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Money, Honey

I know I shouldn’t, but I’m having a mini panic attack about money. My car lease is about to end and we have a big, gaping hole of debt ahead of us that we need to pay off. I know you’re not supposed to talk publicly about money, but I’m nothing if not brutally honest on this blog, and my readers know I reveal warts and all. And even though we should be living more than comfortably, I’ve been feeling a little out of control of the whole “living within my means” thing lately.

Over the next year, the debt will even out and some major expenses will have been paid off. We’ll be able to put more money away and have a nice little retirement nest egg (something we’ve both been actively working toward – chipping away slowly at that item on the bucket list) securely in check. That’s one thing I’ve never let slide.

For now, I just need to focus on getting through one day at a time, staying well under budget, and stop trying to keep up with whatever Joneses are out there. Because honestly – they’re mostly in my mind.

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Expanding the list

Places I want to travel before I even consider having kids:

  • Ireland
  • Napa Valley
  • Bocas del Toro (again)
  • NYC at least 5 more times
  • Tuscany
  • Miami (just to visit friends… bleck, I hate Miami)
  • Chicago (to visit family)
  • Cross country road trip
  • Las Vegas

I still need to hit Africa and Australia at some point, but I guess I’ve got a whole life to do that.

Been bouncing these thoughts around in my head and I thought I’d get pen to paper.

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Full Circle

I don’t know how, but I somehow manage to become the apple of smarmy sales guys’ eyes. I wonder what that says about me. Maybe that I don’t have enough respect for people? Because frankly, I’ve never cared enough to be intimidated by power.

Que sera.

In any case, my continued lack of concern for respect or decorum hasn’t seemed to slow me down at work so far, which is fortunate. I really feel like I’m helping to make a difference to both the big and small pictures, working to make everything more efficient, help iron out better processes, and implement changes that can only make the company better. I’m loving playing this more operational role while also sharpening my strategy pencil.

This week has been busy and exhausting, but I’m energized and excited to be a part of an amazing company that is poised to do incredible, unprecedented things.

More to come.

travel

Serenity at Serenbe

My sister is the best. Smart, talented, kind, funny, and beautiful. She is all of the most wonderful parts of me and limited amounts of the bullshit. But I don’t see her all that often, because she lives pretty far away.

One place she’s always wanted to go is Serenbe, an idyllic little community south of Atlanta. So for her 22nd birthday, I took her to this little green farming community for the weekend.

It all started fine: a great farm to table dinner, a play outside under magical twinkling lights, then a breakfast filled with grits and biscuits. But then we found the treehouse.

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Cute, right? Well, underneath that little window was a tube slide. Filled with cat shit.

Yes, to confirm your horror, I slid right into a fresh pile of cat shit – while wearing white shorts, no less. #BeechWhites

But fortunately, I brought som extra clothes, so after an awkward stroll back to our room, I was fresh as a daisy again.

We wandered around the local farmers market and found a tree in a sweater:

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No telling why.

Then we headed down to Newnan for a cafeteria style lunch and a stroll around the square.

All in all, not a bad trip so far – minus the cat shit. Hopefully it’s an upswing from here.

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Growing Up Is Hard To Do

I like to remember myself as a cool teenager. Someone obsessed with pursuing her own individuality, intentionally pursuant of the unpopular choice, and undeterred by her peers.

But the reality was that I was an insecure kid like anyone else. I had my heart constantly broken, cared deeply about others’ perceptions of me, went through bouts of eating disorders and depression, and fought like hell to maintain my own sense of self despite being pummeled daily with religious tyranny, racist and homophobic slurs, self-segregation, and classism.

I vividly remember being told 2 months into arriving in 8th grade in my new, rural hometown, “You’re moving really fast. You’re already on the B list. Me and Crystal, we’re A list. You might be like us one day.”

This literally happened.

My response?

“That’s cool. I think I’m fine on the B list.”

I had frequent religious arguments with a crush on the bus; the first of many internal romantic struggles in wondering to my diary, “Why do I like this guy who’s so combative? There is literally nothing we share a belief on.” And that’s how I learned my first adult lesson in relationships. Also, years later, turns out he was gay.

