Deleting Discord

Well, well, well. Here we are again. Apologies for the hiatus, I am STILL dealing with my knee injury and I find that I have days were I am in the most sullen of moods and don’t want to leave the bed. I believe the fancy-pants term for that is ‘depression’; I use the phrase ‘I’m sad because my knee feels stabby-achy’. (For the record. “stabby-achy” is defined, by me, as follows: imagine if someone stabbed you, that’s where the stabby part comes from, then imagine that they left the knife in and every 10 seconds, they give it a little jiggle, that’s the achy part. It’s not as jarringly painful as the initial stab, but it’s incredibly uncomfortable.)

Lately, I’ve been feeling better emotionally, which is not to say that I still don’t have days were I turn off my phone, bring in the dog, shut my door, binge-watch Netflix and nap the day away, but they are less frequent. (I’m not sure how much of an accomplishment that is, because ANYTHING is less frequent than every day.)

I may or may not have had a glass of wine or two while writing this, so bear with me if this appears as a rambling diatribe from a lunatic. I mean, that might very well be what this is, so in that case, just go with it. I am going to tell you the following story in order to tell you another story.

Let me set the scene …

March 25th, it’s Sushi’s birthday, so naturally I’m celebrating by letting her snuggle inside all day and spoiling her rotten with treats (healthy ones, don’t freak out, focus on the story). We’re in my room, sprawled out on the bed watching movie, I’m giving her the 6th belly rubbing session of the day when my phone chirps: I have a facebook message! It’s from my good friend [Lady name]! I open up the messenger app to find the single most unexpected message I have ever received:

hi i need you to be really fucking honest with me right now katie i found some messages between you
and my husband and i want to know what if anything has EVER happened between you two
 i think you owe me that much”

Thrown, bewildered, perplexed, stumped, flummoxed, blindsided; other words that mean confused. Some background here: I have been friends with [Lady name] and her husband for going on 10 years now. I moved away to Montana, but we remained friends, keeping in touch via GoogleChat, Facebook and texting. We never seemed to find ourselves in California at the same time until recently when I moved back. In the 14 months since I have been in the state, I have seen [Lady name] a grand total of four (perhaps 5?) times. I have seen her husband twice. Not only do I not know what messages she is referring to, I also have no idea what time frame we’re talking about. Were they messages I sent him throughout the years I lived in Montana? What could be in them that is so offensive? I reacted immediately by responding, truthfully, with this: “NEVER!! I promise! What messages?”

Only three more messages were exchanged, two of them coming from me. The last communication I had from [Lady name] is as follows:

“somehow that just doesn’t seem to add up after reading that shit
got quite the thing for him for what i read
which is funny
because when things could have been on the up and up you didn’t seem to want any part of that”

(SIDE NOTE: They are engaged in an open marriage. I only bring this up because if left unsaid, this message doesn’t make sense.)

The first thing that sprang to mind?


Here is a woman that I have known for years, whom I have loved for years, whose family I have considered my own, and she has thrown this at my feet. No explanation, no rhyme or reason, no benefit of the doubt, no further communication. I was devastated. I cried. I tried to get her to talk to me. I attempted a search through my various chat servers to search for any message that could be construed as me moving in on her man, but the chats I had had with her husband were so old, they were no longer saved in GoogleChat. Facebook was coordinating help with moving heavy objects over a year ago. Hell, I even opened up my Yahoo! Messenger for the first time in THREE YEARS to look for these elusive messages and I came up a message that simply read “I’m so booooored” that went unanswered.

I owned up to, what I believed to be, a harmless conversation about open relationships. I have friends who are poly-amorous and I’m always curious as to why they’ve decided to wander down that particular path. I myself am monogamous, one man at a time please. Form a line. HA. HA. HA. In all seriousness though, I don’t see how they can do it. I have a jealous streak a mile wide and I don’t share with others. When I am with someone, I am with only them and I expect unwavering loyalty in return. The conversation I had with the husband went something along the lines of me asking him how he can be okay with other men being in his wife’s bed and telling him much of what I just told you. His response was something along the lines of explaining that he believes [Lady name] is so amazing, that he wants other people to know what an amazing person she is. This is the only conversation we had, to my recollection, that concerned our love lives. By the time she had offered (yes, you read that correctly) her husband to me, I had already made some epic missteps where my sex life was concerned and I wasn’t looking to add anything to that list any time soon. Sleeping with friends’ husbands isn’t even on the list of things-that-could-happen-if-I-had-a-brain-aneurysm-and-went-out-with-a-bang.

