For The Visually Impaired

I have been single on and off for over 4 years now. I enjoy my time alone, I think I'm decent at spending time with myself, and more importantly I think, I know how to feel happy. But I like relationships. I like the intimacy of having a best friend whose clothes I also get to take off. I like having someone to go grocery shopping with, and be reclusive shut-ins for a weekend(s), and will listen to me animatedly talk about the magic of Pharrell Williams and will also actively watch The Voice with me. 

It has not quite worked out so far. Sometimes it is hard not to take it personally, to feel like some part of you might be missing or not enough. Recently, after a few dates with a gentleman, I noticed a feeling of disconnect. Are you attracted to me in person, I asked. Something was off, and my reaction was to think, "Jesus, Natalie. Of course he didn't feel that attracted, you were wearing runners, ripped jeans, your bicycle sweatshirt, and your hair was braided back. You put absolutely zero effort into looking nice, what did you expect?" So do you know what I did? I straightened my hair, shaved the hair off my body, put on mascara and a low cut top. This is the same woman who proudly identifies as a capital "F" Feminist and once went on a soapbox rant at work about how it was a violation of human rights and gender-normative stereotyping informed by the patriarchy to require female employees to wear makeup. And what did my straight hair win me? Nothing, the guy still broke it off with me anyway.

So I texted my good friend to commiserate, to ask him if maybe there was something missing in me, and he called me and told me I was stupid. He was right. He said, 
"Natalie, I'm going to preface this by saying this is like one of those bubbles on the side of the TV screen that informs you that the program is for the visually impaired. The bubble says, I've always thought that you are radiant; the way that you talk to people, the way that you engage." 
It broke my heart in the most beautiful way because he was right, I was blind to the most important thing: Was I being seen for who I really am? I'm not saying that this guy didn't see that, but I was missing the point if I thought my bicycle sweatshirt really mattered. When someone looks at you, are they willing to look inside you and see your story? Can they speak your language- the language of dreams? Can they see what it is you shine out? What a beautiful thing to be reminded of.

How are we perceived by other people? Is what we put forward being translated properly? Or is it that the people we've met simply don't speak the language, so how could they understand the words? I'm not interested in what people think of me, per say, but I'm concerned with the honesty in which I can project the truest version of myself. Is anything being lost in translation? Am I hiding, am I guarding, am I hollowing out? These are the things I think about, because I often think people's perception of me don't match who I think I am. Where is the message getting lost? How much is someone's perception of me really about me at all?

Sometimes even physically, I wonder, what do I really look like? I look at myself and I have a really hard time seeing any change. Have I gained weight? Lost weight? Gained muscle? More dimples? It makes me sad when I think of the time that I had probably lost 20-30lbs, and people kept telling me how great and skinny I looked. I had stopped sleeping, only ate sporadically, and was at the rock bottom of an abusive relationship. But people kept complimenting me on how I looked outwardly, and yet inwardly I was decaying and felt like a monster. I wanted to die. I tried. How could they not see how ugly I felt? I remember that even when someone noticed I had lost weight and said I looked fantastic I felt ashamed because it was a lie. I couldn't tell them I was skinny from all the nights I spent awake, crying on my bathroom floor; I couldn't tell them my waist was smaller from the stress of constantly being so afraid; I couldn't look them in the eye out of fear they'd see the truth I was trying to hide.

Look at me. I want you to feel who I am and watch how I move; there's nothing to hide anymore. If you can still see sadness in my shoulders and fear in my neck, I hope you can also see the love in my arms and the gratitude in my chest.

I Watched Furious 7 (This Time It Ain't Just About Being Fast), and Here Is What I Learned

I watched the 6th one a long time ago, and I think I either fell asleep or was sick because it's only vaguely familiar, like a hazy dream you enjoyed but also didn't make much sense and cost you $5.99. I remember something about Michelle Rodriguez losing her memory even though in the 21st century we all know this can't actually happen and jesus this is still being used as a legitimate plot device?!? I actually really love this franchise so I think I may still just be mad over Michelle Rodriguez's character from LOST.

