It’s a Nice Day for Nuclear War

Caffeine makes it hard for me to go to sleep. No, really. And I think it definitely has a weird effect on everyone, in one way or another.

But the other night? It was weird on a whole new level. (Except for that time where I couldn’t remember how old I was, and since I am really bad at math, I thought I was a whole year older and got upset that I wasn’t living life to the fullest. Oh my god, you have NO idea how I wish I was making this all up).

As I lay awake in bed, quite literally staring at the ceiling and wondering why my head wasn’t as blank as it was, I started to worry. No, that’s not the right temperature of things: I panicked.

I kept envisioning these horrible scenarios about my life and I couldn’t help how they turned out. Then, my brain pulled the worst Jenga piece out from the leaning tower, and asked me the following question: “What if there is nuclear war before I can get married, in a year and a half?”

And I know, I know. Just like a true bride-to-be, I’m thinking about myself before the whole world. What do you mean you don’t care which color napkins we pick? This is a matter of national importance! I bet President Obama would never stand for this ugly shade of mint!

But breaking out into a cold sweat, I didn’t rationalize this thought away like you would think I might. I metaphorically patted myself on the head and said, “Oh, well you and your fiancee are about as close as you can get to being married anyway. Haven’t you lived a long enough life?”

Weirder still? That crazy psychology actually worked on me. I calmed down; my breathing and heartbeat slowed. But not before realizing how absurd it was that I think that I could ever stop nuclear war from happening anyway. I mean, it’s coming.

Look at America. We have Donald Trump (in which many a psycho, and perhaps many a sane person, would line up to be able to say that they were the one who took him down) and we have a woman (in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not sure if all of the world is #withher or not, simply because she’s… a she.) I mean, we’re on the brink of something, and shave my head and call me Sinead if it isn’t something violent and ugly. And yes, perhaps nuclear.

So, look. I’m not here to spout off my opinion. Heck, I’m still on hiatus for all it’s worth, and there’s no way that one lowly blogger’s opinion is going to rise to the top of this political trash heap of bad hair and bad pant suits.

Because I can admit when I don’t have much power to control something.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t vote and change things (hopefully for the good). I hope you remember that, too.


Um yeah…

So, I took a hiatus. You may have noticed. And then I did the really brainy move of not telling anyone I was taking a hiatus. Which is just not a great way to operate in your general life. 

Okay, so why did I do it this time? You guessed it. I mean to write my book. For realzies. And I thought it was gonna go great because I have been mucho inspired lately. I’ve even taken to writing poetry in my head again (getting it on paper is a whole different story), but that’s great because I haven’t done that in years. 

So, I’m poised to really succeed this time. And my first thought was: well, maybe I don’t have to give up the blog. 

And then the other side of my brain went: go on. 

And I started coming up with scenarios. Maybe my blog could be written during the week and my book on the weekend. (Other side of my brain again: yeah! And that’s a surefire way to basically die from stress before 30.) Or maybe I can use my blog to write short fiction and writing exercises while it gears up for the big event.
And this mostly sounded well and good, until last night happened. 

I was so excited to get started. So ready to make something of my life again. So ready to write.

And after my run and dinner, I promptly sat on the couch and woke up sometime in the middle of the night. Oh yeah. So motivated.

And it’s then I realized that maybe I’m being a little too ambitious (which is crazy because Hamilton is basically my spirit animal, and I truly will never be satisfied). But maybe it’s true. Maybe I need to work up to it. 

So, for now, I’ll post on this blog when I can. Maybe not daily, but as much as possible. But I WILL BE focusing on my book. As long as you’ll hold me accountable for my potential, okay?

Thanks, guys. I love you readers all so dearly. I just want to give everyone butterfly kisses for reading my stuff and even chuckling at it every once in awhile. 

Love and kiss hug kiss hug,



Friday the 13th

Tomorrow is Friday the 13th. 

The bad luck motherload. The horror of horrible days. The superstition, the legend. 

But what does that really mean? You may have “bad luck” every day. What would make one day any different? 

Well, you could say that people make their own luck and it doesn’t really matter that a string of unfortunate, unruly events occur because they’re not related. 


You could use this day as a proverbial hall pass. Mess stuff up and make mistakes, and don’t blame yourself. Just for one day. I mean, don’t go asking for a black cat to hold or for a mirror to break, but maybe instead of a day to fear, you can embrace it as a day to not be perfect without having to hold yourself responsible. Why not just blame it all on bad luck? When else can you use that excuse, after all?

Because whatever Friday the 13 may mean to you, (“oh no!” Or “who cares?”) it can be your scapegoat. Just like any Monday, you’ll say, “oh sure. It makes sense that I dropped my phone in the toilet. It’s Friday the 13th after all.” 

