Day Two: Something You Love About Yourself

Day 02: Something I love about myself

This question is infinitely harder than the last. There are plenty of things I like about myself, but I am not sure what I love about myself. While typing this makes it sounds like I am a person without confidence, I would not go that far, I am extremely self-assured and confident, but I am not sure if I can pinpoint something I really, truly love about myself.

I think the thing I love most about myself is a double edge sword. I love my strength. Not my physical strength, but my mental and emotional strength. I rarely ever lose my temper, I rarely ever break down. It is not that I bottle up my emotions, I vent and I rant and after a 30 second rapid fire explanation of why I hate people who ask for chips and salsa I am back in my normal mood of  unemotional.

Plenty of people have told me my strength is like an emotional wall, and maybe there is some truth to that, but typically I find the good outweighs the bad. My strength does not allow me to break down at my work after a couple drinks, crying for hours. Or have a public freak out; including a screaming rant (this has actually happened, once). I do not get emotional and make rash decisions. I do not get wrapped up in my emotions. 

Day One: Something You Hate About Yourself

Day 01: Something I hate about myself.

Do I have to pick just one? I guess right now the thing I hate most about myself is my fear of failure. Not in the sense of being afraid that I might fail a class or that I might get rejected by someone I like, my fear of failure is on a totally different scale.

My brothers have always been pretty good at school, they have always been smart, they have always had the same friends, they are have always been kind of weird and shy, good students, respectful, they have always been the All-American boys. I have always been the exact opposite. Part of the reason I am the opposite is simply because I have a vagina. So, at the most basic level I am a gender opposite. But I think more than that, I was always expected to be like my brothers. It would make sense after all; we grew up in the same household, so how could we all be so different?!

Elementary school was really hard for me. First off, my brothers are a lot older than me. I saw their times tables and their algebra and was terrified! Was I supposed to know this stuff? How would they turn letters into numbers? And what do all of these symbols mean? I am surprised I didn’t have an anxiety attack while walking with my brother, Tom, to the first day of class. I was used to my friends at the daycare across the street, I had my routine down. Quickly, I learned the same kids that were my friend a week ago were blessed with popularity and because I was cursed with being strange and weird, these same kids that I ate backyard mushrooms with were no longer my friends.

The change in friends mixed with my kindergarten teacher, Mr. Heaton, started my schooling off with a rocky start. Mr. Heaton was my brother, Tom’s, third grade teacher. It was his first year teaching kindergarten and while I found his jerry curl mullet really sexy in the early 90’s, he was not the best person to be teaching a kindergarten class. Apparently my poor kindergartener penmanship did not qualify me to experience recess with the rest of the class. This was my first experience with failure. The type of failure that sets me apart from my peers and my family, different from the neighborhood boys not letting me play football for being a girl, something that sets me apart regardless of gender. I was set apart for not meeting the standards.

This same trend continued through middle school with common phrases being “Your brothers never had these problems…” and “I never had to have this conversation with your brothers…” or “Your brothers never spoke this way…” and into high school with other common phrases being “Your brothers were really good at this…” or “This was never an issue for your brothers…”. If I wasn’t getting these sentiments at school, I was getting them at home. And sure, I probably brought some of them onto myself. I have always been louder and more willing to express myself, even if that means calling my teachers morons (this happened more than once). But certain areas, like math and science, that have always been easy for my brothers were more difficult for me. And while teachers never seemed to point out that I was a much better writer than my brothers, they did point out that I was a much bigger asshole than my brothers.

I was the tortured artist and social butterfly in the family. I excelled at dating, drama, changing friends like most people change sticks of gum. This did not go over well. In a family where favoritism and sexism are prevalent, my skills were laughable. And while my mom would tell everyone, at the time, I was going to be the next Edgar Allen Poe, it didn’t seem to matter. My writing skills and interest were looked at as a flavor of the week. In their defense, it seemed logical to think that as I do not still want to act, sing, dance, etc.

Knowing that I will never live up to the standards my brothers set before has giving me the attitude of Why Bother? I am so afraid of trying and not meeting that standard, and thus having it held over my head (if you think my family would not do this, you obviously do not know my family!), that I would rather just not try. Getting over that hurdle is terrifying for me. If I fail, I will never live it down. I will have cemented the beliefs that I will never be more than a pretty face with an acid tongue. However, if I succeed, then why didn’t I try sooner? My family will be proud of me, of course, but I still know it will be said. Regardless of my success, it will be a lose-lose.

