Category Archives: Uncategorized

On the way to South Dakota

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My mom and I are about to embark on a road trip from Denver to Rapid City, South Dakota to see my birth mom get married!

I’m excited. I love road trips. 

I’m less thrilled about the prospect of spending 7 hours in the car with my mom. (Mostly kidding, but her aversion to high speeds, loud music, and windows down dampens my excitement a bit.)

She wants to see Mt. Rushmore while we’re there. I want to take her to Cosmos Mystery Area. (I hope it’s not like Casa Bonita, where if you go as an adult, all of your childhood memories of huge cliffs and terrifying caves will be ruined forever once you realize it’s just a tiny pool and a dark hole in a room.)

Pictures forthcoming!

On Big News, Relievedly

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The words were gone again, the constant bubbling up of ideas temporarily ceased. I started typing draft after draft, but each one was pushed aside in disgust as I stared at the pathetic words on the screen.

Tomorrow, I kept whispering. I’ll try again tomorrow. Before I knew it, many tomorrows had turned into weeks. My apologies for the extended absence.

I have spent the past few weeks dreaming the most vividly intense dreams I’ve ever dreamt. The images are surreal, telling signs of the subconscious dwelling deep within, stirring, demanding attention. The questions seem as though they will remain unanswered for some time, if they are ever answered at all.

There is only muddled clarity, which I imagine is the worst kind, other than total obfuscation. However, it is with the utmost certainty that I can say that I am about to start on a new path, one that I hope will take me swiftly away from the things I wish to leave behind. It may not be clear, but it is (“is” as a state of being and existence) because it must be.

I handed in my three weeks’ notice today. I told them that my last day will be July 31st.

I have not yet found another job. I will continue to work at my other part-time jobs while applying for new jobs in the marketing field, and I will hopefully be able to cover my expenses without draining too much of my precious, carefully hoarded savings. (Seriously, I’m like Gollum when it comes to my savings. You can re-read that sentence and hiss “precious” if you like. I just did.)

I am terrified, of course. This is my first time really embracing the job hunt. I hope to be able to find something that pays me enough that I will only have to work one job. I hope to do more writing. I hope for many things, but mostly I hope for new opportunities. I’m excited to expand my skill sets and to embrace the challenges that come with new employment.

I know that this is not the usual order of things, but I believe this is the best choice. Which is why I made it.

On Adventure, Happily

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Sometimes the need for escape trumps everything else. I have never believed that it is possible to lose sight of the grand vision that is life for the blinders of the present more than I do now. There is only today, and there is only tomorrow, and the endless list of tasks yet unfinished, emails unanswered, deadlines unmet. There is no great whooping joy, no time unaccounted for, nothing but the drudgery and confinement of the current moment, the oppression of the here and now.

I never take fun days. But early last week, after getting an invite to romp around in the wilderness, I threw my hands up and (with permission from my bosses, of course), I took the day off.

We drove two and a half hours outside of Denver to a tiny swimming hole. We parked, pulled our supplies out, and hiked in and down to the small pool surrounded by rocks. It was magical. The road was freeing. I held my arm out the window, breathing in the possibility of not knowing when I’d return home. There was no set schedule. There was only the music and the company and the water.

I was nervous to jump off the rocks into the water. Some military guys that were there told me that if I jumped, they’d give me a beer. I laughed, and steadied myself, taking a deep breath. (The rock is only about 15 feet from the water, but from up there, it looks like it’s so much higher.)

I reminded myself that I’ve done one of the world’s highest bungee jumps. That didn’t help at all. In fact, I remember how much I hated that. But as I stood there, nervous, I realized that it’s something I’ll never regret not doing, and that spurred me on. I jumped.

Paradise Cove, Colorado, Guffey, Swimming hole, secret spot

(That’s my splash. And there’s Gina, who counted down for me because I am a chicken.)

It was freezing. The boys gave me a beer, and seemed very proud of me. I was proud of me. The feeling of accomplishment far outweighed the terror, but it was not enough to get me to jump again.

