To Mexico!

A conversation that happened in my life:


“What do you want to do tonight?”

“I dunno.”

“I’m bored.”

“Wanna go somewhere?”

“Sure. Where?”

“How about Mexico?”


“What are we going to do there?”

“….Get tacos?”



…so we did. And they were delicious.


Grand Canyon

On a road-trip with Wondertwin, summer of 2010 (I’m pretty sure. Could totally be wrong about that one though. ūüėõ )


On a New Year adventure with Punk Mentor, January 1st, 2017.



I feel like I could say some deep philosophical bullshit about like. I don’t know. ‘Sometimes, in order to see new things, a person must retrace their steps.’

But like. Whatever. Fuck that.

It’s the same thing. Being somewhere I want to be with people that I enjoy.

If the first day of a new year is supposed to set the tone for anything… I feel like this is pretty much the best direction I could ever ask for.

Courage and Spontenaity

Today I was kidnapped by Punk Mentor and his cousin. We went to the Grand Canyon for New Years.

Because we fucking wanted to.

I have spent a great deal of time and energy on training myself to just fucking go when I want to.

I don’t need to have a ****reason****

– or more… it’s just that¬†wanting to … that *is* a reason. That’s *enough* of a reason.


I remember when I was… probably around the age of 12? and I had this sort of… call-and-response thing with one of my best friends.

I would ask her “Why?”

and she would say “Because we want to!”

and I would say “Why?”

and she would say “Because we can!”


I have a friend – in my head, her name is Nike, the Greek goddess of Victory. I think maybe I was 20? and she was my¬†FUCKING DO IT¬† friend. She had an amazing answering machine message. It was Isaiah Mustafa – the Old Spice Guy – and he said something like “The Intelligent slash gorgeous slash sophisticated lady you have called cannot answer the phone at the moment as she is currently on the moon surviving on the air in her lungs given to her in a passionate kiss!”

I remember driving all the way out to the coast to finish a certification that I was taking, and I parked my car, and I was just… so afraid. And was just…frozen, in my seat. It was this thing that I knew I had to do, and I didn’t know if I had the courage to do it.

I knew I could always call her, and she wouldn’t even ask questions. I could just say “I need to do this thing…”

and she would say “FUCK YEAH. GO DO THE THING.”

I didn’t even have to actually reach her. I just had to make the call, and hear this fantastically . ridiculous voice mail message, and I would remember… that I had people. That there were people out there who would stand by me and tell me to JUST FUCKING DO THE THING, because they knew that I could.

(I called her. Reached her voice message. Listened to the whole thing, then got out of my car and knocked on the fucking door and got my goddamned certification.)


Nike still does this for me. My Wondertwin does. My Driftpartner, and especially my friend Tawanda. More people than I can honestly name. The people who remind me to fucking take what I want, because no one else is going to fucking do it for me.

There’s something different about it though, when you live a million miles away.

Because phone calls work, but they can’t knock on your door and say “Hey. Do you want to drive to Oklahoma with me next week?”

Punk Mentor – he moves around even more than I do, (which, to be fair, has been much easier lately, now that I’m reasonably settled in one place for a bit), and I think that transience is part of it. We’re not going to be in the same place together for long. We’re not going to be making plans for hanging out in the summer. It’s entirely possible that one or both of us won’t be living here anymore.

It makes things more immediate. It’s impossible to put something off until next week if the people involved won’t *be there*.

So instead we do it now.

We say “I want to go here.”

and then “I’m not doing anything on Thursday?”

…and then we go.

Reflections and Nostalgia

I wasn’t really intending to start this post in this way, but I logged in (after being gone from this blog for a very long time) and I realized…

The last fucking thing that I posted was George Micheal.

I guess that it’s just that things change? – or maybe. It’s not so much that *things* change as that the perspective with which we view things changes.

Or I’m just being incredibly soppy and cliched at the moment. (But with a title like ‘Reflections and Nostalgia, I feel like everyone knows what they’re getting into, at the very least.)

This year has been… Well. Certainly not always the most enjoyable, but I think, also, a very necessary step for me to move forward with my life.

This time last year, I was in New Zealand. I was working at Steampunk Art Gallery, and I was doing every single thing I’ve ever wanted to do in my life, and I don’t know if I have ever been¬†so desperately unhappy.

And this year… The holidays have come, (and I will forever and always HATE every single ANYTHING that has even the SLIGHTEST BIT OF A HINT of being about Christmas*) but… it feels like victory.

The people I have in my life now aren’t asking for things I can’t give.

I am doing better at not asking for more than people can give.

Part of being in a support network – I always imagine it as a spiderweb. It’s strongest when woven together, but every strand of it still has to be able to support itself.

I think…that’s where I’m at right now.

Balance has never particularly been a strength of mine, but I also don’t really think it was a *goal* of mine, either.

I think that it is now, and I think that – as with many things, “balance” is a nebulous, ever-changing goal. People aren’t static, what we want, who we are – it all changes, and so “balance” will change with that.

