Corina Goes, Travel, Uncategorized, Writing

She was the tide.

I wish I could be a good blogger. A blogger who actually follows up on all the post ideas that she thinks of and who blogs things in chronological order, and shares travel diaries after trips and Friendsgiving posts before Thanksgiving is officially over.

But you know what? I’m not, and that’s okay. Because blogging to me is simply about releasing emotions. It’s about driving down the road and hearing a song and putting the words in my head and the feelings in my heart to paper (or you know, the internet). It’s about simply releasing these words into a place that is far bigger than the four corners of my mind.

Usually my blog posts come about because I bottle my emotions for far, far too long and then music, hearing a simple song, breaks my heart quite literally in half. There are some songs that just get me. Or I get them, I can never tell for sure. It’s almost like there are certain songs, and certain chords, that pull on my heartstrings until I can’t hold my emotions back anymore.

But guess what? This time I’m trying something new. Instead of breaking first, I’m writing. And I have so many thoughts.

This year has been a crazy season in my life. I’m looking back now, in December, and realizing that I never truly understood what it meant when those older than me told me to cherish the time that I have now, in this present moment, because growing up makes everything pass by more quickly than ever.

It seems like just a few weeks ago that I made my one big New Years resolution. And now, after 11 months, I’ve decided to break it.

Here’s the thing.

My New Years resolution was a travel goal. If you know me, then you know that it’s my passion to adventure and to explore, and I have a job that gives me the incredible opportunity to travel the world. I’ve found that it’s both a blessing and a curse to work for an airline. The blessing is that travel doesn’t break the bank, and the curse is that it puts an insatiable taste for adventure in your soul. At least, it does for me.

Last January, I decided that I wanted to see more. I had been working at American Airlines for a year and a half by then and I’d tested the waters of standby travel and decided that I couldn’t waste my benefits and that I had to do more. I made a goal: 12 months, 12 trips. It didn’t matter if they were big or small, I was going to get out and explore at least once a month.

And I did. With the exception of the month of August where I was part of a wedding shower, bridal shower, bachelorette party and wedding, I’ve gone on at least one trip per month. (I actually did plan a day-trip in August where my flight got cancelled right after I got through security because of the weather, but we don’t have to talk about that.)

You guys, I’ve flown 56,584 miles around the world this year. That’s 2.3x around the entire EARTH. I’m very proud of myself, but there’s also something else. Something that’s been lingering in the back of my mind. I’ve tried to push it down because I didn’t want to face the facts. That I was exploring to my hearts content, seeing places that other people only dreamed about, and at the end of the day. I wasn’t fulfilled.

Now don’t get me wrong. I have LOVED traveling this year. From Japan to London to Milwaukee to Maine to Lisbon. It’s been incredible. My camera roll currently holds 26,000+ photos and I look back at them sometimes and can’t actually believe that I’ve been able to see what I have in my lifetime. I don’t take the ability to travel for granted, and I never will.

But last week, I had one of the lowest days of my life. I can remember the tears running down my face as a friend heard me hurting and became a listening ear to my pain. She didn’t judge me or try to fix me, she simply listened. And I appreciate that more than words can say.

I think it all started with my previous post. It’s like a tiny little match lit with those words I wrote and I realized that this year, traveling has been my way of escape. It’s hard for me to talk about traveling when I get home. It’s almost like I want to bottle those moments away for myself only. Like when I’m traveling, I’m a different person.

I read something today that really put this year into perspective.

“She was the tide, always drifting in and out of the lives of those who loved her, eternally indecisive, unable to discern whether she enjoyed the solidity and safety of land, or the wild freedom of the ocean.”

-Beau Taplin // W i l d O c e a n

My heart craves adventure. And even though I wouldn’t change this year at all, I feel like I need to re-evaluate. I’ve been drifting, in and out of those moments of wild freedom and I’ve realized that it’s not enough to block out the fears and the unfulfilled desires that I have when I get back home. I don’t want my passion of traveling to become a hiding place. A place that seems magical to those on the outside, who only see brief moments captured in time on my social media feed.