I sulked for a good week afterward. I didn’t know what to do. The husband was still my friend on Facebook, [Lady name] having deleted me the day she sent the message. I was afraid to message him. I wanted to ask him what the hell was happening, wanted to know what she was talking about, wanted to know if he had said something in the heat of an argument that involved a fictitious account of an affair between the two of us. I was so terrified that she would be monitoring his accounts (seeing as how she started this mess by saying “I FOUND messages) and would take any communication as an admission of guilt. So I stayed away. I left him as a friend and went about my business.

And I got ANGRY.

I’m not a fan of messages that end in “you owe me that much”. First off, I owe you NOTHING. Especially if what you’re accusing me of isn’t true. I feel, and this is just my own moral code talking, that if you end a message in such a fashion, you are obligated to listen to what the other person has to say. When writing an accusatory message like the one I received, there is a 93% chance that you have already made up your mind as to the person’s guilt and therefore have no business adding that phrase as a sign-off.

I started to seethe. To obsess over the conversation she and I had had. I stewed on the injustice of it all. Some choice song lyrics came to mind, first “Just give me an hour and then, I’ll be as high as that ivory tower that you’re living in!” (Friends In Low Places, Garth Brooks). And then came “Tell your boyfriend, if he says he’s got beef, that I’m a vegetarian and I ain’t fucking scared of him!” (Don’t Trust A Hoe 3OH!3). Followed closely by “I never really hit a bitch, so I’m gonna smack ya. This won’t even be a fight, because I’m knockin’ you out and my name ain’t dick so keep it out of your mouth!” (Lump Your Head, Hollywood Undead)

[I’m not perfect, I like music with bad language in it, moving right along …]

Then I got nervous.

What if [Lady name] started spreading this rumor. Would it be like last time. Oh right, THERE WAS A LAST TIME. When I was in high school, a third party from church (FROM CHURCH! It’s a wonder I don’t despise the house of God) whispered into my mother’s ear that I was being inappropriate with the husband of [Lady name]; then he started to whisper poison into the ear of [Lady name] herself and things got crazy. —For the record, I would like to reiterate that nothing, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING has ever happened between this guy and I other than friendship. Ever. I had a crush on him when we were kids and that was as far as it went. When he introduced me to his wife and children, any traces of childhood crush I may have had floating around in my brain were ground into dust, especially because his wife and I really hit it off.— For the first time, and obviously not for the last, I wasn’t given the benefit of the doubt. I went straight to [Lady name], we had a sit down on her front porch and I swore on the head of my favorite grandmother that there was nothing going on, I didn’t even have the faintest of fleeting feelings for her husband. She and I banded together as friends and squashed the rumors. 

This time, though, things were different. She wasn’t in the talking things out mood. I started to worry that she would tell people the fiction she had invented. I was still grieving the loss of, what I assumed to be, a great friend of mine; I couldn’t bear the thought of losing more people over a lie.

Then I got angry again.

Who gives a shit who she tells?? As the expression goes ‘Those who matter don’t mind and those who mind don’t matter’. If people were going to blindly believe her story, then they weren’t my friends in the first place. The flip side of that coin is that my inner circle, my tribe, would recognize the falsehood immediately and/or come to me, seeking to know the truth.

Thus concludes the first story; let’s move on to the reason I wrote this post.

“Shun those that would cause discord among you.”

This was the phrase that really hit home with me when I heard it this Sunday. For the first time since Easter, I untangled myself from the warm, cuddly mass of blankets that made up my bed, peeled myself away from my teddy bear of a dog and got myself ready for church. I typically sleep in on Sundays because sitting for the hour-and-change-long service hurts my leg, but something about this week made feel like going (see also: divine intervention). So I endured Sushi’s pathetic stare as I shut her outside and tagged along with the family to Wildwood Cavalry Chapel.  Is it a good church? Yes, the teachings are solid, the band is rocking and the people are friendly. However, I don’t feel like it’s my ‘home church’. I don’t get a sense of belonging there and that’s okay, there are plenty of other churches out there for me to discover and evaluate, but for the time being WCC is where I attend. Most of the time, I kind of zone out during the sermon (bad Christian, BAD, blah blah blah), mostly because I’m tired. And maybe a little bored. And maybe I feel weird because my mom is SO into it and I know she wants me to be SO into it and then I’m not and I feel sheepish (another story for another time). This week, though, I made an attempt to listen. Is it because I’ve started fasting on Sundays (it’s a nutritional thing, not a sackcloth-and-ashes thing) and I needed anything to keep my mind off of food? Perhaps. Is it because there was a little voice in the back of my head quietly muttering “you need this, shut up and pay attention”? Perhaps more. Either way, it worked and the message sunk in.

