Looks like I'm in London

Well. So. Um. Hmm.... What am I supposed to say?

Hi again, blog. I've missed you. (Actually, that's a lie. I've been mostly too busy to remember that I even have a blog.)

Anyway, this is the obligatory "I'm in London!" post. To put it succinctly, it's great here. If I were good at this blogging thing, I would give a thoroughly entertaining, blow-by-blow account of the important things that have happened since my arrival. The thing is, everything has been too much of a blur for me to really remember exactly what I've been doing.

I can, however, say a few things:

1. There has been quite a lot of wandering around, and I can now say that I am pretty well acquainted with at least a small portion of central/southeast London. What this means is that I know the names of at least nine streets, and I could give a detailed account of which coffee shops have a decent wifi connection. Which brings me to my next point...

2. I love my flat, despite the fact that I have no internet yet and - for the time being - no flatmates. This mostly doesn't matter, but the nights do tend to get a bit boring and lonely. I keep telling myself that a slightly disorienting adjustment time accompanies every move, and I just happen to be experiencing the one associated with this move. Soon, though, I will have friends and internet and (hopefully) purpose.

3. But wait. I will actually make friends, right? I ask myself this question at about 8 o'clock every night, and the answer is always the same: Probably, as long as people can see past the fact that their first 2-3 conversations with me will be pretty awkward. 

4. I haven't felt this uncertain about what tomorrow will look like in quite a long time, and that is a good thing. In the past, I thought that I was terrified of uncertainty, but I realize now that I actually seek it out. When I'm feeling unsure of things, you see, I always have a project to work on. I love a good project.

Two Weeks To Go!

I guess this is a post to commemorate my survival of four months and two days of doing essentially nothing with my life, waiting for that moving to London thing to happen. So now if I ever wonder, "What was I doing in the final few weeks before the most monumental move of my life?", I will have an answer. And, knowing myself, I will ask this question someday.

And, because I need a break from thinking about serious things, here's some fluff:

1. I finally watched the final episode of the second series of Sherlock yesterday, then paced around my living room and explained to my dog why it was so good. More than any other episode, this one addressed the relationship between Sherlock and Moriarty, and I found myself absolute transfixed by the action on the computer screen. This is rare - normally when I'm watching TV on the computer, I jump around a lot from tab to tab, listening to everything, but actually seeing only about 75% of any given episode. In this case, though, Sherlock is just so intensely serious - and Moriarty so intensely insane - that I don't really have any choice but to watch. Maybe this clip will show you what I mean:

(spoilers ahead)

I also have to say that I really, really love Moriarty and would be really, really upset if he is actually dead. I know, I know, he's evil, but he's also fascinatingly eccentric, and my, my does he have style. Seriously, what other villain would break into the Tower of London not to steal the crown jewels but to wear them?

 I feel like this is turning into a Moriarty fan page. I'm going to stop.

2. I want to make pesto and Thai iced tea - not necessarily for simultaneous consumption. In other food news, I thought my dreaming mind invented peanut butter cookie cake, but it turns out that lots of people have already thought of it. I think I may never be a great innovator in the kitchen.

3. Today I stood on the precipice of creating a tumblr account, but when I looked down into the chasm of potentially wasted time, I decided not to jump.

Update: Never mind. I jumped. oskdagrunu.tumblr.com. Whatever. I can restrain myself. Maybe I won't even use it at all. Yeah, right. I know myself and addictions to websites, and it's bad.

4. Today I dressed up like a hipster (meaning I wore normal clothes but felt glaringly weird in this small, fashion-backward town) and shot footage of things that make me think of home. This way, when I'm far away, I'll hopefully have something to stave off the homesickness, or possibly something to make me more homesick. I don't really know how this will turn out.

5. I really should get back to researching possible thesis topics and European nonprofits. These things could be important to me someday, although I have to admit that I'd much rather waste time on this tumblr thing. At the moment I'm asking myself whether I have any self-control at all. Probably not.

What Do I Have To Offer?

