Monthly Archives: March 2012

New Zealand Memories (8 years later)

Attn. nerds: this is the river in LoTR where Arwen saves Frodo from the Ringwraiths!!! (with Jen & me trying to look cool in front of it)

Eight years ago on March 24, I was in New Zealand with my friends Jen & Rob on what I like to call “my divorce settlement trip.” Divorce settlement meaning that I took the money I got from selling the my ex’s Mustang and motor home (which he left on my dad’s property, and I’m fully convinced he only gave  them to me–via the divorce agreement–because he didn’t want to face my dad in order to get them back) and used it to buy plane tickets. J&R generously financed my hotel rooms, which I will never be able to thank them for ENOUGH, because it was one of the raddest things I’ve ever done.

Anyway! We started in Queenstown, with a side-trip to Dunedin, and then we moved to Auckland for the last few days. Queenstown is INSANELY BEAUTIFUL. Surrounded by clear, gorgeous bright blue water, with a ring of mountains so close you can pretty much touch them, and a cute brick-laid main street with lots of eating, drinking, and shopping options. Dunedin was a 6-hour drive away, and had more of a big city feel (as big a city as you can pack onto an island, anyway). And Auckland reminded me so much of Seattle, it was eerie. But I digress.

Here I present to you my favorite moments from that trip–the things that I think about a lot. And miss. And want to relive.  Continue reading


Doubt and Stress don’t make for Productivity

Let's all make the Kermit face at doubt.

Oh look! It’s time for one of those posts where I explain that I know I have a personal blog that I said I was going to update frequently, but haven’t for over two weeks. And uh, well. I could make a ton of excuses, but the biggest one is that I’ve been doubting myself lately. Doubting my ability to write something good, doubting my ability to do what I know I can do, and do it well, and doubting the fact that I’m good enough in pretty much all areas of my life right now.

Basically, I’ll sit down to start writing about something, and then I’ll get about 2 paragraphs in, think it sucks, and shelf it. This has probably happened about 20 times in the last few weeks, which means I have 20 unfinished pieces of writing sitting on my desktop, waiting for the inspiration to finish them.

I know a lot of that is stress: wondering if I can somehow magically stretch the money I’m making to cover all bills, freaking out about not saying the right thing in cover letters, worrying that it might take a long time to find a FT job, getting frustrated about the fact that I don’t feel 100% better, and some days the uncomfortable-ness and twinges from surgery drive me ABSOLUTELY crazy.

And honestly, although I love my city, Seattle’s weather isn’t exactly helping right now.

But! I am starting to feel the twinges of that inspiration again — and slowly starting to believe in myself. You know how it is, sometimes, you just need a little nudge. In the meantime, I wanted to give all y’all who have been reading and commenting a heads up so you know I don’t intend to leave this blog just sitting here, vacant, after a pretty aggressive start.

Thank you for reading and commenting. And thank you for the sweet notes of encouragement I’ve received. It’s really awesome, you guys, and I promise (again) not to quit.

Tantrum-throwing 30-somethings = not cute

Even my drink is frowning at "that guy."

So here’s how I found myself at a bar with a full-grown man stomping up and down like a child, while screaming that I had made the biggest mistake of my life.

It was a week night, and one in which I was engaged in a traveling happy hour—as in, a few friends and I started at one bar and drank our way through a few before ending up at 611.

Anyway, whilst at the second bar, we ran into a few other traveling happy hourers, a couple of perfectly nice and normal ladies with a guy who also seemed just fine. Two drinks in he starts chatting me up…and at first, it’s just your usual bar chatter. “Where you from? What do you like to do?” etc. Then he asks if I want to step outside for a cigarette. I politely decline, and the crazy starts in.

 “Why? What’s wrong with you?”

“Uh. I don’t smoke. I’m actually allergic to smoke, so I prefer to stay as far away from it as possible.”

“I don’t really believe that. No one’s allergic to smoke! Why don’t you want to go with me? Don’t you know we’re meant to be together?”

“….that’s…funny? Wait, what?” Continue reading

Reasons why my dad is awesome: The Freddy Story

My Dad in 1983. Yes, this is an actual Polaroid, not a iPhone app.

Sometime when I was around 8 or 9, the flashy new cable channel my dad had ordered kept playing previews for Brian De Palma’s Dressed to Kill. I was fascinated by the scene in the elevator with the flash of a straight razor. I BEGGED my parents to let me watch it. “Let me watch it! Please please please ohpleasepleasepleaseplease pleasesssseeeeeeee”. They both told me I’d get nightmares and I was too old to sleep with them when I got scared, NO WAY. But I did not relent! Finally, they gave in.

Guess what? I had nightmares and ended up in my parent’s bed around 3am.“WE TOLD YOU SO! No more scary movies until you’re….13”.

Unfortunately for me, before I turned 13 – Friday the 13th Part 3 became a hot topic amongst my 6th grade friends,  to the point where we were passing around the book adaptation on the bus, taking turns staring at the gruesome film stills in the middle and reading the grossest murder descriptions. Yes, middle school kids are sick. I know this. Continue reading

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