Hey 2015, you’ve been alright.

It seems like the resounding sentiment that floods my social media newsfeeds and conversations at the end of every year is basically, “Fuck this year. It sucked.” I’ve definitely felt that way a few times over the years, but I don’t feel that way this year. The year 2015 has actually been pretty damn good to me.

Sure, I started the year off with about a week in bed recovering from a surgery to remove a pesky ovarian cyst. On the bright side, I didn’t lose an ovary, but I did lose about 20 pounds because I had my IUD removed during that surgery. The surgery diet of saltines and pain-killers also really helps kick-start the weight loss thing.

I traveled overseas for the first time to visit Harrison’s brother who was studying abroad in Istanbul, Turkey. I didn’t even get a training-wheel country like The U.K. or France; I went straight to Asia Minor. I also got to see more of the Northeastern part of the U.S. when we traveled for a wedding.

I started to redevelop relationships with my brothers and my sister. I went a long time without speaking to them. It’s a long story, but it’s nice to have them back around.

Of course nothing’s ever perfect, but when it’s pretty damn good or simply without catastrophe, I’ll take it.

Happy New Year, you beautiful badass people!

Enjoy this little ditty sung by a two people who are way cooler than me.

 

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Goals are dumb, but I’m almost 30.

I celebrated my 29th birthday last weekend. I’ve been saying I’m almost 30 for a while, so I guess that’s official now. I don’t typically make goals because it typically means disappointment for me due to my frequent inability to overcome the mountainous urge to sit on my couch and watch television. However, I’ve been thinking about things that I want to accomplish or turn into good habits, mostly because I want keep myself healthy and relatively happy.

1)      Read more.

I’ve made a reading goal the last two years, and I’ve only gotten about halfway there. The goals I set for myself weren’t even what one might call a “stretch goal.” They were perfectly attainable. I like watching TV a lot, so I get distracted. I usually start the year strong, and then I basically stop reading things around April. I’m not sure of the reason, but it has happened this way the last two years. Right around December, I start feeling the sharp pangs of guilt, so I try to squeeze in one last book. I’m currently trying to finish Sounds Like Me by Sara Bareilles (I love her) by the end of the year. Next year, I only want to get to one damn book a month. It shouldn’t be that fucking hard! That was me getting frustrated with myself. Sorry.

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2)      Do more Yoga.

I also really want to know what yoga instructors mean by, “Find the intention in your practice.” I’ve never understood that, mostly because I have a hard time living outside of reality. My actual reality is that whenever I overcome the mountain that is my own laziness to do yoga (or anything physically good for me), I spend an unfortunate amount of time painfully struggling to hold poses (it’s harder for us non-tiny women) while trying to figure out why I’m doing it to begin with because there is apparently some ethereal purpose that I have not yet been made aware of. Nonetheless, I do believe there are health benefits that I would probably feel if I just did it more often.

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3)      Turn my phone off more.

Last week, I barely slept at all for three days. It was miserable. I missed some work because of it. I don’t remember a time in my life that sleep and I had a healthy relationship. Even as a kid, I remember a recurring nightmare that caused me to be afraid to sleep. It’s a little different now. Normal adult things keep me awake. In addition to that, I basically want to fix the world’s problems, even though I know I can’t. Since my sleepless 72-hour stretch, I’ve started to turn my phone off at least an hour before bed, and there has been a shocking difference in my stress level at night. I love Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and all of that nonsense just as much as anyone else, but for people like me, having a flow of the world’s awful news flying at me right before I’m supposed rest my mind just doesn’t work.

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Here’s to a healthy and happy 29th year!

Whitney1 Comment

Rules for walking on the motherfucking sidewalk

I went to lunch with co-worker one day, and as we were walking, he had to abruptly move out of the way for a girl who had her face buried in her phone and didn’t see him in front of her. We started discussing the things that piss us off about walking on sidewalks that other people are also walking on. It doesn’t have to be a busy walkway; it only takes one person to ruin it for everyone. Since we all have to share our walking space, I’ve come up with some rules with the assistance of my equally frustrated co-worker. Enjoy!

1)      Get off your phone.

As much as I am a proponent of having compassion for our fellow humans as I discussed in my last post, I am also a big fan of Natural Selection. If you are walking and can’t tear yourself away from your Facebook feed, and you accidentally walk into a busy street and get hit by a cement truck, that’s on you. I seriously see people doing this almost daily. Last week, I saw 2 girls crossing the street together, both looking down at their phones. They were friends, and they weren’t walking and talking to each other. Instead, they were on their phones. I almost had to dodge them which would have nearly put me into the path of an oncoming bus. Sounds dramatic, but it is unfortunately true.

What is so important that we’re all looking down all the time? I used to be really bad about this, and sometimes I still am.  Usually, it’s only on public transportation when I’m trying to look busy to keep weird older men from talking to me. If you’re walking on a busy sidewalk, look up! Watch where you’re going! Not only can it be dangerous and irritating to everyone around you, but I promise, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Tinder, Snapchat, and anything else you can’t seem to pull yourself away from will still be there when you arrive safely at your destination because you were paying attention and did not get creamed by a cement truck.