A metaphor, perhaps? I don't know. But I like the picture.

When I was in high school, if there was something you could read about in a book, there was probably a time when I considered it my thing. You know, my thing: my calling in life, my passion, my fate. I pictured myself as a doctor, a medical researcher, a novelist, a journalist, (for a couple of hours one afternoon) a poet, a professor of literature, a political activist, and, from the vantage point of a high school senior, all of these futures appeared equally possible.

Then I started college, and I stopped believing in fate. Just because I memorized all the paths of blood flow in the human heart and my best friend once said she could see me being a surgeon, I wasn't necessarily meant to cut people open and fix broken things inside of them. Likewise, just because I was reading Dickens and the Brontë sisters and Dumas at 14, my future didn't necessarily lie in dissecting these texts and passing judgement on what the writers were trying to say. I can't pinpoint the moment it came to me, but sometime during my freshman year of college, I realized that I could do whatever I wanted; I could change the way things work out just by changing my mind. It was liberating, and it was disorienting. For the first time in my life, I couldn't picture my entire future stretched out in front of me because I knew, in all likelihood, I would spend the rest of my life changing my mind, always searching for some better option than the one that currently holds my attention.

Had I majored in biology or creative writing (neither of which I actually majored in, both of which I very seriously considered), I probably would still have reached my current impasse. I would still be debating whether it's possible to do something that's romantic and creative and idealistic while working toward practical solutions of at least one of the world's problems and making at least enough money to survive. My instincts say that there's no real reason for this to be impossible, but, like everything worth doing, it'll take a fair amount of planning and a fair amount of luck, not to mention a bit of spontaneity. I may have to take jobs that don't come with the perk of a guaranteed successful career trajectory. Someday I may take a job at a nonprofit that doesn't necessarily work in a field of personal interest, but this type of work would nonetheless give me a sense of what it actually means to work for a nonprofit organization. I may live in quite a few cities before I find one that's a good fit.

I have to start seeing every experience as valuable. I have to stop believing that there will be a point in life where I make one decision that cements the future conditions and circumstances of my life. Maybe the real world isn't the all-or-nothing, black-and-white place I once assumed it to be. Maybe there's room for mistakes and changing your mind. Maybe everything won't always work out according to plan, and when it doesn't, I'll have to learn to make the most of what opportunities are available. I think it's a lesson worth learning.

Instant Inspiration!

If my previous posts give any indication, I've been having a bit of trouble with motivating myself to do anything that isn't watching funny youtube videos and reading lifestyle blogs. With this in mind, I decided to compile a list of things that generally inspire me to think of life more as an adventure and less as a series of mostly uneventful days.

1. Make something. Or in my case, force yourself to make something. Maybe the process will be slightly frustrating, but I promise that the end result will give you a feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction. For details on the do-it-yourselfing project, see my post on repurposing a box to make it more practical for storing jewelry.

2. Go to the library and check out on a book on a subject that interests you but that you've never examined in any detail. If nothing else, you'll learn something. For me, this was young adult literature, namely the collected works of John Green. I haven't read anything in this genre since I was about 12, so I decided to give it another try, just for fun. And, oh my, has it been fun. I read Paper Towns in one night, completely absorbed in the suspense, humor, and commentary on the nature of human relationships. I look forward to tackling the rest of my books-to-read stack. Right now it's An Abundance of Katherines. Thoroughly enjoyable.

3. Read some newspaper articles to remind yourself that there is lots of stuff going on in the world. There are things that need fixing. This isn't to say that you're going to change the world all at once, but I find it inspiring just to think about one person's potential to fix some societal problem. And, hey, maybe eventually I will devise a plan of action to change something for the better.

4. Listen to this song: "Young Lovers Go Pop!" by This Many Boyfriends. Something about the chorus makes me feel like things are possible. And that is important in the motivation/inspiration game.

5. Caffeine. Lots of it. I had four cups of Irish breakfast tea while writing this post, and, sure, my hands are shaking a bit, but that just makes me type faster. 

