Dori Nicole.

Bad Luck or a Cursed Necklace?

It is a cliche plot of a horror film that a young girl about my age is out traveling and finds a piece of jewelry on a beach or in her accommodation, and decides to wear it and take it home as a way to remember her experiences. As she puts it on, she makes a dumb joke about how she hopes it isn’t cursed, while snapping it into place anyway.

The morning I was due to leave Hawaii, I woke up to my phone’s touchscreen suddenly not working at all. It didn’t get wet at the beach, it didn’t get dropped and either way it was protected in a sturdy case. I could only recieve calls and had to strategically press two buttons on the back of the phone to answer them.

All of this is happening as I am in the midst of both travel and worrisome lawyer updates. The primary reason for the expensive Mai Tai in the last post. Then as I am speaking into the phone I reminded myself that the necklace I found in my room could have indeed been cursed. Saying this while laughing probably aggravated it even more. 

The necklace itself seems pretty cheap and I just assumed things had to be of some sort of value to hold a curse. I’m also uneducated on these things, but hey it’s gold with gold lips as a pendant.


Three days passed of being back in the L.A area and it was the day I was due to see what was up with my phone. I had spent these three days filming, editing, uploading photos and videos. I emptied my sd cards into my MacBook so that I could stop for wifi while I was out to put them on the net…and that’s apparently the only way I backup my files.

I was likely talking shit while I was moving to get ready and ended up knocking over a small amount of water onto my MacBooks keyboard. Awkward.

The screen went off and never turned on again. 

Somehow I kept my composure and kind of laughed it off. Ran to the corner store and bought all of the rice on the shelf and dumped it onto my computer. I flipped it upside down and left it for two days.

No sign of life. 

No sign of a paycheck for “fix-it” or “buy a new one” expenses either. 

Still I was calm. It just became another thing I had to add to my to-do list whenever I was able to do it.  It was the rare occasion I wished I had the type of blog where 750 of my supporters donated $1 to #FixDorisMacBook . But I’ve never been popular.

It’s sad that all of my projects and photos might be gone, and even sadder to see it upside down on a towel with rice still coming out of it when I shake it. It was only a year old.

The day my MacBook passed away, I proceeded to see what was up with my phone. I walked out of the shop with a ticket into the fastest growing cult in the world : Team iPhone.

Maybe things are working out already?

  Or maybe it’s just another aspect of Big Brother I was trying to avoid like Facebook. Although I cant remember my iCloud password to access everything on my Mac and so started a new one like a possible idiot, I’m able to do everything I was doing albeit in a much more tedious way.

But I also don’t have a case for it yet.

And I’m still wearing the necklace.


Is This Really Where I live?

Long Beach, Ca . Jan.22.2016

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I had mixed feelings coming home. I was excited to see a person I loved again, half excited to be part of civilization, and all the way bummed out by the time I arrived in San Francisco, the area in which my life originates.

San Francisco was my favorite city for as long as I could remember, but this time flying over it and seeing the golden gate bridge and all of the sad faces in the airport, totally took its toll on me.

I wanted to go to the flight attendant to see if I could trade in my ticket for a ticket back to Hawaii.

Take my money. All of it.

If there was any good place to be homeless, that place was it.

It was bad enough that I accidentally splurged on a meal that was way too fancy for my wallet and current state of life before leaving Honolulu. I needed a drink, right? It had to be a Mai Tai. I also was hungry so …

This happened. It was $42 . Like what? It was delicious and pretty, but If I wanted to pay for two people, I would’ve traveled with someone else who was broke but here we are. I paid it and I ate every crumb out of guilt. I should’ve looked at the menu before ordering a drink, but I was so spent I just walked in with bags in tow asking for a Mai Tai and water before I even said “Aloha.”

The perfect customer.

The drink came and I looked at the menu. My drink was $17 . Same cost as my meal. Fries were a dollar extra. Otherwise, boring potato chips that weren’t Maui Onion.

Anyway, I arrived back in Los Angeles on a very cramped flight full of people who were either on business or excited to be going somewhere new. I felt like the only person there struggling with severe depression going back. Like, “ugh L.A is such a DUMP! WHY !!!!?