The movie starts with Jason StillHandsomeFuckingRob Statham talking to his bro who's in a coma or whatever. Oh, also, J-Stath single handedly took an entire hospital hostage. Uhhh, he knows they can take better care of his brother if he doesn't blow up all their really expensive equipment, right? Dude, dial it down.

ANYWAY. Michelle Rodriguez thinks her and Vin are lost in the desert because she doesn't remember anything. WRONG. They're at RaceWars! Which seems kinda like Burning Man but with cars and just as many celebrities.

Disclaimer: Even though I have watched every movie in this franchise, some of them multiple times, the only character who's name I actually remember is Han, because he is the gem of this series.

Uh oh! Jason NotTheITGuy Statham broke into The Rock's office and hacked his computer! And he still hasn't dialed it down! This suddenly feels like The Expendables: Vroom Vroom Cars Edition. And then J-Stath blew up Paul Walker's house, and WHAT IN THE TOKYO DRIFT FUCK? HE KILLED HAN?!?! This man is a monster. And a time traveler?

Oh god, Tyrese says to Paul Walker, "Just promise me Brian, no more funerals." That made me sad. 

Captain Ron shows up, and he knows what kind of beer Vin Diesel drinks. He is the Leslie Knope of secret, shadowy, black ops military organizations with a conveniently super sweet garage.

The movie kind of lost me at skydiving cars, but I stayed for Ludacris saying things with his mouth. Get Back is still one of my favourite songs, and also occasionally my alarm clock song when I need to wake up in a fighting mood. One time I was dating this WhatsHisFace, and my alarm was set for an unreasonable hour, and Luda yelling "HANDS UP!" at zero dark stupid scared the bejesus out of said dude while I continued to sleep in blissful ignorance. Turns out WhosHisNuts wasn't a great human being and had crippling interpersonal issues though, so hahahahaha, fuck you, GET BACK MOTHERFUCKER Y'ALL DON'T KNOW ME LIKE THAT.

*Punch dance break*

Hooo, that got intense for a sec. Sorry. Back to J-Stath blowing up errbody's phones, and also their cars, homes, and reasons to live.

Road trip to Abu Dhabi! In a loose plot point the gang fly to Fury Road, Middle East, where Missandei wears a bathing suit, and then everyone gets dressed up and have to steal some flash drive from a prince's car that he keeps in his penthouse where Ronda Rousey is the head of security while Tyrese makes great-bad jokes and then Michelle Rodriguez fights Ronda Rousey and lasts more than 23 seconds. I'm not making that up. It gets crazier, but I don't even want to go there. 

Everyone ends up back in the U.S.Fucking.A and I still don't really understand what Djimon Hounsou is doing in this movie, but okay. Previous to this there is a scene where Paul Walker talks to his movie wife on the phone and it sounds like he is saying goodbye. You would have to be a White Walker not to feel kind of sad at that. Oh and Captain Ron maybe died back on Middle East Fury Rd? I wasn't paying attention. The Rock sees all the fun going down from his hospital window and literally flexes off his arm cast so he won't be tardy to the party.

There's not nearly enough driving, too little gear shifting, some bald men fighting with lead pipe-ing, lots of shooting, more cars crashing, rumble in the Bronx-ing except in LA, and oh my god The Rock just stole an ambulance as his ride to the dance. I feel like this movie has very little consideration for emergency services. Team Street wins!

I got up to go pee and when I came back the power of love had saved Vin Diesel over CPR. Who knew? 

Oh good grief the end of this movie actually made me cry. Everyone is at the beach watching Paul Walker play with his son and talking about him being where he belongs. Ooof. Vin Diesel! First you went and sang Rihanna's Stay, and now this? That was beautiful.

Things I Learned While Sick: Film Edition

To ring in the New Year this year, my body decided to shake things up and send me on a 7+ day vacation to internal function hell. I couldn't eat, things wouldn't stop aggressively forcing their way out of my body, and coughing led to a few Depends moments. It was great in that I could finally be the reclusive shut-in I always aspire to be and spend my days watching shows, but in reality that dream stopped being fun after hour #4, and attempt to hold down food #3. But I sure did watch a ton of stuff, and I still love Beat from Timber Kings. This is the other, much briefer list I wrote (from the passenger seat) and forgot about, while driving to our surf spot with my pal/Wellness Fairy shortly after. A drive I managed to make 3/4 of the way before yelling to pull over so my breakfast could make an emergency exit. I vaguely remember him yelling from the car if I wanted him to hold my hair, but I could be wrong. I think I also went for a big wave that day not because I was feeling gutsy, but because I was too tired to know what I was doing and pull out. I likely fell at some point. I guess I am just lucky I managed to stay awake:

Tim's Vermeer- A really rich man in need of a hobby spends like a year painting a fucking music lesson. I fell asleep. 