6. And if you must watch youtube videos, at least choose something When I watch this type of video, I generally end up thinking, "Look at this guy. He's my age, and he's making artistic, insightful videos on a weekly basis. What am I doing with my life?" Then I go attempt to do something productive. 

1 Carry On, 1 Personal Item, 1 Checked Bag: Under 50 Pounds... GO!

Sometimes I do this thing I call over-anticipating, which basically consists of preparing for things far earlier than is reasonable. This is why I began packing for London a few days ago and also why my room is going to be cluttered with half-packed suitcases for the next month or so.

All I can really say about the process of packing for a year (or possibly forever) abroad is that it's not going especially well. The problems are as follows:

1. London is not known for being warm, which means that I have to pack heavy things like coats and sweaters and boots. Don't get me wrong, I love all of these types of clothing, but their weight does make it a bit difficult to stay under the 50-pound limit for a checked bag.

2. I want to bring everything I own. This is not possible.

3. But how am I supposed to make my room look warm and welcoming if I can't bring all 12 of my candles?

4. Also, how am I supposed to dress well if I don't have all of my clothes? And won't the clothes I leave behind miss me? Of course they will. Of course.

5. The internet has failed in providing me with a comprehensive guide to packing for a move to a major European city. I concede that packing guides for moving abroad do exist, but they seem to fall into two not-very-helpful categories, namely (a) packing guides for grown-ups with that elusive thing called disposable income and (b) packing guides for study abroad students with a definite return date. The former is unhelpful because I can't afford to bring five checked bags (one for books alone!), and the latter is unhelpful because I will probably never move back home. This means that in not taking something with me, I could very well be forever relinquishing my claim on it.

So the question remains: How does a 22-year-old recent college graduate pack for a move to London, where she would like to dress stylishly and have a well-decorated bedroom? Let us furthermore stipulate that buying replacements for everything that was left behind is not an option.

I guess I'll just have to write the comprehensive guide myself. Fine, then. Fine.

A List of Uncertainties

1. Where specifically I will be living next year. In theory, I should be receiving pictures of potential flats so that I can give feedback, but this has not happened yet. These days I compulsively check my email, thinking each time that there will be something significant waiting in my inbox. Instead I find myself constantly sifting through (figurative) piles of spam.

2. Whether I can find a job in London. Seriously, I'll do anything just to have a source of income again. Wait, maybe not anything. Almost anything? No, that sounds dangerous, too. As a point of reference, though, a job in a coffee shop is currently my dream.

3. The extent to which I will have to decimate my beloved clothing collection when the time comes to fit everything into a surprisingly not-big-enough suitcase. You see, when I ask myself what I want to pack, my default answer is, "Everything." And then I remember that everything really isn't an option.

4. When exactly I will be leaving. Whether I can find a reasonably-priced plane ticket. What city I will be flying out of. Whether I will have any layovers (hopefully not - rushing through airports, filled with the nagging dread that I will miss my next flight absolutely terrifies me).

5. Whether I'll be happy in London. Whether I'll make friends easily. How intense the homesickness will be.
Whether I'll have an acceptable internet connection
What size my bed will be.
Where I'll do my grocery shopping.
Whether I'll be able to sustain my habit of eating excess Mexican food.

This is getting ridiculous. I'm going to stop worrying. Right now.

Wait, maybe now...

No, now. For real this time.

Be a Better... Conversationalist

Part of the reason I started this blog was to motivate myself to do more interesting things, because when I write about the things I do, I'm more likely to, you know, do things. I know this sounds like circular logic, but it really does make sense in the context of my life. You see, I was spending the summer doing absolutely nothing - no classes, no job - and hence encountered some difficulty in motivating myself to ever leave the house. By committing to writing a blog, however, I signed on to making a more interesting person of myself. This should prove to be a great challenge.

With this in mind, I'm starting a series of posts in which I basically pick some personal failing and try to fix it. And because I used to take a lot of science classes, I'm going to write these loosely in the form of lab reports. It just makes sense to me.

