2017: Year in Review

In 2015 and 2016, I wrote short and sweet recaps on the previous 365 days. What I did, where I went, who I met. But I’m finding it difficult to summarize this past year in a quick post.

It seems that each year, I surprise myself by discovering that I’m still learning and still growing. I realize how cliché that sounds so let me explain. I’m one year from 30 and I always thought that number was somehow magical, that it was synonymous with "knowledgeable" and "wise." It’s not. I’m still figuring out who I am and what I’m doing.

The year 2017 has taught me that grief is real. It’s painful and it’s long. Pushing past the grief isn’t easy either, but it’s the only path to relief. It has taught me that relationships don’t have to last forever to be meaningful. They can repair you or they can break you so you learn how to repair yourself. This last year has taught me that being nice includes being nice to yourself. And it doesn’t have to mean giving undeserving people second chances. The year 2017 has taught me that I haven’t quite figured this out yet and that’s okay.

Here’s to 2018 and the inevitable lessons that lie ahead. Until next year, here are some of 2017's most-read posts:

• What Nobody Told Me About Being a Rape Victim
• A Dirty Martini And A Meltdown
• Promise Me
• NYC: Six Month Review
• NYC: One Year Review
• I Know

The Best Thing About the Worst Thing You've Ever Done

Recently, I did a really, really, REALLY stupid thing. I ignored my gut. I refused to listen to sage advice. And I only listened to those who were telling me exactly what I wanted to hear. I told myself it would be fine. I'd be fine. It would even be fun. I went against something so intrinsic to my character that it literally gave me anxiety every time I thought about it. Which was a lot. I did something stupid. And then it came back to bite me in the ass. I don't want to contradict Miss Swift, but I did something bad and, you guys, it did not feel good.

I'm not going to get into details but for all my family members out there, don't worry, I didn't break the law. This time.

Let me be clear. This isn't the first time I've done something dumb. I mean, I literally moved to New York City on a whim. That one didn't turn out so bad though. Honestly, I'm surprised I graduated college and have maintained a stable career. Anyways - the point is, I've done a lot of really dumb shit in my 28 years. I'm sure I haven't even seen the worst of it yet. But every time I've f***ed up, I've cried it out and walked it off. 

I know a lot of people try to make their lives seem perfect on social media. But that's a curated life full of carefully planned moments. That's not real. A real life is messy. It's getting your heart broken. Living paycheck to paycheck. It's getting fired. It's losing your shit on your kid and it's using boxed hair dye. Being an adult is hard. These stupid decisions we make are a part of learning and growing up. 

The best thing about the worst thing you've ever done is that you learned from it. And hopefully you never do it again. Try new things. Make mistakes. Fall on your ass. But get back up again. Try a different path. Just keep trying. It's when you stop trying that you start failing. 

Someone should seriously make a post card out of that because that was some Gandhi shit. 

What Nobody Told Me About Being a Rape Victim

There is a very real possibility that you will see your rapist in public. 

Or, in my case, on a dating app. It's going to take your breath away and then you will go lock yourself in the bathroom for 45 minutes due to your immediate need to throw up and shit your brains out at the same time.

You're probably not okay

No matter how many times you say it and no matter how many times you actually really do feel okay. One minute you'll be all "the past is the past" and "I'm totally fine, I don't need therapy" *flips hair off shoulder* and then some fucking moron will post something on social media blaming victims and you'll totally lose your shit on them and promptly ask to go home early because you can't stop shaking and crying.

Some things will trigger you and some won't.

You might be able to watch a rape scene in a movie while continuing to shovel handfuls of popcorn into your mouth but then read about a massive sexual harassment scandal in the news and be unable to focus the rest of the day. *shrugs*  It doesn't make sense to me either.

People will constantly apologize for making references to rape.

There is a difference between making a reference and making a joke. Rape jokes aren't funny and reveal a lot about someone's character. If you're saying you took an Uber home from the bar because you didn't want to get raped on your walk home, that doesn't tell me you're a jackass that tells me you've got street smarts. Maybe try Uber Pool though and save a couple bucks?

