New Years rezzzzezzzz (less stupid crap/waste, more personal growth)

Well now that I discovered Fargo Library has FREE ACCESS TO ROSETTA STONE (and mango but that’s slightly less revolutionary)…

1.  My first res(v)olution is to do at least 4 lessons of Hindi a day (Two via Rosetta, two via mango).

2.  Wash my hair less.  Currently it’s once a day but I can save a lot of money on shampoo/conditioner/hair dye if I cut it back to 2-3 times a week.
3.  10 day purchase pause on everything I want.  I have seriously spent mad cash on so much stupid stuff.  Also check the return policy first and SAVE THE RECIEPT..   No new clothes (barring socks/underwear and shoes if the old ones break)
4.  Be comfortable without makeup on.  Get to the point where I can go to work without it. (That’s gonna be hard.) I’m crazy dependent and it’s not good thing.
5.  Start learning Chinese.  Perfect Spanish.
6.  Get rid of things.  Do this by putting them in a box… If I discover I never had to dig them out of the  box in a few months… they go.
7.  Stop clicking on stupid articles on the internet.  Which means I probably have to stop mindlessly scrolling through my facebook newsfeed. hmm.  Maybe limit myself to checking it only one in the AM/PM/NOC.
Listen to this song (that can be your New Years Resolution)..


At this point in my life some of my friends are married or in long-term commitments… And when I talk with them it’s all sunshine and roses and when-are-you-getting married.

Talk with the other half and hear about how stupid everyone is to get married this early, and how love is ephemeral and not worth pursuing..


Heard to get smug when there’s so many thousands of miles between us.  Like I won the lottery but all the money is in an offshore bank and I can’t access it very often.  can I just withdraw ALL of it. please.

In other news I know a lot of people in inter-racial and/or interfaith marriages/relationships and that makes me happy.  That’s what’s going to eventually unite us together.

Or you know.  We could just keep fighting each other until this planet kicks the bucket.



Heard some pogo last  night, thought it was nice and relaxing.  But watching their music videos is (although mesmerizing in the extreme) not all that relaxing .  As evidenced by this link HERE.

However.  This one is.  Or try the other link.  (choose your own adventure). WhatEVER. I’m not the boss of you.

Or maybe I am.  Put youtube on autoplay and just lay around listening to this shiesseeee all dayyyyy.

On another note, I hate it when I mention that I haven’t heard of something (Like shin chan or pogo) and people respond with extreme shock like “ARE YOU KIDDING ME??!?!?!?!?!??!”


man typing in all caps gets addicting after a while.


Man I really MISS being able to write.  I really just don’t anymore and that is so sad.  Anyways I read through all my journals from college (except the last year) and dang.  I miss writing.

Here is something 3 years old.  So glad I finally found someone worth being a happy lovestruck idiot for.


For some people love means never being alone on Valentines day, maiming hearts into trees with pocketknives. For me love is this unattainable gold pot at the end of a rainbow tangled with hints of particularly putrid shades of browns and greens, you know, like a couch from the seventies… this is for all the ugly sofas in my life, you know who you are.  This is for the the end I’m still waiting for even though I’m pretty sure it’s probably a myth or at least guarded by a heavily armored leprechaun named commitment-phobia

This is for everyone who taught me what love isn’t.

For every misstep on the ladder to happiness that left me with skinned knees and metaphorically knocked out teeth and for every time I doggedly struggled my way back up. I’ve lived my life like a romantic sitcom, dining on cliche-ridden late nights and so many cheesy pickup lines I give thanks to Cupid every day that I’m not lactose intolerant.

This is for all the men I can’t have, won’t have, have had, or taste bad. This is for all the Indians who won’t date me because I’m not what an arranged marriage looks like, and this is for when I told you I didn’t want to marry you anyways and I think that was probably the clearest definition of sour grapes that I’ve ever smashed into wine. This is for your mistaken notion that you are allowed to friendzone me two days after I cook for you.

