Saturday, April 16, 2016

Life or Something Like It- 14


Keep taking two bites at a time instead of one, eh ?
Well, this one choked me a little bit.
Where do you see your life in 7 years?

I guess it made me look at my life now, and that made me wonder about what I see vs. what others see, vs. what needs to be done.

I'm in transition, again. I'm trying to change my circumstances, again. I've taken on more than I suspect a lot of people know again.

I'm learning and stumbling and falling and getting up as far as my relationship.
I'm this little baby fledgling bird in the world of writing trying to get some momentum to take off, and I've still got a foot in the nest of temp work or customer service, though right now those twigs seem to be falling right out from under my feet too. I guess this post served to worry me, help me become more determined, and totally flip me out one night.

Anyway, here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna look forward seven years and list my hopes.
Because that's all it asked, and my brain put more in it than that.

I want to be happy.
I want to be in love and developing that relationship to the best it can be, and I hope it'll be a 10 year old thing by then.
I want to have a place that's just for us where everyone feels safe and comfortable and loved.
I want to have enough, and a little extra to give, if that's possible.
I want myself and my loved ones to feel fulfilled, supported and secure.

There. I guess that wasn't so hard.
Now I pin this somewhere, and try to achieve it.

Thursday, April 14, 2016

Funny Freelancing





Alright. I owe you guys several. The most important thing though, about trying to do something for 30 days, is that if you DO NOT reach your goal one or two days, not to quit. 
So here I am. I am no to be quitting. 

The days I missed were: Two words/phrases that make you laugh and my commute. 

So.

Cat memes usually make me laugh. These two inparticular get me, though I admit the first one is mostly because of the cat's expression.

So...how about something I say wrong all the time that makes me laugh: Chicken Cacciatore. 90% of the time I say "Kitchen Cacciatore."
My brain is weird.


As to my commute? Well, right now my job description is freelance writer. As such, I have no idea where my next commute will be, but a lot of times, being that I write for Chicagoist, it's somewhere in Chicago. Being that I live about as north of Chicago as you can get before you wear cheese hats (because I love mah boyfriend), this presents me with a long commute if the story is during business hours. I compensate with plenty of good music, coffee, and podcasts.  Most of the time the story I'm going to cover is at a museum or somewhere equally intriguing, so even when it takes me a few hours to get there, which it can, because Chicago traffic is the pits...it's worth it, it's fun, and I tend to not mind so much. Then, on the way home, I pick a lunch place at random, grab a drink and some food, and head back home. On the way home, I try to write the story in my head. 

And that's my process!

So.

Day 14 to be finished tonight.

Monday, April 11, 2016

A Current Affair



Well, it's Big 11 today in this April roundup we're doing on our blogs. That's a bigun for me, and I'd been somewhat dreading it for fear of lack of words or, conversely, too many.

Today's about your (well, MY, in this case, since it's mi casa, internetically speaking) current relationship.

*coughing awkwardly*

So. Neither myself nor my lovely and currently slumbering boyfriend are much for having our relationship all over the book of faces, twitter, or anywhere else on the great WWW. I once, having been a "secret" girlfriend, wished that I would have someone who wished to say sappy things to me on my wall or tweet our every move, but what I found, when I found this relationship, is that I wanted to not be secret, but being secret and not being a highly advertised internet couple are NOT the same thing. I don't worry about being hidden, because I'm not. I don't worry about introductions, because I'm his girlfriend, and he's my boyfriend.

We're going on 3 years, and by Day 2, life threw some challenges at us that many couples don't deal with til way, way down the road. And for one of us, that's been par for the course for far too long. One of the most beautiful things I see in him, though, is his heart. It's in no way hidden, it is huge and beautiful and he pairs it with a sense of duty far beyond what one is taught in any institution in the world. He speaks his heart with his hands, and his hands are those of someone who works hard every day.

It's been a learning process, this relationship. I had to and have to learn how to trust. I have to learn how to communicate. When you're somebody's secret, or somebody's second, that stuff doesn't matter.