Some people won't want to date you because you have been raped. 

FUCK THOSE PEOPLE. There is nothing wrong with you and the fact that you are still alive and willing to date in the first place is a testament to your resilience and strength. They should be so lucky to date you.

You might feel guilty about wanting to have sex. 

Wanting to have sex again after you've been raped doesn't mean there is something wrong with you or that you deserved to be raped or that you weren't raped in the first place. You're a human being with very natural desires. Orgasms are great (sorry, mom!). And have you heard the news? Females can achieve multiple o's! 

Assholes will react like assholes to your rape story. 

"Did you get an STD test?" and "I don't have the stomach for that" are just some of the gems I've heard. Dude - Fuck. You. Hey, if anyone was wondering about a foolproof way of responding to hearing someone's rape story, here it is. Ready? 1) Look concerned. 2) Say you're sorry (it doesn't matter that you didn't rape me, it's just a nice thing to say). 3) Try not to tell me about someone else's rape story you heard (this is about me right now, not you). 4) And thank me for trusting you with this information. 

On a very serious note, I want to put out the reminder that there isn't a textbook on how to survive a sexual assault. There is only one rule: don't harm yourself. If you're a survivor, I hope you know that you are brave and strong for not only enduring your assault, but for continuing day after day while dealing with this shit. This isn't a club I'd ever want to be a part of but now that I'm here I gotta say, we're a bunch of bad asses and I'm pretty proud of that. 

A Dirty Martini and a Meltdown

A couple of weeks ago I had a bit of an emotional breakdown. Just kidding, if you were one of the unfortunate souls that saw/heard from me that day you know it was actually a complete shitstorm. To summarize, I was having a horrible day/week and then I opened a 33oz bottle of sparkling water (necessary detail: mandarin orange flavored) which exploded all over me and my office literally one minute before I was supposed to be in a meeting. In a soaking wet silk blouse that was clinging to my body (that wasn’t supposed to sound sexual but I’m going to roll with it), I walked very calmly to the bathroom where I proceeded to lock myself in a stall and totally lose my fucking shit.

You guys, I was a wreck. This breakdown was essentially the culmination of multiple stressful situations occurring simultaneously in which I had absolutely no control. So naturally, after work I went to a bar that makes the best dirty martini in NYC, conveniently located two blocks from my apartment. It helped. 

As I was sipping on my dinner, I was thinking about all of the problems swirling around in my head and feeling sorry for myself. As one does. Don’t get me wrong, about 90% of these problems were legitimate problems. I wasn’t overreacting. But I have enough self-awareness to recognize that I am extremely lucky to be where I am in life. After all, I’m alive.

There’s been a lot of super shitty shit (that B.S. in Creative Writing coming through for me once again) going on in the world lately. Between natural disasters, (preventable) mass shootings, and our Oompa Loompa of a President leading us into a Third World War via Twitter, emotions are high.

You might be feeling the impacts of some or all of these situations. No doubt you have your own shit to deal with. Maybe your cancer came back. You had a miscarriage. Your spouse cheated on you. Your mother died. You lost your job. You lost your house. Maybe you lost everything. Whatever it is - big or small - whatever your own 33oz bottle of mandarin orange-flavored sparkling water is, please don’t give up.

I know the pain is real. It's fast and it isn't fleeting. I know what it’s like to feel everything all at once and to wish the pain would just stop. Today is hard. It's hell. I can't promise you that tomorrow will be better. Or even the next day. What I can promise you is that you can survive it. And I can promise you that there are people who are counting on seeing you tomorrow. There are people who want to help you ease this pain. They want to see you get better.

This is your reminder that it’s okay to feel pain and vulnerability. And it’s also okay to talk to someone about it.

NYC: One Year Review

Was definitely supposed to write this a while ago and publish yesterday but is anyone really surprised? Because I'm not.

