Hi there! Welcome to my blog! I love, love, love talking about all things metaphysics, writing, and blogging. My hope is that you leave here feeling much better than when you came. It's great to see you!
I’D LOVE TO…
I can still smell the campfire smoke. We were all gathered around the fire pit, sitting in camping chairs, my friend Peter playing Pink Floyd on his acoustic guitar.
Blue plastic cups filled with sugary margarita mixes. Dirt between my toes. Skinny. Wild hair.
It’s easy to think of each year as a chapter in our lives. Personally, each New Year’s Eve I feel like I’m closing a book rather than a chapter. But something far more beautiful than a book is evolving over each period of our lives, and it’s longer than a year.
(I flubbed the math. I’m actually 19 days away from 30, not 20, so we’re skipping a day. English majors can’t count properly, apparently.)
You are who you are and that’s it.
I am a writer. It’s time to face the music with that fact. I’ve always been afraid to tell people I’m a writer, because I didn’t like the attention or the follow up questions.
Your twenties just aren’t complete until you’ve thrown up in at least one plate of pancakes.
At Denny’s.
After drinking a lot of some orange drink called Fuzzy Navel.
A strong memory of my dad right now is when he would print out job descriptions from the internet and give them to me when I visited, even though I already had a job. There was a definite sweet about this.
Do you remember that scary movie The Number 23 with Jim Carey? It was about a guy who saw the number 23 everywhere, and thought that it had some kind of terrifying symbolism. Well, now there are 23 days until I turn 30, and I’m starting to see the symbolism of horror movies in my life over the past decade.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m just getting older, or if it’s because I’m some kind of hormonal? But I’ve really been feeling that maternal itch lately. I started feeling it when I was 28, but now that I’m 24 days away from turning 30, I’m REALLY starting to feel it.
A lot of people can’t stand positive people. Especially when they’re in a slump. I know that when I’m feeling sad or distraught or upset, the last thing I want to hear someone say is “Oh, buck up. Think of the positive!” Sometimes I can be one of those people, and even I want to punch myself sometimes.