This is for the oh-em-gee preteen-style butterflies that grew legs and feet and began to brutally kick at my heart instead of flutter. Every over-dramatic, he’s-so-bad-for-me and all the good advice I ignored. I still can’t stomach bitterness, I front like I’m a jaded skeptic but I can never quite pass as one, I will always be the happy lovestruck idiot in the room.

I’ve pretended I’m not being manipulated for so long that it’s started to not matter either way.  I still refuse to believe those compliments were scripted even with his teleprompter smiles still echoing through my brain like the first time I realized that all my grandmother’s decorative fruit was really just plastic. My veins pulse to the tune of every lie I can’t let go of, starting with when you told me you’d always be around, waiting, like your heart was just gonna lie around on a shelf with the Christmas decorations until I felt like picking it up again.

This is for hearts that refuse to give up, catch up, or shut up. This is for the delirious crash and burn I’ve been chasing since before you met me. This is for the one who stuck around even when I wouldn’t sleep with him and just kept saying “BAM, pregnant” whenever he mentioned it.

This is for love, real and imagined. Well in my case pretty much always imagined. This is for those of us too stupid to tell the difference, rocking enough poor judgment to fill a hallmark card store. This is for mistakes and refusing to acknowledge or learn from them.

This is for the the hook line and sinker crowd.

This is for living, life, flammability, and the pursuit.

Stumble on.

Because whatever like I’m chill you know

Agreed to meet up with “the dude who once broke into my house” today. The following excerpt illustrates very neatly one of the many reasons why it never would have worked out between us, before he ever sat outside my door for a half hour incessantly calling and knocking.

Me:  You were such an A**hole to her.

Him:  But I was never an a**hole to YOU.

This is a problem.

You have to be kind.

You don’t get to decide some people are worth kindness and others aren’t.   just. be kind.  It doesn’t make you a good person because you’re nice to your friends (or to women you want to sleep with).  Everybody does that.

Because I do not allow s***y people in my life

(edited from using stronger language, I know some of y’all are not about that life, I got you, see those asterisks?)

Anyways it was a terrible conversation and eventually I just said  “You know what, I’m going to the bathroom I hope you’re gone when I get back.”

BAM.  I do have nice dramatic exit lines with him.  Four years later I still got it.

People are asking me why I would even consider meeting up with him and my answer to that is as follows: because I knew it would be interesting.  And it was.  It did get old pretty fast though.  He’s an arrogant pile that is convinced he thinks deeper than everyone around him, so nothing has really changed.  Makes me appreciate the man I’m with even more.




I can measure my happiness by two things:  My nails and my dreams. 

Short nails mean stress (because I’ve bitten them down).  Long nails mean contentment. 

Bad dreams mean my life is going super freaking well.  Good dreams mean I’m probably going through a bad time.

My dreams balance me out in a big way.  They keep my (alleged) bipolar from getting the best of me.

Seriously when do I get to say I’m not bipolar anymore?  It’s been four years. 

Well it will be on Thanksgiving when I get to celebrate my four year crazi-versary.  Hah.

Hit up this youtube channel…for-real the BEST MUSIC.  MrSuicideSleep.  Or you can just follow along as I only plan to post songs from there for the forseeable future.

Letting go of Control

This blog post: In Defense of Letting Kids Talk Back is applicable to so many areas of my life and I ain’t even child-rearing yet.

It’s hard to not exert your will over others, if not through outright ordering, then through coercion and manipulation. Sometimes I just really really want one of my friends to go to some event or class with me, something they’re not that into but I just know would be so fun for them.

I need to work on letting other people say no and letting that be enough.

Something from the comments:  “Not allowing people to say no in everyday life is basically erasing them as people.” – Speedwell.

Feel that so hard.    My parents didn’t discuss.  Their word was law.  I was a bratty kid. I always complained, argued, refused.  That wasn’t… um… that wasn’t encouraged.