Sooooo, yesterday was my NYC One Year Anniversary. WHAT?! I don't know if it's because I'm really having that much fun or if it's because I'm old now, but this year has flown by. A year ago I packed my life into a sixteen-foot truck and hauled it up to the craziest, scariest, most exciting city in the United States. The very best place on earth. Alright fine, I'm probably overdoing it. Some people say I'm still in the honeymoon phase but whatevs, I love it here and I haven't regretted this decision for one second.

Friends keep asking if I'll stick around for a while. I have no idea. I know that I can't see myself moving away from this amazing city anytime soon but I'm also excited to see how far I can push my limits. If an opportunity presented itself, I'd have no problem picking up and starting over again. If I've learned anything about myself over this past year it's that I am so much more independent and self-sufficient than I thought. 

Some things have changed since I last checked in with you all. Keep reading. If you've gotten this far, I already know you have nothing better to do. 

The Rent: It kind of hurts to write a check for that large of a sum every month knowing I have friends back home in Michigan whose mortgage is 1/3 of what I pay. Yeah, it would be nice to have a house and a yard but HAVE YOU SEEN MY VIEW?!

The Rats: Okay, I've seen one now. It was the size of a cat. And it was terrifying.

The Subway: I use it more now because Uber made me poor. It's so easy and much more efficient than staying above ground. If you're visiting NYC I'd recommend this mode of transportation over anything else. It can be intimidating but if you ask someone for help, I promise you'll be okay.

The People: Oof. This one is tricky. I think the best way to sum up the majority of New Yorkers is that they look out for #1. And I get it. This city is tough. I learned pretty quickly (or maybe not so much) that it's the ones that use you that you gotta watch out for. People keep telling me I'm too nice. Maybe they're right.

The Dates: Not telling! Alright, alright, I'll give you one little nugget. The worst date so far was when this dude made me go all the way out to Brooklyn to meet him at a movie theater. That should have been my first red flag. Then he showed up late so I had to buy the tickets. Whatever, I'm an independent, successful female; I can buy my own shit. The deal breaker was when he dropped me off three blocks from my apartment while I was wearing heels because he didn't want to have to go down a one-way street. I am here to tell you that chivalry is dead.

The Nightlife: I haven't really gone out much lately. I'm on this crazy marathon training plan so all of my calories are going towards fueling my body instead of getting drunk. Omg. Is this adulting?!

The Food: There is a difference between a NY bagel and a bagel anywhere else. Also, if I could eat Wafels & Dinges every day of my life and not become diabetic and obese, please know that I would. #alwayshungry

The Smell: There is nothing like stepping outside every morning and being greeted by the smell of a homeless man's piss. If that's the price I have to pay to live in this great city, so be it.

Promise Me

That voice inside of you. Maybe today it's quiet. Maybe today it's louder than it's ever been before. It's telling you that you can't do this. Everything is different now. You can't possibly exist in this strange place.

I imagine that the pain you're feeling must be palpable in the space around you. This heaviness, there isn't a name for it. No word, no language could possibly capture the gravity of what is inside of you. It's black and full and takes up the space between your ribs so that even one breath becomes a small victory. I can't pretend to know what that must feel like. I hope I never have to.

Death never comes when we're ready for it. There's always more life to be lived.

All at once you've lost your best friend, your partner, your lover. He knew you in ways that can't be described and in ways none of us could ever understand. I hope you cry. I hope you scream. I hope you say words you've never dared to say out loud before. I hope you listen to sad songs and have too many glasses of wine. I hope you get angry and feel sorry for yourself. I hope you feel everything there is inside of you to feel. You should. You're owed that. And so much more. But I hope you never give in to that voice.

You can do this. You will do this. Because you have three boys that need you to show them how to become men. They need you to show them how precious this life is. How short it is. How it can burn you and break you. And yet time and time again you heal. It's a test you weren't ready for, you didn't ask for, you aren't prepared to take. But you will surprise yourself.

I won't pretend that this is fair. I don't understand it and you don't deserve it. No one should have to feel the pain you feel now. But promise me, even on the darkest nights that are surely ahead of you, promise me that you won't listen to that voice saying that you can't. You can. There's always more life to be lived.