The Project: Get better at talking to people. (Actually, I've kind of been working on this one for the past few years, but I made some definite breakthroughs about three weeks ago.)

Introduction: I went to London a few weeks ago to meet with potential future flatmates and hopefully find someone to live with next year. It was absolutely necessary that I did this and did it well, but I knew that I'm not necessarily one to be normal and fun and interesting during a first meeting. It's not that I'm boring (at least I hope I'm not). No, it's just that sometimes, when I'm in an unfamiliar social situation, I forget everything about myself, everything I'm interested in, and everything I've ever thought about.

Travel: So much fun, so much potential for awkwardness.

Hypothesis: I need to stop overthinking every social interaction. In other words, people are not nearly as judgmental as I imagine them to be.

Materials: Probably just the internet. Oh, and other people.

Methods: About a week before going to London, I started looking at myself in the mirror and just talking, rehearsing entertaining stories and just giving basic information about myself without sounding too awkward. Yes, I really did this, and yes, it was slightly humiliating.

Additionally, I thought about all the progress I made in the art of socializing during my college years and realized that my discovery of self-deprecating humor marked the end of my complete social failure. See, when you employ it during a conversation with someone you don't know very well, it makes answering the awkward small talk questions so much less awkward. People would often ask me about my major, for example, and my standard answer was something along the lines of, "It's German. Mostly pointless, but I like learning languages, and, who knows, maybe I'll find a job someday that'll let me use it." With this answer, not only do I give information about myself, but I let the other person know that they don't have to take me too seriously. In fact, I much prefer teasing and banter to earnestness. I still have trouble with sincerity in casual conversation with relative strangers. I mean, I don't mind when other people are sincere; I just have trouble expressing it myself. Somehow it always feels artificial, even if it isn't.

Finally, I compiled a list of questions I could ask in the event of an awkward silence. These included: Where are you from? (Naturally); Do you have any siblings? (Family tends to be a topic that people can discuss at length); What do/did you study? (this can lead to a discussion of general interests). I tried to stay away from the "What's your favorite...? questions because I personally hate them and generally don't have adequate answers. (What my favorite band? Um, well, I like lots of different bands a lot and I don't think I could choose one and maybe I could pick a genre?.... No, I like lots of different genres too.... Cue loss of interest.)

Results/Conclusion: My meetings went quite well, really. I managed to find flatmates, and I think they liked me! And the thing was, I didn't even have to use any of my practiced methods (except maybe the self-deprecation). In the end, all I did was answer questions, talk about my life, ask about theirs, laugh at their jokes, and hope they liked mine. I didn't think too much about what I was saying before I said it. No, instead I just went into a conversational autopilot of sorts, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I made friends after just one meeting.

The lesson? Don't overthink; just talk.

Hometown Touristing

Sometimes I wonder if my use of the word "hometown" to describe Ann Arbor is a misnomer. I was born here but didn't grow up here; I attended college here but moved back into my parents' house directly following graduation. I suppose this is really an issue of not quite knowing where I live anymore. Is my home where I'm living at the moment? The "permanent address" I list on official forms? The place I'm moving to in about two months? Honestly, I think the answer is none of these - not entirely anyway. This is the summer of self-imposed rootlessness. You see, I could have a place that I fully consider my home, but I'm choosing not to, mainly for fear of becoming too attached to something I have to leave. 

This is getting too sad. 

Regardless, I'm back in Ann Arbor for a few days, and I'm just now realizing how much I missed this place. I missed being surrounded by people my own age; I missed the abundance of coffee shops, the student-oriented restaurants, the campus buildings - practically all of which I can point to and say, "I had a class in there once." The benefit of being back here without any real purpose is that I can finally do all the things I was too busy for while still a student. It's going to be Tourist Day, Part 2. What is Tourist Day? Well, allow me to explain.

A Brief History of the Original Tourist Day: this is a holiday that my friend and I celebrated when we had officially completed all of our college classes. Basically it consisted of walking around, taking pictures of everything even slightly meaningful, eating in a restaurant we both love but never really go to, and trying a new coffee shop. The logic behind it is kind of obvious: we wanted to do the fun things in this town before leaving it forever. Not that we didn't have any fun during four years of college...