REWIND: Saturday night, I was going through some old photos on Facebook when I came across one that my ex-boyfriend had commented on. In this little quip, he mentioned that he loved me. I didn’t feel sad, I didn’t feel angry, I felt … nostalgic. I clicked on his name and visited his profile for the first time in over a year. After looking at a few pictures, the only thought that came to mind was. “I hope you’re doing okay, you big doofus.” I don’t want him back, I haven’t forgotten what he did and said, I don’t know how I would react if I saw him tomorrow, but I know now that I’m ready to forgive; I’m ready to let it all go. I hope he is with someone he truly cares for, I hope he has a job he enjoys more than the one he had when we were together, I hope his family is happy and healthy.

MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE RANCH: So I am sitting in church the next day and when the pastor steps up to the podium, he announces that we are going to be taking communion; I’ve taken communion I don’t know how many times, so I start to tune out at the instructions part–(Wildwood does it differently than other churches I’ve been to. Typically, you are instructed when to eat and drink with the traditional “Do this in remembrance of Me” lines, WCC tells you to do it in your own time, when it feels right to you, I like this way better.)  As I’m sitting there, staring holes into my damaged leg, the pastor’s voice floats in my brain, he is talking about forgiveness. He is saying that before you partake of the sacraments, let go of disputes, forgive and enter into God’s covenant with a heart free from malice. Without putting much effort into it, a list rose to the forefront of my mind: [Lady name], [Lady husband’s name], Nick, [Dude], ME. These were the people I was holding something against; these were the ones I held malice for; these are the ones I needed to forgive.

I’m not a big pray-er. I talk to God, but I don’t like praying in front of people and get nervous when asked. My prayers often include language not suitable for children and usually meant for a direct me-God audience. That morning, I didn’t pray in the typical sense, I just repeated that list over and over in my head, imagining their names getting smaller and smaller with each repetition until they were white blurs against the black blankness of my thoughts. I wasn’t held rapt for the rest of the sermon, my mind wandered in and out, but one of the times it wandered in, Chris uttered the phrase “shun those that would cause discord”. He was speaking about the need we have, as believers, as humans, to distance ourselves from those who would create trouble and drama. It stay away from those who feed on dissension, who thrive on strife, who only feel better when they’re putting others down. It really hit me hard.

Everything I had been feeling about [Lady name] and her attack; the sorrow, the anger, the fear–it melted. I clung so hard to the phrase. I repeated it over and over in my head. Shun those that would cause discord. Shuuuunnnnnnn! I pulled out my phone right then and there and un-friended her husband on Facebook.

When I got home, I did a little digging, to see if there were verses about turning from those who create drama and I found Titus 3:10-11 that states: “If people are causing divisions among you, give a first and second warning. After that, have nothing more to do with them. For people like that have turned away from the truth, and their own sins condemn them.”

It happened 9 years ago, it’s happening for a second time now. Their own sins condemn them. It was like a light switched on. [Lady name] and husband are engaged in an open marriage (swingers, for those of you who lived through the 60s) AND they claim to be Christians. IMPOSSIBLE. Be a swinger or not, I don’t care. That’s your life, live it how you see fit. Be a Christian or not, again, your life. However, you just can’t be both. You cant believe in the teachings of Christ and think that it’s perfectly acceptable to have an open relationship; it just doesn’t work. I realized that this particular hurdle in their life is NOT MY FAULT. If you choose to have that kind of relationship with your spouse, you can’t get angry about things like who sleeps with your spouse or, in this case, who you just ASSUMED slept with them. Her attack on me was born out of her own insecurities and unattended needs.

In the pasts two days, I have gone through my friends list and shunned a few people. I’ve deleted people who cause nothing but trouble, who feed off of drama and drain others of their love and emotions. So, if you’ve linked to this from my Facebook page, congratulations! You’ve survived the purge. I encourage each and every one of you, dear readers, to shun some people in your life. It will not be easy, it will not be without second guesses, some of it will be fun–not going to lie, and ALL of it will make you a happier, more sane, peaceful individual.