If you're interested in ways to support the Woeber family, you can do so here.

Happy Ann'y

Two years ago today I decided I was going to start writing again. I had no idea what I was doing (spoiler alert: still don't) and I had no idea what I wanted to write about. It turns out, I want to write about it all. The good, the funny, the bad, and the ugly. I've grown up a lot with you here - and not just as a writer.

I've told you stories about waking up in a trash can, moving to New York, and my inner dialogue when I have to do anything that requires being physically active. I hope you've enjoyed laughing along with me (or more likely, at me) and I can assure you that there will be plenty more of these stories to come.

You've also been there with me in the darkest moments of my life. Right now you're staring at a screen merely reading typed words but on the other side of that screen is a woman who has cried for hours in front of you, wondering if she's sharing too much but still needing to share it all. I've been told that I should be ashamed and that God is disappointed in me. That what I'm sharing some "don't have the stomach for." I've learned that my words aren't meant for these people and I've also learned to be okay with that.

As of this morning, I have 22,955 pageviews. That might not seem like a lot to some. But to me that number represents every time someone thought something that I had penned was worthy of reading. Thank you for your comments and likes and most of all, thank you for reading.

Are We Clear?

Hands down one of my biggest weaknesses is that I hate confrontation. I'm horrible at standing up for myself. I bury my head in the sand. I pretend that problems don't exist. Super healthy, I know. So what I'm about to tell you is a pretty big deal for me. Not kidding, currently listening to Sia's "Unstoppable" on repeat and feel like I could go run a marathon. Please don't make fun of me. Here we go...

Over the last several months I've had to deal with sexual harassment from someone with whom I have a professional relationship (for the record, he is not employed by my firm). I won't go into the specifics of the conversations and offhand remarks but I'll be clear about the fact that there was absolutely no ambiguity in their nature - they were inappropriate and offensive.

So today I came into work, wrote out a mini speech, and pulled my harasser aside to tell him in a clear, calm and professional manner that I was done. I wasn't putting up with it anymore. It was terrible and scary and after our conversation, I walked away slightly shaking. When I got back to my office I stared at my little speech, so proud that I had finally stood up to a man that was taking advantage of his power, his position, and our professional relationship.

Recently, Fox let go of two individuals who were accused of sexual harassment in the workplace. Something I heard across multiple channels was, "why didn't these victims say anything?" I can't speak for everyone but I know that when I've had to deal with sexual harassment in the workplace (it's happened twice before), I've felt vulnerable, ashamed, and even concerned about what implications speaking up could have on my harasser. It won't make sense to everyone and I'm not really concerned with the ones who don't get it. I'm concerned about the ones who've experienced it, who are experiencing it, and those who don't know what to do next. 

After reading through my speech a few more times I realized that a lot of women don't even know what words to say to their harasser. My advice? Craft your message without regard for his feelings. Because he didn't take yours into account when he touched you inappropriately or continued to ask you out even though you had said 'no' on multiple other occasions. He didn't concern himself with the fact that you might be uncomfortable. Or embarrassed. Or upset. So why should you care?

Below is what I used to confront my harasser. If you're experiencing sexual harassment, please feel free to use some or all of it. Use it as inspiration. Copy and paste it, if you'd like. Just please say something. I know it isn't easy. But I promise you'll feel better once you do.

---

"I wanted to address the inappropriate remarks you've been making towards me since we've started working together. I'm not sure what kind of working environment you're used to operating in but I can assure you that the comments you've made over the last several months will no longer be tolerated by me.

What you're doing is sexual harassment and I don't care if your intention is to be funny or playful. Your comments are offensive and more than that, they are demeaning. I do not exist in this world for your amusement. I am a professional and I expect to be treated as such.

Going forward, I would like to continue our working relationship without these remarks. Please do not comment on my appearance, my dating preferences or inquire about spending time alone with me outside of the office. Are we clear?"