That type of pressure is a lot for me to handle. This is why my biggest fear is failing. Because I feel like regardless of what I do, I will still be failing. And I hate that about myself. 

Until commitment-phobia does us part...

This summer my parents will be celebrating their 36^th wedding anniversary. With them my brother will be celebrating his 11^th wedding anniversary and the birth of his first child. All of this terrifies me! Don’t get me wrong, I am super excited to be an aunt. But I think being around people that are so willing to commit is what makes me so terrified of commitment.

I cannot imagine being with someone for any extended period of time. My longest relationship is two and a half years. And sure, that is a respectable amount of time to be in a relationship, but there were a couple break-ups during that time. The thought of being with one person and one person only for the rest of my life, honestly, feels like death.

I always hear that I will not feel that way when I meet “the one”, but really I think meeting “the one” will only make it worse. Half of all people, in this country, that get married think they have met “the one”, then two years later they are divorced. I cannot imagine failing at something that I look at as so important. Nor can I imagine spending that much money on something temporary.

Being the first person in my family to get divorced and proving to my parents and brothers that I am a failure is possibly more than I could take. This type of failure is not like failing a class, getting fired from a job, starting a business and going under, not completing a 200+ mile bike ride that my brothers signed me up for against my will, this failure seems so much bigger. This is huge personal failure to me.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not judging other peoples divorce. Sometimes two people grow apart and no amount of therapy, talking, romantic vacations, or anything else can bring those two people back together. And sometimes there are outside influences. And sometimes one person is abusive or unfaithful or whatever. I do not know. But, my goal is not to say anyone divorcing is a failure at life, I am simply saying that I would view my divorce as my biggest failure.

This is something I feel so strongly about, that I would honestly rather not get married. I would rather not try. 

If you don't want my peaches, better not shake my tree

Write what you know. That is what I hear I am supposed to do. For most people, I am sure this works great. But, I find that writing what I know gets me in trouble. Apparently as adults we are held responsible for the lessons our peers missed out on in their formative years. However, part of it is probably my fault. There are two types of people in the world. Some people expect everyone to behave in a PC and friendly manner while in public, go out of the way not to offend anyone, never touch on sensitive topics, keep conversations light and about things like the weather, but not too much about the weather as to insinuate an opinion on global climate change. Others, myself in particular, expect there to be discourse while in public. 

I find people asking questions they are not prepared to hear the answer to, because apparently they expect a nice answer, even if it is a lie. Then, of course, I am the asshole that insults someone’s mother’s cooking or calls their sister fat, or says their boyfriend is a deadbeat. And I do not understand this. I am not the bad guy because I gave an unfavorable answer to a question. Sure, I could follow my mother’s advice and simply not say anything at all when I do not have anything nice to say, but I think that mentality is what leads to this hypersensitivity of my peers. If they want an honest answer, they should understand that it may not be a favorable one. 

Then there are the people that will gladly post their opinions in online forums or hold up signs in the streets or shout them from their microphone. Doing this, in my opinion, is allowing people to challenge your beliefs. And the best part of living in the time we do is the Internet is everywhere. Literally, the Internet in the air you breathe. It.is.everywhere. Therefore, people should not be allowed to get away with the gross misinformation that they pass around as fact. No one would allow a person to walk around telling kids the Earth is flat! So, why not stop people from spouting their BS about school violence happening because of violent video games? Or Social Security being deemed unconstitutional by the Supreme Court? Or Organic not being any healthier than GMO? I have the Internet, and as an avid user of the Internet I can quickly, and easily, look these things up and show people that their beliefs are not based in fact. And if they are voicing these opinions in any type of public forum, I think someone probably should step up and correct them. So, I am that guy.


Writing what I know and what I observe will never win me any friends. It will probably cost me a few.


Being well liked has never been one of my goals. 

Stolen from a friend

@lashesandbeard

1.    Who would be the first person you'd thank in your Academy Award acceptance speech?

I hope I would first thank the people that gave me the chance to work on such an amazing product that it was deemed worthy of an Academy Award.

2. What's your favorite kitchen utensil (and, of course, why)?

Either the coffee pot or a wine key, I feel like those are both really obvious answers.

3. Would you rather be able to only shop at Goodwill, and get everything for free - or - shop only at Neiman Marcus and pay 50% of the ticket price?