When you're trying to build a relationship that can withstand any storm, and can rebuild walls that fall down, you need to have a strong foundation. I can honestly say I had no idea where to start. I was used to building the bricks to keep people out, not to make room for someone else and to protect us both.

It's learning that, as my wonderful adopted dad and my aunt/godmother have said, marriage or relationships aren't 50/50. And they shouldn't be. Sometimes, they're 99/1. And you might be the 99 percent, or you might be the 1, and you have to be ok with the times you're the 1, or the relationship won't last.

As much as you think you're prepared to give someone everything you are, we're all selfish creatures.We want what we want. We get tired, we get weary, we get snappy, we create problems where there are none, we get to feeling neglected.

And, most interestingly, we become "we."
We need to mesh our goals. We need to take care of ourselves, each other, and two families.
I can't say I knew what that'd be like 2ish years ago. I knew I was in love, and I knew it was something different and special.

I knew he would come in and sit at our dinner table. I watched him bring homemade ice cream and amaryllis flowers to my grandma after she had oral surgery and couldn't eat anything that wasn't smushy. I knew he'd be there, brother in tow, when my Jeep got smashed and I was too hysterical to make clear words.  I knew, from years and years in our past as friends, that if I got the crazy idea that we should stomp puddles and walk home in the pouring rain, he'd come with me.

And he has. And he does. And every day, I still try to figure out why and how.
He loves me. I can say that with absolute certainty.
We are a match made in nerd heaven. We've got spreadsheets for shows we watch, and we celebrate holidays like "Dark Souls 3 Day" and have mini MST3K parties and board game nights.

It is hard. It's been harder than I've ever thought anything would ever be.
There's times I've wanted to run away. There's times I've gotten in my car to do it.
And I get some miles down the road, and I look at my passenger's seat, and there's a big, 6 foot something void. There's no big paw on the back of my headrest. There's no chiptunes or video game music. There's no Thrilling Adventure Hour. There's no him. And no matter what the problem was, no matter how much hurt...I know that I wish, in that moment, he was there with me.  I know that leaving isn't what I want, and that it's oddly (I say oddly because of my own insecurity, not because of him) not what he wants either.

So if he gets the flu, I have the flu. If he needs me, I will make him my priority. If he talks, I'm going to listen. Because I know he did and does the same for me, and because I know that it's the only way we're gonna make a future.

So, hell and high water be damned. Or dammed, perhaps. I'd love the latter.  Sometimes I dream of more worry-free days, less stress on our shoulders.  But if we can do this now, then we can keep doing it, and I hope we do. Forever.


Sunday, April 10, 2016

Age is Weird- Nine

Well, to go along with a day where I'm hitting my head against a wall, why don't we add that I skipped 9 on my list of bloggy things to do each day in April. 9 was to talk about ageism.

Here we go.

Pictured above is Weird Al Yankovic. Weird Al is 56. Weird Al can also kick over his head, run back and forth on a stage making upwards of 20 costume changes, make jokes, dance, and sing on key all at once. That's good, not just "for 56" but "for" anyone.

My experience is that people of all ages can do great things, and it's important that we all know that. That way, if we're 30 and we feel like we have no idea what the hell is going on with our lives, or we feel stopped along the way somewhere, or whatever, we know that some people's careers and lives are just beginning.

If our nephews, nieces or sons and daughters see a 13 year old start a business or a 16 year old graduate college, they know the sky's the limit for them, and they can aspire to big things now, instead of just wishing to be older.

I've seen the ageism on both sides- people talking about how everyone "millenial" or whatever they want to call the generations below them are lazy, overprotected special snowflakes who can't function when anyone doesn't like them or their Facebook status, and I've also seen a young office turn on their older staff, mock them for their out of date ways, and basically drive them away, though they're perfectly talented and qualified for the job, and might even have some insights and ideas that would blow their minds.

Mozart started composing at age 5
I just read about a kid who summited Kilimanjaro at age 9.
J.R.R. Tolkien published the first of his Lord of the Rings Series at 62.
Einstein got a nobel at 42.