Letting Go of Toxic Relationships

You might think it's really easy to write. You might think the words just flow. No pauses. No questions. No edits. Some days I can write and write and write and there are still more words inside of me. But some days the idea of writing is painful. Some days there aren't words in the English language to describe what I'm feeling. And sometimes what I'm feeling is so exhausting that I can't even muster the energy to write about it.

My cursor has been blinking on this post for over a year. Partly because I'm having a hard time finding the words and partly because I'm not positive whatever words I do come up with should be floating around the internet. I don't want to be dramatic. I don't want to be mysterious. I'm not fishing for questions and comments. I really don't even want to publish this post. But I need to get this out.

Recently, I've let go of someone very important to me. It wasn't an easy decision and it's an unnatural goodbye. But the relationship had become so toxic that its poison was seeping into almost every area of my life. I tried repeatedly to remedy the situation. I put aside my feelings for the sake of the relationship. I stifled words that should have been spoken a very long time ago. I tried caring too much and I tried not caring at all. And still...here I am.

Part of growing up is realizing when to walk away from situations that cause you harm. It's even harder to do so when you don't want to walk away. I feel guilty. Selfish. Uncaring. Like a horrible human being. And then I have to remind myself that there is nothing wrong with prioritizing my own mental health and happiness. This has been the hardest lesson I've had to learn as an adult. Sometimes you have to love from a distance.

If you're struggling in a toxic relationship, I hope you know it's okay to walk away. I know it's not going to be easy. It doesn't matter if it's a sibling, lover or parent. I want you to know that regardless of what kind of love it is, it shouldn't hurt. It shouldn't manipulate. You are allowed to preserve your happiness. 

FAQs

So in case I haven't advertised it enough on all of my social media platforms (that was a joke, I literally spam everyone), I'm writing a novel. If you were curious about it, here are some FAQs:

OMG, you're writing a book? 

Let's use the term "writing" loosely. It's been almost a year and I'm less than 10,000 words in. Slow and steady wins the race?

What's it about? 

Hmmm tricky. I don't want to give the whole thing away, but it's inspired by true events with plenty of fiction sprinkled throughout that I won't owe anyone any royalties or apologies.

Isn't it, like, hard writing a book? 

Uhmmm, obvi. People like to romanticize the writing process. It's not easy. It doesn't come naturally. It doesn't pour out of you. Okay, sometimes it does. But most days I struggle to come up with a complete sentence. It's certainly something you have to work at. It's emotionally and mentally draining. Sometimes I feel like I've written a masterpiece and sometimes I feel like I should throw my iPad out the window.

When do you find time to write?

I have plenty of time to write I'm just not disciplined enough to devote all of my free time to this project. For example, I am currently sitting in a coffee shop in Brooklyn. I came here with the intent to work on my novel for a couple of hours and here I am writing a blog post about it instead. And also staring at some chick who is wearing a gold, spaghetti strapped midi dress and rain booties. What?! #welcometonewyork

What inspires you?

Emotion. The highest of highs and the lowest of lows. Which is why you shouldn't bank on inspiration to write. Which is why writing is so difficult. You have to write even when you are feeling even-keeled.

Do you listen to music when you write or do you need silence?

Even in college I needed to be around other humans to write. I can't be alone or in a quiet space. I feel disconnected. My most ideal setting for writing is a somewhat busy coffee shop with free wifi and good booze. As for the music, I literally listen to "Cancer" by Twenty One Pilots on repeat. Over and over and over and over and over......

Are you trying to get published? 

Yes and no. That's not my end goal. I just want to write. And to be able to say that I finished a novel. That is a huge accomplishment and I would honestly be happy to just be able to put a check mark next to that item. That being said, when I finish this thing I will certainly ship it off to a couple of people with high hopes but I'm not holding my breath and neither should you.

Can I read what you have written so far? 

No.

Wait, why not? 

How do I put this....I would rather stand in front of you naked and let you criticize my physical body than let you read the most personal thing I've ever written in draft form.

I'm also writing a book, do you have any tips? 

