Dana Burland

My sister was five or so the last time she ate ravioli. For whatever reason, on ravioli night, she got sick and her stomach promptly rejected dinner all together. She’s since written off tasty little pasta pockets as a barf-inducing food. However silly that may sound, I was thinking the same thing the homemade lemon chicken rice soup I made over the weekend. And 12-mile runs. And spring cleaning. All three seemingly healthy and some-what-enjoyable items are the last things I remember before a non-healthy, non-enjoyable mystery hurt took over my throat over the weekend. I know neither the soup, run nor cleaning are to blame for my now hopefully fading mystery hurt; and to be honest, I sure could use a little warm and coziness, so I think I’ll revisit that pot o’ tasty soup sitting lonely in my fridge.

I’m on Facebook and Twitter a lot—which isn’t exactly a shocking statement from the fingers of a Gen Y, recent(ish) college grad—but you probably wouldn’t get that impression from my quiet profile page. The majority of the time I’m using social media, I’m using it for work, posting on behalf of a brand. In the last two years I’ve managed about seven different social media channels—including Google+ and Pinterest—for three different brands. I’ve worked with both start-up and mega-large accounts; with audiences ranging from a highly educated, feminism focused, 50+ crowd to a community of sport-specific athletes of varying demographics and abilities. Tone, voice, timing and frequency are all vital blocks to the foundation of any social media marketing strategy; but my more detailed plans are based on unique research done on each brand. No matter how unique brands and plans may be, the 'plan' behind average users joining social media networks largely remains the same—to connect...

I had no less than 100 things on my weekend ‘to do’ list and no less than 100 wants for optimal weekend enjoyment. Somehow I managed to miraculously complete a good amount of both—though that oil change and self-manicure will have to wait for later. Keeping this blog up often feels like a delicate balance too, only I feel less successful at mastering the harmony. I want to keep my friends and family in the loop with my adventures, speak my mind, and share recipes—but I also want to grow as a writer, showcase my professional work, and trade thoughts on working in the ever-changing media industry. Thankfully, that balance should be easier to manage soon. My blog is getting a facelift courtesy of the charming Ashley from Little Leaf Photography and Design . Not only will this make my blog oh-so-pretty to browse, but it’ll finally let me write about work and play. Plus, the redesign will do wonders to organize my content so it’ll be easy to navigate to my post on how to roast a chicke...

My mom said from the moment I learned my colors, my favorite color has always been green. My toothbrush was the green one in the kids’ bathroom growing up, nine times out of 10 the rubber bands on my braces were green and when it came to choosing bedding for my first grown-up apartment I gravitated to the greenest option I could find. I can’t explain it, but seeing green anywhere—fresh grass, St. Patrick’s Day, or at the grocery store—makes me feel like all the molecules in my body meet up to hold hands and do a choreographed dance to Prince’s When Doves Cry . Yes, it's that good. Having my own space to decorate has caused a greensplosion in my life. Apartment living means I can’t quite go crazy and paint the walls green, but I can prettify my space with colorful items. My current bedroom is pretty much themed green. My furniture is all white and light wood so simple pops of bright green—like the milk crates under my nightstands, my bedside lamp and make-up mirror—stand out q...

The Pacific Coast at Cannon Beach, Oregon I’m not the best-rounded traveler known to man, but I just can’t shake how much Oregon reminds me of northern Michigan—except wider, deeper, taller, bigger and greener. One of my favorite parts of my trip was just looking around. On a clear day, three major mountains are visible between buildings in the city skyline. On hikes through parks, and even on my regular morning run, I couldn’t get over how beautiful the moss dripping from the trees looked. Soggy moss draping every branch Portland is like the Ann Arbor of the west—multiplied by 90. Downtown is clean and unique with food carts in skinny parking lots between buildings and thriving mom and pop shops standing proud on every corner. My sister and brother-in-law live about two miles from downtown, perched up about 700 feet on the side of quite a big ‘hill’. Sometimes—like on Tuesday—you’ll wake up to snow covering the hoods of cars parked outside their apartment, but not downtown. ...

The day after my birthday, I hopped on a plane to Portland. Side note: I hereby dare you to find a better birthday treat than a vacation. The double edged sword of my immediate travel plans was that though it gave me some time off work, it also meant I’d miss out on celebrating my b-day locally. So, when a box of treats with a sweet birthday message courtesy of my pal Elena landed on my work desk in the midst of my Portland exploring, I was not there to receive it. Thanks to the power of social media, my boss and coworker who were drooling over the smell emanating from the mysterious box on my desk, could reach me to simultaneously notify me of my surprise package and wish me a belated happy birthday. And hint at the fact that if said treats weren’t consumed quickly, they’d unfortunately go stale… Who am I to let cookies go stale and unenjoyed? I told my work pals to dig in, as long as one cookie was left for me when I returned. I had all intentions of making it to work the day ...

Five years ago I thought my current self would have an awesome job (I do), be a big-name health and fitness blogger (I’m not), finally know how to walk right in heels (I don’t) and be living in a town I love (ehh) in an amazing (yep) apartment. I had other visions too—some of which have come true, some of which haven’t and some that I’ve decided I don’t even want anymore. In five years from now I have a vision for my future self too, but it’s different than my old vision. I see my future self with a small wine collection, a big cozy grey couch and a dog that snoozes on the right cushion. Oh, and hopefully with better control over how to do my hair, too. I hope for more than that, but unlike the loose-cannoned, the-world-is-my-oyster mentality I had on my last birthday milestone, I’m now less interested in what the world suggests I should have and more focused on my simple happiness. It could sound like I’m not setting the bar very high (although the dream career of my much younger ...