I think maybe that’s kind of beautiful.

I think that maybe I like the kinds of things – maybe “goals” is the wrong word.

Perhaps it would qualify more aptly under the heading of ‘More Guidelines¬†Than Actual¬†Rules’.

Which is good, because I have significant issues with authority and have never really been particularly good at following rules anyway.


All this is really to say:

Hi! I know it’s been a while, but I’m back, and I am so fucking happy to be here.

Happy fucking new year.

Fuck 2016.



I went to the local dollar theatre the other night, (as I’ve been doing quite often lately).


I happened to get there just in time for the latest Mission Impossible film.


Shockingly to pretty much *nobody*…the latest Mission Impossible movie is…really not particularly good in any way.

However, I am *entirely* certain that my opinion of it was not helped by the unintended audience in the particular theatre I happened to be in.


Namely, the actual crickets.


So every time there was a moment of silence to build the tension?


[crickets chirp]


It was *beautiful*.

To Allay Worry





Alright, so a confession about me:


I’m the type who likes to avoid things and procrastinate. (I feel like there are many who like to avoid things and procrastinate. I have a feeling I am probably in quite good company here, but that’s not really the point.)

I love this blog. I’ve said that many times.

This blog has been… amazingly helpful to me in tough times, and also something that I’ve been using as proof to myself that I *am*, actually capable of committing to something.

I’ve kept it going for over two years now, so I feel like that’s honestly really something.

There have been pauses and breaks, and some of that has been due to location, or lack of resources.

Some of it though, has also been because – I’m the type, who, when I get behind in things, I like to run away.

Because sometimes, it seems easier to run from a mess than to fix it. (Not that I think this blog has ever been a mess, really.)


It is, however, one of those things that becomes harder to get back to once I get behind.


Sometimes, when I lose the time or energy to keep up with posting, I feel this…looming thing.

It starts to feel bigger and scarier, and there’s this guilt attached to it, like, anything I can do I should have already done.

But I really do love this blog.

So, even when I get a bit trampled by things, I want to get back to it.

And, eventually, I’ll manage to scrounge up the courage to bite the bullet and get back on the horse – as it were.


I’m on the cusp of another adventure.

(I rather hope that… I hope that I sort of always feel that way.

Adventure is trying, and tiring, and magical and wonderful and usually at least a little bit painful. Sometimes, the best thing to do is to find a safe space out of the wind to rest for a while before settling back into the path ahead. But…if you choose to make a home forever in your place of refuge, you’ll never find out what’s over the next hill.)

Right now, I am… tired and terrified and utterly ecstatic. I feel a bit like I’ve gotten my fingers caught in the door, but also like a few bruises kept those same doors open.


I’ve never been afraid to admit that I make mistakes, but I also try to learn from them.


This past month, I feel like I have learned a lot.

I’m not always the best student, so sometimes my lessons are a bit unorthodox. I learn though, and these past weeks, I have learned a lot.


Perhaps one of the most important things that I have figured out – one of those things that is such a small detail; a tiny shift of angle, that, despite it’s inherent smallness, manages to somehow shift everything – is that… I don’t have to have the same type of life as everyone else.


This is something that I’ve probably said in many ways before, and, honestly, I will probably say in many ways again.

Because I try very hard to remember that my life is not anyone else’s, and what works for other people may not work for me, and that¬†this is perfectly okay.


A thought that has often plagued me – was, in fact, a huge part of why I started this blog – was this reason, this idea of ‘commitment’.


I travel. I take short-term positions. I am not often in one place long enough to truly *settle*, as it were.

I have finally reached a place where… I think I’m starting to be okay with that.


I’ve finally realized that… having restless feet isn’t something that needs to be fought.

It’s okay if that’s what I want to do with my life.


If the things that make me happy are taking temp positions, that’s okay. If I never truly figure out how to put roots down –¬†that is okay.


Like any life, there are benefits and disadvantages.

But that’s just it, really.

It’s like any life.


I guess that it doesn’t really matter how long I’ve been at it: I keep discovering new ways in which I am the only one living *my* life.

It doesn’t ¬†matter what most people do.

All that matters is what works for me. What I can do that keeps me happy.


Even if it’s something I’ve never seen before, or something that I’ve never quite put together.

There are so many ways in which I’ve built my life around what I thought I was supposed to do.

I think I’ll keep discovering more of these, no matter how long I’ve been working at it.

I also think that’s okay.

Life is learning.

(If it wasn’t, it wouldn’t hardly be any fun…)


My life doesn’t need to make sense to anyone but me.

(And, honestly, I get confused by weird fucking shit, so, if it doesn’t make sense to me all the time, that’s okay. (Especially ¬†because most of the time I get confused about how¬†incredibly fucking amazing my life is, and I feel like it’s really okay if I get confused by how singularly magical my life is.))


I guess this is me.


Getting back on the horse, and letting you all know that despite my occasional need to hide from things, this is one thing I will come back to.



So. Thanks for hanging in here with me. You’re all fucking wonderful.