Tuesday, November 8, 2016

OOOF

I haven't posted in forever, but I will write again some day. Promise? Anyway, I just wanted to post something about how this election feels as heavy as the Obama-McCain election of 2008....where I was nervous and hanging on by our every breath where I fear for the future of the elected. Namely that (Madame) President Clinton (holy shit there's going to be two of them now) will have something awful happen to her. It's the same way I felt when Obama was elected. Like I was so happy and that I was praying no one would harm a hair on his head.

So, in a few short hours, there could be the first female president. I never thought America would see a black man as president, or a woman, and I'm so eager and excited and scared...I'm basically her:



So here's to waking up tomorrow and plugging onward and upward!

Thursday, August 11, 2016

Telling Dreams

I had a VERY telling dream last night. I went to some island. I was escaping the zombie apocalypse...AGAIN...and somehow there was this part of the island that had a great coffee shop where I had to go to training.  (IRL, I was supposed to wake up for a 7AM online webinar, but kept hitting snooze, so this part is dreams imitating life imitating dreams.) It was a two-story coffee house with soft yellow walls, pane glass windows--like this:


It was bright and sunlight shone through the windows into the rich wood and buttercream walled space. There was a training room in the back of the basement or second floor. I couldn't tell--it kept flipping floors.

So I kept drinking coffee after coffee but kept falling asleep on the couch where a group of my colleagues were gathering. I was ordering drip coffee and switched to lattes and then I got full.

I went to the basement to use the bathroom (?) and there were 3 separate bathrooms and none of the doors were locked, so I kept walking in on people sitting on the toilet and being embarrassed. So, I waited until someone came out, and I went into one. A woman walked in bc the lock on the plastic accordion door didn't work. I remember thinking how the door didn't match the style of the space.

I met some woman in the bathroom and then went outside (?) where I saw a man running away with what I thought was my TJ's bag with my wallet in it. My colleagues and I chased him down, and he kept coughing. They were mad at him and wanted me to call the cops on him, but I didn't. I wanted to talk to him. I tried to bargain with him to make up the fact he stole my bag (which wasn't actually my bag after all.) He was very sick. I made him go back to the coffee shop where I could investigate the bag. He was an attractive young 20s man, but was very sick. I told him that he had to stop acting like he was or his cirrhosis was going to get worse. I made it my mission to convince him to get better.

My friends left me to talk with him in the basement gathering area of the two story house-style coffee shop. I spent time talking with him and his friends. He didn't seem interested in helping himself, but after many hours of chatting and listening, he agreed to stop stealing and acting up and to take care of himself.

Then looked over at the other couch where my ex Jeremy from my freshman year of college was. I was taken aback and overcome with happiness that he stumbled into the coffee shop, and I went and sat on his lap and hugged him. I said how worried I was that I couldn't find anything about him online and how happy I was that he was doing well. I wanted to care for him and just kept hugging him and was happy that he was okay.

Someone mentioned that the carpet in the basement felt like there was a hole underneath. We tore up a piece of the carpet and realized that there was a false floating floor and that the true floor was far below and, if opened up, could give another 5 feet of headroom in the basement. The owners said that they were selling the place because they couldn't afford to keep it open anymore. There was a leak and cracks in the foundation, and they had to rent out the back rooms for trainings to make money since the cost of WIFI and coffees weren't covering the costs for everything.

I thought about what I would do if I bought the coffee house. Just then, the back room opened up, and the training was over. My colleagues came out and said they were worried about me. They said I missed the training. I tried to start copying the words on the wall post-its but it was obvious I missed everything. Then my boss/CEO said I'd have to pay back the money to the agency I worked for for wasting their $, that I'd have to take PTO and then sign up for the training again and pay with my own money. I said fine and how much. They said, "$250. Times two." I gulped and said that was fine.

Then I thought more about buying the coffee shop and starting my own business as such. Just then, Jeremy got up and had to leave for the night. We went outside and said goodbye. He was studying at the local college. I rode the light rail down a road that curved and showed me the most beautiful Hogwarts-style college that had its doors shuttered due to the zombie apocalypse and that the schools were all closing their doors.

And then I woke up drenched in night sweats.

So...from this:
I am not connected to my job. I am wasting their time and money and my own.
I want to help broken men who don't want to help themselves.
I can't get over the past and I find myself still deeply emotionally connected to men from my past. No matter where they are now.
I want to branch out on my own.
I see beauty where others see broken-ness.
My education is beautiful but empty.