We had the very best day. It was the perfect way to say farewell to one of my best friends, and to be perfectly happy with a crew that I’ve come to love fiercely.

I returned home late that night, exhausted. I was in charge of hosting a small get together for a girl who graduated from a culinary program. I was tired. I offered to cook for the people, and Evan refused to let me, ordering pizza instead.

And then came Las Vegas. I dragged myself out of bed at 5 am and was ready when the car showed up to take us to the airport.

This was a cousins’ trip, a chance to bond and be with family in a fun setting. I was looking forward it, although I’m honestly not a huge fan of Vegas. I discovered blackjack this time, and had a blast – I didn’t lose! Mike is a great and patient teacher, and the dealers were all lovely.

As usual, my favorite part of the trip was the pool time.

And we saw Jersey Boys.

And we had dinner and saw another show. (Side note: the dude from 90210 who is now a Chippendale is terrible….)

All around, it was a lovely weekend.

On the Law, Lawlessly

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It’s no secret that our justice system is a weak and broken beast. The laws that govern us (to a certain extent) are the products of a demonstrated need, and yet they provide countless loopholes and the ever-present problem of interpretation. They are further proof that all things well intended suffer from equivalent potential for ill intent.

The laws we abide by are meant to provide us with a guide for living, but more than that, a guide for our own behaviors and interactions with others. The lure of the law lies in the illusion of safety that it provides, in the clear demarcation of right vs. wrong. However, the punishments imposed as a means of failure to follow the law, which once loomed over the populous as the ultimate deterrent, have lost their luster, their ability to strike fear into the hearts of citizens.

Why is that?

Well, part of the blame rests with lawyers. They’re intelligent creatures, capable of doing great good in the world, but they often turn into legislators and judges. Not that all legislators or judges are bad people (to be honest, I’d love nothing more than to hold court and render stunning opinions), but they can fall victim to the lure of their own convictions, disregarding the spirit of the law and the best interests of their constituents in favor of their own political advancement.

Part of the blame rests with the people, who call for more laws to be written in response to events that upset them. More laws don’t help clean up existing laws that aren’t working; instead, we find ourselves buried under the oppressive crush of laws that govern our every moment. The good news is that these laws contradict themselves in such a manner that if you have a proper legal team, you can throw enough chaos into the mix and walk away scot-free.

So while it may be illegal to kill someone, it’s not actually a firm black and white thing. Mitigating circumstances have long existed, of course, but now we’ve entered an era of self-righteous self-defense.

In Texas, it’s like this:

“The Texas provision authorizes deadly force not only to “retrieve stolen property at night” but also during “criminal mischief in the nighttime” and even to prevent someone who is fleeing immediately after a theft during the night or a burglary or robbery, so long as the individual “reasonably” thinks the property cannot be protected by other means.” – source here

This is why the internet now finds itself upset at Texas (that’s not new), enraged that a jury could find a man who killed someone not guilty by reason of shitty lawmaking and a thin defense that shouldn’t have held up. One of my lawyer friends applied reason (pssh, reason? This is Texas, there is no reason) to counter my annoyance by stating that it is the law, the lawmakers, and the jury who all did exactly what they were supposed to do here. The jury followed the law.

I see his point, but he’s wrong. It used to be legal to rape your wife. Just doing it because it’s the law doesn’t make me feel any better and it doesn’t make it right. As a juror, you’re obligated to follow the law, but have we not spent years debating whether or not we should be following the letter of the law or its spirit?

We live in a society that’s used to broad application of excuses as a way to escape punishment or to justify horrifying behavior (Patriot Act, anyone?). We live in a society that simultaneously glorifies pseudo-piety and hyper-masculine aggression. It’s a funny line between the righteous and the hypocrite, in the same way that the Pharisees were the paragons of virtue back in the day.

