Here today, Ore-gone tomorrow


^Made myself barf with that title, and yet it remains.


You heard it hear probably after my mom already told you first–I’m up the crack of the Pacific Northwest, living in Rainsville, USA/Bridge City/Stumptown/Brewtopia! It was a bumpy ride, my friends, but we’ve made it and we’re all so happy with our choices. *It is just me, when I say “we” I am being unnecessarily inclusive.

I say bumpy and I mean bumpy because in accordance with the unimpeachable laws of nature i.e. the plans that were made for me by no one but myself, I was meant to be in Hawaii right now! I told like 20 people! They were really counting on it!

To be frank, I just wasn’t ready for life in paradise and I don’t think it was quite ready for me; sure, you can regularly find sea turtles rolling in the waves at Paia Bay, avocados are the size of your face, rainbows appear over the West Maui mountaintops and clothing–and the entire concept of time–are optional, BUT ALL ANYONE WANTED TO DO WAS GO TO THE DAMN BEACH! The town only had 2 coffee shops! I lost my second best denim shirt at the airport!! (It also rained for a week straight and I couldn’t find a place to live. This gave me an utter meltdown some stress.) I was basically drafted by 2 sweet, sweet punk-rockers from Portland who were on vacation at the hostel I was calling home. A week later I flew into PDX International Airport.

Portland was love at first sight, from the creepy X-files pine trees to the combination laundromat/cafe that revived my sand-starched wardrobe. Everyone is a musician, every street has a food cart pod. Even a month later I STILL have not been to every coffee shop in this blissful metrop!

So here I will sit to catch my breath, let my bangs down and work towards my recently conceptualized life goal– a mobile, gypsy caravan-style thrift store I will someday run. *Which reminds me: if anyone’s sitting on an obnoxious collection of ruffled 80s-style blouses and/or tiny knick-knacks just rusting away, send ’em west.

I know this recap is slapdash and garbled so comment or message me with any burning questions!

And finally, my kindest and sincerest apologies go out to the country and continent of Australia–it is both, why not!–for serious neglect. Someday I will tell you all about the magic of Melbs as I witnessed that most perfect of cities, but that day is not today.

Love&Mercy, Brian Williams! -Xoxo from the small blue alien who is my ghostwriter




It’s Been a Real Slice, New Zealand!

New Zealand, Travel

AND JUST LIKE THAT, THE YEAR OF THE KIWI IS OVER! Fast year, eh? One of those mini-years; a year-lette if you will.

I’m writing this from Australia–where I am staying for 8 days and LOVING IT–and I’ve yet to grasp a single wisp of inspiration as to how to properly summarize my end-of-days in New Zealand. Rest assured, I wasn’t forced out legally.

Let me instead hurl some of my revelations at you:

  1. I was brave. Emily J. Poprocks is, for better or worse, a dreamer and not so much a doer. ‘Doing’ wrinkles your clothes so you have to do laundry; it makes you hungry and then you have to go grocery shopping again; it makes failure a possibility.

    But I DID move across the world! I figured out how to make a phone plan work, opened a foreign bank account, and found a home and a job and ukulele. I started an inconsequential drawing club that I loved. I made plans and kept some of them and missed a flight and jumped off a waterfall and drank different coffee and got lost and I can’t wait to do it again somewhere new.

  2. I made the sweetest, strangest friends.

    This is not to say that my pre-New Zealand friends were not sweet or strange because of course I only associate myself with borderline mythical creatures whose epidermises are covered in powdered sugar. I was just surprised that I made real, actual friends that I genuinely want to–and know I will–see again! #Europe2019

  3. I have a weirdly rigid work ethic, but not in a good way. Once I found a job it was all over for spontaneity. Must work on this (but not like work work.)
  4. I HATE A ROUTINE. It was nice to feel like I knew what was coming at me on the cosmic freeway, but having a schedule and bills with my name on them made me want to climb up a tree and never come down. So instead of staying put another 6 months, I’m moving to Hawaii.