And so I’ve decided, I’m okay with breaking this goal with one month left in the running. I’ve been learning that my stubbornness doesn’t always lead me to the best decisions. I’ve been learning how to listen to my fears instead of pushing them away. I don’t know all the answers. I don’t know what will happen in the next week or month, or year. But I know one thing. I know that I’m human. And that it’s okay to hurt sometimes. And that every single thing happens for a reason.

It’s time to trust, and to explore my heart a little bit, and to accept the people, the situations, and the dreams and the disasters that God puts in my way.



Corina Goes, Iceland, Travel, Writing


I remember the way the stars looked when we stopped on the side of the road and leaned our faces out the car window on our midnight search for the Northern Lights. 
I remember the way I felt that week. Like adventure was always just beyond my fingertips and all I could think was to reach reach reach and take all I could wrap my fingers around. 
I remember the rushing of the water as it poured over the falls and the way my breath froze over and over and over again until we had to go back even when we could have stayed there forever. 
I remember the city streets and the colorful buildings and the view from the top of the church tower as we took in all we could and pushed it deep deep deep into our memories so we would never forget this moment. 
I remember the way my heart ached when I thought about leaving the only foreign country that actually felt like home because it’s been aching since I’ve gone. 
I remember these things as the weather gets colder here and I long for the brisk clean air and a long drive down a singular highway and the greatest desire to be lost but somehow found among the beauty and the stars and the dancing lights and the magic of it all. 

Japan, Travel, Uncategorized, Writing


Today I was looking through some older pages of my notebook and found this entry from before I left for Japan. It seems like just yesterday I was driving to the airport with my stomach in knots and my heart a mess of anxious anticipation because it was finally starting to sink in that I was about to see my best friend for the first time in almost a year. Travel seems to go in a particular cycle for me. By this I mean: 

Several months before trip: block trip out of my mind so I won’t go crazy with longing to pack my bags 93 days before actual trip. 

One month before trip: go psycho CRAZY with to-do lists, Pinterest travel tips, planning destination specific outfits (most likely 36 whole interchangeable outfits for a 7 day trip), and worrying that my bag will be too heavy but WHO CARES I’M GOING ON AN ADVENTURE! 

One week-One day before trip: have a major crisis. No really, last time I locked myself out of my apartment the night before a 5am flight with nothing packed and couldn’t get back in until 2 in the morning, (Helllllooo, Starbucks! Even though all my Pinterest lists say this is a no no for airplane travel…shhhh.) Well folks, the major crisis before this trip was…that’s right, a ROOT CANAL. Blech. Add to this the fact that our apartment lease happened to be up while I was going to be out of the country, so I had to pack up and move my entire house the weekend before the trip. So, root canal Thursday. Moving house, Friday-Sunday. Flying out, 7am Monday morning. 

Wee hours of the early morning on The Day of trip: wake up, or at least have my eyes open at the wee crack of dawn, because who wouldn’t schedule an extremely early morning flight? No sleep for the anxious traveller! Mum always drives me to the airport where I tell her about 19 times that I’ll miss everyone and please please please give all the kids and dad one more hug from me because let’s face it, even though I can’t imagine that I could love traveling any more than I actually do, I always always ALWAYS miss my family. 

And then I’m stumbling with my overly packed luggage and trying to decide why it was a good idea to wear my hat for a day of 30+ traveling hours (actually it did save me from my flight hair, fist pump!) Those cute little butterflies that are so adorable when you’re in love but not so much when you’re at the airline gate and your knees won’t stop bouncing up and down and you’re checking your ticket about 3 million more times than actually needed to make sure you’re in the right place because your months and months of anticipation for this trip will NOT be ruined by not being fully awake and functioning and missing your flight and then suddenly without really knowing how it happens, you’re sitting in seat 24A looking at the sparkling lights of the incredible view of the Dallas Fort Worth metroplex and saying Sayonara! See ya never! I’m off to a magical land with the grandest blue ocean you’ve ever laid eyes on, unfamiliar cultures, and a bag full of summer fresh outfits fit for walking the beach and strolling through the crowded streets talking about nothing and everything with my best friend ever. 