Thoughts of Home

It snowed in So Cal tonight … I spent a good long while standing there watching it, reluctant to go inside, reluctant to leave the silence and the beauty of the white blanketing the street. My heart churned in my chest and I fought the urge to cry. Seeing the flakes fall brought back so many memories of the last 7 years; of days spent camped on the couch enjoying good company and bad movies, of afternoons spent snowball fighting outside of Albertson’s just because we could, of evenings spent curled up with a good book, a snoring dog and a hot cup of spiked cider. Then the friends fade away and fresher memories bombard my thoughts. Memories of late night video games, laughter, cuddling, the feeling of his skin against mine as he held me to him while he slept, of lazing the mornings away cuddling and laughing and swearing never to go outside again.

The best way to describe this feeling is homesick. I miss the place where I became me, where I learned who I am and what I stand for. I miss my friends, my Montana family, my tribe of crazies. Do you know what it’s like to miss a metal chair stationed outside a downtown coffee shop? Or to long for the sweet stench of river mud in the spring? To pine for the auditory delight that is the crunch of road salt beneath your boots? I do. I miss all these things and more.


I left him a year ago tomorrow. I do not regret my decision, but I regret the way we handled it. We were two very hurt people who lashed out at each other. There are things I have left unsaid, because once voiced I could not get them back. In my darkest hours, a sickness creeps into my heart and whispers to me that I shouldn’t have let the words expire in my throat, I should have rained them down on him. ‘Hurt him like he hurt us,’ it cries. I don’t let those thoughts out often and I usually end up flushing them out with a tear(or several). I know now that he was hurting just as much as I was, that’s why it ended so explosively; it’s why he said what he did; it’s why he acted the way he did up until I moved away. He’s probably still hurting, just as I still hurt in ways, but at least I know that the healing I seek will not be found at the bottom of a bottle. I wish the best for him, I hope he’s healthy and safe … and I am sorry. Sorry that we couldn’t be what either of us imagined, sorry that I wasn’t the right woman for him or he the right man for me, because after all the hurt and the pain, through all the time and the miles, I still love him.

It is hard for me to separate my decision to close my chapter with him from the ‘beginning of the end of everything’. Perhaps they don’t require separating. Perhaps they are linked in a way that I will never know because I don’t know the Creator’s plans for me. After starting the year single, I unexpectedly lost my job less than a month later. A month after that, I packed everything I owned into a Uhaul trailer and headed south to move back in with my parents. After 4 months of being unemployed, I took a job as a cook–not my chosen profession and most definitely not using my degree. A month after that, I was injured on the job. Three months after the injury, which I have still not recovered from, I was fired because I can’t perform my employment duties. So here I am: single, unemployed, physically broken, mentally exhausted, emotionally numb, racking up debt to my parents, accruing interest on my massive student loans and fighting like hell to get some sort of health insurance.

And yet, I have so many things to be thankful for: Sushi and I have food in our bellies, a roof over our heads, we want for no necessities and we are showered in unconditional love from my parents daily (Sushi is more into the belly rubs, I prefer high fives). This year has been tough from every angle and I feel like I’m free-falling, waiting when I’m going to hit rock bottom because every time I find purchase, the ground gives way beneath my feet. This year has been a test of will and a test of faith and I am under no illusions that that test is anywhere near done yet.

I am still standing, with Sushi at my side and my six shooter on my hip; I’m ready for 2015 and all it has to throw at me.

DARING to eat new food!

Here we are again! This is week three for my Daring Adventure. Last week, life got in the way (and maybe a little laziness too) and I decided to lay low. The week before that, even thought I didn’t post it, I was DARING to look up. I have a bad habit of stooping a little when I walk with people (I’m 6’3″, everyone else is shorter) and I tend to stare at the ground. So, a couple of Fridays ago, two of my best friends and I went downtown for a drink or two and some eye candy shopping. I wore bright red lipstick, a good boob shirt, and didn’t stare at the ground once. I held the gaze of strangers, not in a creepy way … well, okay, maybe I looked at SOME of them in a creepy way.