2)      Walk like you drive.

On the right, damnit. This applies especially in busy areas. If we all would just walk on the right side, all of our walking activity would be so much more enjoyable. If you do get stuck behind really slow individual, check to see if someone is coming in the opposite direction, and if it’s clear, pass on the left. Imagine a dotted yellow line. Since we’re on that topic, the only excuses for being a slow walker are age, injury, and disability. If you are physically unable to keep up with the flow of traffic, you get a pass. Walk as slow as you need to, and the rest of us can POLITELY adjust and go around you when there is room to do so. Also, we could all stand to get in the habit of using the words “excuse me” a little more. It’s kind of like you have a blinker that comes from your mouth forming a couple of simple words—just a polite gesture that lets someone know you’re moving past them. Now, if you’re walking slow because you can’t look up from your phone, or because you and your friends are out for a leisurely stroll that consists of obnoxiously taking up the entire sidewalk and moving at a snail’s pace, you’re just an asshole. They tell you to keep up with the flow of traffic when you learn to drive, right? Same thing applies when using your feet to travel. This is a very simple thing; please adopt this, and walk like you drive.

3)         Make room for everyone!

When I was in elementary school, the rule was that we walk single file on the right, so other people have room to walk the other direction. We didn’t walk single file in the middle or weave back and forth; it was always single file on the right. I don’t know how many times I walk past a group of people who are all side by side or in a cluster, and instead of someone moving over so that I have room to walk on the sidewalk, which is the very thing the sidewalk is there for, I end up moving into the grass or the street. In the winter especially, the grass is sometimes wet or there is mud that I end up tracking into my apartment. If you’re walking in a group, and someone is walking toward you, whoever is on the inside of the sidewalk should shift back to make sure no one ends up stepping in the dog poo in the grass.

Thank you for your time and consideration of these rules for walking on the motherfucking sidewalk. Please challenge yourself to master the walking thing because it seems that there are many humans who haven’t quite figured this out.

 

WhitneyLeave a comment

What can we do?

First of all, I’m aware that I have been mostly absent from this website over the last few weeks. I’m finding it hard to overcome my inclination to be lazy and bottle up my thoughts because sharing them is too much work. I have some stuff I’m working on, I promise. Also, if there are people following this, that I do not know personally, I want to know you! Please contact me via the “Get at me” page, leave a comment, or connect with me on social media. Click the icons to the right.

I really wanted to take a few paragraphs to talk about the world and the state of disarray that the entire planet seems to be in. Last week was a rough one for the planet and the people that live on it. There were gruesome and deadly attacks in Paris, Beirut, and Kenya, in addition to natural disasters. I felt like the news told one horrible story after another, but for some, it wasn’t just a story-they lived it. It’s unimaginable for me.

In times of tragedy, I often feel so completely helpless. Some force beyond our control, whether it’s Mother Nature or an evil human with guns and bombs, has stolen the minuscule amount of power we have over our own lives. That’s an overwhelming thing, isn’t it? There’s this weight I feel — a desire to do something to help, while also knowing that I’m only one person, and making any sort of tangible impact is unlikely. But maybe my idea of what is tangible is skewed.

So what do we do? I’ve been thinking about this a lot. For me the answer is that I have to represent ideals of compassion, and try everyday to simply be a better human being. I don’t want to sit here and talk about my misanthropic self, and how much of a challenge it may be to be outwardly nicer some days. The point I’m trying to make in an admittedly not-so-clear way is that you don’t have to change your whole personality to operate from a place of compassion. Say “please” and “thank you,” listen more, don’t interrupt, help the person that trips on the sidewalk and drops all their stuff, maybe offer a compliment every now and then. Maybe, I’ll even try to give more hugs, but I’m not making any promises. If you’re so inclined, volunteer, give blood, donate money or goods. I am certainly subpar in developing some of these good habits. However, I do believe that I will feel more fulfilled in life if I’m doing something to make someone else’s just a little bit better.

As a quick aside, there’s a lot of really gross and, well, racist commentary flying around. Being kind and compassionate does not mean that this should be allowed in your space. I think of it kind of how people talk about a person who witnesses a bully and says nothing. Saying nothing is just as bad. Don’t tolerate hate speech.

So much about this world just doesn’t make sense. We have control over how we treat people, and kindness is what the world needs right now.

 

Whitney1 Comment

Sunday night insomnia blues

Does anyone else have this problem? I have tried so many things to knock myself out. There was one night I was honestly concerned I had gone a little overboard because I had a nice cocktail of downers- weed, valerian root, and booze. I still didn’t fucking sleep.