The Armstrong Lie- Lance Armstrong told lots of lies and became the winningest of winners in competitive drug cycling. Also fucked Sheryl Crow. 

Korungal- A bunch of American soldiers get shot at, it fucks them up, and then I fell asleep, but not because it was boring, but because the fever inside me had won. They were probably still fucked up by the end though. It was sad all around. Falling asleep likely spared me from crying from start to finish like I did with Blackfish. Oh boy, DO NOT watch that one unless you are prepared to be shattered and have a field of Corgis to wipe the oceans falling out of your face.

The Dark Side Of Love- Russians think Americans are stupid idiots. Their orphans feel the same.

The Interview- James Franco plays James Franco if he had a talk show, goes on a field trip to North Korea.

Jodorowsky's Dune- This is a guy who spent a decent amount of his income on LSD. I also fell asleep.

Yo Elliot! Find the Strongest Version of Yourself

This cat knows what's up. Find your yoga. Transcend your spiritual reality. Keep fucking flipping tires:

Letters To Angie: Almost Not Sick

Oh my love! I like this, it's kind of like we're pen pals, but then also real life pals too!

I am excited about this teeny tiny gift! Is it a pocket vibrator? Angie! How bold! Hahaha. That would certainly keep things exciting on the job. Maybe too exciting though.

Right now Charlie and I are on the couch watching the Pipe Masters surf competition on TV. I can't wait to get back in the water! The internet is saying that there should be waves all this week, YESSSSSS! I better get healthy quick, because sick or not I will be in the ocean.

It's funny to think of how so much has changed since moving here. I can't imagine my life without surfing now. It changed everything. Much the same as I can't imagine my life without you. Both are like pieces of light that have been threaded through me, making me brighter and more resilient, especially when the sky turns grey and dark. You are my beacon.

Anyway. Nap time.

Natalie

Love, No Matter What

It's so easy to get stuck in the ego, to get hooked on where we've been wronged and who's hurt us. I have such a hard time with this. Someone hurts me and I want to call them out and tell them how they've wronged me and make them feel bad and make me feel right. I want them to understand how inconsiderate they were and how it made me feel. Peel that back a few layers and you'll find that what I'm really getting at, is that I want to matter to someone. I want to matter enough for it to change. Our ego tells us it's about what we are or are not, what we did or didn't do, it tells us it's personal when so rarely it actually is. In the midst of heartbreak, there's a bigger picture to be seen.

Can you still love even when everything is falling apart? Can you love, no matter what? Even when you feel wronged and hurt and stood up and let down and angry and slighted and exhausted and just really fucking vulnerable? In order to find connection, we have to allow ourselves to be vulnerable and exposed and be really seen. We have to be willing to let someone see and feel our shadows, and love with our whole hearts, even though there's no guarantee.

To feel this vulnerable means I'm alive. 

If we're going to find our way to each other, vulnerability is going to be the only path. But to get there, we have to move through shame first.

"We numb shame, but you cannot selectively numb emotion. We try to numb fear, shame, grief; we say, I don't want to feel this so I’m going have a beer. When we do that, we also numb happiness, joy, gratitude, and then feel miserable and looking for purpose and meaning, and it becomes a cycle. We need to ask, why and how do we numb?"-Dr. Brené Brown

Empathy is the antidote to shame. Where is shame holding us back? How does it influence our choices, inform our decisions, and choose our words? Where has it shut us down and made us hard? When I'm playing it cool or holding back or acting like I'm bulletproof, I'm not connecting. That's not who I am. That's me skimming along the surface. That's me hollowing myself out because I'm afraid, because to acknowledge the true depth would mean I'd have to be accountable and I'd have to be my best self and I couldn't be lazy.