So the next daring activity we picked from the list was to try new foods! This one, even though it sounds really simple, was ridiculously hard for me. I am picky. SO FREAKING PICKY. For example: I went through a phase that every time the family went out to dinner, it was chicken strips or nothing. I was in high school. Another example, you ask? Prime Rib might be one of the most delicious cuts of meat on the planet—I prefer Sirloin. I don’t like the way Prime rib is marbled with fat. Still not satisfied? Here’s another: I enjoy mushroom flavoring, but I don’t want to eat mushrooms. I’m a texture eater; if the texture of a food grosses me out, I won’t eat it. I don’t particularly care for pudding, yogurt or jello because of the texture. Same goes for pork chops, cooked carrots, onions(I’m getting better with this one), and meatloaf, among other things.

Tonight, Tara and I went to a Vietnamese place called Ocean Phở. We perused the menu, looking not for something familiar and known-to-be-delicious, but for something we’ve never eaten before. She ordered the “cơm chiên đờ biền” which was fried rice with shrimp, shrimp paste, squid, fish balls, and imitation crab. I had the “phở đuôi bó”, oxtail soup. After we placed our orders, we anxiously awaited for the dishes to arrive, we sipped on Cam Vat which is apparently just fresh squeezed orange juice. The menu didn’t give an explanation as to what it was, so a few keystrokes and Google results later this evening, I discovered the simplicity of the beverage. Its probably the best OJ I’ve ever had!

Cam vat



Then came the OXTAIL SOUP. It looked delicious enough and smelled wonderful!


phở đuôi bó




The first bite? AMAZE-BALLS. Some of it was chewy, most of it was fall of the vertebrae tender. Oh, did I mention that there where VERTEBRAE in my soup?? It was a little hard to swallow (HAHAHA) at first, but I got used to it fairly quickly. I couldn’t help but play with my food after I had eaten all the meat off the bone. Turning it over and over in my hand.






Of course, Tara and I shared our dishes with each other, so I got to have some squid, fish balls (don’t ask, because I don’t know how they’re made), and shrimp paste for the first time. All in all, it was a great experience and I definitely want to go back to try some of the other dishes they have to offer. It was a culture shock being the only two Caucasians in the restaurant; something every one should experience at least once in their lifetime. On to the next adventure!!


Mmm, mmmm!

Today, I do something DARING

The other night at work, I was sitting in the dining area for the evening and they had Pandora tuned to a Country channel. Normally, I wouldn’t mind, but all the songs there were playing were songs that my ex-boyfriend loved and/or sent to me as little love notes every so often. I wanted to cry for my entire shift. As previously mentioned in this blog, we didn’t end on good terms. Hell, we didn’t even end on okay-ish terms. Whenever someone asks me how my last relationship ended, I reply with “it exploded”. That doesn’t mean I don’t wish him well, or that I hate him. I was texting a few good friends of mine that night, trying to cheer up and the following exchange occurred:

Me:”I’m going to get all emo for a hot minute. Work is playing country music tonight, the kind that Nick loved. It’s been 9 months and it still hurts my heart to think of him. That goes away eventually, right?”

She:”Missing someone will always be there, but the pain will dull and the frequency will lessen over time. It’s much more cathartic to acknowledge the broken heartedness than it is to pretend it’s not there. Have your moment of memory and hurt, give your heart a little hug, gently remind yourself why you are where you are right now, then hike up your britches and march on with your life.”

What amazing advice! I could not have asked God to surround me with better friends. Is there a man in Montana who still holds my heart? Yes. Does he deserve to still hold it? No, but that’s where it is right now and all I can do is reclaim a little bit of it every day.

I thought long and hard about what the best way to move on; how to live my life to the fullest without being hung up on the past. So I attempted to make a list of all the things Nick didn’t like about me or behaviors he didn’t enjoy. It was a short list, comprised of “hanging out with guy friends while he was at work in North Dakota”, “nagging him about his alcoholism” and “cutting my hair any shorter than my shoulders”. I picked the only one on the list I had any control over anymore and started looking at short hair cuts. I’ve been wanting a pixie cut for almost 2 years now and it’s about time I went for it. I didn’t dare do it for the entirety I was dating Nick because he flat out told me “if you cut your hair short, I’ll by you a wig on the way home”. I’ve avoided cutting off my luscious locks since then because I’m a big fat chicken. I’ve made excuses, like “my face is too fat for that kind of cut” or “what if I look like a lesbian??”. In the past week, I’ve decided something really important: WHO THE HELL CARES! I can always lose weight. I know I’m not a lesbian. And who gives a shit if other people think I am? A few women have given me their numbers/hit on me while I’ve had long hair (which I find super flattering, by the way), so it’s not like my hair has anything to do with being thought of as an attractive woman. I will admit, part of not wanting to cut it all off was founded in the fear that men will think I’m gay and therefore won’t be interested in flirting/dating/making out like teenagers/etc. It’s not like they’re knocking down my door as is, so I went for it!




