, thanks orthodontia.

I hope everyone has a splendid Friday night out.

Love Letters to Europe: Barcelona

Posted on by bwucinski in Love Letters to Europe, Travel

Maybe it’s because I’m wearing the perfume that reminds me of Europe. Maybe it’s because I’m currently sans-boyfriend. Maybe it’s because I have too much time to spend thinking about how much I miss Europe.

Regardless, my baby is all the way across that big ole ocean and I’m starting to think it’s going to be a very difficult long-distance relationship.

Barcelona,

You are like that best friend who gets you to do all the crazy things you’re too scared to usually do.

And I would know because I’m usually that friend.

Your energy is intoxicating enough that staying up until 5 am seemed like the most natural thing I’d ever done. It kept me dancing at the best clubs in the world (RAZZMATAZZ) until I looked around and realized all my friends were long gone. I was left dancing with Alejandro or Paulo or whatever name he tried to yell into my ear over the dub-step remixed indie blaring on the club’s sound system. But I didn’t care, I was having the time of my life, regardless of the obvious communication barrier. He was the most precious Spanish hipster who loved to dance and smile as much as I did. And he didn’t try to shove his hand up my skirt – how sweet.

Then I had the idea that I would take your metro back to the hostel. The metro that was closed until 6 am. The metro I didn’t have a map for. The metro I was obviously too drunk to take.

Luckily you helped me find Jenna and those Irish guys who I couldn’t stop laughing with.  We grabbed a cab home with them and they ended up paying for it. I remember being disappointed you didn’t let me watch the sunrise but that feeling quickly dissipated as I crawled into my measly hostel bed to sleep for a glorious 4 hours.

You took my breath away when you showed me the Sagrada Familia.

Don’t even get me started on your cooking. Tapas bars where everything was amazing. I ate cheese that was on fire. I threw back entire sardines like a shot of vodka. I ate a pig’s ear for you. Well actually I ate a pig’s ear for Rick Steves, but that’s another story.

When I wasn’t eating your food, I was drinking any and all sangria I could get my hands on.

Do you remember when you took me to that hippie festival? I’ll never forget the smell of weed and the intense sunshine and happiness that literally emanated from everyone sitting on the grass. I fell in love with dreads. I told my friends I wanted to run away with a dirty hippie for a year and live like a gypsy. Only you could convince me that a life like that would be acceptable.

I cursed your Catalan road names that all sounded the same and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ever get mad at you. I miss you. I miss how it feels to explore a city. I miss how frustrated I felt when I would get lost. I miss the quick turn my feelings could take. When we stumbled upon a great bakery and suddenly I didn’t feel lost at all. I felt like everything had led me here. The only thing I am meant to be doing in this moment is eating this delicious pastry and I couldn’t give a damn about anything else.

Then just before we left you reminded me of how genuine people can be. I had loaned that guy from our hostel money to get into the club. I figured I would never see it again and I was okay with that. After checking out, the guy at the desk handed me an envelope with the cash in it and he had written me a note thanking me. I was so surprised. I had offered to help with no intention of getting anything in return and the fact that I did…well that was just icing on the cake.

Until I see you again keep the tapas warm, the sangria cool, and keep the beats blasting.

Love,

Briana

Don’t Send That Text

Posted on by bwucinski in Dating

Things to do with your hands instead of texting ‘that guy’:

1. Eat some fruit. Certain fruit is actually quite labor intensive and requires intricate thinking and focus. Your mind needs to be focused on spitting out that seed when you’re eating a cherry or pulling a grape off a vine. You could lose a finger while you’re peeling the skin off that kiwi or mango.

2. Rearrange your apartment. Moving around your cabinets so that your wine glasses are in closer proximity to the bottles of wine will remind you why you live alone and why it’s nice to not have your priorities judged.

3. Make a list. Write a list of all the things you need to do that you’ve been putting off. I mean that Greek yogurt you ran out of this morning isn’t going to buy itself. You could also take this time to make a list of all the reasons why ‘that guy’ sucks at life. Or make a list of all the excuses you’re giving him for not texting you.

4. Facebook stalk your exes. Remember what it felt like to be loved? Those hands are going to have to free to hold the spoon for the ice cream and grab another tissue for your crying eyes.

5. Make a sandwich. It’s good practice for when you eventually get into a relationship and your man is hungry.

6. Brush your teeth and floss. Pearly whites, fresh breath, and a lack of gum disease are going to help you land the next guy who is going to infuriate you.

7. Pick up a new hobby. Photography requires your eyes to look at something else besides your phone screen and you need your fingers to click the button. Make some of the stuff you’ve seen on Pinterest (you only have like 923 DIYs pinned). Whatever you do, don’t pick up knitting, you’re still young. I’m training to compete in the next Olympics. They’ll be held in New Orleans this fall. My sport is drinking and I’m going for the gold…tequila.

This is the Pinterest project I’ll be working on.

8. Write a blog post. Using those quick nibbled fingers to type something other than that lame excuse for a text message. Preferably something that’s thought-provoking and relevant to today’s society.

9. But seriously, focus on yourself instead of him. Your time is better spent on what you need, want, hope, and dream than wasting time wishing for a guy to text you. I finished reading the hilarious book, My Boyfriend Wrote a Book About Me, and she writes in the end that you can’t keep trying to find someone else to complete you – you have to realize that you are complete just as you are, on your own.

10. Oh that’s another thing you could do, read a book (I’m starting On the Road by Jack  Kerouac) instead of re-reading your previous texts hoping that you’re sarcasm, wittiness, and sexiness all came across in just 10 words.

Cheers to a new week and the hope that my cynicism is confined only to Monday.