Regardless, here’s what happened in Texas:

Man is on Craigslist. Man hires escort to come over and hang out. Man is presumably excited – he “believes” that sex is going to occur. Escort comes over, no one comes. Man is upset about the lack of sex. He demands the money ($150) back from escort. Escort says no, gets into waiting car. Man shoots at the car, injuring escort. Escort dies some months later. Man is charged with murder. Man goes trial. Lawyers claim that it’s legal to shoot someone who’s absconding with your property. Jurors are idiots, rule not-guilty. Prosecutors are also idiots, should have shot holes through that defense. (See what I did there?)

That deadly force law is ridiculous and should never have been passed. At what point did lawmakers not see that this was going to be a terrible law? At what point did it come to pass that a dude who shoots an alleged hooker can walk away from it?

My suggestion was this:

I would like to see valuation limits (or minimums?) of property established so that even though it may be legal to use deadly force to recover stolen property, you won’t be able to use that as a weak defense for murdering someone over $150. I know, I know, “what is the value of a human life?”, “how can we quantify sentimental value?” and so on, but come on, killing an escort over $150 because she wouldn’t have sex with you should not be justifiably legal in any way.

And – going further – how did the defense justify that he had been robbed (thus giving him the theft that allowed him to shoot her) while still holding onto the fact that he just “believed” he was going to get sex. If at no point was sex an explicit part of the illicit deal, then there could be no theft because the services rendered (escorting – which I imagine to be really awkward hanging out in a mini dress with a fur draped around your neck) were the services initially agreed to. Wait, since prostitution is technically illegal (unless the escort decides to have consensual non-escort sex with you, of course), wouldn’t he have no right to shoot her under that law anyway? Doesn’t criminal activity negate other stuff? (Forgive me for my pathetic grasp of our legal system and its laws, it’s been a while.)

I’m going to withhold my calls for more laws and instead call for fewer laws. No law advocating street justice (deadly force for nighttime theft) should ever be passed. No man should feel that he has the right to take a human life over $150. Shit, I would have sent him a check for $200, the additional $50 for his humiliation. Problem solved. No person should believe that they have the right to take the life of another human being unless their own live is in immediate, indisputable danger. Self-defense should not apply when the victim is driving away from you. Or when they’re unarmed and in a car. Or when you’re upset that you didn’t get laid.

I’ve also got a million dollar idea. Evan thinks it’s dumb and dangerous, and he’s probably right, but wouldn’t this be awesome (in theory)?

I’m thinking that it would be awesome to be a street justice mediator. I’d be responsible for hearing cases where parties have disagreements that can’t be settled via normal legal channels but might result in violence if not addressed. They’d come to me for gang wars, turf disputes, drug-related complaints, and so on. I’d hear both parties and then render a decision. That decision would be concrete. They’d have to follow it.

That’s where the idea gets a bit murky. I feel as though street justice is problematic because of the fact that “your word is your bond” doesn’t really apply here. I’ve watched enough Game of Thrones of late (and read enough history, novels, and so on) to understand that you’re never safe, especially when you’re consorting with criminals. But – at the same time – it would be a pretty sweet gig. And hopefully it would result in fewer gang-related deaths. (Even though in actuality, it would probably just result in mine.)

On De-Stressing, Gradually

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I’ve been working on the concept of “me time.”

Since it appears that the 60-hour work weeks aren’t going anywhere, at least for a while, and the decisions that have yet to be made hang heavy over my head, just out of my reach for now, I have been focusing on making small changes in the hopes that they will have that marvelous ripple effect over all areas of my life. Stress mitigation is difficult, because when you’re this deep, it’s often hard to identify which stressors are the root cause of ever-expanding panic.

Last weekend, I was wound tightly, anxious and tense. I thought about my schedule for the coming days and realized that I would have no time — literally no free time during my waking hours that wasn’t allocated for work — for the next three days. That’s the kind of realization that settles heavily over your heart, because there is no choice but to keep going, to keep moving forward, to hope that nothing goes wrong to derail the carefully laid plans or you’ll throw everything off-balance.

Then it hit me. The thing I was most nervous about wasn’t the work, but the fact that instead of cleaning my house from top to bottom during my one free night last week, I’d read. I’d curled up on my front porch with a glass of wine and tucked my bare feet under me and I’d read. It had been worth it, when I thought I’d have Friday night free to clean. But then a co-worker burned herself at her other job, and I had to cover her Friday night shift, effectively removing my cleaning plan from my schedule.