Out of this physical transformation sprang an emotional and psychological one that I am naming: “Today, I do something DARING”. My best friend and I are traveling this path together, doing at least one daring thing a week for the next year. We are pushing ourselves, and each other, out of our comfort zones and encouraging each other to live life to the fullest.

Summer Vacation Sucks

Sorry for the delay in writing, someone texted me “K” and I was busy plotting their demise.

For being unemployed and receiving (what feels like) continuous “thanks, but no thanks” emails from NUMEROUS companies — seriously, I couldn’t even get a job at Target for Christ’s sake; they told me I’m over-qualified, the bastards — I have been leading a pretty busy life. Granted, most of my time is spent doing family activities, running any sort of errands I can think of and spending a bunch of time with my best friend as well as reconnecting with old friends, meeting their significant others and, in some cases, their children.

It’s odd, this not making money and living with your parents thing. I’m 26 and feel like I just graduated high school. I feel like I’m on summer vacation and just waiting for my real life to begin. Except for that sense of responsibility gnawing at me from the time I wake up to the time I go to bed; the nausea that settles in the bottom of my stomach as I watch my savings dwindle each month as I pay my bills; the lump in my throat that swells up every time I get a rejection email from a possible employer; the extra weight I feel on my body as I am forced to walk around with pants on because I no longer live by myself.


I have a little something something in the works for another in-depth Disney blog, check back soon!


I went to Chipotle for dinner tonight because I deserve it … and it’s a day that ends in “y”. The line isn’t too long, my stomach isn’t so empty that it’s eating itself and the place isn’t stuffy. All in all, these are ideal burrito-anticipating conditions. In front of me is a hipster/grunge couple(?). The girl has a few dreads that look like they haven’t seen a wash in years and the guy … THIS GUY. Ugh. White undershirt, tight jeans, sidewise hat, shitty attitude about life in general (every sentence he completed was filled with an air of “uhh, my life has no meeeeeaning, wah wah, doom and gloom”) and fake taper plugs in his ears. For those of who you don’t know me: I have REAL plugs in my ears; I’ve gauged them to a size 2. It’s not huge, but when I wear my hollow ones, you can see through my ear. Fake plugs bother me. Not in a you’re-such-a-pussy-I’m-so-awesome kind of way, just in a it’s-not-that-hard-to-gauge-them-take-it-out-if-you-don’t-like-it-they’ll-go-back-to-normal-I-promise kind of way. Either way, I wasn’t judging (too hard, anyway), just minding my own business, waiting for a burrito and watching Sushi stare me down from the jeep when I FELT HER DREAD LOCKS TOUCH MY ARM!! I freaked out. Hardcore. Dreads gross me out and the fact that her human pathogen-growing hairdo touched me made my skin crawl. I recovered and took a slight step backward so it wouldn’t happen again.


We went through the ordering process and while the cashier was ringing them up, the girl at the end of the line was finishing up my burrito.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, toss some lettuce on there. Try to make it look healthy.”

“Haha, sure thing, let’s give it some green illusion.”


THEN the hipster guy leans over, while looking at my burrito and says, “Lettuce isn’t healthy, it retains water in your body so you should always replace it with spinach or not get it at all,” he FINALLY looks at me, “just so you know.”


I snapped and my brain-to-mouth filter, that’s been on vacation or the last 26 years, wasn’t there to keep the tongue lashing at bay. I replied with “I’ll start following your unsolicited dieting advice when you can commit to something as simple as gauging your ears and wearing jeans that fit, but thanks for your opinion.”

They paid and left without another word, the cashier had the biggest grin on his face when he asked “anything else?” and proceeded to give me a fountain drink on the house. BOOYAH.