Monday, May 23, 2016

Let's Get Cultured in Seattle!!!

I've been collecting stuff for my friends and I to do when they visit. Here's that list. It's awfully centered on where I live (walking distance) and excludes Ballard and Georgetown (my fav parts of town) bc people may not have cars when they visit. 

Italics = I've already been there but would gladly go again!

Toward Madison Park:
Two Doors Down:Burgers and beer

Essential Baking Co or Belle Epicurean: coffee and danish
Essential Baking Co
Bell Epicurean

Queen Bee: Literally across the street from me

Cafe Flora: brunch

Japanese Garden

Madison Park: 

Cactus: tacqueria next to Lake Washington

The Harvest Vine: Fancy dinner

Toward Madrona/Leschi: 
Hi Spot: Brunch 

Bottle House: wine and cheese and tapas

Red Cow: steaks and frites

Toward Central District:
The Neighbor Lady and Uncle Ikes: beers and buds

Fat's Chicken and Waffles: shrimp and grits, fried chicken

Cafe Selam: hole in the wall/excellent Ethiopian food

Cafe Victrola

Between Cap Hill and CD:

Oola Distillery:

Bar Sue (dive bar):

Elysian Brewery (best beer in town?):

Skillet: Brunch

Cafe Pettirosso: Pretty Italian (?) Coffee

Two Big Blondes: plus size consignment shop--I got some great work pieces here!

Toward Cap Hill:
Oddfellows (brunch):

Bait Shop (drinks or fish and chips):


Rachel's Ginger Beer (local and tasty mixed drinks with RGB):

Starbucks Roastery (the fanciest Starbucks ever):

Montana: (hard liquor mixed drinks on tap)

Cap Hill Shopping:

Below is a little far for walking:
Toward Fremont:
Fremont Brewing:

Up north:
Green Lake (walk/run around)

El Chupacabra (Tacos near there):

Cuban Food near there:


And here's stuff by topic without caring about how close it is:
Parks/Beaches:

Music Venues:


Cultural Shit:
Seattle Art Museum (downtown):
Seattle Public Library (downtown):
Seattle Asian Art Museum:
Theo's Chocolate Tour:
Best Coffee in Town: 

Sunday, May 8, 2016

The Fight out of the Flory

Well, Seattle may have officially made me soft. It's been happening since a string of bad decisions in my 20s led me to black eyes and patchy hair from a fight at the Vogue with Alicia, the candlestick dented the wall behind my boyfriend's head when he wouldn't help me with my taxes (!!!), and I chased a colleague up the stairs to fight about periods at the end of references for linking in FDA submissions. Since then, I've decided to swallow my pride and bite my tongue in disagreements at the office...because I'm a professional? Because confrontation and bullying is just a ridiculous amount of energy to exert that I seem to lack more and more each year. But TODAY officially marks the day I've taken an official sigh and realized the fight in me may be gone.

After my colleague repeatedly berates me and my coworkers at the office and I bite my tongue.

After a meeting where I know the answer to a question and sit silent because I know no one wants to hear from me and I should "know my role" and even if I DO answer a certain way, it won't be well received because it didn't come from someone at a higher pay grade.

And finally, today, after I'm parked and texting on my phone before heading out for my run, and a chick in a Fiat hits ME while attempting to park, and I DO NOTHING IN RESPONSE TO HER CUNTY COMMENTS.


Pre-Feisty Flory


Peak Feisty Flory

 Post-Feisty Flory



Maybe it is age. Maybe it is maturity. Maybe it is reserving my emotions and energy for other places. But this is where I am. Is it beaten down? Not quite. Is it apathetic? Not quite. Is it exhaustion? A little.

Let me describe the scene: 
I'm sitting, parked, in my car before my group running on Wednesday night. I'm typing the group text about something inconsequential when *FABUMP* I'm pushed forward into my wheel. I look up into the rearview to see a blond girl (20s) cover her mouth as her Fiat hits my car. She looks apologetic in that brief second. I give her a look of "Really?" and get out.

She steps out of her car also, "Do you have whiplash?" she says in a snotty tone, sauntering forward and PAST me as I look at my bumper.

"It's... fine," I say.

"I knew it would be," she says as she continues onto the sidewalk without stopping to acknowledge me or apologizing.