Good luck. Ha. Okay, but seriously good luck. It's hard and it sucks and most days you wonder why you think anyone would want to read anything you write. But plenty of published authors felt/feel that same way and look where they are.

I'm sure I'll keep you guys updated about the progress but for the time being, just know that if I'm not writing blog posts it's because I'm trying to write something a little more permanent.

I Know

TRIGGER WARNING: This post contains information about sexual assault which may be triggering to survivors.

---

It's just a dress. A short, blue dress with crochet details on the back straps. I've worn it maybe three times my entire life. It's hanging in the far left corner of my closet with dresses I've convinced myself I will eventually fit into again. The fact that I haven't thrown it out amazes even me. Every single time I see it I think about him. It doesn't send me into a tailspin. But it gives me pause and I instantly think of a summer night in 2015. Back when I thought rape was something that happened to other people, not to me.

It's not my intention to beat everyone over the head with my story. Most of you will skim this and click the back button in your browser to continue doing whatever it is you were doing on Facebook. Something less depressing. Something that doesn't make you think so much. This post isn't meant for you.

This post is for the woman who can't look at her naked body without feeling ashamed. This is for the girl who hears a certain song play on the radio and has to turn the station. It's for the female college student who smells his cologne while walking to class and immediately runs to the bathroom for safety.

I see you. I know that you are terrified of your truth. I know that your mind won't stop buzzing with questioning and self doubt. I know how much it hurts to remember. I get how one day you want to scream the truth and the next you bury it as far down inside of you as possible. I know. I know.

Today might not be the day you are ready to say it out loud. I still struggle with that. But I hope today is the day you realize that you are not alone. I'm here. I know.

***

April is Sexual Assault Awareness and Prevention Month. If you need confidential advice or just someone to talk to, please reach out to me or to someone at RAINN. 

NYC: Six Month Review

You guys. Has it really been six months since I moved here? Holy. Shit. I know some of you have been wondering how I've been adjusting. That's a lie. My mom is probably the only one who wonders about that and I talk to her like every other day. Anyways, I realized I hadn't posted in a while and thought this would be an interesting distraction for those of you who are at work, trying to find something to do until quittin' time (looking at you, sis....Amanda, while I have your attention - EMPTY THE J.CREW ONLINE SHOPPING CART BEFORE YOUR HUSBAND KILLS YOU).

The Rent: This was my biggest concern when contemplating the move. I thought I was going to be eating canned tuna and saltines in order to afford my rent which is so far from reality - a.) because I don't eat canned tuna and b.) because it's really not that much more than what I was paying in DC. It's also 100% worth the cost considering the amazing views I have when I wake up in the morning. If you follow me on Snapchat you've probably seen the view from my bedroom because I spam everyone at least once a week with a shot of it. Not sorry. 

The Rats: I've not seen a one.

The Subway: Honestly, I never take it. I walk almost everywhere and Uber everywhere else. On the few occasions I've taken the subway, I got where I was going on time and also didn't die. That's a lot more than I can say for DC's system which is currently rotting away along with our new administration. I digress.

The People: Hollywood likes to portray everyone in NYC as an asshole. Let me be clear, the concentration of assholes in this city is much higher than anywhere else. That being said, I still believe in the greater good of the human race and I've met quite a few strangers who have been extremely nice. I've also noticed that a lot of people here say they're going to do something and then don't. Like, don't ever just assume that because someone says they want to hang out this week that you're actually going to hang out. Make backup plans. And backup plans for your backup plans, etc.

The Dates: Keeping my lips sealed :)

The Nightlife: Everything revolves around alcohol. Don't expect to do anything sober. Also, no one told me that I'd need a completely separate wardrobe for weekends. In DC, you can get away with wearing flats, cigarette pants, and a button down to the bar. Here you need heels, an all black ensemble, and visible flesh in order to be allowed into an establishment. Noted.

I still can't believe I packed up my entire life and moved to a strange city. This is the scariest thing I've ever done but I'm so glad I did it. Moral of the story is, it's never too late to change direction.