Dating Disasters

I attract everything I am not attracted to. I had a date tonight, the first one since the great relationship explosion of 2014. He seemed like a nice guy, smart, conversationally capable, handsome, employed, blah blah blah. The coffee was nice, the conversation was sparkling, the walk was calming, the kiss … left me wanting. And not in the good way. It was sloppy, it was desperate, it just wasn’t what I wanted. Then mofo got handsy. And wouldn’t let me get in my car to leave. Boy almost got a knee full of Six Shooter in his crotch. Making me raise my voice to tell you to STOP IT does not bode well for a second date.


I got home and relayed the conversation to my parents, who were on my side of the issue. Later, I was talking with Dad about men are stupid (he apologized on behalf of all men), then told me that I was being too general. “BOYS are stupid, MEN are okay … but just to be safe, don’t trust them. Don’t date them or kiss them or even look at them.” Oh, daddy-o, how I love you.


While I try to be patient, I am getting a little miffed that my partner in crime has not presented himself. I’ve dated plenty of duds, where is my stud?? Why can’t I find a tall, decent looking, smart, kind, educated, outdoorsy alpha male with good credit and nice teeth? WHERE ARE THEY HIDING??


Oh well, back to swimming in the dating pool and trying not to be grossed out by all the old guys in speedos.



Fairly Awkward






Adventure is out there!

A rare photo from my childhood


Well, this is it! The goodbyes have been said, the Jeep’s tank is full, the bags are packed and I am ready to head out. I am going to miss you, Missoulians. It has been a wild ride these past six years full of trespassing, new friends, heartache, triumph, milestones, degrees, surgeries, rafting trips and bonfires. I have met some really amazing people … and some really not-so-awesome folk. Since moving to Montana, I’ve been fired for the first time, learned how to ride a motorcycle, earned a BA, adopted a dog, had my first concussion, made three documentaries, earned three Emmy awards and really discovered who I am and who I want to be. There is no way to know what my future holds, but I am excited to see what comes next!

Egg On Your Face

I have been wanting to write this particular post for two weeks now, but I kept making excuses for not doing it. I didn’t have time, I couldn’t find the right words, I wasn’t in the right mood, blah blah blah. Truth is, I was terrified. I am scared to be this real with people, to let it all out, my life flayed open for all to judge. But hey, that’s the purpose of this blog … *deep breath* so here goes:

I was raised in a Christian household. For as long as I can remember, we attended a Southern Baptist church in Southern California. It was a good place to raise a kid, there were good families with similar aged kids that I grew up alongside. I learned bible verses, went to church camps, participated in biblical trivia battles and the AWANA Olympics and through it all I never really believed. I was baptized at the age of 6 and went through all the motions; I knew what I supposed to do on Sundays, what I was supposed to say, but I never put my heart into it.

Recently, I have had a change of heart, I started listening to a little voice in the back of my mind. It started as a whisper and has escalated into a roar. I’m not sure when I started listening, but I am certain that it has been calling me for quite sometime. Things in my life started to change, subtly at first, then I started to feel ways about stuff, like an adult. The night I told my boyfriend, whom I had been building a life with for a year, that I couldn’t marry him someday if he wasn’t a  Christian was  a huge turning point in my life. He reacted in the most volatile manner imaginable. He disappeared for a night (we’re neighbors) and when he returned, he wouldn’t look at me, barely acknowledged my presence and then said some of the most hurtful things that have ever been directed at me. He fucked with my head and broke my heart (and our relationship) into a million pieces. Granted, there were a myriad of red flags that I willfully ignored (anger issues, a drinking problem, lying), but my returning to faith and requiring that belief in a partner was the straw to break the camel’s back. I am in no way suggesting that all the fault lies on him, I have my faults as well. Just as it takes two people to make a relationship, it takes two people to break it.

The bible tells us not to be unequally yoked. I like the New Living Translation best: “Don’t team up with those who are unbelievers. How can righteousness be a partner with wickedness? How can light live with darkness?” (2 Corinthians 6:14)

What the bible doesn’t tell you about is the gut-wrenching pain that comes with finding the truth of this verse the hard way. It doesn’t prepare you for the sleepless nights, the loss of appetite, the stomach aches, the exhaustion brought on by hours of crying, the dreams where everything is okay and you wake up to find your world in pieces around you leaving you to experience the heartbreak anew. It’s been two weeks since that night and while I am stronger now, while I know I made the right decision, I need to remind myself daily that I am on the right track.