I look at her flowing cape bellowing in the wind, her platform black booties stomping on the sidewalk, her spunky bleached and grayed blonde hair, and I'm too SHOCKED to say anything.

Now, I don't know if it was the fact I was been having a fairly craptastic day up to that point and was celebrating rock star parking, or just was in sheer SHOCK, but I really wanted to kick this girl's ass....but couldn't. This scene flashed into my mind: 


Also, in the back of my head I wondered about what I'd say... "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE CUNT?" as I snatched her hair from behind and ripped her back to where I was nose-to-chest with her, pressing her back up into a wall.

I thought about my "fluffy" frame standing up to this twig who stood over me by at least half a foot (mostly bc shoes). I clearly outweighed her by at least 60 lbs. And I thought about backing her up to her car, an ensuing fight where her friend stood in awe and then pulled me off of her as a slackjawed PNW crowd gathered, not used to seeing any sort of REAL confrontation. And then the cops would come, and I'd be sitting on top of her, pinning her shoulders to the ground and threatening to break her nose if her friend stepped any closer.

Of course, I immediately also thought about me sitting in my CEO's office with double black eyes and a broken hand (which happens to be necessary for typing as a writer), having to explain how I managed to knock out a major donor's bratty kid and how that behavior is unbecoming of a fundraiser and not representative of our company's ability to problem solve and then getting fired.

And so I stood there, MY JAW AGAPE and watched her saunter away.




I took a pic of her car. THE UGLY BROWN FIAT that it is. I thought about calling the cops just to come and tell her not to be a snot, but they would likely yell at me for wasting their time on a snot-nosed bitch when they had real issues to deal with.

I thought about driving home, removing all my ID, and coming back and keying the fuck out of her car.

I thought about all the TERRIBLE things I could do to her...while watching the back of her head walk into a store that sells $200 t-shirts. And so I turned, and went to running with the group of women 40-and-better that I run with and relayed the story to them. They were in awe that I said nothing also, likely having confronted younger snotty girls at some point in their lives, but mostly having children of their own, so they knew how to snap back more quickly. 

Told them of the bravery I WOULD have had back in the day. Told them, "I would have said to her, 'DON'T FUCK WITH ME, I'M FROM CHICAGO.'" (Knowing that I'm actually from a small town in Indiana but lived in Chi for 10 years and somehow that gives me a little bit of truth and street cred but not really.) Oh, bravery in hindsight.....

And I wondered if I had finally lost that last spark of Giving Fucks. 

Has the fire been zapped from The Flory? No longer fiesty, what characteristics do I possess to make me an individual? Who am I, who have I become, and who will I be in another 20 years? Am I already one who can be pushed around? 

This all came to fruition a few days later, when Nurse Nick asked to call me. In my mind one good, one bad, and one neutral thing: he is interviewing in SEattle, he or someone we love has an incurable disease, or my ex got engaged. 

"Are you sitting down?" And I knew immediately. 

I got news that the ex is engaged. My response, "Oh. Okay. Good for him. I hope he's happy."




No anger, no tears, no sadness, no animosity because I'd cried my last tears for him months ago when I confirmed he was, in fact, with the girl he swore he wasn't leaving me for....the same girl he's engaged to today. The same girl that I told my friends (immediately after he and I broke up in October 2014) that he would be engaged to in a year and a half, 2 years max, and they denied it. And, once again, I was right.

It's as if I haven't been the girl before the engagement 7 times now. Sheesh. I am getting good at this, guys. And it's completely okay. I don't regret that relationship, nothing about it, and certainly at this point not about being broken up and him being engaged to someone else. 

The only thing I wish would have gone differently is that he would have told me the truth that he was leaving me for her, like I knew and accused him of, and he denied to my face. Because for a YEAR I blamed myself of being selfish about wanting a baby---his reason why we should break up. I believed I was a terrible person for pushing away "the love of my life" for wanting a child. And I believed that-- partially and partially knew he was likely leaving me for her--his employee who constantly texted him outside of work hours while he lived with his live-in girlfriend of multiple years (off and on). The girl who started at his job who "was kind of a free spirit," he said with THAT smile on his face. 

I saw that smile on many of my exes faces. I know THAT smile. I know it, and yet don't believe it every time I see it. I see it, and if I accuse them of liking the girl (as I have in the past), then I look crazy and that I "must have been snooping" (or other accusations I've faced). Not that I broke in that half second---felt the gravity of a black hole in my chest, because I see that they see what is missing in our relationship in someone else. 