The Benesh Beauties

On this International Women's Day, I'm celebrating one of the women that taught me what exactly that label means. 

Marjorie Del Benesh was born on October 11, 1921. From conception, she was already competing with a man, her twin brother. She grew up with privilege, an affluent family in an affluent neighborhood of Detroit. The norm? Yacht clubs and parties and double-booking dates (she once hid in a coat closet when a second suitor arrived at her door). She was absolutely breathtaking and if I'm being honest, she probably used this to her advantage on more than one occasion. She was a dancer. An architect. A doctor's assistant. She was a wife. A mother. A divorcee. A sole caregiver and breadwinner. She watched death take two of her children. One to pneumonia and the other to cancer. She drank. She smoke. She adored "the shops." She was loyal. She was strong. She was independent. My grandmother was many things, all of which made her a woman. 

Once the Alzheimer's began stealing from her mind, she needed more help than she was willing to admit. This was incredibly difficult for a woman who had lived the majority of her life relying on herself. She left us just as we would have expected her to, gracefully and with a fight. On October 20, 2008, my grandmother passed away wearing her favorite pajamas and surrounded by the love of the people she had touched.

My grandmother influenced many of the women in my life who have led me by example, the Benesh Beauties: my mother, my aunts Sue and Margie, my sister Amanda, and my cousins Anne and Caitie. I've seen each of them work hard for what they have. I've seen them broken. I've seen them love. I've seen them stand up for others who couldn't stand up for themselves. Today and everyday I'm thankful for them and for many others who have shown me how to be a woman. I am the strong, independent, emotional, stubborn, thrifty, creative, sarcastic, open-minded, and passionate person I am simply because all of you have shown me that every single one of those qualities is perfect in its own right. Thank you for showing me what it is to be a woman.

---

"You can never be too skinny or too rich." - Daily mantra.

"I pay my taxes" - An excuse to basically do whatever you want, whenever you want.

"Rub up!" - When moisturizing, so as to avoid wrinkles.

"Always suck in." - Obvi.

"You can always return it." - Buy now, try on later.

"Don't you like it?" - To anyone who ever turned down anything she was offering to you at the dinner table.

Lacing Up

On January 21st I was one of 500,000 marching on the National Mall to protest the Trump administration's agenda. No, I don't think this will somehow oust him as our president. I don't think he'll miraculously change his rhetoric. I don't think his policies will shift. He won't stop being a bully, a liar, and a coward. I know that after that awe-inspiring march, he still still stands for everything I disagree with. It doesn't matter.

I'm not whining about my candidate losing. I'm not pouting. I'm concerned. And I did something about it. It's my responsibility to actively participate in this democracy. And it's your responsibility too.

I marched for myself - as a woman, as a rape victim, and as a human being who recognizes that I have privileges not afforded to others.

So if you're one of many who are wondering why this march took place, why I wasted my time, caused traffic woes for the DC metro area - here's why. We live in a country so great that I have the freedom to peacefully assemble to protest something I disagree with. But we have to fight to maintain that freedom. We can't just kick up our feet and take it for granted. There is no guarantee that it will always be there.

I actually had to take a break from Facebook because some responses to this protest were ruining the amazing high I was on. And I didn't want to give anyone that power. So if you can't be on board with equality, freedom, and justice for everyone - then at least appreciate that there are people who still care enough to travel hundreds of miles to make sure their voices are heard.

"It falls to each of us to be those anxious, jealous guardians of our democracy. Embrace the joyous task we have been given to continually try to improve this great nation of ours because, for all our outward differences, we in fact all share the same proud type, the most important office in a democracy, citizen. Citizen. So, you see, that’s what our democracy demands. It needs you. Not just when there’s an election, not just when your own narrow interest is at stake, but over the full span of a lifetime. If you’re tired of arguing with strangers on the Internet, try talking with one of them in real life. If something needs fixing, then lace up your shoes and do some organizing. If you’re disappointed by your elected officials, grab a clip board, get some signatures, and run for office yourself. Show up, dive in, stay at it." - President Barack Obama