I remember chatting with a new friend as she covertly whispered, “See that girl? She just had a baby by a black guy.”

I conspiratorially leaned against her ear to reply, “It must suck to have a baby at 16, but I don’t care what color it is.”

I used to journey to Atlanta with my friends to perform in Rocky Horror as Columbia on Friday nights. I learned swing dancing and recited the movie line for line, expression for expression. I somehow managed to convince a bunch of kids from the Baptist church that transvestites were cool.

And yet, I couldn’t convert a whole town. I couldn’t change a city’s way of thought. So as soon as I possibly could (about a year after the picture of me with pink hair next to Grandma was taken), I left it–and them. And I haven’t looked back.

Washington, I’ll never love you or remember you fondly. Sorry. But maybe we’ll both find some solace in the fact that opposites sometimes just aren’t meant to attract.

And as further comfort, maybe you were gay all along.

Grandma and me - I think I was 15. Note the home dye pink hair.
Grandma and me – I think I was 15. Note the home dye pink hair.
photo 4 (1)
Grandma’s friend David was a Lounge Lizard
photo 3 (2)
I was Riff Raff the Halloween of my 15th year.
Maybe my favorite picture ever of my BFF Katie. Good times.
Maybe my favorite picture ever of my BFF Katie. Good times.
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So I’m 90 Years Old

We can cross “tangible skill” off the Bucket List, because I officially know how to be a 90 year old woman.

Over the last week, I’ve learned how to knit and make candles – in fact, here’s Todd enjoying the lovely lavender-scented one I created earlier in the week.

The cat adds to the beautiful "old lady" vibe I'm going for.
The cat adds to the beautiful “old lady” vibe I’m going for.

I’ve also been keeping up with my guitar lessons, but I definitely wouldn’t claim to have mastered any part of those yet.

This week has been great – helping with a lot of business wins, settling into my role, seeing friends, and continuing to explore my personal journey into unknown territory. Feeling happier, healthier, and more fulfilled every day. I just still miss my old work buds like crazy. A Friday isn’t a Friday without Dave’s Casual Friday t-shirt, or Black Cock with the creative team (calm down, it’s a liquor I bought in Thailand).

In any case, my new hobbies should help me make a dent in all this insane debt we’ve incurred over the last few months. Between the scooter, a new bed set, and my surgery… shit ain’t cheap.

Oh dear. Now I really may be a 90 year old woman.

travel

Shuffle Off To Buffalo

There’s no better place in the world than Buffalo, NY.

Okay, that’s a complete lie, but there is something quaint about it.

I visited Buffalo this past weekend to see my mom’s idyllic hometown, East Aurora, which I’d only ever heard about in stories. It was exactly as she described, and so little had changed in 50 years: cute shops, a Main Street that caters to bikes, children running around and everyone just generally feeling safe. It was like I’d stepped into a Beverly Cleary novel.

I also met some distant cousins I had no idea existed: nieces of my grandmother’s, and one of their sons. I think, if I’m not mistaken, that makes the ladies first cousins once removed and the guy a second cousin, but I don’t know anything other than that I could legally marry any of them and our kids probably wouldn’t end up super deformed. Which is good news, because my second cousin is 22 and super cute. What? Don’t judge.

It was wonderful bonding with my family, and also seeing my brother, who normally lives in Philadelphia. I do feel like I’m getting just a hair closer with all of them, and that feels good. Especially because when you’re not feeling 100%, there’s nothing like having family around to restore your spirits and remind you that you’re awesome. And life is short, so you’ve gotta love on your family while you can.

My grandmother is going downhill mentally, but it’s clearly been a wonderful experience for her to see her old town and some of her old friends. She may not be able to understand us every time what kind of pizza she wants (she just smiles at us blankly), but she does remember Vidler’s 5 & 10, and that’s a win in my book. Even if she did buy a child’s sheriff hat there and elect to wear it around all day.

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You Say You Want a Revolution

Well, you know.