No one wants to believe that they are less wanted than some fresh, new toy who knows nothing of the mommy issues, money woes, fights, joblessness, supporting someone while they "find themselves," alcoholism, addiction to drugs, or any handful of other issues that I've gladly embraced for hopes of being there on the other side of those struggles. 

I am an outspoken person. I know exes won't believe it, but OH THE WARS WE HAVE AVOIDED because I have learned not to stoke certain fires at opportune moments. The way I have chosen my battles and bitten my tongue when I KNOW we disagree about music, climate change, feminist issues, and the millions of times I just DON'T GIVE A FUCK about whatever they think they are so right about and I feel exactly opposite and that I feel so right about my way. And now....THAT smile. And in that moment, as a woman I was broken--foreseeing the way the future would and did unfold. The way I grabbed so tightly at the end, trying to move a glacier in any direction but down.

And each break up and recovery is a chance for me to redefine myself. To remind myself who I am. What is at the core of who I am and what makes me fucking rad. And I am happy. I am so much happier alone, living in Seattle, living my life with friends, hiking, cooking, going out, and struggling to rub two nickels together, than feeling alone in a relationship with someone who wasn't the right fit. Alone with a person who doesn't celebrate me. 

Companionship would be nice--don't get me wrong. Dating is the pits in your late 30s. I used to blame my ex for taking the "last good years" of my life--thinking I can't have kids and buying the thought that I am an undesirable troll and I might as well start searching the classifieds for apartments under bridges. 

But I go out. I get sexy. I wear heels, and make up, and shave my legs for ME. To remind MYSELF that I am sexy and desireable. Yeah, it's nice to get checked out, but at this point in my life, I'm happy with who I am, where I'm at, and the person I've become. I'm not just complacent, but I'm actually pretty fucking good, man.




So in the moments when I'm on a date and see my partner's so-called-imperfection present itself to me in the form of an opening for a disagreement, I think of all the times the men I've dated have sat in silent disagreement until they get fed up and leave. How many THOUSANDS of times they have been silent and listened to me ramble, disagreed on the inside, and just watched as I chattered and prattled away. And then, time after time after time, rather than fight, they eventually see a bright, shiny something---they turn their attention elsewhere until they see exactly the thing I'm not. Someone easy-going. Someone who isn't hyper-analytical and PUSHING and challenging them to be someone they're not. I say it's about "growing" and they feel it's about "forcing" them to change. So they find someone who doesn't make them go to therapy, confront themselves and their issues, someone who says "come as you are and it's good enough" and they walk from me to them, exhale at the release of pressure, and slide a ring on that girl's finger. And I don't blame them. At all.

Maybe this less fiery Flory is for the better. It doesn't nag. It doesn't say, "What you need is...." It doesn't assume. It asks for opinions and options if that person even wants to hear my options. It says NO when it wants to. In that moment on a date, it gives me a moment of pause to decide if I am the fiery 20-something or the more experienced 30-something. Neither bad in and of themselves, but only if taken purely on their own. There are other parts of me that are far more balanced now. Where spite doesn't hunger for a fight just beneath the surface. Where I can hear a derogatory word and wince rather than get in someone's face and then talk about it later when someone's more likely to hear my point of why we shouldn't use "bitch" on a first date. Where I can be silent and let someone teach me instead of always running my mouth. 

It's about balance. Wisdom is supposedly when your heart, mind, and gut are in alignment. And I'm slowly working closer to what that looks like for me. I'm exercising self-love, self-forgiveness, and self-grace. I'm trying not to go with the first thought or emotion (the instinctive one you learned growing up) and to go with the second one (the one I've learned, the one I have become). 

At this point in my life, I feel like deep sighs are 70% of the "first" emotion I convey. At this point, I just need to decide if I follow those with a silent smile while shaking my head or launching into a diatribe. And it's just not really worth the energy most of the time. So maybe taking a second to think things through is good.

Maybe it is age. Maybe it is maturity. Maybe it is reserving my emotions and energy for other places. But this is where I am. Is it beaten down? Not quite. Is it apathetic? Not quite. Is it exhaustion? A little. 