Maybe I’ll go back one day and maybe I won’t, but New Zealand will always be part of me, like an extra kidney or maybe an important vertebra♥


Stay tuned for a forthcoming anthology on the virtues of Melbourne, land of graffiti!

Like a haircut, but for your closet!

Style, Travel

ep earrings

Less is hard more!

(If you hadn’t heard, I’m moving to New Zealand in October.)

I put on a laissez-faire façade in re selling off most of my worldly possessions to prepare for traveling and in honesty, I really couldn’t have laissez-faired less about downsizing, on the whole.  The thought of parting with bits of my precious and tediously culled wardrobe, though, gave me a near damn heart attack. It now seems to me that the success of such an endeavor might hinge on putting a pin in shopping for a minute or two.

This aha-moment came to me when I realized–by the aid of an extremely stringent pre-travel budget Google Doc manifesto drawn up by a dear friend, bless her, which laid out what I was and wasn’t allowed to spend money on anymore–that even infrequent shopping sprees would not do if I wanted to afford the plane ticket.

It has been six months and I have acquired precious little since agreeing to aforementioned manifesto (my, I am obnoxious today.) Without the siren call of a new garment begging to be worn, I’ve identified the items I repeatedly reach for based on a true fondness for said items. These items now form the basis of my travel wardrobe. Get out of town!

Coming in as an orgasmic surprise to all parties involved, I actually don’t miss the things I’ve tossed. The trick now is finding new and interesting ways to wear the same combination of garms, by which of course I mean “garments.” *DISCLAIMER: This is not that thing where I don’t want people to think of me as an outfit repeater. Getting dressed is my Sudoku. Without this beguiling daily challenge I will develop early-onset Alzheimer’s, I just know it.

As the resident advice giver of this, my own personal blog on which no one else is allowed to give advice, I advise that–if you find yourself in this position–you accessorize, ya freaks! I, for example, created a pair of sickeningly decadent floral earrings that double as wind chimes probably, and am in the midst a bandana extravaganza, the wearing of which make me look like I’m on vacation every day of the week! Force yourself to get creative with your possessions and you might be surprised by what your brain has waiting just around the riverbend.

It’s also enormously more eco-friendly and this planet needs all the friends it can get.


On Travel


I’ll never really be alone.

The yen to travel is a common yen, and I’m not going to overthink why that is. (To be honest, it makes sense; we are curious little rhinos at heart, no?) I’ve had my bags mentally packed since 9th grade, and in exactly 3 months I will be getting off a plane in New Zealand for a year-long working holiday– my first overseas Trip-with-a-capital-T.

I have seen and been influenced by examples of female trepidation in my own life, and as I prepare myself for what I imagine will be the Travel Chapter of my life, I find myself wanting to clone and shrink each of them down to take them all with me!


One of my strangest–and favorite–influences is my great-aunt Ulla. Her hairstyle of choice is a disheveled blonde bowl-cut and she is a fiend for solo travel. I’ve only met her in person a handful of times and she must be at least 75 by now, but she hasn’t slowed down and says it’s because she finds travel “most satisfying.” *At 26, I am no less terrified of her than I was at 4.


Growing up, my siblings and I had a babysitter named Emmy Joy. She invented the best car games and made us hot chocolate and she was our absolute favorite. After high school, she moved to Hawaii and became a full-fledged flowerchild! Now she drives around the country selling handmade gypsy halos out of her brightly-painted V.W. van and calls Maui home. Adventure!


Pat Carney is my fairy art-mother and is freedom and creativity personified. My mother met Pat while they were living wildly in Boston in the ’80s; she is patchwork-y and takes trips to Africa and finds friends wherever she goes and she can make art out of anything. She reminds me that living itself is an art!



I was raised by a woman who taught me to believe in magic and adventure and the magic of adventure. A devout composter and advocate for human rights, my mother has taught inner-city kids about caving, biked to Nova Scotia, and knows the scientific name for most plants. FOR SURE she will be in my pocket on these next adventures♥