Inconvenient? Yes. Necessary? Of course. When someone needs help, you help them. I had to work at Dairy Queen on Saturday and then go babysit after that, and immediately after that, we were scheduled to host a party at my house (thus necessitating at least a cleaning once-over).

Identifying that the most stressful thing for me was the fact that I’d have no time to prep for the party was key. I thought about how to handle it and cancelled babysitting. I had worked three 14-hour workdays in four days, plus the Saturday shift, and I was exhausted. I told the family I babysit for as much, and they were understanding. As soon as I did that, I felt as though a great weight had been lifted. I even took a nap on Saturday, pausing to rest while the world went on around me.

I didn’t clean heavily. I didn’t stress. The handle of our toilet broke and instead of panicking, we pulled out the duct tape and made it work. It ended up being a lovely evening. (The duct tape solution is still in play, and it’s rather charming in a rustic, we-DIY-ed-this-all-by-ourselves sort of way. I’m rather enchanted by the novelty of it, although it must soon be fixed – it’s not the classiest of stopgap measures.)

These are lovely people – as the party began to die down, we took a Friends-esque photo on the couch outside.

I can’t tell you how excited I was when Evan walked in, carrying a six-pack of my favorite beer. It was funny, because I’d bought him a six-pack of the hard cider he likes, so we had a trade. We snuck off at one point, holding hands, and spent the better part of an hour talking and laughing, and I felt so overwhelmingly content. I am beyond thrilled, beyond terrified, and all-over ecstatic.

The next day was a day of no work. I got bagels with a couple of friends and then laid on the giant bean bag in the basement and caught up on Game of Thrones in between brief naps. It was the best burn day ever.

Afternoon arrived, and Gina went to set up in the park for the second leg of our joint birthday party. I grumped around, bemoaning my headache and wishing for long stretches of welcome sleep. Eventually though, the guilt got to me and I got up, washed my face, and put on my Lannister dress (I’ll have to post a picture – it’s insanely amazing).

I’m glad I went to the park. We sported quite happily. (“Sport” is our newest verb. At one point, my friend Katie and I were discussing our contributions to relationships and she said, “I don’t sport.” It was so spot-on and sincere, and I’ve adopted it as an excellent verb to describe any sort of physical recreational activity.) We played frisbee, football, and a rather aggressive game of 10,000. At one point, we were tossing two frisbees, a football, and a bubble stick between the ten or so people in the park. It was wonderful to stretch and move and be.

I laid on the blanket I’d brought with me and stared up at the tree I was under. In that moment, I was calm and content. I had left all of my stress behind. There was no looming Monday, nor were there any obligations left unfulfilled. I was, for that brief period, free.

The sun set and a new week began.

Last night, after working another 14-hour workday, we played night frisbee in the parking lot. (Working with the people you love is also helpful – we work together nearly seamlessly, and the night passes quickly and productively. At one point, I commented to Evan that I adore getting paid to hang out. He agreed.) The light-up frisbee (you must purchase one, they’re the best thing) flew through the air and I was filled with the heady rush of happiness, of appreciation for the current moment and the lack of worry for the past and future.

They had established a plan for the night before I arrived – food and then Game of Thrones. Mike (Evan’s friend) and I had watched one more episode than Evan had seen and we’d agree to lie about it to Evan and pretend we’d waited for him. I failed miserably at keeping up the ruse, and so we re-watched that episode before watching the newest one (70% of which, I slept through, of course). I woke up just in time for the action – and then cried, of course.

I love where I am right now. I love the people I’m surrounded by. I’m so grateful for each and every one of them.

“Me time” may not be long bubble baths and hours spent lounging and reading, but it can be found in the places where I least expect it. Finding the calm I’m sure exists somewhere inside of me may be the biggest challenge, but it’s one I’m finally really ready to take on, even if it means tackling it in small pieces or finding joy in strange places.