Not much progress of late on the bucket list. There’s been a lot of wound-licking and life transitions that have gotten in the way of my goals, but it hasn’t stopped me from pursuing the first steps of them.

I’m also creeping along in my #HandstandsAcrossAmerica mission – I’m at 3 states now. The cross country trip should help knock quite a few off.

PHYSICAL AND MENTAL HEALTH

30. Climb a mountain.

29. Run a 10k.

28. Nail a handstand in yoga.

27. Get spiritual.

EDUCATION

26. Learn a language.

25. Master a skill.

24. Read some books that actually mean something.

23. Develop some knowledge about cars.

TRAVEL

22. Visit Thailand.

21. Take a trip with my Dad.

20. See a Wonder of the World.

19. Take a cross-country road trip with Brandon.

LIFE CHANGES

18. Volunteer regularly somewhere for at least 6 months.

17. Turn off the T.V. for a week.

16. Finish my book.

MONEY MATTERS

15. Invest in 5 diversified stocks.

14. Build retirement fund.

13. Own a second home.

EVOLVE MY RELATIONSHIPS

12. Get closer with my sister.

11. Go on a walk at least once a week with Brandon.

10. Try something more sexually adventurous than usual.

9. Be a good in-law.

8. Send a real letter to a friend every month for a year.

TEST MY LIMITS

7. Zip line.

6. Participate in a big cultural event like a music festival or Oktoberfest.

5. Swim with a shark. Or at least sting rays.

4. Learn to surf. Or at least try.

3. Be personally responsible for winning a big piece of business.

2. Perform in a play or musical.

PERSONAL SATISFACTION

1. Learn to be happy just as I am.

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Girls

I got really mad a few weeks back when someone told me to “stop being such a girl.” Looking back, I’m not sure whether I was more offended by the implication that I was weak or that somehow girls were an inferior sex, but nevertheless, hell hath no fury like me scorned.

What does it mean to be a girl? Well, it means a hell of a lot.

It means growing and bearing children, dealing with a monthly hell akin to witnessing a the murder of your own organs, managing your hormones and being expected to expertly manage the hormones of others.

But more than the physical, it means living in a world that has always viewed you as the Worst Half, as the loser. Being successful, even in industries that embrace women, is always done in spite of gender and not irrelevant of it. We couldn’t vote until outrageously recently, have limited ability to secure leadership positions, and still get paid less than men (at an unnamed job, I was paid half of what someone managing significantly less than I was, and performed his job objectively worse, even after I negotiated several raises).

Being a girl also implies that you’re weak, don’t deserve to have feelings, and should ignore how you’re treated. The strong are those that ignore their humanity and embrace the cold reality that life isn’t fair. They are the ones who manage without emotion and bump along in some sort of psychopathic stride. They are out for #1 and are calculating in their approach to life. Well, sorry if it “makes me a girl,” but I am one, and given the alternative, I’d prefer to be.

As women, we are ridiculed, catcalled, treated as disposable, and objectified from ages as young as 7 or 8. We are constantly measured by our appearances as the sole metric for our value, and to stand up for ourselves paints us as bitches. The world has dramatically changed since the 1950s when women were expected to stay home and cook, but we’ve reached a new stage of sexism that’s almost too sinister and silent to claim as real, which makes it all the more dangerous. Now there’s just this underlying hum that peppers every meeting or relationship, the eerie sense that you’re being viewed as not good enough, and the creeping sensation that you notice it only because you’re crazy or too sensitive.

Girls, we have the capability of being so powerful, but we give our power away because we’re afraid of what the alternative looks like. We are quiet when we know better, we stay at jobs that treat us as “less than,” we stay in relationships that are damaging and abusive, we elect not to raise our hands because of the looks we might get.

I know we’ve all heard about “leaning in,” and that’s important. But you know what? We shouldn’t have to lean. We should be standing in the middle of the conversation and contributing everything we’re capable of. When someone tells us to stop acting like a girl, we should be responding that we’re acting like a human, and welcome to the fucking race. Because speaking as someone who has never let her gender get in the way of her success, I’m still impacted every day by the veil society has draped over my face.

And I’m taking it the fuck off.