Me too.

The abundance of #MeToo posts on social media over the past few days has been overwhelming and made me think about events and circumstances in my life that I’d really like to forget. I’m always made to think “well it could have been worse” instead of having been validated that it was real and awful to go through. I acknowledge that yes it could have been worse, of course, but that does not invalidate the trauma that I have experienced, and I am trying to own that.

Me too. Being made to feel that having my feelings and my body exploited is not worthy of being trauma because it wasn’t as bad as someone else.

Me too. Being catcalled, whistled, grabbed and shamed for 18 years.

Me too. Watching another friend trying to deal with the aftermath of being assaulted and wishing so much that I could go back in time and stop it from happening.

Me too. Being told that I should expect that sort of behavior because I am a female and my sweatpants and over-sized t-shirt/ shorts and tank top/ leggings and hoodie/ skirt and sweater/ etc. was “asking for it.”

Me too. The times I was harassed after ending a date with a handshake and a smile, and the times I tried to turn it into a “funny story” after it happened to deal with the fear.

Me too. When I was told “it’s only a kiss,” after sharing my disinterest in continuing the evening.

Me too. The times I expressed my potential interest in a partner and when I didn’t quickly succumb to their whims/desires/insecurities, immediately shamed and trashed. I had friendships disintegrate over this. The worst is when it isn’t an anonymous stranger, but someone you know and trust. Someone you’ve laughed with over frozen yogurt or beers, someone you’ve shared secrets with and attempted to stand strong for/with as their suicidal ideation got the best of them time and time again.

The times I wasn’t 100% sure how I felt and expressed my feelings and my hesitation, and was pushed for an answer and then shamed- telling me how much of a shitty person I was for “toying” with them.

I hope we can all heal from these traumas and are left with scar tissue instead of open wounds.

You are not alone.



I have a tendency to get on tangents about what appears to others as unrelated subjects, but of course in my head it all makes sense.

Once I saw a man trying to keep up with a group of cyclists (all in professional attire on professional bicycles) whilst on a penny farthing. In the same place, I’ve also nearly tripped on a squirrel, seen a man running in a strapless leopard print dress and full makeup, and Wil Wheaton walking his dog.

They say you find god in the shit, which begs many questions. What kind of shit? How long does one need to look? Where? The ubiquitous ‘they’ also say you find god in the details… which again brings me to ask for details. I seek answers to these philosophical questions in life.

I’d like to publish a book someday entirely full of porridge recipes. I worry that this makes me some sort of ye olden days spinster grandmother, but then am reminded that am more likely to be confused for a hipster. I’d much rather be a old lady than a hipster, unless old ladies are the new black and have been doomed to hipsterdom, like penny farthings, beards, burritos, and veganism.

See what I said about tangents? I can’t get away from them.


I am a hard working person who would be an asset to any company. I have a work ethic and a desire to succeed that will impress you. You won’t have to congratulate me for working hard- it’s part of the package. I see it as a given that I will give 110% effort. 

I am good enough. I am whole. 

I am amazing and you should hire me. I’ve figured out Photoshop on my own. I’ve done promotion, bookkeeping, research, marketing, sales, design, word processing, data entry, training, etc. 

I would be an asset to anyone who hired me, and those who pass me over can count their losses.


For reasons not entirely known to self, yoga pose most want to do and somehow will signify have “made it” and am proper yogi, is crow. Once I can do that pose, heavens will open and I will be able to say I am awesome.

Perhaps this is due to lack of balance, strength, etc, at current that have decided this is the penultimate pose.

Currently able to put weight on hands but once lift foot, fall over. Hmm.


Starting 60 day challenge tomorrow- 60 yoga classes in 60 days! For next sixty days, have decided this blog will become about that.

Peace love and plants



At this point in life, have learned some stuff, gained some wisdom. Or, least I hope I have.

Have learned to stop settling for less than what I deserve. Should not spend energy on something if it doesn’t serve you (or alternatively, as my massage therapist says, “if it blesses you”, which is quite lovely). Don’t waste time/energy stressing out about something when cannot change it. Be unapologetic about the truth but don’t be a jerk. Even when angry or upset, don’t just react and yell at someone. You don’t know how that will affect someone else’s day. Don’t be an asshole to someone in customer service even if they are being one to you because no need to add more toxicity out into world.

Be more zen but don’t take shit from people. Being zen does not mean letting someone walk all over you.

Obviously, is easier said than done. But good mantras in life generally are so try to think about them and forgive yourself when you fuck up.

Have realized lately that am not interested in seeking things (eg love, friendship, etc). Figure these things will happen when universe decides am ready. I mean, do not want to be unemployed and homeless, so will seek job but will not waste energy on other things. Am tired of being consolation prize.

Would like for once in life to be wanted by:

  1.  ..someone I want. Not someone who is fuckwit and will ditch me when they are stressed, then say hurt them when I was upset by their ditching me. Also,
  2. ..Not someone who is using self and has no intention of doing anything other than stringing self along.
  3. ..someone who initiates and does not make me solely responsible for making all moves.

So, no more fuckwits. Fuckwits who string self along can go to hell. Am worth more than that and will now go and be zen.

Peace love and plants



Don’t promise me something you don’t intend to follow through on. Don’t tell me grandiose stories to be impressive.

I’m sick of your hyperbole and lies. 

I’m sick of your gestures and notions of caring. You don’t care except about yourself and your own inflated ego and I don’t have time anymore to waste.

Sick of all you children . Grow up. Be real. Follow through. Stop leading people you profess to care about on. If you cared your actions would show it. 

Embrace the truth. Embrace love and the beautiful world around you! Wake up and give a shit. You get one life so don’t waste it on frivolity. Is it serving you? Is it serving real happiness and contentment in your life? If it isn’t, then embrace your fear and learn how to be friends with it. Only then can you grow up and be real and authentic. Better for you and better for others. 