And then 23 hours later I am completely and utterly worn to the bone and the excitement is still there, but it’s just a tad hidden by the huge bags under my eyes, the way it feels like someone must have thrown ten bricks into my shoulder bag without my knowledge, and the unquenchable thirst for h2o that can only be brought about from an 11 hour flight. 

And finally I am waking up from the first 2 hours of sleep I’ve gotten in at least 25 hours after having the nicest conversation with the most adorable marine sitting next to me and then I’m saying goodbye and nice to meet you and suddenly I am trying to keep the wind from blowing my hat off my horribly atrocious plane hair while boarding the transit bus to the airport and waiting for my checked luggage with only the slightest amount of worry that it is still somewhere in the Mother Land, because let’s face it, I’m much too tired for actual panic to set in by this point. And finally I am walking out the doors and being greeted by my Best with an actual sign with my name on it (spot on, H!) and everything is perfectly right in the world because I’m about to spend 10 full days with my Kindred Spirit in this tropical paradise where I can communicate only by the phrases good afternoon and thank you, and that doesn’t even matter because I am happy and I am free and I am living out my dreams. 


Japan, Travel, Uncategorized, Writing

There is something about these things that gives me the utter and profound joy of simply being alive. 

There is something about the darkness as it washes over me and the excitement that slowly unfurls in my stomach, proving itself in the nervous twists as the miles slowly wear away and suddenly I am whisked away to a world of terminals and gates and security checks and the purest feeling of freedom I can imagine. 

There is something about the careful movements and the hurried dashes of busy people going to busy places and doing busy things, separated, but somehow connected in the greater scheme of things. 

There is something about the breaking light of dawn as it sweeps into the little window, illuminating the tiny space of the massive winged beast that will serve as my home for the long hours to come. 

There is something about the anticipation of a traveller’s heart. A heart that craves adventure and leaps, throwing caution to the wind, at the possibility to experience things and visit lands as far away as their dreams will take them. 

There is something about the discomfort of the tiny space you are given as your own and the realization that the long hours, the weariness of wandering airport terminals, and the jet lag that is sure to come, because everything will be worth it once you reach your destination. 

There is something about separation that makes reuniting one of the most special events on earth. There is something about the phone calls, the messages, the care packages, and the seemingly endless “I miss you’s” that can’t quite measure up to seeing a person face to face. 

There is something about having that “someone.” Your person. The one that can understand your tone of voice through a simple text message and who can read your mind, from literally thousands of miles away. There is something about knowing you have a friendship that will stand and even grow stronger through anger and trials and miles and years. 

There is something about these things that gives me the utter and profound joy of simply being alive. Of being able to experience things I never could have imagined myself being a part of. A feeling of accomplishment, of eagerness, and of satisfaction. 


There is also something about floating above the white blanket of clouds that gives me more inspiration than I’ve had in weeks! 

I apologize for the lack of posts lately. Lots of things are going on in my life, to date. But be sure to be on the lookout for a media blast on my trip to Okinawa, Japan! You can find all pictures on Instagram! 

Personal: @heycorinahey

Travel: @travelingmytwenties

You can also email subscribe to my posts by pressing the center button at the top of this page. 

Until next time! xx

Currently: wading through clouds 35,000 feet above the ground and counting down the “somethings” until I can see my Best! I’m coming for you Japan!     

Travel, Uncategorized

Trinidad and Tobago, 2011. 

Four years ago I spent one of the most magical weeks of my life in Trinidad. It was my first taste of traveling outside of my own country and has left me with an incredible desire in my heart to see and experience the world and the many beautiful people and cultures and sights that it holds. Here are a few pictures from my travels in Trinidad.

The most incredible beach I have ever been to. Also, I can’t say how important it is to try the local Shark and Bake Shark Sandwich. Best sandwich of my life. 

Slightly creepy temple we visited. 

This man sang to me on the beach. I tried to convince him that I had a boyfriend back home at the time, but he wouldn’t be persuaded. “You have American boyfriend back home, and you have me here,” he said. 

I can’t remember the name of this fruit, but it basically tasted like nothing. And the texture was a bit rough to get over. 