Don't be lazy with love. Get out of your head. Bring your mind to your body and feel the connection. Stop, listen, and feel. Surrender to the vulnerability of being seen at your core, but fight to be your strongest self, every day. It will be easier to coast, to float along like a cloud. Don't be a cloud, be the sun. Rise every morning, even when you don't feel like it. Shine out, even when it would be easier not to. Open to the light inside you, and light them up too. That's your power.

Those who have wronged you? Send them love. If they've hurt you, it's probably because their own hurt is greater. Let them go, and send them the grace to learn what they need and find what they need to be their best selves. And don't do it from a fucking high horse with condescension. Do it with sincerity and compassion. You'll feel the difference. It will feel like coming up for air after being held under water; it will be both frightening and a miracle, and a reminder that you are alive. Send them love. That's how you stay open and keep going. That's how your heart grows. That's how you connect to vulnerability without it crushing you, and the world will see the truth of your beauty, the magic of your story.

Love, no matter what.

Letters To Angie: Surrender

Angie! My love!

Happy New Year! I have been very sick! So sick in fact, that last night, after having spent all day in bed and not having eaten in 3 days, I thought, "If this is the end, they are going to find me in period underwear that also have dog chew holes. Oh god." But then the Wellness Fairy came by and pumped me full of coconut water and gravol and gatorade and made soup, and it all stayed down! Yay! I also put on non-period/holey underwear this morning. It made me laugh that he brought Alphaghetti soup so he said that if I threw it up I could spell out, "HELP". 

So today I'm alive! All that coconut water really helped. I am still sick, but at least now I feel decidedly less zombie-like. Anyway, I was reading my girl Polly's column from Wednesday and it made me laugh and cry and feel all kinds of good stuff! If you don't make it through her column, no worries, I just thought it was so earnest and beautiful and it led me to finding my word for this year! I'm going with "Surrender"; surrender to the moment, surrender to love and to the depth of feeling, surrender to the flow and stop resisting, surrender to being here now.

So if it strikes your fancy, it's below.

Your pal,

Natalie

Dear Polly,

Hello, I am 22 years old girl from the other side of the world. I see that the dating problems are all the same everywhere, and it's sad. I don't want to end up like the most 30 years old ladies that don't know what love is, how to cherish themselves. I don't want to end up alone.

On the Christmas day, my relationship ended. Because there was missing the sparkle. Just like that, sparkles. He ended up wishing me all the best, because he doesn't want to ruin my life with his own depressive periods, caused by his Mommy. On Christmas he was alone at home in his room, and I was celebrating with my family in other city. I didn't know that his family is not celebrating and I was speaking how awesome is to be loved and to be with the people you love, and how I miss him.

On the next morning he ended up saying that he doesn't want to be with me on New Year's Eve. He said that he doesn't want to ruin my life, to disappoint me, but he did. Holly craps, who the hell he thinks he is? Thinking about only his own ass! Looking at you, praying for help, kissing you passionately, hugging you like nobody else. Hearing that the best he has is me. Finding support for this relationship everywhere, making everything to see the happiness on my face.

The same one is waking up on 25th to tell me that it is not like before. One big nothing.

For 25 years old man, he knew what he wanted, he made plans for our future. I liked it. I loved it. I love it. So, dear Polly, why he is pushing me away? Why and how his happy eyes became sad in one night?

Even alone, he knew that I am there for him. How you can call it love if you can end it in a night? What is love? What is happiness?

Best wishes from Bulgaria,

Sad Girl

(Sorry for my English)

Dear Sad Girl,

The dating problems truly are the same everywhere. If the emails I get are any indication, all over the globe, people are saying "Holly craps, who the hell he thinks he is?" to themselves, every day of every week of every year. "What does love add up to?" they ask themselves. "One big nothing," they answer.

Or as Livia Soprano puts it to her grandson on The Sopranos, "The world is a jungle. And if you want my advice, Anthony, don't expect happiness. You won't get it. People let you down. And I'm not naming any names, but in the end, you die in your own arms."

"You mean alone?" he asks.