In the days following the break up, I was on a roller coaster of emotions that drained me, scared me, almost broke me. I clung to Sushi to keep me sane, keep me focused, keep me putting one foot in front of the other and rebuild our routine. Sunday night, four days into the aftermath, my heart broke. I had been crying and trying to find my way out of the depression when something inside me clicked. I sat on my couch, placed my hand on the living room wall (the wall that he and I share in the apartment complex) and prayed. I prayed for God to harden my heart against this man, not to make me hate him, but to make me remember why it is that God felt the need to distance my heart in the first place. I prayed for my ex, that he be granted peace and that he find it in him to be a better man, the man I know he is capable of being. Then, I slid to the floor and silently cried out to God, asking him to use me as the vessel he intends, asking him what I am to learn from this heartache, what am I supposed to gain from this suffering. I needed answers and those first few nights all I wanted was for the man next door to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay. Seeing as how he’s the reason everything was broken, that was never going to happen.

Something clicked with me that night. I didn’t need the man next door, I need the Man Upstairs. I have always needed Him. For the first time in my life, I have decided to take my faith seriously. It’s something that is completely new to me, it’s scary, frustrating and, at times, feels really cheesy. I’ve been reading a book called “The Single Woman” by Mandy Hale and it has helped smooth out the rocky ride. It talks about finding your worth inside of yourself, with your Creator and not in the eyes of any man.

What I am about to share with you, I have only shared with one other person: the reason why I stayed with him for so long …

I stayed with Nick for so long because I wanted to be wanted, for once. I haven’t had much luck in the dating world and here was this handsome, tall, funny guy who was into me, REALLY into me. Then he started talking marriage and my heart leaped at the chance to be so loved by one man for the rest of my life. I let my crushing desire to not spend my life alone cloud my judgement and blind me from what I needed to see. I am TERRIFIED that I won’t find love, because I am not the girl that guys go after. I’m not the prom queen, the size 3, the hot one, etc. I am taller than most people I know, I am outspoken, I am quirky and I can be pretty loud.

I stayed with him when I should have left because I don’t think that I can be worthy of anyone’s real love. And what he told me the night that it all came crashing down(that he had slept with someone else the night before)  just solidified that in my mind. I am not the girl that men seek out and I am not enough for them to stay. I did EVERYTHING for him, I gave him EVERYTHING and ALL of me and it just. wasn’t. enough.

I can’t keep pouring my heart and soul into every person I date or I want have anything left, but I don’t want to become cold and bitter and my greatest fear is still ending up alone, one way or another: whether I have been destroyed and I am a husk of the person I once was or I become callus to feeling anything but fear and mistrust.

And it was through this conversation that I hit upon an idea. An amazing, wonderful, uplifting idea. I am starting a second blog (I will still keep this one going) to foster a 365 photography project. No matter what, each day I am going to take a “selfie”, most likely with Sushi involved, even if I feel fat or ugly or just not photogenic. Then I’ll post it on the blog with a little blurb. I want girls, and grown women, to know that you have to love yourself first. I don’t want anyone I know, and even those I don’t, to feel like I do now. Finding your way in this world is a tough experience, so no one should have to go it alone. Find my daily photo project HERE.

For those of with a significant other, make sure you’re not taking them for granted and for those of you who are fellow soldiers in the dating war, know that you are not alone, that we’re all in this together and it sucks. You’re not going to meet the perfect person, they just don’t exist. However, you ARE going to find someone who compliments you, not completes you. If someone tells you that you’re “too picky” tell them thank you. The standards you set determine the life you get; don’t EVER settle for something that you don’t feel is right, listen to your intuition and trust your gut. You deserve the best.


In Progress

Well, some unfortunate things have happened since I last updated this.

My first Christmas without both grandmothers (and I spent it away from family). The one year anniversary of my beloved Grandmother Rose’s passing. My best friend and her fella parted ways (on good terms, but it still hurts).

Most heartbreaking: a break up with the fella I have been seeing for a year. It was abrupt, it was hurtful and it was scarring. I thought he was the one and I was blinded by my love for him; I fell hard and fast when I met him and I allowed my desire to not be alone for the rest of my life to lie to me that everything was okay. I have a post coming, but there are still some things I need to work out within my head before I can get it all down on paper (or whatever the internet equivalent of paper is … screen?). So for now, I shall leave you with this little ditty that I dance to as often as possible.



There ARE blue skies ahead.


I’ve been cooking up a little photography project to not necessarily hone my skills, but to celebrate my life, and the lives of all of us who live with imperfections. We’ll see where it takes me!