As the shirt above may have informed you, Ann Arbor is not entirely real. This doesn't mean that it's a cardboard city they disassemble every night (although I'm convinced that those exist - some towns are just too perfect), it just means that Ann Arbor doesn't have things like bad neighborhoods - at least not that I've seen - and the city's general population tends to be fairly young and well-educated. It's something of an anomaly. And, yes, sometimes I do feel like I spent my college years living in a fantasy world. Not that I'm complaining. 

I must say that a fantasy world appears more fantastical when you are free of all responsibility, and during those first few minutes of Tourist Day sightseeing, Ann Arbor looked ridiculously beautiful.

This is Nickels Arcade. I once heard that there aren't many of these left in the world, although I can't seem to find confirmation on the internet. Oh, internet, why do you fail me just when I need you most? Kidding, kidding. 

Most of Tourist Day consisted of wandering around, since there turned out to be very little actual sightseeing to be done in a city where I had lived for four years. Still, we did hit some tourist sites: the Arcade, the Cube (see below), the graffiti alley (likewise). 

The Cube. It spins. 

The Graffiti Alley

For me, though, the highlight of Tourist Day was, of course, the food. We went to Fritas Batidos, which is one of my favorite Ann Arbor restaurants. My roommates and I call it "The Cuban Place," although it apparently isn't a Cuban restaurant - just Cuban-inspired - and I sometimes call it "That White Place" because it's very white inside. Have a look:

In the interest of full disclosure, I should say that I have only ever ordered one thing here: the black bean frita with muenster cheese. I don't need to try anything else on the menu because this meal is perfect. It's basically a black bean burger served on a brioche roll with fries on the inside. Yes, the fries are part of the sandwich. And I know that this sounds like a fairly ordinary meal, but just trust me, there's something about it. Something addictive. Something that will keep you awake the night before a trip to Fritas Batidos thinking about it. Sadly, during this trip to Ann Arbor, I don't expect to make a return trip there. I can't afford such luxuries as restaurant food. I guess these are the trials of recent graduate/future grad student life. 

Don't pay too much attention to me. I'm just being melodramatic. 

San Francisco Day 3

Midway through the bus ride to the Marin Headlands, my hands started sweating, which signified our rather close proximity to some very dramatic hills, and with dramatic hills come steep drop-offs, and with steep drop-offs comes the assumption that the bus will drive off the cliff. This is just how my mind works. And, yes, I know that I must have looked terrified when the bus was winding through the hairpin curves. And, yes, I know that other people noticed my obvious fear and were probably silently mocking me. Don't worry, I'm used to silent mocking. Still, this was the most spectacular public bus ride I have ever taken, and despite my transportation anxiety, I'm sure it was actually quite safe.

You don't get views like this on just any bus ride.

San Francisco transportation tip (in case you'd like to see how scary this bus ride is for yourself): the San Francisco Municipal Railway sells passports, which allow unlimited rides on busses and the very popular cable cars for $7 per day. Considering the fact that a single cable car ride normally costs $6, the passport is an incredibly good deal. All you have to do is show it to the driver when you get on a bus/cable car. 

After the bus ride, we took a ferry to Sausalito, and on the way saw excellent views of San Francisco.

SF from the ferry. Also, a sailboat!

The first thing you should know about Sausalito is that its main street is primarily a place for tourists to eat and shop, and, as is common in resort towns, nearly every restaurant seems to have a menu offering everything from pasta to burritos. Since my mid-afternoon hunger was setting in, I was grateful for this variety. So many choices! So many food smells! I talked a lot about food smells during this trip. I don't know why.

Anyway, we decided to get lunch at the Bridgeway Cafe, and I had a bean burrito. This was good because I hadn't had a bean burrito in days, and I was about to start experiencing withdrawal symptoms. I eat a lot of bean burritos, and this one was among the best because it was made with avocado. Avocado! In a bean burrito! Unprecedented.