"It's all a big nothing. What makes you think you're so special?"

I say "It's all a big nothing!" a lot. You have to master the Livia Soprano gurgle-voice to really nail it. She spits it out like it's a personal insult to A.J. Who do you think you are, to expect more than this? Who are you, to demand happiness from this world? What makes you so special?

And of course, she's right. Even if you find love for a while, there are a million ways to lose it. Chances are most of us will be alone for a big part of our lives. No one will be kissing us passionately, hugging us like nobody else. Happy eyes will become sad in one night. People will let us down.

There is no way to heartbreak-proof your life. People change their minds. One day, you are everything. The next day, you are nothing. Sparkles go missing and are never found again.

At times like this, though, it's important to know WHAT MAKES YOU SO SPECIAL. You can't just have a vague idea. You have to know exactly who you are and what you believe in. You have to know how you want to live, even if it is all a big nothing. That takes time.

I know I'm going out on a limb, but to me, part of what makes you special is that you're the kind of person who reads an advice column in a language that's not your own and then pours out your heart in that same language, even though it's hard to do. That shows bravery and openheartedness. When you're unafraid of showing yourself, mistakes and all, you bring happiness to other people.

And now a few people out there, when faced with perplexing behavior from someone who's supposed to love them, will say to themselves, "Holly craps, who the hell he thinks he is?" They will say this in what they think is a Bulgarian accent, but it will actually be more like a hybrid of German and Mandarin Chinese. And if you heard them, you might think they were making fun of you. That's how it is when you're trying new things and being openhearted: Someone might laugh. Someone might imply that you're foolish. That's how it is when you go looking for love: Someone might hug you like nobody else, then change his mind in one night.

That's okay. Happiness comes from knowing that it's beautiful to try anyway. Happiness comes from knowing that being brave is important, no matter how your message comes across. You try, and you are brave. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. What matters is your bravery.

Feeling comfortable in your own skin, understanding yourself as a quirky entity with major design flaws who still deserves everything under the sun: This will be your true source of lasting sparkles. You will have sparkles, with or without a boyfriend, once you embrace exactly who you are and what you want from this life. It takes a certain kind of audacity to believe in happiness, to believe in love, to believe that you are special.

For smart people in particular, it's no small feat. If you're not someone who can bumble along, mindlessly metabolizing the world's skin-deep jingles and regurgitating them in your own signature brand of empty cheer ("One day at a time." "Let go and let God." "Sky's the limit!"), it's not a small thing to believe. It's not a small thing to expect happiness. It is audacious and greedy, just as Livia Soprano suggests.

And it's embarrassing to try and fail. It feels pathetic, to be cherished and then abandoned. It's devastating, when someone changes his mind in one night. But humbling experiences are opportunities to rediscover what makes you so special. When you're staring straight into the face of "It's all a big nothing," something breaks free. The part of you that clings, that clutches and won't let go, that gives a depressed guy with Mommy issues the power to dictate your worth: That part crumbles away. Suddenly you can see a desperate 25 years old man clearly. Maybe he doesn't know what love is or how to give it without wanting salvation in return. Maybe he's a sinking stone.

Love can't happen between two people who are sinking. The sparkles that come from "Can you save me? Will you save me?" go dark in a matter of weeks or months. Real, lasting sparkles come from one person, a person with the audacity to believe that happiness will be hers in spite of great flaws. Real sparkles are generated every second of every day, from one side of the world to the other, in crowded subways and in one-bedroom apartments, on rainy days and in shadowy corners of a cold room. Real sparkles can be found right here, right now. Consider making yourself a cup of tea. Consider how loved you are, right now, even though he's gone. Consider the sky, framed by tree branches. Twenty-two years is not a long time. You might not find love for a while, but you can believe in it anyway.

Make that your work now: Finding sparkles. Suffering opens a direct path to sparkles. That's what the jingles don't tell you. Heartbreak and loss bring their own kinds of sparkles. Admitting that it's all a big nothing brings sparkles. If it's all a big nothing, what is left?

There is this chair, this drafty room, the raindrops on the window. There is this gray winter morning. One of my favorite songs by Pinback has the line: "Here's to the pranks we never pulled, and never will." There's something sad but also comforting about admitting that there are things you will never do, admitting that there are limits to what you can become before your time runs out.