And look at me now! Refusing alcohol and drugs on the regular! (Well usually just alcohol).  There was this guy I stayed with (my first couchsurfing experience actually) and he kept insisting that he had bought wine specifically for my visit so I had to drink it.  I explained why I don’t drink, I said thanks, but it will just be wasted on me since I won’t enjoy it, but he would not respect that.  In the end I took a glass, waited until he left the room for a minute, then dumped it down the drain.

People like this are one giant red flag.  Which is why I need to learn to not accept this behavior from others including and especially myself. Be the friend you want to see in the world, and all that.

I keep learning more about how awesome and important consent is.  Love it.

Found this song.. Somehow reminds me of the Postal Service.

love in all caps

Sometimes people just need to be looked in the face and made to feel real.

Love the old people.  Think I get more real every day from working there.

Also currently trying to learn this dance.

Tutorial: HERE (It’s only for the first minute or so of the video)

cactus bicycle seat.

So whenever I’m on a phone call with my boyfriend and the conversation is kinda stunted we do questions from this article: The 36 Questions That Lead to Love. I definitely recommend this list to people in long distance relationships… one question usually opens up the whole conversation, we generally don’t get through more than one per day.

Anyways. Today’s question was “If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?”

He didn’t have much to say about that.  I have mostly one thing…  I wish there would have been talks about consent.

This blog:  sums it up beautifully.

“Sex should not be a “duty.” It shouldn’t be an act we feel obligated to perform for other people. It should never be manipulated or coerced. It’s hard for each woman, individually, to operate inside this system where we’re beaten down into thinking things like I have to have sex with him or he’ll leave me.

But we shouldn’t accept this status quo. As the magnificent and wonderful Nicki Minaj put it: “I demand that I climax. I think women should demand that.” That’s the attitude that should be accepted and normal. Consent is only the absolute minimum baseline, not the goal. It should be so commonplace for women to be comfortable, and happy, and trusting, and respected during sex that anything else would be as incomprehensible to us as building a bicycle seat out of a cactus.”

This is the first I’ve heard of something called “enthusiastic consent”  which means not bare minimum okay-whatever-yeah-do-it consent (or “grudging consent”).

I love Feminism. For now for always.
Don’t have any new music for you today, sorry.

If you’re looking for Capital Letters YOU’RE HOME

The Denver Salsa and Bachata Congress was magical.  SERIOUSLY good dancing.  I was on a high for two days at work when I got back.  SPEAKING of which. 

I thought it would be fun in the airport line to try and guess who just came to Colorado for the pot, but I think most of the people were there for some football game.

Colorado used to represent a place for out-doorsy people.  Now apparently it’s a place for out-doorsy potheads.  I didn’t meet any though, or if I did they were hiding it well.  True potheads will definitely tell you.  That they like pot.  Almost immediately.

anyways. The dancing was colossal.  And many other adjectives.  The men were sometimes too forward (less in deed than in word) but it’s fun to reject people and also good mental acrobatic training.. for instance.  Is this dude worth letting down gently or is he basically a douche?  Then there’s a continuum of rejection where I can either be really nice about, or totally blunt and rude.   Ball’s in my court. 

For example.

Dude:  So what are my chances percentage-wise for you taking me home tonight?
Me:  Well… On a scale of 1 to I-have-a-boyfriend, I’m about a ten.  Meaning I have a boyfriend, and your chances are zero. 

AND! AND! I had already told him that I was getting kind of creeped out by some of the blunt pick up lines that night.  I told him I didn’t trust any of the men there and WHAT DOES HE ASK ME.  FREAKING A. 

Man.  This is why I love my boyfriend.  He would never have gone for these cheap lines.  I don’t like men who think they’re smooth.  Arrogance goes hand in hand with manipulation.  I don’t have time for that.

Here is a video from the congress. This man is inspiring.  Wish I would have filmed him speaking about dancing.

“What are you rehearsing for?”  Get out there and dance.