I usually feel tired. Then I close my eyes and then may brain does this:

*Cat collar bell noise* The cats must be playing with each other. I wish we could let them sleep in the bedroom with us. Too bad they would keep me awake all night…Okay, time for sleep now… I wonder how many e-mails and voicemails I’ll have to deal with tomorrow. I hope it’s not a crazy day. I hate work. I hate Mondays. Should I get a bagel or eat oatmeal in the morning? Too bad I’m out of fruit. I would really like a smoothie in the morning. I have to go to the store this week. What night should we go to the store?

…What was that noise? Is someone trying to break in? I hate being on the ground floor. I wish they would put bars on the windows. Maybe there’s a problem with the gas line again. Maybe the building is going to explode. The cats! What if I can’t save them if the building is on fire? What if someone DOES break in? I would probably be on my own because Harrison sleeps through everything. Must be nice. Jesus… I watch too much television. No one is breaking in, and the building is not going to blow up.

…Are those high heels I hear walking down the sidewalk outside? Oh good. She’s talking on the phone at an unnecessarily loud volume while she walks DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF A PLACE PEOPLE LIVE! People are shit. At least the fan drowns out most of the noise. What will I do when it’s too cold to keep the fan on at night? I probably won’t sleep for a week. But right now, I’m roasting. I should get up and point the fan directly at me. Nope. Too much. Now I’m too cold. Will I ever sleep? What time is it? I have to pee. Maybe after I pee, I’ll be able to sleep. Let’s be real, though. Probably not. Maybe I should just go watch TV in the living room until I fall asleep. Except I never fall asleep watching TV. Seriously though, I should probably watch less television.

It escalates quickly. Just so I don’t seem like a complete loon, it might be important to disclose that there was recently a gas leak in my building that originated directly outside my front door. They fixed it… allegedly. Also, Harrison and I noticed that a screen on one of our windows appeared to have been cut by someone, which led me to believe that someone outside wanted to get in. We live in an old apartment building in an urban area. That most definitely comes with some issues.

What the fuck can I do??? I’ve never been a good sleeper, but this is getting ridiculous. I can basically count on not sleeping at all on Sundays. I had come to terms with spending one day a week in a complete fog like I did today, but I don’t bounce back from all-nighters very well anymore. That’s a shitty way to live, even if it is only one day a week. That adds up.

Harrison thinks I need to consult a professional. I have a therapist, but I’m fairly certain she has the equivalent of what Senioritis is in an 18 year old…which means she’s getting close to retirement and is basically phoning it in at this point. I’m welcoming ideas. Medication freaks me out. I’ve heard Ambien horror stories, and there are way too many “thoughts of suicide” side-effect disclaimers on sleeping meds. Tips, tricks, life hacks that do not involve destroying my liver or temporary paralysis? Go…

I would like to be doing this a little bit more…I’m so jealous of cats and their sleeping habits.

Whitney1 Comment

The Jane to my Daria

Everyone should have a friend they can text some straight nonsense to at any hour; someone who moves at exactly your speed when you need them to, brings out your less inhibited self when appropriate, and appreciates the 90s as much or more. Maybe that’s just our thing. But seriously, the 90s were fucking rad, and if you don’t think so, you’re a fucking weirdo.

Her name isn’t actually Jane, but she’s saved in my phone as Jane Lane because of course she is.

Jane: But really…Iron & Wine groupies?

Me: Something. I feel like I’m in a perpetual rut.

Jane: I’m over this week.

I’m tired and being pulled in 500 directions.

Me: I basically feel two emotions at work; boredom and something on the anger scale.

Jane: Did you guys start my fundraising jar? – So we can be Iron & Wine groupies and not have to work, obviously.

Me: Lol. No. Not sure how to pitch that.

Jane: Bahahhahahaha

Me: I just want to experience life, and I feel like I’m not.

Jane: I just want regular sex and a sandwich.

Me: Sorry Harrison is taken.

Jane: I’m old enough to be Harrison’s babysitter.

Me: You’ve slept with younger.

Jane: Yes, I’m aware I was sleeping with someone younger than Harrison. 

Me: Lol.

Jane: 30s or bust.

What about a sandwich?

Me: Harrison makes sandwiches and puts weird things on them.

Jane: Stop trying to pimp your bf out.

Keep and eye out for a 30-something with a sandwich.

Preferably literate.

…..Later…..

Me: Oh my god. The Secretary of Energy might be a real live Oompa Loompa.

I’m watching Colbert.

Jane: Haha.

Jon Stewart and a sandwich…life goals.

Me: I miss him.

….Later….

Me: Fuck is it Friday yet?

I kept thinking tomorrow is Friday because I’ve only worked 3 days the last 2 weeks.

Jane: 😦

I really want to date a guy with a man bun just to piss you off.

Me: Well, that’s awfully spiteful.

Jane: Bahahaha

Me: I would cut it off in his sleep.

Jane: What is this? Samson and Delilah?

Me: Oh shit. He would lose his strength, wouldn’t he? That probably includes sexual strength. There goes your regular sex.

Jane: Well, he better make good sandwiches then.

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