Last week I realized my site was gone.
Sent to the graveyard of neglected blogs.
I contacted my hosting company, Bluehost, who said, “Sorry you missed a payment and your blog is gone-gone. Like, we totally put it on a row boat, set it on fire, and pushed it out to sea.”
Upon hearing that my blog was dead, a calmness washed over me.
I wasn’t angry or sad–I was mostly stunned.
I’ve had this blog for at least 12 years (I’m too lazy to see when I started it) and losing it felt like a little piece of me drifting into the ether. It is the digital record of my early days as a single, emotionally loud twenty-something assistant living in Los Angeles who moved to Austin to become a writer. It chronicles my slow evolution from working three part-time jobs seven days a week to becoming a working professional to meeting my partner (who I’ve now been with for 8 1/2 years) to writing a movie with him to becoming a full-time writer. The blog is also my repository of pop culture ramblings, (more…)
It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written here, and I’m currently sitting on the couch, bloated after eating an entire pizza, and thinking, “Maybe I should check in, see how everyone is doing and let them know I’m bloated on pizza.”
How are you?
Me? I’m bloated.
But other than that I’m ok.
I mean, my grandmother died this year.
Any of you who have hung in here with me know I thought the world of that ol’ broad.
A good cry sneaks in every day, particularly when I see a Golden Girls-branded anything (Grandma was my Dorothy) or smell garlic. Shit, pretty much EVERYTHING makes me think of her.
Mothballs (the sweaters in her armoire).
Crumpled tissues (she used to stuff them in her sleeves and drop them everywhere).
Shoulder pads (the woman LOVED them).
My beautiful grandmother.
Grief is a very, very strange thing. Sometimes you can joke about (more…)
I love my cat in the way that most childless 30-something women do: whole-heartedly, unconditionally and a little creepily.
When I look at my cat, FatFace, a former feral with three teeth and mouth herpes, my heart bursts with pure joy. There are no cats cuter than my cat, I whisper to myself. Every pose she makes is pukingly cute and therefore must be photographed and shared online. In attempt not to overload my friends who look at me with great sadness in their eyes, I decided to create an Instagram account for FatFace from FatFace.
But her account was also born out of the bloody aftermath of the 2016 election. Tired of participating in and watching poop slinging from both the left and right and everyone in between, I decided that losing myself in the blissfully ignorant personality of my apolitical cat was a better place to be than the hell we humans had created for ourselves. The more I masqueraded as my cat and the less I added to social media (more…)
First, let me get this out of the way: I’m not a financial advisor. I’m just a gal who started investing in cryptocurrency and has learned a thing or two.
In early 2017, when cryptocurrency began taking off, I decided to take the plunge. I got in when the values were already somewhat high but before they got redonkulously high.
Because of my investment early on, I’ve made a nice profit in six months that I’m really proud of.
Why am I proud?
Because I am not a money person.
It was only a couple years ago that I was able to start saving for my retirement. However, I don’t know squat about stocks and I have no large assets besides two X-files Barbie dolls and more pillows than any human could possibly need.
When I decided to start investing in cryptocurrency I told myself three things: 1.) Don’t invest more than you can afford to lose 2.) Understand that the bubble could burst tomorrow 3.) Don’t get all weird and sell your two X-files Barbie dolls and blankets to (more…)
Inspired by Kelly Oxford’s tweet, I asked my friends and family to share their stories of assault. I was not prepared for the answers I received.
In order to protect the identity of those who were brave enough to share their stories on my Facebook status, I will not share their comments, but I will tell you that within a few hours of asking my peers if they’ve experienced sexual harassment or assault, 50 women responded.
These 50 women wrote of being raped by loved ones, people they trusted.
They wrote of being groped by medical professionals or bosses.
They wrote of having their breasts grabbed or their vaginas or buttholes fingered by friends at school or strangers at a bar.
They wrote of being harassed “too many times to count.”
A few women shared their stories for the first time.
Some shared their stories with me privately.
The stories came from women ages 20 to 70, and they were all difficult to read. However, their responses reconfirmed several truths including (more…)
You’ve seen many status updates from female friends you love and respect saying that when Hillary became the 2016 Democratic presidential nominee, they wept with joy. They couldn’t wait to tell their daughters, share it with their mothers, scream it from the mountaintops, talk about it for years to come.
You’ve seen all your favorite feminists and feminist publications reveling in this historic moment, sharing memes, writing beautifully crafted opinion pieces and also weeping for joy.
But you didn’t weep.
You didn’t even get excited.
You mostly felt conflicted.
And maybe you thought, “Wow. I must be the shiiiiitiest woman on the planet. We ladies have to stick together no matter what, right? I mean, two of my idols, Gloria Steinem and Madeleine Albright, told me I’m easily persuaded by men and I’m going to hell for not supporting Hillary Clinton.Something is wrong with me!”
This past week I grappled with this thought.
And as a progressive who will vote for Hillary in the general (more…)
You know how you have those days when you’re sitting in traffic, or you’re waiting in a long line at the grocery store, and you look out at the world around you and say to yourself “Wow. I fucking hate everybody”?
Additional thoughts float into your head such as:
“Look at the asshole in the gas-guzzling truck with his asshole chin. I bet his farts smell like a dead raccoon in a compost toilet. And he probably watches Power Rangers porn.”
“That lady who just cut in front of me in line has resting bitch face. As a feminist, I shouldn’t be using the word “bitch” in regards to a woman, and I’m not even exactly sure what “resting bitch face” means, but I think she has it. And I hate her for it.”
“Why is that child staring at me while screaming and picking its nose? He’s a demon.”
I had one of these days today. I dislike these kind of days because I try to be a good person, I try to (more…)
A recent work photo, where I was asked to bring something I love and I brought my NPR tumbler
Tonight my roommate and I went down a Gawker rabbit hole, which led to an Emily Gould mouse hole, which led to a “Why don’t I write super personal blog posts anymore?” ant hole.
Refreshing myself with Emily Gould reminded me of the late-aughts heyday of personal blogging, when I and many of my peers spilled our guts through our tiny real estate on the web. But as the years went on, many of us went on to careers that took priority over our blogs due to financial reasons. We also grew out of our twenties, having accumulated spouses and children on our exit, and not finding the time, energy or the inspiration to write about the nitty-gritty of our dramatically different personal lives.
But today…today I decided to write an good, ol’-fashioned Dear Diary post.
And it was way more difficult than I thought it would be.
You see, I’m seven years older than the 25-year-old (more…)
I’ve never gotten political on my blog, but today I am.
This will most likely be the one and only time I post about a specific politician, unless this politician ends up winning the presidency. Then I might write a second post where I write IN CAPS AND EXCLAMATION POINTS AND HEARTS.
However, I’m feeling the Bern, as I believe Bernie Sanders is one of the most honest, hard-working and intelligent presidential candidates America’s had in a long time, and I want to share only just a few reasons as to why I’m voting for him.
3.) When asked about Islamphobia in America by a young Muslim woman, Bernie asked her to come down to the stage, hugged her and responded with “I will do everything I can to rid this country of the ugly stain of racism that has existed here for far too many years.”