This is difficult. I am a huge fan of free, but I feel like Goodwill is so hit or miss, also, I am tall and thin (I KNOW! Feel sorry for me! Gosh!), so I think it is more difficult for me than most people to find clothes that fit. However, even with a 50% of Neiman Marcus, I think most of their clothes would be out of my price range. Honestly, I think I would have to say Neiman Marcus. Because I am going to assume I get 50% off on discounted items as well as regular priced. And I am almost guaranteed to find clothes that fit me, are in style, and I like. I am a picky shopper. I would rather pay more and be able to get in and out quickly, instead of having to sift through racks to find the clothes I want/fit.

4. What religion or belief system do you most closely identify with?

I think about this a lot. I usually say that I am agnostic at best, but I do not think that is necessarily accurate. I am not sure if I believe there is something out there because I have been force-fed that idea my whole life, or because I actually feel that in my soul. The logical side of me thinks believing in a higher power is completely silly. However, the whimsical side of me thinks it is totally rational and understand to believe something greater than me is out there. I suppose if I had to choose, I would pick Pagan. I believe in energy forces, the Earth, etc. It is something different than a single God controlling everything. But not so absent that we are completely on our own.

5. How old were you, and under what circumstances, did you break your first bone?

I think I was about five. I was hanging out with my best friend at the time (Beau). His grandfather was my next door neighbor, Bert. Bert had these trees in his front yard, I cannot remember what type of trees, but they were rather small even though some of the lower branches were strong enough to hold a child of my size. We grabbed one of those soccer chairs, the ones with a metal frame and some type of think plastic bands that made up the seat and backrest. They were folding chairs my mom would bring to my brothers soccer games. Anyway, we pulled those under one of the trees in Bert’s front yard. I climbed up and tried jumping for a branch. I missed. Then I saw my mom and brothers leaving my house through the front door. I figured I would get in trouble if she saw me standing on one of these chairs. I jumped for the branch again. I missed. I feel. I hit the metal arm of the chair, the base of the chair, (possibly the 2x4 under the chair) and then the ground. My left arm was fucked. I screamed, my mom came to my rescue. She took one look at my arm and knew it was broken. To this day, I still hate climbing on chairs.

6. Is there a holiday you don't like?

I hate Valentine’s Day. I am never single on this day, I just hate the sentimental BS that comes with it. I am not into jewelry and chocolate and roses. Uhg. Save your money. I would rather not deal with the amateur hour. Let’s just pretend it is Tuesday.

7. Describe the best kiss you've ever had:

I think it is hard to quantify best. I guess it would be an ex-boyfriend of mine. It sounds strange, but he kissed the same way I do. It was nice because it was not about finding out what the other person likes and trying to make some type of compromise as each person gets into a rhythm or comfort zone with the other person. We just kind of kissed and were already there. It was nice.
8. When you go to your favorite restaurant, what do you usually order?

I am not sure that I have a favorite restaurant. Plus, I work around food all the time so my mood changes always. Okay, I guess my favorite is Purple (I am excluding sushi places and restaurants in the ID). I usually eat at the Woodinville location, so at that one I get the butternut squash pasta (although last time I had a pancetta pasta was freaking amazing!). And I typically start with the baked bre, because who can resist?! Honestly! And of course I have wine. Usually red.

9. Why do you blog?

I used to write a lot. Then I stopped. Then I started again, kind of. Then I vlogged. Vlogging took a lot of effort, the right lighting, the right mic, the camera, blah. Too much. Plus, editing a four minute video took like an hour. At least when I blog, if I mess up, I have the delete button. I do not have to record a WHOLE new take! Mostly, I do it for myself. I find it to be a great stress relief (even though it totally stresses me out!) and something that makes me think.

10. Where were you the last time you got some great news (and for Pete's sake, what was so great about it)?

Define great? Honestly, I am not sure. I have been thinking about this one for a while and I cannot think of anything that I would say is qualifying as an answer to this question.

11. If you could pick anyone to be the President of the United States, dead or alive, who would you pick?

Bill Clinton. Done.

The next 11 questions for anyone that happens to read this…

1.    What is your favorite adult beverage?

2.    What is your favorite book?

3.    If you had to choose between deafness or blindness, which would you choose and why?

4.    If you came into a substantial amount of money, what is the first thing you would do with it?

5.    What is a place in the world that you have absolutely no interest in visiting?

6.    If you could be fluent in any other language, what would it be?

7.    What would you change about your body, if given the option, and why?

8.    What do you most often think about before falling asleep?

9.    If you could be proficient in any subject or area, what would it be and why?

10.  If you could live in any other time period, when would it be and why?

11.  What country (outside of your native land) do you wish you could have been born/raised and why?

The Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirit

Today I was roped into a theology argument with a table. A conversation about astrological signs came up and somehow this guest took that as an invitation to talk to me about our Lord and Savior.