And when I finally landed and had a few days stuck in my cold small apartment without wifi this time (back to reality) I took a walk to the beach that is right down the street.

Yep. A complete dump.

Life guards ruining  the entire atmosphere by driving their vehicles all over the beach yelling “no dogs allowed!”. Bums sleeping in ditches they dug, trash and beer bottles everywhere and no one to clean it up, policemen driving on the side walk.

I’m back to a place where I can’t even leave my apartment on my own without getting followed to my destination, or some meth head trying to talk to me, or someone asking for quarters. Or, the kicker, someone asking my boyfriend if he’s willing to do some interracial porn for a quick $1200.

Coming from a place where I was walking about in a swim top and short shorts with no stares or cat calls or stalkers, its going from one extreme to the next.

Here I can’t leave even if I am wearing over-sized sweat pants and a hoodie without being stalked and harassed as a woman.

Negative Nancy, right? It’s L.A!!!


The Hike Up Diamond Head Crater – OAHU, HI (Photo Heavy)

Oahu, HI Jan. 21. 2016 – Diamond Head Crater

My last day in Oahu proved to be rocky in every way, starting off with a swim before sunrise at Fort de Russey beach at 6am until 8 where either a dolphin or small shark out for breakfast swam directly by my feet, completely unbothered by my presence.

The ocean was warmer than the land around this time so I stripped to my bathing suit and floated and swam until the sun came up and newly arrived tourists came out of hiding.

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my Last sunrise – Oahu

Then comes a call from a lawyer bearing bad news on my walk back to my room to shower. The call that ended up in me crying and panicking and refusing to leave my room for my final day. After some encouraging words from a call back home, I showered, got my shit together and went out for the MOST AMAZING CELEBRATORY BREAKFAST EVER at Tilia Exquisite Aloha and proceeded from there to the bus stop to find my way to Diamond Head State Monument for a solo hike to the very top to test my strength, my body, and how far I’ve come from not being able to walk or bathe myself 3 months prior to this day, and exactly 6 months post car accident.

The entrance was through a tunnel directly through the mountain and as a pedestrian I paid a grand total of $1.00 to hike Diamond Head for the day. The day was hot, although, early and the views were breathtaking to say the least.

We climbed up rock, endless flights of stairs, through darkened tunnels and in between narrow spaces all the way to the top. Kids, old people, fat people and skinny. People from all over the world and from right at home on the island.

Many languages filled my ears and I found myself encouraging those who were having a hard time, reminding them they could do it and listening to all the parents show their kids how far they came on this journey and teaching them they could do anything they wanted.

Anything they wanted for themselves, they could have.

Making it to the top was physically demanding but didn’t take long at all. I smelled of ass and grilled onions by the end, and although I didn’t want to be embarrassed by my stench, I sucked it up and approached the guy at the top of the summit who was handing out free finishing stamps to the hikers.

Although my ticket may likely be something I’ll lose before I know it, getting that stamp in the moment meant too much for me to pass up. I ended up choking back tears in a whirlwind of emotions on the descent back down the mountain.

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I like to say that the bus system on Oahu is awesome because for $2.50 you can ride two buses to get to absolutely anywhere on the island. But this day was an exception.

I hiked down the mountain to catch the same bus I took to get there but, of course, going in the opposite direction.

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After 45 minutes, it never came.

I walked down to the next bus stop, extremely hot and out of water and looked up the bus schedule to see what I had to do to get back to my area for a shower. I ended up boarding the first bus in sight already aware that it was the wrong one and got “lost”. I rode around the island unafraid that I no longer recognized my surroundings and just kicked back in the air conditioning trusting that it would all work out eventually.

As we approached Ala Moana Center, a giant mall in Honolulu, I hopped out and onto a different bus that had me back in my town in under 5 minutes.

Instead of showering, I became that dirty girl that walked straight from the bus to the beach to swim yet again for two hours. Then from there to my usual Vietnamese restaurant, Pho Minh Tu,  for another pho’kinh bowl of soup!