Peace love and plants 


Another year

In general, I dread my birthday every year, and not for the reason of getting older. I enjoy becoming older because there is so much more to be learned and collecting wisdom is a beautiful state of being. 

The process of aging and doing it gracefully is something I truly hope to achieve over the course of my life. And by gracefully I mean by learning from mistakes, becoming more compassionate and understanding, loving harder and forgiving more- especially our own shortcomings. 

Being that we are generally our own worst enemy or harshest critics (unless you’re Kanye West or another equally  unenlightened being), gaining more peace and love for ourselves is the hardest task to accomplish. And by being kinder, more accepting and living towards ourselves, we usually reflect this peace outwardly towards those around us. 

Hippy dippy stuff, right? That’s what you’re probably thinking, but I encourage you to read scientific studies of compassion and mindfulness and you’ll see that it’s not a bunch of new age granola nonsense. 

So I try to be mindful and more loving to myself and those around me. The more I embrace this, the more content I am, even in the face of scary shit. My life is extremely uncertain right now in some regards, and yes it’s scary not knowing when my last paycheck is going to come and if I’ll be able to find another job before that happens. Of course that’s frightening, but I don’t dwell on it and mull over it and stew in my own anxiety like I used to. My reasoning? It isn’t serving me. No matter how much anxiety I have, it won’t change whatever is going to happen. All I can do is be proactive about changing the things that I can. 

And so back to my original point of my loathing and fear of birthdays. My fear is unrelated to the process of aging, but entirely based on the fact that I have had some utterly terrible birthdays. Death, heartbreak, family fueds, anxiety attacks, a quarter life crisis… I’ve had so many weird and awful ones that I dread it. 

Today I turned 29 and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I had a genuinely lovely day. Nothing spectacular happened! As in, nothing spectacularly good or bad. That, with all my past experiences makes for a lovely day. 

I went to work, I had a challenging yoga class where I got a little upset, I had an amazing and quiet dinner with my parents. Now I’m in bed and feeling so grateful for the fact that I’m alive. I’m alive and I’ve made it another year. This means I get to collect more wisdom and the fact that today wasn’t awful just makes it so much easier to see potential and possibility.

So go out there and love harder and live more, especially when things are scary and stressful and crappy, because you too are alive and how amazing is that? You get another day to give it your best shot!
Peace love and plants 



Quick- what five songs do you remember most from your childhood? And did you like them? Do you still like/dislike them?

Music was a huge part of my childhood. So many experiences are vague from growing up, but the ones that had music I can remember so well. Like spinning around in the La-Z Boy in my living room while Pink Floyd’s “On The Run” played on my parents’ turntable. It was my favorite song and I always thought of alien invasions when I heard it. I remember listening to Paul Simon’s “Rhythm of the Saints” in the car with my dad when he took me to preschool, or eating a donut from Winchell’s on the way to kindergarten and Bob Dylan’s “Desire” was always playing.

My favorite songs and my favorite musicians have changed over the years but I’ve almost gone full circle from where I was at with music as a small child. Pink Floyd, Simon & Garfunkel, Bob Dylan, The Beatles, Eric Clapton, and more.

Then I got older and music was still a big part of my life but my interests changed from that of the 10 year old I had been who listened to nothing but Bob Marley. I listened to pop and then alt-rock and now I’m back to rock and folk.

I think of listening to Nine Inch Nails when I drove off the lot with my first car. The first thing I did when I sat in it after signing the contract, was popping ‘The Fragile pt 1’ into the CD player and turn it up as loudly as my angry 18 year old self could get it.

I remember the first music video I ever saw was Fiona Apple’s ‘Criminal’. I was 10.

These days I’m content to listen to all those old albums I remember as background music to my childhood. I’m so glad my parents had the taste in music that they did. To this day, my parents and I can discuss music and I’m grateful that it’s not on opposing sides.

Peace love and plants

so this is the new year

I should probably be more diligent about updating this blog, but the truth is sometimes I worry that what I have to say is meaningless and nonsensical. This shouldn’t stop my endeavors, but alas it has.

As a teenager I loved to write. I spent all my spare time writing and planning all the novels I wanted to publish with little regard to the feasibility or likelihood of that happening. I did it for the pure joy of being lost in words that I had strung together in a unique structure.

Then I grew up and life happened and writer’s block came with it. One day I just couldn’t write anymore because I wondered how it was that I thought I could write about things I had no experience with. To this day, that plagues me. Maybe it was college that took my love of creative writing and tore it to pieces. Maybe it was working multiple jobs and doing homework and becoming even more disillusioned with the nature of our world.

The validity of what I had to say seemed empty and non-existent.

I hadn’t seen enough of the world, experienced enough of the world, so why should I be able to pen my thoughts out? Obviously, books like Twilight exist so that notion of mine isn’t true for everyone (sadly).

Now I’m nearing the age of 30; close to three decades on this planet and what do I have to say? I can say that I’ve experienced heartbreak, fear, love, awe, joy, and so many other things. My life is just as valid as the next person, and yet I still let my own harsh judgement of ‘where I should be as compared to the next person’ guide me to some degree. Comparison is the devil, it really is.

So this is the new year and with big changes ahead for my life I will vow to give myself a little bit more love and respect than I have in the past. I vow to try to give myself the benefit of the doubt, and to not feel like it’s all my fault or other maudlin bullshit.

I will vow to be as content as I can be and to live in the moment. To be mindful, especially in the face of fear and the unknown. To not judge myself so harshly or others.

So this is the new year and my resolution, albeit late, is to be a better version of myself.

Peace love and plants