Baby steps forward.

On Wedding Weekend, Spiritedly

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I forgot how much I love to travel.

Love. The other morning, I had the urge to just throw things into the back of my car (including the cat – who doesn’t hate the car as much as you’d think), and run far away. I wanted to drive until there was no more road, until I’d come upon the glorious nirvana that is endless waterfalls and starry nights that never get too cold.

I love grabbing my “mountain backpack” (that’s what I call it, I bet it has a proper mountain term) from the closet and filling it to the brim with whatever I’m going to need for the next three to five days. I love the travel-sized toiletries. I love the bits of brightly colored fabric straps that have been tied to the zipper pulls for the past four years. I love the way I feel when I wear it.

I love shouldering the always too-full pack (always. I’m going to be the worst backpacker ever) and heading into the airport. In those moments, before the back aches set in and my feet start to hurt, I am filled with the possibility of adventure, with excitement, with a tingling in my fingertips as I hand over my boarding pass to the TSA agent.

I always try to make the exact awkward face I’m making in my driver’s license or even worse (better?), the face from my passport. I don’t know if they find that as hilarious as I do, but it’s worth it.

Chicago, gold coast, streelights,

The view from my friend’s apartment downtown. Oh Chicago, your cold spring winds caught me off-guard and were terrible. But the magic of the city is palpable. Its energy flows around you. It’s sublime.

This is where Katie and Eric got married. Between those two trees. I started tearing up when I saw her start walking down the aisle. I teared up again when her dad gave a speech, but it was her mom’s that put me over the edge. It was beautiful.

White wine. Photo booth. I kept calling it a “king hat.” It’s very obviously a crown. I’ve always been good with synonyms. Dancing. It was so wonderful to see my friends. I have missed them.

On Sunday, my friend Anne drove out to the burbs to pick me up and then we went back to her place and watched new episodes of Arrested Development and got frozen yogurt. I went with her to a birthday party before heading back to Denver.

I’ve been telling Evan that I want to go camping with him (athleticism and adventurous spirits are so sexy, but I’m nervous that I don’t have enough of that – maybe enthusiasm can make up for it?). My goal is to go to Conundrum Hot Springs, which is a very lovely 8.5 mile hike each way. While I was in Chicago, with my “mountain backpack,” I took the stairs as much as possible at the train stations to practice hiking. (Obviously this is a very flawed approach, but you have to work with what you’ve got.)

Sunday was great – I woke up early and went to REI with Evan. I’m really not having great luck with not losing Nalgene water bottles (I left yet another one in Spokane), so I thought I’d try yet again.  (80th time’s the charm, right?) We’re two days in and I’ve not lost them yet.

[Hah, I just have to insert a thought here that has nothing to do with anything, except losing stuff. My freshman year of college, while being young and dumb, I lost my camera at a bar. Shortly after, my mom sent me a care package with a package of cards with a note attached that said, “Maybe these will entertain you on those Friday nights when you don’t want to go out and lose something.” I love my mom.]

After REI, we went to brunch and then, faced with the prospect of an entire day off, I went to see Jacob. There was coffee, cleaning (I owed him – he’s helped me clean so many times), and then we met up with my brother and his friends for some grilling in the park.

Delicious.

Evan was at work, so I brought him dinner – tucked into an empty 6-pack was a cornucopia (ha, mostly) of delicious picnic foods: a brat with grilled onions and German mustard, chips, grapes, and cookies.  He loved it. (Relief. I was a bit nervous that it was going to be the worst thing.)

Summer is coming and I’m in full adventure mode. I want nothing more than to take road trips and to see things I’ve never seen before. Also, I’d love to actually get around to planting my garden (too late, but whatever), and doing yard work, and relaxing in my hammock. I’m filled with the same excited anticipation that I get waiting to get on the plane. It’s endless possibility and experience and it’s all in front of me. This is going to be the best thing.