Nearly sopping wet and shedding sand.

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Pho Bien – Pho Minh Tu

I may have done a small amount of keychain shopping before finally heading back to my apartment to wash my ass, but just know that I eventually did shower.

This was the most perfect day.

Highlight Meal Oahu : The Perfect Waffle.

Honolulu, Hawaii. Jan.21.2016

Every time I visit somewhere new, I live as if I were a local and it’s not until my final day that I end up doing and eating epic shit that makes me regret not doing it sooner. This could also be a lie, because the last time I went somewhere new it was to Seattle, Washington for my 24th birthday two years ago. I spent my last night eating at the Space Needle and shelling out $200 for the most disgusting, flavorless, oily food I’ve ever had and never finished. I should’ve negotiated my money back, but I was dumb.

The view was awesome though. And the cocktails.

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This farewell meal ended up being breakfast this time!

I stopped by a quaint little cafe on Kaiolu St and Kuhio by the name of Tilia Exquisite Aloha where they obviously specialize in making the most simplest of meals extremely special.

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I’m a sucker for a good waffle and I tend to seek them out in all breakfast joints I decide to eat at. This place is known for their macadamia nut Taro Waffles topped with the freshest and sweetest fruit immaculately placed on top with a dollop of whipped cream or your choice of ice cream.

This was the most perfect breakfast I have ever had. I felt like a Goddess.

Banana, Pineapple, Kiwi, blueberry, Strawberry. Gah! All on top of the most perfect waffle of life: Crunchy on the outside, tender on the inside. I only ordered the small version because I couldn’t decide between two menu items so I got both.

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Behold! a half turkey sandwich… ON A WAFFLE! joy. The sauce was honey-mustard-ish but better or house-made. Something was different. Avocado, tomato, lettuce and swiss. Taro Chips, fresh fruit that looked as if they were placed in the ramekin with tweezers and a perfect little salad with papaya dressing.

All of this for $13.50 and I left energized and ready for my hike and everything else that happened to me today that will come in a later post. (Add $7 because this restaurant sells it’s taro waffle/ pancake mix so I of course grabbed a package to take home.)

I made a quick friend with the waitress who recommended the dressing as her personal favorite. She kinda just came to Hawaii a few months ago and got a job and was ready to move back to the mainland so she could eat something other than ramen noodles. I might go back and give her my number because our conversation was pretty awesome.

Also because the waffles just can’t be had anywhere else so I may as well squeeze another order in before I set off to the airport in the afternoon.

You Weren’t Invited.

Honolulu, Hawai’i Jan.20.2016

I looked up today and noticed that I have been living the life I claimed as a child. Although our lives never unfold in the ways we expect, I saw that I am among the few that is doing everything she ever said she would. I hope this lasts, and I also hope I never have a job to go to again.

I wish I could write some deep meaningful post of how Hawai’i changed my life; of how I am a whole new person but I’d be lying. This is who I have always been and if anything I have only been inspired to seek out more of myself.

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 I lay on the beach and watched my skin turn from a light-bright yellow to a Kit-Kat within minutes. A massive storm cloud then appeared along with some wind and some showers and after laying under it for awhile, patiently waiting for it to pass, I decided to pack it up, grab a hot-pocket from the corner store and get back in my bed.

There’s so much about this place that induces laziness and because being lazy is my favorite thing to do, I’m surprised at my own willingness to return to Los Angeles. Granted, if it wasn’t for the legal stuff and things I had to sign for lawyers I would stay longer and island hop instead.

A flurry of text messages from family, friends and people I haven’t heard from in years have come in since being here (funny how people become strangers until you post something they want on the internet). People want to know if I have gone to a Luau yet, if I am walking around in a grass skirt and coconut bra, or if I went hula dancing.

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Maybe everyone thinks I am a complete idiot and will really spend my vacation in that kind of an outfit or maybe they truly believe that that is what people wear and what people do down here. I just said, “No. I’m not a tourist.”