Sunday, March 20, 2016

Overwhelmed

A homeless kid outside my apartment asked me for change, and I said I didn't have any for him. I asked how old he is, and he said 26, but he looked much younger so I was shocked. I recommended a center for young adults but mentioned he might be too old for them, and he said he knows them and that they give him coffee and let him shower but that's it. And because he's a (seemingly) able-bodied, single, adult male, that's all I can do. Because most shelters don't take them.

I felt so helpless. And so I kept walking and got into my car and drove past all these million dollar homes and started crying. Because it makes me so mad. That people who hate homeless people camping or living near them don't understand how good they have it. That the simple answer to "I hate homeless people" is to get people off the streets and into apartments (not tent cities!). I mean, it boggles the mind how simple things COULD be and how DIFFICULT we make it. Don't like the people experiencing homeless to camp outside your house/work/streets? THEN HELP FIX IT.

And how if all these millionaires each gave a meager amount of their wealth--to building and running shelters and apartments for low-income and affordable housing, that the problem would easily be solved. I've been fighting crying for an hour now. I rarely believe in deserved-ness but somehow none of this seems fair. I have $100k in debt, so on paper, I'm worse off than many people living on the streets who don't have debt like that but who likely have other immense barriers--terrible credit, criminal histories, eviction histories, untreated mental health problems, overwhelming healthcare bills, foreclosures, legal financial obligations, disabilities, etc. But I've got a couple degrees, I'm white, and I'm employed, so banks put their faith in me and vouched that I'm good for a loan that is double my salary.

I have learned about the benefit of insurance (health, life, car, dental, medical) as well as building and sustaining networks of support--friends, family, colleagues, references--and I've built protective factors and coping skills from the many afterschool programs and clubs and 20+ years of therapy I've been in and paid for with my disposable income. But this is because that is what my family valued and learned was helpful and more importantly, WHAT WE COULD AFFORD. So I got the help I needed when I needed it.

I was born into a middle class family because my grandparents made sure my parents went to school and got educations, my father getting a degree. My parents were born into lower middle class, my mother in near poverty. And I've watched my siblings and I break the intergenerational cycle of poverty by using every opportunity we were afforded in our lives--namely a great education and parents who prioritized our continuing education.

I just don't understand how so much disparity can exist. Whoever thinks they deserve to make hundreds of dollars an hour for his/her business knowledge....who deserves to hoard money in their bank so it can make interest so they can have MORE money in the bank just SITTING THERE when there are people starving and living on the street....I just don't think these people have ever met or spent any time with people fighting for just $10/HR. It's ridiculous and makes me so angry I want to cry.

I'm not pissed that people are wealthy. I'm just pissed that this isn't an even bell curve. There's more poverty than there is extreme wealth. I'm rarely overcome with emotion--I'm a very logical, pragmatic beast, driven by facts and information and not emotional pleas. But every now and then it's good to tap into your humanity and emotions. Walking home the other day, I just saw each house that represented no less than $800K. Each mansion that easily represented at least $2MM. And there's hundreds of them here in Seattle. Maybe even thousands!

Each of those people got help to get where they are. And it just doesn't feel like there should be so many people who are homeless without food to eat when there are so few people living in the thousands of 5-10,000-square foot homes here in this city.

I'm not a socialist. I'm a democratic socialist. I think no one should starve or live on the streets when we have such a resource rich country.

Friday, January 29, 2016

Seattle's One Night Count

Tonight I'm taking part in Seattle's One Night Count of individuals and families who are homeless. For 3 hours tonight/early tomorrow, we will walk the streets and highways, underpasses, cars, tents, villages, alleys, and doorways to canvas the city and count the people living in places not recommended for human inhabitation. I'll be up til 6am, but I couldn't sleep in anticipation of tonight. Nerves wrought with a heavy heart weighted by what I'll see during tonight's activities.

To respect the privacy of residents, we are to post no information about the event until tallies are published. Last year, the count of areas included in the previous years count jumped 14%. Inclusion of two new areas increased the population count an additional 7% to show at least 10,000 individuals, including children and babies, are without permanent shelter each night.

For more information, please visit:http://www.homelessinfo.org/what_we_do/one_night_count/

Saturday, January 9, 2016

Long Time, No Write!

Well, it's been a while since I last wrote. I have been working with this concept of trying to find balance and focus by deciding what I can put on my "burners." I'm working on deciding what is a "front burner" and what is a "back burner" issue for me. 

So when you see my IG and FB life, it looks way better than reality. Hopefully people have learned that already, but if not, here's the true-true (as my friend Jon would say).