Today, the second-to-last day of 2014, is a good day to toast to the things you've never done. Here's to the things we've never had a chance to say to each other. Here's to the things we never tried. Here's to the sparkles that we didn't notice. We were surrounded by sparkles this year, but most of the time we couldn't see them.

We can't do everything. But let's find more sparkles next year, okay? Let's look very closely, and notice them, as much as we can.

My 5-year-old daughter just walked up and gave me a picture she drew. "This is a horsey and he's looking for the yellow heart-diamond, up on the hill. He's saying, 'Can I get up that hill and down again? Can I? Can I? Can I?'"

I know that sounds made up, but it isn't. And honestly, at first I wanted to say, "Look, I can't talk right now." But then I remembered that sparkles sometimes get in the way of efficiency. Sparkles slow things down.

So I stopped and looked at her picture of a horse. "Do you think he can get up that hill and down again?" I asked her.

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe not."

You don't need to know why he left you. Knowing why won't change anything. Knowing why won't make your doubts and fears go away. You will always have doubts and fears. You will never know what comes next.

That's okay. Just look for sparkles. They are everywhere.

Polly

http://nymag.com/thecut/2014/12/ask-polly-who-the-hell-he-thinks-he-is.html

More Life Lessons with Pharrell

"Should your heart point you in this direction, let me be your guide." P.W.

Pharrell! You beautiful bottlenose dolphin spirit guide, you keep bringing it! Even Angie, hands clutched over her chest, blurted out, "I feel like he just reached inside me and pulled something out." 

Fuck, you are SMOOTH. Do you know what he told two of his contestants this week? 

"One of you is fire, the other ice. If you do this right, we're going to have steam." 

!!!! GOOD GRIEF. I can't get enough. I want to be a big, overly sensitive sponge soaking in everything that comes out of that man's mouth. My new life dream, other than see Celine Dion in concert, is to be able to sit down and have a heart to heart with Pharrell. Except it would probably be so intense I'd have to stand up and act out everything I was feeling. And then we could go hat shopping or something. 

I love that this man is willing to say the things that scare the shit out of just about all of us. It's the real deal. It's heartfelt and full of big emotion, and we're not used to talking like that! I think for a lot of us, when you get right down to it, we aren't used to feeling. We aren't used to feeling. We're used to our default settings, to a certain level of ambivalence. It's so much easier not to care too much! The stakes are so much lower if we don't go all in! But when we're confronted or challenged or come up against opposition, don't we already know what it looks like when we go down the path of fear? Don't over-think it, over-feel it.

Should your heart point you in this direction, let these Pharrell-isms be your guide:

***

How does someone move you? Seek out the people and things that stir something inside you. Be relentless of finding the truth, be moved, be willing to take a chance and change things up- that's the only path to progressing forward.

Where are you holding back? You're afraid to engage, but you're chasing your opportunity away. Has that ever worked for you? You've been afraid, and it's not resulted in any kind of positivity, so why bring it to the moment right here? This is your moment; step into it. Let us see who you are.

Take a risk. Go inside yourself and pull out all the things you're afraid to say, and externalize them through words, movement, art, song, whatever works. Make it raw and gritty and full of truth. Because the truth is what matters, and that's what moves other people and makes them feel something. That's how you connect. The most vulnerable part of yourself is the most convincing part of yourself, because that's when people see you letting go, that's when they see you. 

***

Care too much. How could you ever be faulted for moving with conviction? How could you ever regret it? Go deeper, move inward, and then shine out. Be the sun. Don't worry about getting burned, you've already got a big hat.

Life Lessons With Pharrell

I make no excuses about the fact that despite having a higher education in Film & Television, and believing myself to be a fairly intelligent person with upstanding taste, I LOVE The Voice. Specifically, I love the words and feelings and declarations that Pharrell Williams takes from inside himself and moves them out into the world. It's a fancy way of saying, I fucking love how that man talks. If I could have a spirit animal for being able to speak with conviction and feeling and eloquence, he would be it. And although his hats are fantastic, Lapo Elkann is already my fashion spirit animal. Sorry, Pharrell, I guess you can't win them all.