On the Marrow of Life, Lovely

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(I don’t care that “lovely” isn’t technically an adverb. But if you were to use it as an adverb, then you would be able to attempt to encapsulate everything I’m trying to put in this post. Think of it that way. I do what I want; deal with it.)

I think I was a sophomore in high school when we read F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby.” At this point, I had not yet developed my hardened hatred for Hemingway  and was far more open to the literature from that time than I am now. I loved and hated the book.

At my core, I believe firmly in hopeless, foolish love. But at the same time, I recognize a situation that has no hope of ending well.  You can’t quite manage to tear your eyes away, watching the disaster unfold in front of you. It’s the compelling crash, but even as I see everything unravel, I hold out hope that there’s some way to fix it, for the characters to run off into the sunset together, happy and unburdened.

I also happen to adore Baz Luhrmann, mostly for “Romeo + Juliet”, but also “Moulin Rouge” and “Australia” — tear-jerkers, the lot of them. I’ve been meaning to go see “The Great Gatsby” but haven’t managed to find the time.

Evan came to visit me at Dairy Queen to try my roasted beets – his face was priceless, and he declared that he didn’t hate them, but I’m not sure if that was just an attempt to preemptively soothe my eager, anxious ego.

Spurred on by the wildling living inside me, I declared that I wanted night tennis (which is exactly what it sounds like); he did not. He suggested the movie; I readily agreed and plans were formed. He stayed for an hour and helped us close. Poor guy – his day off and he finds himself at work, sweeping and counting. I was thrilled, because we got out in time to make it to the last showing (11:15 PM; we’re madmen).

The theater was nearly vacant. I curled up and settled in for a long movie. It was breathtaking. I’m actually surprised that Luhrmann didn’t go for a more disconnected, surreal vibe. It obviously was, but I almost wanted more. It was elegant. I’m a sucker for Jay-Z and I loved the soundtrack. There were moments of brilliantly placed black humor.

The critics are right – we do lose some of the story through the visuals, but I think in the end, the story isn’t about the details. It’s about more than that. It transcends its own plot, as poignant and pertinent today as it was then. It speaks to experiences and heartbreak and the evils of obsession. You cannot repossess your past. There is no way to go back, no matter how hard one tries. There is only the bittersweet, hopeful march forward.

Speaking of the bittersweet, hopeful march forward, I’ve been on a journey of my own lately. It’s not bittersweet at all, it’s beautiful. The slow kindling of something into something more has created in me a warm radiance that seems so natural, I feel as though it’s always been there. It’s brimming with possibilities and the prospect of adventure.

For this, and so many other things, I am eternally grateful. I’ve been wondering Why now?, for it emerged suddenly but sweepingly, but I don’t want to wonder. I want to let this cloud of happiness swallow me whole, and I believe that’s exactly what I’m going to do. (He hates baseball and golf, too! Ugh, this is the best thing!)

We had our first book club meeting last night. The discussion was interesting, at times incomprehensible  and all around inconclusive, as I imagine every discussion about gendered communication to be. It was lovely. We sat on the porch outside, gathered around a table full of snacks, until the air grew too cool and we retired inside.

Then there was Game of Thrones. And of course, I fell asleep, warm and safe, pretending that I wouldn’t be unhappily woken by the rude intrusion of the daylight and the 4 alarms I set each night. But alas, employment called and I answered, reluctantly leaving my nest. (I won’t lie, I’m an insanely good nester. My bed consists of pillows and blankets and small bits of heaven.)

And now, I’m off to Chicago for a wedding! I always cry at weddings. I always cry at everything. The other day at Dairy Queen, a grandmother with tears in her eyes thanked me for letting them have their graduation party there, and told me how wonderful it was. And then I teared up. Because it was so sweet. She was so happy. It was just a cake. It was beautiful.

I haven’t been back to Chicago since last Memorial Day. I’m going to eat Dunkin Donuts, and touch the Bean like a tourist, and eat Portillo’s, and go to Laschet’s (or Laschet’s’z, as I call it), and stand by the lake. It’s going to be lovely. I have beautiful dresses to wear, too, so that never hurts.

Enjoy your weekend.