August 24th, 2013 marked the first day I went to work fully and wholly as myself. It has been 18 months since that fateful day. That day also marked the last time my parents saw me in person. Read More Life in Transition: 18 Months
Direct quote from me to a composer friend the other day: “I’m so fucking sick of being a fiction writer.” Read More To Query or Not to Query: That is the Neverending Million-Dollar Hair-Pulling-Out-of-Head Question
To begin, I am the girl who always has a boyfriend.
I know you’re making assumptions right now and I’m here to tell you that yes, they are all true. I am needy, possessive, selfish, and in constant need of my significant other’s attention. I am your textbook case study of a girl who always needs to be with someone. Sure, I can claim that it might have something to do with my abandonment issues from my father constantly leaving and coming back into my life, or the separation anxiety disorder I harbor (among other anxiety disorders I have). But I’m 27 years old now, and with a year of therapy under my belt, I should be able to navigate my relationships onto a healthy path. Except, I underestimated how difficult that journey would be.
I love my kids. I love my kids a lot. I love my kids so much that even though pregnancy was the worst time of my life, I decided to do it again so I could have another kid. When my older daughter took her first step, I felt like she had invented walking and was bestowing it upon the world for the betterment of humanity. When my younger daughter smiles and cuddles into me, I feel the thrill of being The Most Important Best Thing That Ever Happened To Her. I taught myself to face paint. I eliminated everything from my diet except leaves and nuts so that I could keep breastfeeding my sensitive baby. I stood in line for two hours to get tickets for a dance recital that I have absolutely no desire to go to. Kids have changed my life in huge ways (career choices, house choices, my physical being) and small ways (I can sing every word to every song in Frozen, even though I’m often relegated to the role of Hans so that my daughter can be every other character), and I hardly ever go out anymore. Read More The Real Real Reason I Can’t Hang Out
It’s been a long time since we’ve last seen each other… OK, not that long; I think Thanksgiving was the last time I was back. Nonetheless, as you can tell, things have changed for the both of us. And probably for the better.
So, bad news first: my existential expose of an expedition to the cooing Canadian winter to find myself through threesomes that thrill and the tender, forgiving touch of a woman’s love has been delayed because I am not well, at all, and I’d feel disingenuous talking about how I “found myself abroad” while I’m shopping for a psychiatric bed.
Read More 5 Pinball Machines Your Wife Will Play When She Leaves You to Become a Lesbian
When I was 5 years old, I was the only girl at my preschool that didn’t have a white pair of cowboy boots.
There’s no question that I’ve been feeling crappy about one of my current part-time jobs. It’s the job that’s been keeping me secured in school since it pays for my tuition. To some people, having this type of arrangement is ideal and would not warrant any complaining since, at the end of the day, school is getting covered. But I have come to a point where even that reason alone does not justify acts of borderline exploitation to be acceptable. A colleague reminded me the other day, that despite my frustrations, this is what “adults” do in the “real world.” Read More On Grown-up Jobs