After lunch, we did a bit of shopping, and thus concludes our relatively brief interlude in Sausalito. My impressions: very pretty, good food, very touristy, with quite an impressive selection of tourist shirts. I even ended up buying one - something I don't think I've done in 8 years. Side note: the entire time I was in Sausalito, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was actually in Saugatuck, Michigan. Regional variation is possibly dead.

Now, onward with this fairly disjointed post!

Since our third day in San Francisco was the Fourth of July, naturally we went to see American Idiot at the Orpheum Theater. Naturally. And it was... interesting. I liked the music, the energy, the set design (lots of TV screens - I thought it made a strong statement about the influence of the media in our culture). I appreciated the attempt to portray the challenges of growing up, of trying to do something new or different or important and finding that nothing is ever as straightforward as originally planned. However, I really, really wanted to see more character development. All of the main characters could have been much more complex, but it seemed like I never saw anything beyond the most superficial traits. It's not that I disliked any of the characters; I just thought they needed more depth. If you like Green Day's music, though, and you don't mind a non-traditional play, you will probably like American Idiot. And, seriously, there was no better way to spend the night of the Fourth of July than seeing American Idiot.

And, yes, while watching the play, I did acknowledge that I am fortunate to live in a country where I can watch a fairly anti-American play on Independence Day. But I prefer to laugh at the irony. What a hipster.

San Francisco Day 2

I'll spare you the part of this day that consists of me going to the UK visa application office and getting fingerprinted. If you're actually interested, though, click the link. Is it considered bad form to link to your own blog posts? Is it like I'm saying, "The only things worth reading are the things I've written! HAHAHAHA. Here, why don't you read more of my ramblings? Read more."? 

I digress. 

The upside to doing bureaucratic things on vacation was that it took me into a new section of San Francisco. Granted, the area around the visa office was really boring, and the boring part was adjacent to a few sketchy blocks of strip clubs, but once we got past all of that, we found ourselves in an extremely interesting, garlic-scented Italian-Chinese wonderland. I believe it's called North Beach. Or maybe Chinatown. I had a hard time determining where one neighborhood ends and another begins. 

The European...

And the Chinese! All within probably 5 minutes of each other.

Clearly some exploration was in order.

So we looked at Chinese markets.

And stopped for the best bubble tea I've ever tasted. What made it the best? Well, unlike the bubble tea places at home, this place lets you add your own bubbles and jellies, allowing you to get to tea to tapioca to jelly ratio exactly right. Maybe this is standard practice in San Francisco, but not in Michigan, so I was impressed. 

After a quick Italian lunch, we climbed Telegraph Hill to Coit Tower, where we saw views of the Golden Gate Bridge.

And Alcatraz.

And this guy. My sister and I named him Griswold. 

Then we walked over to Lombard Street, which, contrary to popular belief, is not the crookedest street in the world. That honor actually goes to Vermont Street. But, still, Lombard Street, was impressively crooked. 

For dinner, we went to a cafe and crepery called Honey Honey, and all of our meals were delicious. My mom and I had black bean chili; my sister had a peanut butter crepe; my dad had shrimp pasta. In addition to the food, I really enjoyed Honey Honey's atmosphere. Unlike a lot of restaurants that serve trendy food (tofu sandwich, anyone?) Honey Honey felt unpretentious. What this means is that the staff were friendly and didn't scoff at my order. (What? You like bean soup and beer? How very mainstream.) Okay, maybe no one has actually said anything quite like that to me, but trust me, you can tell when hipsters are judging you. After years of living among the hipsters, I find it very refreshing to go to a restaurant, order my stylishly-presented food, and not feel socially awkward for hours afterward. 

All in all, an excellent day. 

An Introduction to San Francisco

The first thing I learned in San Francisco is that I'm not very cool. I mean, I'm 22 years old and I still go on vacation with my parents. Even my parents admit that it's a bit pathetic, and at one point in the trip, my mom actually said that I'll never again convince her that I'm young enough to be included in the family vacation. 