P.W., that'll be the nickname I'll use just between us, you are a beautiful, fearless eagle soaring above us, compelling us to look upwards and outwards and see beyond ourselves. When you tell people to take what's inside themselves and tell their story through their voice and through their movements, I feel you. 

If there's one thing that hooks me right away, every time, is when someone or something makes me really feel something. Those are the people and things I seek out, because they're taking a risk. They're willing to open themselves up and let you feel what they feel and see their hearts, and that's rare. But it's such a gift! It's such a special and beautiful moment to connect to someone's soul and feel their story. I want big emotion! I want big risk! Be a big fucking sensitive soul and speak to the depth of what's possible when you move with conviction and intention and purpose! You might trip and fall right on your face in the most embarrassing way possible; the beauty is in trying anyway. 

Live like Pharrell: Don't over-think, over-feel. See what happens when you surrender to the moment? Also, get a great hat. You will always look cool with a great hat.

On Loss

I've never been very good with letting go. I can remember feeling it from a very young age, that feeling of "Please don't leave me I'm scared and unprepared and don't know what to do and I feel so hollow inside." I remember feeling that as young as 5 or 6, which I'm not sure even makes sense.

Recently, while I was away for work, my cat disappeared and never came back. This may sound trivial, but it devastated me. He had been my little guardian for over 10 years, and I wasn't ready to say goodbye. I didn't get to say goodbye. It is a loss I still cannot surmount. I can't write this without it moving me to tears. But things happen, and we can't stop them. Life moves on, even in the absence of saying goodbye to those we love.

But then sometimes we get that opportunity, and we try to resist. We resist because it hurts and it's not what we wanted to happen and it crushes the hope of what we thought the future held. And that's the illusion, that we have any kind of control beyond ourselves.
When things don't go my way, I shut down. I try to become cold and hard, as though I had hollowed myself out from the inside. It never works. I'm too sensitive for that to ever be effective, and it's a terrible way of coping because those things you try to shove down always have a way of floating back up at inappropriate times anyway. This is why there's that uncomfortable energy in the air when someone really lets loose and does an ugly cry in a setting that isn't them alone in their house; you are feeling all the things they've tried not to feel for so long. I remember once being at a meditation workshop, and we were chanting a mantra over and over, and then suddenly something let go and there I was openly sobbing in front of a bunch of strangers. I was crying about my Grandpa who had died months earlier, and I hadn't yet stopped to grieve. I had processed it logically and thought I was fine and was moving on, and had tried skipping past feeling the crushing sadness of what I had lost. I couldn't move forward until I did.


I often feel like life is a continual lesson in letting go. I hope I'm getting better at it. The other day I got thrown another one, and it was so tempting to shut down and disappear and harden. I was so sad, and then very angry. But then once I had actually stopped to feel those things, something softened. Something gave way and what felt right was to stay open and say what I needed, even when my heart felt vulnerable and tired and bruised. And it was worth it. For me, it was a moment of pure love, to say goodbye, and say it freely. Letting go was the only way to move forward, and I think there's a beautiful kind of freedom and hope in feeling that.
Sometimes we get to say goodbye, and sometimes we don't. So jump in with both feet and feel everything, even when it might hurt. We all face loss, but can we still stay open, especially when it might be easier to harden? Can we acknowledge how gutting it might be to care too much without steeling ourselves against the world? Can we take off the jackets we wear when we want to appear cold and unmoved and unfazed? That's not being human, that's being T-1000, and he was so full of rage and anger and homicidal tendencies probably because he was a sensitive kid in a chaotic environment and never learned to protect his heart and turned all that sad, hurt energy inward until it swallowed him whole. And also because he wasn't actually human.
Be vulnerable, be honest, be love. It will be worth the risk. 

I Was Sick For 7 Days And Here Is What I Learned

This Christmas I caught a terrible case of the flu that seemed hell-bent on ending my puny mortal existence, or in the least, just fucking me up royally. 

At first it wasn't so bad, I was still making jokes, "Sorry can't hang out! I'm really sick, but I'm gonna be so HAWT from all the weight imma lose, hahahaha!", "Damn, I'd love to come out, but I'm still pretty sick. At least I'm saving money on all the cash I'm not blowing on food, lol!".

