Hi, my name is Daria.

 The way I see it, we’re banking experiences. At the end of the day, my happiness is defined by what I’ve seen and done and how those experiences have shaped me, not by the kind of car I drive or the type of countertops I cut my carrots on.

I’ve been posting on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter etc. about how great this whole Gap Year adventure has been. But who wants to read about that, right?

What you really want to hear about are the unsavory aspects of picking up and taking life on the road for a year.  Time to offset the amazing adventure with some of the hitches.

I Just spent 90 minutes in a sensory deprivation chamber. “What is that?” you ask. It’s just a pitch black, saltwater coffin that you seal yourself into for an hour and a half. 

Sounds like fun to me.

First of all, I need everyone to know that it’s like stabbing myself in the eye with pins, or having a drill break off in my tooth in the middle of a root canal writing something that contains no humour whatsoever. Anybody who has followed my writing over the years knows that I sometimes write about some uncomfortable shit, but my secret weapon has always been to wrap it in funny, the same way you wrap asparagus in bacon. Humour and bacon can make the most unsavory things in life taste awesome.

A drill bit wedged in my jaw. A huge chunk of cork hanging off my nipple. Body modifications that didn’t go as planned.

I was sitting in the dentist’s chair, gripping the leather arm rests, my jaw cranked open, enduring, as best I could, a root canal.

And then things went wrong.

Seriously? You’re ordering spring rolls? That’s your research plan for Asia?

My New Zealand travel planning isn't much better; I rented the TV show Flight of the Conchords. (I think Brett and Jemaine are giving me a pretty good sense of what Kiwis are like.) I also picked up a couple of bottles of New Zealand malbec. 

Meanwhile, Rob, has been feverishly booking flights, accommodations, hikes, camping, car rentals and activities all over New Zealand — the first leg of our family's year-long trek around the world. 

 You wore your brother’s underwear all summer. Kindergarten starts tomorrow and suddenly you insist on wearing those pink panties in the back of your drawer, the ones with the Hello Kitties stamped on the ass.

A month ago I posted about finding a diary from when I was 12 years old and I subjected myself to reading endless entries about my love for my boyfriend at the time, Kirk McManus.

I Googled him to see what he was up to. (Dr. Kirk McManus does cancer research at an Institute for Cell Biology.) He was probably a keeper.