Still, I had fun. At least five people mistook me for a teenager. I wore horribly impractical shoes. I became a very "good" photographer of fire escapes. And, most importantly, I decided that someday I will write a series of travel books entitled "Horrible Tourist," and they will tell the story of my life. Seriously, after climbing Telegraph Hill (apparently it's touristically significant) instead of taking pictures of the Golden Gate Bridge like everyone else, I laid down because I was wearing heels and my feet hurt.

Fire Escape Photography - My latest hipstery enthusiasm

But let's start from the beginning.

We checked into the Hotel Monaco, and it instantly won me over by offering an iced-tea-apple-juice blend in the lobby. The seduction (yeah) continued when I discovered the unlimited complimentary wine served for one hour each night. Not to mention that all guests here have the option of cohabitating with a goldfish for the duration of their stay. I named mine Leviathan.

The Room

Leviathan! 

Having checked into the hotel, it was time to remedy the I-have-eaten-mostly-cookies-today situation. We selected the King of Thai for our first night dinner, and, oh, what a dinner it was. I should probably disclose here that I am something of an expert on Pad Thai, having eaten it in essentially every Thai restaurant I have ever visited, and this was some of the best - if not the best - Pad Thai I have ever tasted. The shrimp to vegetable to noodle to spice ratio was perfect. Other selling points: they have authentic Thai beer, you can order comically large, mixing-bowl-sized bowls of soup, and no one judges you if you're not very good at using chopsticks. Of course forks are available too. 

Giant Soup!

After dinner we decided to be boring and go back to our room and sleep. Thus concludes my first night in San Francisco.

To be continued...

How to Pack Within Reason*

* Or, more accurately, how to pack for a relatively short trip to a city, where you want to look cool without having to carry a ridiculously heavy bag through the airport. Also note that this packing advice really only applies to women. I've seen men pack, and they have an unfairly easy time of it - I mean, unless they are the rare men who have special attachments to their clothing.

Anyway, I guess the first piece of relevant information is that I'm going to San Francisco for the first time. The second piece of relevant information is that I am a relatively terrible packer. I always just barely manage to fit everything I "need" into a carry-on, and even then I have to re-fold everything at least three times to make it fit. For this trip I decided to do something different. I decided to try to be a good packer. Will I succeed?

Here are the items I have selected:

Okay, I know I'm not a great photographer, and I'll spare you the list of all the things I'm bringing. I think, though, that I have learned some packing strategies.

1. Pick solid-colored clothing. It's easier to combine these into multiple outfits. For example, I'm only packing two skirts and three shirts, but I've determined that (combined with the things I'm wearing on the plane) I can make at least 8 outfits with these items.

2. Wear bulkier clothes and layers on the plane. If you want jeans, sweaters, boots, etc. (all of which I usually want on trips) wear these one the plane. And the added benefit in this strategy? If it's cold on the plane, you'll have a sweater, and if it's too hot, you can use the sweater as a pillow. Another added benefit? I've noticed that airlines are getting stingier about providing pillows and blankets, but if you wear a sweater and a relatively large scarf, you're wearing your pillow and blanket. This strategy made my recent trip to London infinitely more comfortable.

3. Pack lots of accessories. My choices: scarves, belts, colorful tights, jewelry. These things don't take up much space in a bag, and they disguise the fact that you're wearing the same clothes everyday.

4. Be prepared to take some fashion risks. You're going to have a limited number of things, so if you want variety in your outfits, you may need to combine them in ways you've never considered before. Also, if you're going to wear something more riskily trendy than usual, why not do it somewhere where no one knows you? I mean, colored jeans with a non-neutral shirt? Does this scare me slightly? Oh, yes, but the internet says it's acceptable, even stylish. And if it turns out to be a total failure of an outfit? Well, I know no one in San Francisco, and no one in San Francisco knows me. So if I look stupid, any judgements I incur will be completely inconsequential. Fine, mostly inconsequential. The Moment of Judgement is humiliating in every situation.