I was told that because I don’t live here then I am automatically a tourist. I could be confused, but I thought tourists booked tours, wore those outfits and went to Luaus. Not the people who still get hot pockets and beer from the corner store for dinner. Or goes to the small and ignored Vietnamese restaurant that is tucked behind a 7-Eleven  for a giant bowl of Pho Bien when she’s feeling fancy (every day at 2).

When you throw yourself into the world alone, you see who you are and who you can be. People from the outside may project what they would do in your position, instead of realizing that the experience was always meant for you, and you alone.

They were not invited.

Hawai’i has felt like a second home to me, so I’ve been doing the things I would do at home ie. be a complete introvert who wants nothing to do with other human beings.

Highlight Reel ! Travel in Heels.

Honolulu, HI. Jan.19.2016 

Social media is hard work. When  I live my life, I live it to enjoy myself, enjoy my experiences, and I often like to share it with others. Mainly on my blog because you guys really don’t give a shit what I look like so long as I write somewhat decently.

But the thing about social media is, it’s hard to be yourself. People can complain about it all they want yet no change happens because in the end, human beings WANT other human beings to sell them a dream. Women want to be sold a physical look that can’t be achieved by the grace of God; a look that can only be achieved by shopping recklessly or by piling on a ton of makeup to look “natural”. People want to be shown luxurious travel photos but want to know how they, too, can do it on a budget. People want to be sold a gorgeous body, but don’t want to put in the hard physical labor or adhere to the diet changes it takes to get there.

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my favorite tree.

Today I ignored my camera for the most part and got dressed at 6am on the search for breakfast at a 24 hour joint (disappointment) and accidentally ordered meat that I, of course, did not eat. Ok, so I knew it was called “Scottish Bangers” and I’m very educated on what bangers are, but it was 6am, I was tired, and the description only said eggs, hash browns, and toast. I was very disgusted when a pork sword showed up on my plate like a burnt baby penis. Not that eggs are any better, but still.

Afterward, I went back to the beach and baptized myself in the Polynesian waters. I felt blessed to be in another year of life, and mummified in a ton of salt afterwards. This morning was the first time I swam since the accident ruined my back.

I swam again. For the first time. In Hawaii. As the sun rose. And I swam for 3 hours.

Afterwards, I lay my salt-encrusted ashy ass on my beach towel and proceeded to take the dreaded selfie per request. And this is why I hate selfies… After all morning of my beach towel being in the same spot for four hours, the minute I went to snap a selfie, the ocean decided to send a tide to completely wipe me out in front of all of the tourists. My towel was drenched, I was drenched, everything was coated in sand, rocks, and salt. The selfie came out horrible, so I’ll post this one instead.

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I read a lot of travel blogs by women because, duh. And I never seem to understand how these women manage to look so absolutely fabulous in every single photo they post on their journey. How can you travel the world wearing heels? Did you pack your own photographer? Did you  factor in a hairstylist and makeup artist into your budget? How do they hike up all of these mountains and stairs with their makeup still intact and their heels unbroken? Like who the hell wears makeup everyday when they travel?  How did they fit all of these wardrobe changes into their carry-ons? I have questions!! I don’t do any of that even when I am at home.

Its only a dream and false advertisement. I mean, the photo above is generally how I look.  I kind of wear the same clothes everyday on the road, and I often do my laundry in a sink or bathtub with some Dawn dish soap.

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Today at the beach, I came up for air after being at the bottom of the ocean right as a tour bus dropped off it’s typical hoard of Japanese photographic tourists that I seem to see in every major destination I visit.

I never know why exactly people like this travel; if it is for the actual experiences or to put their giant dslrs to use.  A family walked to the beach and hovered over my towel and belongings for a bit. One was dressed in slight Harajuku fashion with a red wig and the other was in a giant pink hat, a fanny pac, leggings, and a jacket tied around her waist. Her husband had the giant dslr in hand and everyone took turns touching the water with their fingertips while smiling at the camera as he snapped photos. The youngest daughter took off her flip flops and touched her toes to the water. Once they had all of the photos they needed, they scurried back to the bus and off to the next stop for more picture perfect moments in a land they will never remember or take the time to get to know.

