The Allure of Travel Writing.

I went to great lengths this weekend to locate my journal from the time I spent in Sardegna and Rome, Italy.  Here is a random entry I flipped to. (Most foreign names have been changed. Also, a note to the reader: these entries were compiled at a time when I was lacking ethics.  They do contain mild profanity.) 

my stab at the personal essay

Originally published on March 22, 2007.

Physical landmarks often mean little to me. (This is evidenced by the fact that I have been a passenger dozens of times coming out of Parley's Canyon, but I couldn't tell my friend when to get off.) No, I track my life by the books I was reading at the time.

Moving into a new house was marked by The Chronicles of Narnia series. It was probably a year after, when I was twelve. I had a white shirt with flowers from Old Navy, and blue shorts, and it was June, because the image about it being as bright as stepping out of a garage in June stuck out to me.

In ninth grade, I was reading The House on Mango Street the day I signed up to audition for The Nutcracker. I was a soldier that year. Which means that I was 4'10", yet in high school.

At Girls' Camp, I was reading Sense and Sensibility when one of my peers was complaining of her omnipresent migraines.