See Ya, 2014: Another List

I heard someone say that lists were annoying, like those end-of-year lists or the ones that comprise a lot of Buzzfeed. But hasn’t this been the year of Buzzfeed? So, a few someones must enjoy a good countdown. And as much as lists require ten times less attention than a well-written essay, they are so wonderfully tidy. So I made one, too, for this blog, because I can. Here’s my top 5 favorite post thus far. Happy New Year and thanks so much for reading.

5. Prince & Patrice Do Hollywood — Once my brother and I reached California, we took a side trip to LA for the day. With no plan, we wandered into one of the funniest days of my life.  Continue reading

My Favorite Food

cakeFresh from the hot oil, crisp on the edges and covered in white powdered sugar. Eaten standing up or sitting perched on the edge of a shaky wooden bench. Napkins bunched in one hand, stuffed in the back pocket or dropped in haste for that first sweet bite. The sun is high or fading into darkness. Clouds of sugar around your face. White streak across your left cheek. Left hand warm from palming the paper plate. I think I love you.

My favorite food is a fair staple. Fairs mean late summer or early fall. People go in groups, get on rides with questionable safety standards, walk around, and eat food they would never eat otherwise. I associate my favorite food with happiness, with friends and family, with joy. Continue reading

Deep Cleaning

Things got a little heavy this morning while I was on my hands and knees in the bathroom. I was finally taking the time to scrub the bottom of our tiny shower, an easy task that I’d put off for weeks, because it always became a bit of a production.

First, I’d have to scrub the excess grime with a dryer sheet, a trick I learned from Pinterest. It’d been so long, I needed two to really do the job. So there I was minding my own business, going at this mucky floor and feeling pretty damned satisfied with myself for being up AND cleaning on a Saturday morning before nine when out of no where I started having these really dark thoughts.

Continue reading

NaNoWriMo: Help Wanted

Help me fight the dreaded blank screen

I need your help with NaNoWriMo this year. In case you didn’t know (because you’re not a nerdy writer) NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month which is in November. It’s a time for celebrating one of the most beloved forms of writing in America and also a time of self-flagellation. Because hidden behind the guise of frivolity is the dark underbelly of NaNoWriMo where some crazy writers attempt to write at least 1,000 words a day, with the hopes that at the end of the month they’ll have enough material for a novel. I’ve always thought that seemed damn near impossible and I laughed and pointed at my friends who attempted the month-long challenge. Meanwhile, for several years during and after graduate school I dubbed November WriPoEvDay or Write a Poem Every Day and took a crack at my own personal torture. April is actually National Poetry Month, but I think poems are better suited to the long nights of November. I did some soul searching and I came to the conclusion that I have no desire to write a novel but I also contain within me the equal lack of desire to write poems. Instead I’d like to write small bits of nonfiction — 150 words per day. And this is where you come in. Continue reading

When the Mask Slips

Rosamund Pike as Jane Bennet 'PRIDE AND PREJUDICE' FILM - 2005
Sweet, sweet Jane, the world is a dark, dirty place.

I wanted to write some long piece about Gone Girl and how much I loved the movie, and how it stayed true to the book while also being an entertaining film, and also something about how much I relate to Amy Dunne, which I know is a strange (and honestly, scary) thing to say about a woman like her, but I really do feel a kinship with her and all women who have been cool girls until they couldn’t be cool girls any more, because haven’t we all tried to be the people others wanted us to be only to fail and disappoint them anyway?

I wanted to say powerful things about societal expectations of women, and blah, blah, fucking blah. Imagine I did express my opinion with such profound ideas, you stopped reading right here to look around seeing the world for the first time. Imagine, I didn’t, because that’s closer to the truth. Amy Dunne, you dark, cynical bitch: I understand you and I love you still. I love myself, too.

And Gillian Flynn, I love you, too. You said the words that live inside so many of us without flinching. Thank you for being willing to put both hands in the muck, to raise the truth up to the light and show us exactly what lives below the surface.


To be sure, I was speeding. There’s no grey area on this point.  Imagine I left a chemtrail in the wake of my Dodge Caliber, bright white in the early morning, but there was no one else on the road to see it. The speed limit was 50 mph, which I took for a suggestion on that particular stretch of highway so flat and straight that accidents had to be caused by sheer boredom. It was almost 5 am, just thirty minutes into what would be an 18 hour day of driving. Maybe, it was the knowledge of how much further I had to go, maybe it was the residual emotions of the day before when I’d left my boyfriend of two years in Phoenix, or maybe I just didn’t care that I was speeding, exactly five miles over the speed limit. It was a calculated risk.

So when the blue, white and red lights started behind me, it took  a moment to process. It was 5 am. It was dark. Continue reading