The Lucky Duck: Diary Series


I remember the day I received my first diary. I was six years old and my mom brought me to Claire's. I went straight for the purple fuzzy notebook and the milky pens. I wrote everything in this book: who I liked, who I "hated," why my parents made me mad, my dream car, my dream life. 

I loved to write everything down, and I still do... Since then, my journal entries have changed, varying in length and in topic and in feeling. This (very intimate) series will be about the pages of my diary - what they meant then and what they mean now.

Here's a look into my current diary: The Lucky Duck. 



This year was easily the greatest, most life-changing year I've ever had. I wish I could hold onto it forever. It's so fleeting and it's the scariest, most humbling feeling in the whole world. I get scared that one day I won't be able to remember what the roads smelled like, or what it was like to get on the back of a vespa with an iced cappucino in my hand. I fear the day it gets too far from me to feel the love from the people I spent it with. Rome was exhilarating. I never felt more in love. It taught me to be more open and look into people's eyes. I fell in love in every country - with people who didn't speak my language, alone, with friends, in a hostel, at a bar, in the middle of Oktoberfest, wearing my black Steve Madden platforms that I had to tape because they were falling apart, drunk on wine, friends, Dar Poeta pizza (arugula, mozzarella, prosciutto, and parmesan ALWAYS) with the biggest, most genuine smile on my face every time. We all knew it was going to end - that life was never going to be the same - that the world was only going to be this perfect for such a tiny piece of our lives. But, we didn't think about the end. Everything was so temporary - we were able to use everything around us to the highest degree. Even people. I hated saying goodbye to the life I built for myself. I hated not knowing what it was going to be like when I got home. I loved what I had made for myself. 

I knew the treasures I had found, the once in a lifetime people, the people you needed to know to like - I found them. They were mine and I knew them and I loved them so hard and we danced every night till we were wet and our hair was poofy and we had to beg Daniel not to drive home. I wish I could go back and make rice in my weird, very narrow, black and white tiled kitchen that we loathed walking into because we never took out the trash. I miss Kathleen straightening her hair and watching Friends on our dining room floor. I miss taking shots of unknown pink liquid with David and Sara at the Drunken Ship. I miss being free.


Rome really did change me. I learned that it is possible to become best friends with complete strangers. I learned that having someone to laugh with every day is a miracle - so, so hard to come by. I learned that you can deeply connect with a person who doesn't speak your language. I learned that differences are more important than similarities. I learned that the best nights come from having no expectations and that food tastes better when you are at a table of people you can learn from. Most importantly, I learned how important it is to express your love, your feelings, your gratitude, at the EXACT moment you feel it. I don't know why or how, but we were always talking about how lucky we were to have each other. And we were lucky. I guess the more love you give, the more love you get.