I was a little doubtful that this van would get our group up the steep mountains, but I stand corrected. 

Incredible market place. 

I also got the best tan of my life that week. Can I go back now please? 

Music, New England, Travel, Uncategorized, Writing

Aerial Tunes.

The first time I heard George Ezra’s voice I was 36,000 feet above the ground traveling from DFW to Boston. 

 I’m not one for sleeping on shorter flights. I believe flights are for reading, studying the characters around you, and travel playlists. I normally make a playlist of songs for each particular flight (mostly destination appropriate and all my new music, and songs I can really think about and enjoy while flying.) This particular trip was going to be a week full of exploring New England (Boston-Maine-Kinderhook, NY) with K, and ending the trip with a full day in NYC before meeting up with my two brothers and road tripping all the way back to Texas.

 I had a little mishap before my flight (being locked out of my apartment until 1 am, not a stitch of anything packed, just 3 hours before my flight…), so I wasn’t able to make a playlist beforehand and sincerely needed a Starbucks latte to calm my nerves and keep me awake in the airport.

All this to say, this flight’s music list was a little different than normal.

It wasn’t actually a list, it was setting my iPod on shuffle and eventually discovering the voice I’m sure the angels sound like in Heaven. 

 As the last strains of Atlas Genius or Joshua Radin came to a close, a song popped up that I didn’t even know was on my device. I eventually realized it was a free iTunes single I had downloaded weeks ago and forgotten about.

And let me tell you,
This voice was a mix of all my hopes and dreams wrapped into one.  Needless to say, I’m sure that George Ezra was probably on repeat for the duration of the flight before his manly, melodic, scratchy angel voice eventually put me to sleep (because hello, no sleep for the procrastinating packer). 

 So, this post is in honor of purchasing his Deluxe Album and remembering the Perfect Aerial Moment of discovering his authentic, heartfelt, lyrical masterpiece while flying across the East Coast. “Wanted On Voyage” is an album worthy of putting on repeat for long road trips, train rides, or flights. An album written about traveling, for travelers. It is the soundtrack of my daydreams and I will forever remember the East Coast every time I hear his voice. 

And give me one good reason

Why I should never make a change

Baby if you hold me

Then all of this will go away

My many artifacts

The list goes on

If you just say the words

I, I’ll up and run

Oh, to you

Ooh, you

Ooh, I’d leave it all

-Budapest (George Ezra) 

Also, while listening to his song for the first time, I imagined a 35ish year old with lots of facial hair and maybe some round tortoise shell glasses. Imagine my surprise when I looked him up on Google and discovered that deep scratchy voice came from a 21 year old English stud! Another one of my Favorite People In The World is from England? Not surprised. 

Look him up. Listen up. Buy his album. You won’t regret it. 

Music, New England, Travel, Uncategorized

Seaside bliss.

Do you know the feeling you get when you hear the beginning of your alarm clock and you can’t even be angry that you have to wake up from your slumber because the song gently easing you into consciousness is so absolutely perfect that you sleepily participate in Four Beautiful Minutes of Musical Bliss before you open your eyes and greet the day with a smile on your face, perfect morning light streaming across the bed from the open balcony doors, and the smell of the seaside on the early morning breeze?

I hadn’t either,
Until I woke up in Maine.

(Also, I don’t think I’ve ever formed so long a sentence as the one above.)


Morning Seaside Bliss.


A Walk to the Ocean.


I’m sitting in this dull office reminiscing and listening to my Seaside playlist and dreaming of the New England coast and I miss the ocean so badly, can I just go back now?

(Run on sentence above and I’m okay with that.)

The Perfect Seaside Tunes In My Opinion:
• Budapest – George Ezra
• You Got What I Need – Joshua Radin
• In Your Arms – Kina Grannis
• Boston – Augustana
• How I Became The Sea – Owl City
• Now That You’re Gone – Ryan Adams
• The Story – Brandi Carlile
• I Need You – M83
• Count Me In – Early Winters
• Take Me Somewhere Nice – Sky Sailing
• 1957 – Milo Greene
• Tennis Elbow – Sky Sailing