So here's so updated status on what I have on my "burners:"

Front burner #1: My Jobby Job
Work is still shitty and hard and chaotic, but I'm doing that whole "blinders" thing where I try to focus on my locus of influence and control and accept that I am in control and in charge of very little and can only posit topics to those with the power to make changes and that it's not my responsibility to fix everything. I am busting my ass to get that paper tho. I need to decide some structured ways to do so, and I need to have a lot of "come to Jesus talks" across the agency. I am not responsible for turning the tides, but I can at least be informative so others have the option about their role in turning the tides. Coded language=morale is fucked and the agency is nonprofit clusterfuckery at its finest. I don't think there's too much that isn't SNAFU'd for the industry, but I'd like us to be further advanced in our data mapping, centralization, and robust reporting. BC right now it doesn't exist and it makes it really hard for me to do my job.

Me. At the office. Every. Friday. Night.


I will say I'm trying to do better professionally through reading, attending professional development (I even presented at a conference!!!), and listening better. I'm trying to do the "step up and step back" thing but it's hard. I'm doing better at managing than I thought I would. I just need to learn to be more centered and less visibly anxious and angry. I hate being "fake" and so I struggle with wanting to be transparent, but also not perpetuating an unhealthy work environment.

I want to make an impact at my job, in my community, and grow into a leadership role by the time I'm 40. It's doable. I just have to stay focused.

Front Burner #2: Social Life and Frenz:\
Good god I don't know where I'd be without the friends I have. Both near and far, they keep me sane. From the east coast Tyler and Ashley and Anthony, from the midwest, Jamie, Kellie, Ali, Jessica, Kelli, Zac and Danny, Laurel, from the west coast, Nick and Sarah and all the new people in my life. I'm eternally grateful for everyone's friendship. Between that, therapy, and eating my feelings (a step up from drinking them), I'm surviving. (See below: health.)


If you don't know who they are, we probably can't be frenz.


I have made some awesome friends out here--Dave and Miles have been fantastic buddies who get me out and introduce me to the world; Ryan and I get to feed each other and have formed a good friendship based on a mutual love of toys and cooking, and I've got some amazing feminist, brilliant girlfriends at work, I made friends with Miles's friend Erin who's getting me to explore the parts of me that I'm nervous to explore but also excited to, and I even reached out to an old-new-again friend Tova from Valpo out here. My friends in surrounding Seattle--Cynthia and Brig's friend Angie--and I will need to plan our get-togethers in advance since Cynthia moved up north to Bellingham and Angie lives north in Lake Stevens. I still have to meet up with Nate and Jessica down south, but I haven't pushed it since they have a brand new baby and I have a lingering cold. I'm grateful for Cynthia continuing to pull me back into the poetry scene. Even if I'm always broke and apprehensive to attend. I think it'll be good for me to go and reconnect with that part of me.

I'm constantly meeting up with people, and I'm always open to meeting new people and disproving the theory behind the "Seattle freeze." 

Back Burner #3: Health 
Forewarning, expect this section to be TMI. Because that is how I roll.
Well, burners #2 and #3 may swap soon. I'm overweight and listless. I make excuses, but my lack of exercise is starting to affect even daily living. My core is weak, I'm having muscle spasms, and my restless legs is back. I've been having joint pain and weakness in my hands for a few months, so I went to the doctor. I'm going to hold out until I have another bad flare-up, and then I'll get a referral to an rheumatologist. My depression has kicked up a bit, so I'm going back on old meds and continuing my anti-depressant, and I'm likely going to a new psychiatrist soon. I'm still in therapy but I feel a bit plateaued. Like, "Well, this is it. This is your life. Decide where to put your energy because your happiness is likely to increase or decrease too much more than this." 

For a while I was also going to pelvic floor therapy (after 4 gynecologists said I should go and one actually diagnosed me with vaginismus---google it! have a laugh!), but I just can't juggle the weekly appointments. The side effects of my "condition" are a non-issue right now since I'm single. Though a stronger core may help alleviate some of the problems. In completely unrelated notes, I got new glasses and prescription sunglasses and I need to make appointments for the dentist!