So why can't we just throw the numbers out and start realizing that a lot more than we think is possible. Time to start trying that.

Ten for Nothin'


I think I'm just having a rough day, but I don't think "Name a fruit you dislike" gives me anything to work with today.

That said, I love pomegranates, so the picture is just....cuz I thought it was pretty.

I am not a fan of grapefruit. Too weirdly bitter. It just tastes bitter to me. I could dump three cups of sugar on it, and there's some weird bitter sensation that it leaves me with.

Not a fan.


Speaking of bitter, today has been just that. Bitter.
I really just want to go to bed and let it pass.
There's a lot on my mind but I don't really want to talk about it to anyone.
I'll sum up with an example. There's this game I'm about to be finishing called Demon's Souls. And I keep hitting my head against the same walls in the game. Like, it's the 15th run, I know there's a bad guy around the corner, I know he'll stab me to death if I don't put my shield up, but for the 15th time, I run around the corner and fail.

I know how to put my shield up.
I know he's there.
I know about the stabbing.
And yet.

At least with a game, eventual success is still success. With real life, you could have done a lot of damage that isn't gonna reverse by the 16th time when you get it right.

Throw three cups of sugar on it and I still won't like today.

catchup!!


Ok, I've been bad. Bad me, bad.
Meanwhile, let's talk books, because I'm farthest behind on the book post.

I'm gonna give you a book I loved but instead of just a cliche my favorite, one I really enjoyed that isn't my all time favorite.

It's by Aisha Tyler, and it's called self-inflicted wounds. It's autobiographical in a fun and funny way, telling stories about all the times she messed up things for herself. She does a feature with the same name at the end of her podcast, and it's always been eye-opening to me to hear all these different people tell stories of times that they really screwed things up for themselves, even when they should have known better.

It's nice because it's the great equalizer, and because everyone does screw things up for themselves at one time or another, and it's nice to hear it's universal. She tells it eloquently and hysterically, and it's a great read for a plane or trip or just...fun.

Now here's a book I dislike. It's controversial, you guys. But whatever. Here goes nothing.

I dislike the Great Gatsby. Big yawn.
I feel nothing for the characters, I just...I don't care. The story isn't compelling to me, and I...don't like it. I've read it in both high school and college, and I'm a big fan of a lot of great classics, but I just...can't find anything in my heart for that book. The only reason I blinked an eye for the movie was all the period clothing and Art Deco style, but...I dunno. It all seems surface.

On the wakeup tomorrow, i shall tackle everything that catches me up. Meow.

Friday, April 8, 2016

Day 7: We've Crashed, Captain!


Guhhhh. I missed a day! Interestingly enough, the day I missed was one in which I was out at a happy hour for Chicagoist, so I was hanging with a bunch of writers ignoring my writing duties here.
Also, this prompt doesn't...have anything for me.

It asks what tattoos you have and if they have meaning. I don't have any at all. So...no meaning!

That said, I've thought of one. I've even gotten it sketched by a friend in New Mexico who's a tattoo artist, and I think she did a lovely job incorporating all the elements I wanted in it. I don't have it yet, and though it would mean a lot to me, I don't know that I want to go into the raw detail of it here, so that's what I'll say about that.

Tattoos in general though...growing up I thought it was wrong, I guess? Many people I was surrounded by thought so. Screwing up God's temple and such. But I see tattoos as people revealing who they are on the inside on their outside, and I think the stories behind so many of them are so poignant and beautiful, and it's so bold that they want to wear it on their skin forever.

Personally, I'm interested in the things that we commit to forever. Forever is a long time, and we don't always get to choose what we carry with us. If I've got anything close to a tattoo it's my big scar from moving to NM. And I earned it, and though sometimes it's inflamed and red and angry, I've come to like it. It reminds me of something brave and crazy and unforgettable that I did. I didn't really choose to get stapled in the arm, but now that I have it, I choose to see it as more than just an injury.

One day, maybe I'll get that tattoo, and choose that story to be told everywhere I go, inked on my skin, forever.