And that’s sort of a relief instead of a scare. Just try not to press your luck too much. Even bad luck has its limits. 


Car Horns

When do you use your car horn most? When you’re trying to get someone’s attention? When you’re trying to signal to a squirrel to tell him that he should get out of the road? When you’re trying to tell someone that they’re driving wonderfully? 

No. You use it when someone is being an $#!hole. When someone cuts you off, blows through a stop sign, or if you’re a New Yorker, just because you feel like it. 

And if you’re anything like me, I’m so embarrassed when someone uses their horn on me that I mouth “sorry” as many times as I can and gesture to the driver that I didn’t mean it. It’s the one thing that always makes me feel like an idiot. 

But I’m not always being the idiot. Because people use their car horns all the time. And not always for the right reason. 

And that’s a lot like life, isn’t it? Someone can tell you that you’re doing something wrong, and you very well might be. But there are going to be times that you’re not, and that person is going to continue to make you feel like an idiot. And it can be really hard to ignore that.  Sometimes, you really value that person’s opinion.

But just because that person has an opinion, just like car horns, it doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re using it at the right time or that they even have the right to exert their influence over you. 

You should always remember that others are going to try to get you to stay in line. They’re going to make fun of you, and they’re going to exclude you, and yeah, they’re going to honk at you. But that doesn’t make them the authority in your life.

The way I see it, if you’re not hurting anyone, just keep on doing what you’re doing. Honk if you agree. 



I’m sorry if I’ve already written on this subject (and maybe even titled it the same thing.) But that just happens. There’s some topics that seem to roll around in my head all day and I have to revisit them. 

And what exactly rolls around in my head all day? The fact that we compare ourselves so much. We don’t have the same car, job, clothes, things as other people, and that somehow makes us lesser. Even personality. That person is funnier, nicer, and smarter than us, and we suddenly don’t measure up in any other category as well. It’s as if the brighter someone else’s light is, the more we should dim our own. 

But I’m here to tell you that that’s not true. That this life is not either/or. It’s very much “and.” You can be something and someone else can be something, and you can both be good. The difference is that you’re just…different.

So the next time that you feel the need to compare, remind yourself that there’s a lot of people on this earth. And somehow, we all have the right to exist in it, even though we’re not all the best at everything. But you’re not an ultimatum to someone. You’re a whole universe unto yourself. 


Chutes and Ladders

I may be dating myself, but does anyone remember the board game chutes and ladders? (Okay, now think hard. Try to remember. Board games are what you played before you used your cell phone for every form of entertainment.) 

But in case that doesn’t ring a bell specifically, chutes and ladders was a simple board game. You rolled a die and you got to move a number of spaces. This would either allow you to arrive at a ladder where you would go up, and up, and up. Or you’d get a chute, and you’d go all the way back down. Sometimes, you’d have to start back at the beginning, even. 

And now, you probably know what’s coming. This is the part where I say that this is life: a series of chutes and ladders. And you never really know what you’ll get next. Or how far you’ll go or fall. 

And you’d be right. I’d like to say that. But the question I’m left with is what’s to keep you from tumbling all the way down and never rolling the die again? What motivates you when you have to start all over? 

Well. I suppose it’s the same thing that got you to that chute in the first place. Because you didn’t start there. That what if? 

And that’s what it all comes down to: because you could be wrong about all this. 

I mean, personally, today made me want to stop and never start again. 

But I keep going because there’s a chance that I’ll be wrong about what is gonna happen next. 

Ultimately, the crash down is still gonna come and it’s gonna hurt. But we’re all hoping to go higher than ever before. And if you think it hard enough, you just might do it. 


Still Processing 

How do you get from point A to point B?

Well, you plot a course, and after a right or left turn, you’re there. 

How do I do it? 

I stress and tear my hair out at the fact that I’m not at point B, and gee, point A is so far away, and what’s wrong with me that I haven’t gotten to point B yet?

Because I don’t process things. Or I don’t realize that there is a process to things. That I can’t show up and know everything in the universe. And for some reason that actually frustrates me. 

And call it what you will. Call me a millennial, and point out my obsession with instant gratification. (Ever since we invented solar powered calculators, it’s like we just expect the answers to be given to us.) But I’m still completely confounded by the journey. I don’t know that practice makes perfect because I stuck with everything that came to me naturally (reading, writing, dancing).

It’s just that I don’t remember the time when things were hard and I didn’t know how to do something until I learned. I just remember having learned it. 

So, I’m still processing things. And I’m trying not to beat myself up for not knowing things until I know them. Every journey starts with the first step, but I do wish I walked quicker.