I just….

Don’t understand.

First Polynesian Morning.

Honolulu, Hi Jan.18.2016 – Waikiki

I’m less of  a demon today and more like a grateful and joyous human being. I got a head start and left the house before the sun came up to make my way to a beach. After walking around in the dark for 20 minutes too long on what was supposed to only be an 11 minute trip, I cursed my GPS and stopped a local who was walking her dog to ask where Waikiki beach was… she looked confused and said, “Is that the actual name of a beach?”

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I knew she was a local because she had a dog, so I just said, “hmm.. how about any beach at all?” she ended up walking with me along the strip we were on, through a tree filled area, and all the way to the beach.

She gave me a warm hug goodbye, and welcomed me to the island after gaining knowledge that it was my first day and that I was here all alone.

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I told this story to my family when they checked to see if I was having any fun yet. My grandmother, who is a skeptic and thinks I will be raped and beaten any day now, was almost amazed that it is more likely to run into a good person than a bad one even when one leaves their bubble. I hope she leaves her own before the good lawd takes her.

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I went onto this little dock with the other obvious tourists and watched the surfers paddle their way out to what looked like ginormous waves to me, but were probably baby waves to them. I had never been to a place where the waves began in the middle of the ocean and crashed far away from the shore. So to see it up close was pretty awesome, also the ocean felt like a warm bath so that’s pretty nice. I arrived a little after 6am as the sun began to finally lighten the sky and stayed until 10am. Now my body is completely sore from the walk, my back is aching, but I want to go out again.

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These were breakfast this morning when I stopped into a 7-11. The flight attendants passed them out as a final snack along with free cocktails yesterday, and I’ve been addicted ever since so they might be lunch and dinner as well.

Before arriving, I didn’t book any tours or plan anything I wanted to do so I’m sort of just playing it by ear. I have been loving the island so far, and it does feel like home.

In fact, I’ve been on the phone all morning planning the next trip here.


Just Say Mahalo and Move On.

Honolulu, HI Jan.17. 2016

These photos are all you are going to get from me today. Simply put, I’m an exhausted and slightly lazy f-bomb who just wants to continue her reclusive ways and take her bra off in peace. I flew over the Pacific for a peaceful 7 hours and now I don’t have enough interest in Polynesia to ignore how tired I am in order to go out and take better photos.

My blog is only an inanimate object. Or is it?

I’ll start over in the morning when I am less demonic.

I took my first step into the Hawaiian air and didn’t feel like I left California at all other than how hot and damp the air was and that people were actually carrying surf boards and hanging their clothes out to dry. The air was so humid that I immediately found a restroom where I could yank my wig off and put a turban on.

This is real life, people. If you are searching for an informational travel blog with all of the smiling pictures and historical sites, look elsewhere. Travel is almost never like that for me. I also rarely take selfies.

 I walked around the outside of the airport aimlessly for about 30 minutes looking for the bus stop so I could pay $2.50 to get to my Airbnb. I came up short so I ended up spending $40 on a taxi. I don’t regret it. The driver took my bags from me and loaded them in the car while simultaneously giving me conversation until he dropped me off at my doorstep. I didn’t have to walk at all.

My host is a very hot and spicy Japanese woman who is a lot younger than I expected from her photo. She made me feel like an ugly piece of shit when she pranced into the condominium to let me in. Mahalo. I want to hang out with her. My boyfriend told me to see if I could get a picture, but I didn’t want to be the creep tenant.

The kind of exhaustion I feel is not the exhaustion where I want to pass out. It’s the exhaustion that makes me feel like I don’t want to see any human beings (including my own reflection) or hear any sounds although a siren has raged through the city every hour on the hour so far.

I locked myself in my room and I haven’t left since other than to use the restroom and to check out the fridge to see what kind of food my ghostly roommates like to eat. I know I probably won’t last through the night solely on this mornings airplane food so I might leave to go get some Udon down the street, but I also might suck it up and chill with this super small honolulu airplane cookie that I never ate with my breakfast.