Anyway, I am thinking of setting a few goals for myself this year. I'm not sure which ones yet, but these three are on the list of potentials:
1. Complete a RAGNAR relay in July from Canada to Seattle.
2. Run a half-marathon later in the year. I've been looking at the Yosemite Half in October in Cali, but it's at 5500 feet up, so I need to be able to complete 13 miles at sea level by July to start training for high altitude racing. Considering I haven't run but 10 times in the past year, that may be hard as hell.....errrr...a stretch goal.
3. Hike the Wonderland Trail. It's 93 miles and I need to attend (1) learn how to backpack and do some short hiking weekends with people before I undertake the 10-14-day hike and (2) attend some REI classes about emergency preparedness (like the ones I'm doing in February).
4. Dry January. Maybe dry 2016. Alcohol has been far too central to my way of life lately. It's not doing me any favors and only making me poor, fat, and hungover.

It smells so goddamn good out here.


I need to get back in shape and get back to training. Once this cold is gone (maybe even tomorrow), I'm getting back into it. No more excuses. I'm tired of buying bigger and bigger pants! (And my therapist is likely tired of me saying that my weight is why I'm unlovable.)

Back Burner #4: MONIES
I'm going to keep a budget. I'm going to stop living off my credit cards. I'm going to pay down my debt. My mother is helping me pay for my new car. I'm 35. I have $20 til February. This isn't how I imagined my life would go, but here I am. So, time to get real and buckle down. I can NOT keep overdrafting my account. It's seriously ridiculous. I have a masters. I'm in charge of fundraising and understanding budgeting and financial allocations at my job. I need to apply my knowledge to my personal life. Which means self-restraint in a lot of areas. So here we go.

Got paid on the 7th. Overdrafted on the 8th. 


Back Burner #5: Dating 
Before I moved out here, I went out with Travis and his fiancee in Chicago. His fiancee said she had a friend out here (who I subsequently met up with but was underwhelmed with her attitude). Anyway, this friend said, "The odds are good, but the goods are odd." So, yes, there are a lot of straight, single men and there are a lot of lesbians. From what I can tell, most of the people I've met up with on dates have been socially awkward. Like, EVERY SOCIALLY AWKWARD PERSON moved to Seattle. Most everyone I've been out with is okay with casual sex, but I'm just not. I really thought I'd be out here going to orgies and exploring a more free sexual side to myself, but I recently came to the conclusion that I'm no longer the person I was in my 20s who could take a rando home from the bar. After this past relationship, I told my ex that I wasn't sure I wanted to sleep with anyone else ever again. Which was pretty much true. The difference is I don't want to sleep with anyone else I don't love ever again. I have no interest in casual hook-ups. I want deep companionship and love at this point in my life. 

20-year-old Kerry would swoon over this guy.  "He's so edgy."
30-year-old Kerry would nervously giggle. "That's....awkward."
35-year-old Kerry actually gets up and leaves the date. "#GURLBYE"

For a while I was going on like 5 dates a week, and it was exhausting. I just kept having the same "here's my life story, what's yours, you're great but not for me" situation happening. I've made a few friends out of people I went on dates with, and I'm still talking with one person who lives far away but travels to Seattle once a month, but I just don't have the patience or mental capacity to deal with rapid-fire dating like that. I just don't have the want to go out with people who just want a quick fuck or lack commonality with me. I've thought about joining a more "serious" dating site, but fuck. I only have so many burners I can keep burning, and while I realize being 35 and wanting kids puts a time stamp on things, I also see how that ruined my last relationship. So, I need to chill a bit. I just haven't connected with anyone that well either. I've never been so disenchanted with dating or relationships as I am now. I just kind of accept that there's a high probability that I'm going to live my life as the cool aunt. And that's okay. Even if I do want to adopt a little girl and a gay teen. (Yeah. I'm pretty specific.) I know my income can't support that right now.

Other Shiz: 
I've omitted my family from this post, not because I don't love them, but they aren't central to my life at this time. I've grown to love them in a different way being this far away from them. I'm more patient with them, and sometimes we talk. There's usually so much unhappiness that each member of my family is dealing with, and going back home was no different. I just want us to all learn how not to be the worst of our parents. I want us to be the best of ourselves and the bad habits we inherited from our parents that we continue to reinforce are holding us back. When I say "us" I mean my siblings and me. It's "interesting" that my sisters and I are all smart, independent, single women. I am the only non-parent in my family. We all live vicariously through each other's lives and that's not healthy either.

This post was long and rambly. So if you're not asleep already, go to bed. Or as Tracy used to say....