Do not ever tempt fate by laughing in its face because it will take that as a challenge, and that is a challenge you will not win.

I couldn't keep food down for 3 days. I peed my pants a few times from coughing too hard. I tried making a bed on my bathroom floor so I wouldn't have to keep walking to the toilet to throw up, but the floor proved too cold. I eventually texted a friend asking what they were doing that night, because if they were free I might need a ride to the hospital. And because they are a gem, my own Wellness Fairy swooped over and pumped me full of coconut water, Gatorade, Gravol, and soup. It worked! But I still had some recovering to do. 

Christmas is maybe one of the most fortuitous times to get sick because they run goddamn marathons of everything on TV. It was a life saver. I watched so many fucking marathons and documentaries. I watched entire marathons of Timber Kings, Guy's Grocery Games, Cutthroat Kitchen, Chopped, House Hunters, and House Hunters International. I even watched the first two seasons of Glee, which I forgot actually started out really good?!?! Oh god and really sad at the same time. Here is what I learned:

. Timber Kings- This is a show about guys who make timber houses out of Williams Lake, BC. I think it's on the History Channel. I had never seen this show before my killer flu, but it pulled out to be one of my favourites. I admit, I developed a pretty big crush on the little Swiss, Beat, and that dreamy lilt in his voice. It was like an oral Vicodin for my withering body and soul. That day I had described how I felt as feeling like my entire body was stuffed with cotton balls, except cotton balls that actually had hundreds of tiny little razor sharp spikes and also made your hair inexplicably gross, but Beat turned them into little puffs of fluffy clouds to sweep me away.
Tell me someone else has seen this?? Also, is Peter also Swiss? Either that or he sounds some kind of Scandy. I liked him too because he was good at being grumpy and making snappy comebacks. I don't ever plan on wanting a timber house, but I wouldn't mind Beat bringing his chainsaw into my bedroom! Do a little logging in my bed! Construct a 2,800 square foot timber frame in my pants!! Does that even make sense? Fuck I'm so lonely.

. Guy's Grocery Games- As much as I hate Guy Fieri, and I dislike him as much as those tips are frosted, he is surprisingly restrained in this show. And it actually works really well! I enjoyed this, however, I was also on day 2 of not being able to eat, so my standards may have been low. The challenges were pretty fun, and they had great guest judges like Aarti! I like the way she talks. My favourite episode was with the Italian guy who was completely eccentric and an insanely good chef and wanted to win so he could afford to bring his wife and daughter to America. Ahhh! I cried. 

. Cutthroat Kitchen- I also had never seen this show, but as soon as I saw my man Alton Brown I was sold. I'm not sure what makes him so likable, but he gets me every time. The challenges were so sneaky! And yet the food still looked SO GOOD! I liked when they made one of the chefs cook on a treadmill, and also on an upside down wok, and the super hero hands too. How do they still make gourmet meals out of canned chicken and I can't even bake kale correctly??

. Chopped- Oh god I don't know. Watching cooking shows when you are struggling to digest crackers is a cruel form of personal punishment. Fuck, I don't remember, they probably cooked a bunch of shit. The end. I'm going to go sleep in the bathroom.

. House Hunters- The girl in the relationship frequently seems to be high maintenance and bitchy and wears lots of tall boots and long necklaces and decorative scarves and wants to live in a master-planned community, whereas the dude just wants to live on the beach and surf. I feel ya, brah. Lose the dead weight.

. House Hunters International- Oh fuck off this show is so fixed. Who only goes to see 3 houses and then chooses 1??? Also my friends signed up to be on this and they told me you have to have already bought your house and they make up the rest. THEY JUST MAKE IT UP. Thanks for ruining Christmas.

So then I took a bunch of Gravol and had trippy dreams about walking on the beach with this guy with Katy Perry's "Firework" playing on loudspeakers everywhere and then that guy actually did take me to beach but we sat in his car because I was still feverish sweaty but no Katy Perry was playing and his sweater looked really cozy. 

Today is my first day in 7 days eating real solid foods. 

I still dream of Beat.