This type of exhaustion is when every small thing about life annoys me. Like how I packed two wigs and now its way too hot for me to not consider just throwing them away and shaving my own head out of survival. And the fact that I’ve been shaving my legs everyday, including this morning, yet it has already come back in like Chewbacca.

I’m in Hawai’i !

Pop One Out.

Small dogs have a way of looking like they have been consistently abused despite the perpetual love of their owner.

I’ve been that person that has had support animals her entire life before even knowing that they were support animals. This is Paris, my first ever registered support dog. I’ve been raising her since she was 5 weeks old. I’ve cured all of her ailments without a vet and she is pretty much my baby.

My mother seemed to always come around with a new puppy right in the midst of my descent into the dark hole of depression. It was like an elevator out to sudden sunshine,  but I never knew if she knew what she was doing, or if it was just coincidental that a friend of hers just so happened to have puppies.

I’m always sad to leave her behind when I travel. She has been staying with my mom since I moved to L.A, and while I am grateful to have a living relative willing to care for her, I’m counting down to the day when I can finally take her to live with me again

. A few weeks after moving, I got a call that she went missing and they couldn’t find her anywhere. Everyone was at work and at school, and when they came home, she was nowhere to be found. My mom posted her support dog I.D onto the city’s bulletin board and within 10 minutes I got a phone call from the guy who she wandered off to that morning. He was good with dogs and said he had a feeling she was of support of some kind, so he spent his entire day taking her around to shelters, pet stores and the like looking to see if anyone was missing her.

Good people exist.

Yesterday my grandmother asked me if my dog was the only great-grandchild she was going to get.

Great! Another family member that is waiting for me to pop one out.

Coming Out.

The last time I came out to my Mother was when I was 19 years old. I sent an email to her letting her know I was bisexual. In her reply, I ignored the words of “choice” and “phase” and completely zeroed in on “I’ll love and accept you no matter what.” And moved on with my life.


That was 7 years ago and it’s likely that she has forgotten all about it or truly believed it was indeed just a phase. My relationships with women never lasted long enough for me to even think to mention them to my Mother. It’s just bad luck.

Anyway, this isn’t what this post is about so I suck.

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yeah. I know.

I kept this solo trip a secret because I believe in the power of words. Once my family says I will be raped, killed, or sold into the sex trade I get on the plane and enter my destination completely paranoid that the world is specifically out to get ME. This once resulted  in a very public panic attack and brain fog to add to the already overwhelming culture shock and jet lag.

Yesterday after realizing the printer was out of ink, I forwarded my e-ticket to my mother’s email so she could print it for me while she was at work. She sent a text that said, “I thought you were supposed to be going home 🙂 “

Smiley faces usually indicate something good or a psychotic break.

I replied with “SIKE! I’m taking my birthday trip. I’ll be home that Saturday.” 

My birthday was in September, and as I probably mentioned before I spent it alone in a dark room, crippled and crying while my mom and her friends went on the trip to Puerto Rico we planned together from the year’s beginning (we share the same birthday).


She went on to make sure I had all of my tickets and accommodations booked and did not mention anything negative. She ended up telling all of her coworkers what I was doing because she’s a mom that likes to brag. This makes things awkward when I meet people I never met before who seem to know my whole life story before I can even introduce myself.

It could have been all of the complaining I’ve done over the years of how negative my family has been about my inclination to do things alone, or it could have been last year’s car wreck that made her see that no matter if I am close to home, or on the other side of the world, life will always be fragile. For all of us.

This may be her finally coming around to the idea of letting go so I can live my own life peacefully.

I’m glad it happened before I turned 30.


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If travel is an addiction, I'm afflicted.

Jhaneel Lockhart

New York based travel and lifestyle blog

Self-Inflicted Drama

Stories of wanderlust, adventure and occasional disaster.

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Our life and adventures at home

Morning Coffee with Wisdom and Humor

Bits of wisdom from my personal experiences, with a touch of humor to put a smile on your face while you enjoy your coffee.


Dori Nicole.

And all the roads we have to walk are winding...

On the road of life, I am driven by heart.

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