Don’t get me wrong, I love religion and plenty of religious people. I am actually envious of them. I wish I had enough faith to believe in something without any proof. To believe in something regardless of the science, regardless of the evidence, regardless of history, regardless of what masses of people say. I want to believe in miracles the same way people of faith do. But every time I try, I know that I am lying to myself. Man cannot walk on water, turn water into wine, or heal the blind with a touch. But, this gentleman firmly believes in these things. He believes them so much that he is a youth pastor.

Fist, this conversation with the youth pastor was fine, normal. He is an overly tan man with a tattoo around his biceps, a t-shirt about one size too small, and an arsenal full of awkward pick-up lines. He drank his margarita and he ate his nachos and he did the same fake Spanish accent a lot of my tables do. He asked me to bat my eye lashes (I am not kidding, this was a real request) and he was generally funny and nice.

But then science got brought into the mix. Science is the arch nemeses to Evangelicals.  The “Big Bang Theory” was brought up, not the TV show, but the actual scientific idea of how the Universe was created. He used that to support God, which I get, minus all of his short comings in logic. Then, things took a turn for the worst.

I mentioned the dictionary definition of faith, which is “A belief system not based on proof (dictionary.com).” I used it in terms of people on YouTube or The 700 Club or whatever trying to prove the existence of God and Jesus. If the idea and religion of Christianity is based on faith and you are trying to use proof to support your beliefs, you are doing is wrong, brah. Shortly after this he started speaking in tongues. I am not kidding, he started speaking gibberish. Most of it sounded like some strange mix between Chinese and French. He admitted that he did not know what he was saying, but confirmed he was speaking to God. A person at his table asked him about his fluency and he said it was the Holy Spirit speaking through him; he could speak "1000 languages with the Holy Spirit". The girl he was with mentioned that he was speaking in tongues on command. I did not stick around too long for his response. I got the nervous face that I do when shit starts to get too weird for me and I pleasantly excused myself when the opportunity presented itself. 

It was awkward for me to go back to the table, as I was too uncomfortable to be sure I could keep a straight face…after all, this guy was just speaking in tongues. But I find it interesting that he really believes the Holy Spirit speaks through him on command. I am going to go on a limb and say if the Holy Spirit shows up in your words on command, you’re doing it wrong, brah. 

356-03

I find it interesting that in this society a female is blamed for being in a domestic violence situation. The question is not typically put onto men. It is never about how he could do something like that, it is about what she did to drive him to the point of violence. The question is phrased to blame the female.

Rihanna is a well-known pop star that went through a very public domestic violence situation, shortly after her music changed from bubblegum-pop to racy and sexy lyrics. The lyrics started to carry a darker tone. After being left black and blue by her boyfriend, people started to turn her domestic violence into a joke, saying it was rough sex that went wrong, saying it probably turned her on, saying she wanted it.

This country has a problem with blaming victims. Tina Turner kept going back to Ike, so she was asking for it. Google+ comments about her new single say things like “I think she might be one of those girls…a couple of her songs are about S&M and ruff (sic) sex” or “honestly, with her past few albums, She deserves it.” Even a woman that works in a woman’s shelter with abused women left a comment saying “She did interviews admitting her celebrity and influence…it’s a dumb choice, and I am an asshole for it but I can’t help but [hope] it happens to her again.”


Shouldn’t we all be hoping for the idea of people being able to change? I am not saying that what Chris Brown did was a good thing. I am not supporting him. I do not think he should ever be forgiven and I wish his entire career had been ruined. Unfortunately, it wasn’t and Rihanna has found it in her heart to forgive him. So shouldn’t someone that works with women in similar situations hope that Chris Brown has changed, learned, grown? Maybe instead of hoping it happens again, it would do more good to hope it never happens again.


I do not think Rihanna’s music is a sign that she “wanted” it or liked it. That is the same logic applied to men who rape their wives. How can it be rape if they are married? Last time I checked, no still means no. If a woman tells a man to stop, he should stop. Chris Brown did not stop. He continued to hit her. That is not her fault.


The idea that a few lyrics would put the blame on a victim is saying this is a seriously messed up society.