Why Not Me?–Mindy Kaling

As I’ve said before: Mindy is my spirit animal.

I had a theme going for a short time where I was reading books by thoughtful but filthy minded and mouthed women who tell it like it is and actually connected with me on a level some authors never reach with me.

Mindy always gets through because she isn’t ashamed to speak her mind.

I’m so grateful that someone like her exists to help me out of whatever self sabotaging stage or made up stage I’m in. Where I’m just going around and around in circles and finally there is someone to knock some sense into me.

This book is all about her life and her motto “Why the Fuck not Me?”. I love her writing and her stories, which made me fall in love with that phrase.

What on Earth makes me think that anyone is better or worse at something than me?

Why shouldn’t I be the one pursuing my dream of the week, month, or year. And why do I always let the naysayers and my inner naysayer bowl me over with their negativity thus leaving me where I started? None the wiser and with zero progress in my life.

Mindy takes you into her arms like a wise majestic creature from another universe and whispers in your ear in a deep Batman voice: “Why the fuck not you?”

I adore her and this book and can’t wait for more from her.


KMF: The News This Week

I don’t normally jump into the fray of things like politics, social issues, or anything heavier than my own petty simple struggles like the fat on my ass or my need for caffeine.

I don’t like to because I don’t like the debates that come with it. I’m not a fighter, I don’t like confrontation, and I never know everything about all the issues going on in the world so I don’t feel like I have the authority to talk about them.

But dumber people than me have weighed in, so here I am.

For the record, the hardest thing I’ve gone through is the death of loved ones outside of my direct family. And while all older than me, it still made a significant change to my outer family. They were still indirect hits on my immediate family of me, my parents, and my siblings.

I haven’t lost a grandparent yet. (Knock on wood.) My aunts and uncles are mostly all still here, and if they aren’t it’s because they were gone before I even met them.

All indirect hits.

Things always seem to happen around me but not TO me. I see sadness and heartbreak and devastation all the time, and I have that empathy where I can feel it to my core, but I also have the ability to shake it off at the end of the day and move on because it hasn’t impacted my small world where my biggest concern is whether or not I was a good enough person and caretaker to my cousins today. (For which I’m so fucking lucky and grateful.)

Where one of the next things on my list is to better myself by taking care of myself and my body .

Where the next thing on my list is to better my mind. Better my soul. Better myself while not completely engaging in the fights that happen in the world.

Which doesn’t in the end make me any better. But it also doesn’t make me worse.

I’m just in my selfish tiny safe bubble.

I once saw this picture online of a man and the question posed was ‘What do you see?” and under that ‘What one word would you use to describe this man?”

Now, the man had several piercings all over his face, he had tattoos, he was obviously from Latin descent. I saw all these things on my peripheral. I knew they were there, it was literally all over his face.

And reading the comments I saw words like “Degenerate” “Drug dealer” and a whole array of racial slurs.

Thousands of people had written things about this stranger on there. And for once I decided to respond. I wrote one word to describe this man.

I wrote,”Person.”

I’m not tooting my own horn for being an accepting human being, if I saw this person in real life alone in a dark alley, I definitely would turn tail and run. Because the same word I used is the same reason he would scare me in a dark alley. It’s another person and I don’t know what their moral compass is balanced at.

But I’ve been trained to not go into alleys because I’m female. And for good reason.

This week has been a serious news coverage week where I can’t escape reading things about the Stanford rape case. I read her letter, I ache to help her, I feel that rage in me over how the entire case went down, how that boy isn’t getting what he deserves. All of that. All I’ve heard after I first read her letter was everything concerning the rapist. Not her.

And after I read two or three I got the gist of it. I had to be done reading about it because I couldn’t keep stepping into that or I would never stop crying, or Hulk out. I still can’t decide which.

Then I finally read about the men who saved her. (Might be around the same age as the rapist, but in my eyes these are what men are made of. Not boys.)

That helped, there are good people in the world. I could shake it off while also learning from it.

I only say I could shake it off because I have to in order to be able to function for small kids every day.

This will help me to help my cousins raise better minded children.

Then I read about the shooting of the girl, Christina Grimmie, from The Voice. Another useless destruction of a human life and her families hearts. How this boy had made it cross country with two guns to shoot her should be an unacceptable reality. But it’s true.

But her brother responded with taking down this person and likely saving others from being shot as well. Another man taking action and helping.

Then finally, the shooting in Orlando. This one really breaks my heart. It has been such a positive year for the LGBT community in the U.S. with the law that they too can marry the person they love becoming nationwide. So for someone to so brutally murder those people and injure even more with the obvious hate that they bore, it feels to me like it can’t be real. It shouldn’t be real. This is 2016 for fucks sakes.

But it is. There are people dead or hurt and heartbroken. And I saw an article on that Westboro church of Fuckery saying that God sent an angel to do that.

No. You guys can shut the fuck up. No one needs to hear from you at a time like this. God doesn’t do this. God doesn’t punish people trying to live their lives and have a good time.

Putting them aside because we should always ignore them. (Westboro, not the LBGT people.)

Do you know what is happening now? Thousands of people are lined up to donate blood for the people injured. Humans helping humans.

In the media blitz of shouting the worst I did the only good thing I could think of.

I looked for the helpers. There are always people somewhere helping. And when the media coverage is depressing as hell talking about the murderers stats like they should be on baseball cards, when they are talking about the body count while not talking about the peoples lives, when they are showing footage of the police doing their jobs like it’s an action movie, that is the one thing we can look for.

Beneath the barrage of shit, we can see the people with the shovels.

I was raised to love people for being people, to protect the weak and stand up to the bullies. I was raised that no means no. To use my words instead of violence to say what I want to say. That when things get tough you don’t get going, you stay to help those left behind. To be kind, thoughtful, and treat others how you want to be treated.

Fight the good fight,yeah? (Okay, that’s a quote from Angel but I need Joss Whedon this week.)

I can’t do much from here but give some comfort using my words.

I can’t donate blood, I can’t fly over to help, I can’t do all the lovely fantastic things I dream would be so helpful to all the people in the world suffering.

But I can say I’m here. You have my support. You have my ear. You now have my voice.

And you have always had my heart.

Love more, hate less. Be kind.

And keep moving forward.


KMF: My Figs

Hey there, hi there, ho there!

Last week I mentioned that I have found one of my ‘figs’ and although I’m sure you were just like ‘What the hell is she talking about?’ and then moved on with your life, I DID promise to explain myself.

My friend sent me this thing awhile ago that spoke so hard to both of us.

There is a quote by Sylvia Plath in The Bell Jar, it goes like this:


Indecisiveness is one of my character flaws. So this really hit me. Like a fig to the head.

It’s hard to find out what you want in life, so it’s amazing when one of those things comes up and blooms right before your eyes because you’ve put the work in and the love and you actually like what you are doing.

My Etsy store is one of my figs, and I’m so grateful someone thought of a platform for modern artists to get their stuff out there and to be able to sell it without having to go through the hard task of craft fairs where people won’t get to see my foul mouthed stuff.

I found one fig. I’m hoping more will fall into place and not rot at my feet.

Constant vigilance. Keep moving forward.

KMF: What the Winter.

Hey there.

I’m sitting here trying to figure out what to write to you about because it’s been awhile since I’ve done a Keep Moving Forward. I’m trying to get myself back in the habit of writing on a schedule. And thinking about things that have bothered me lately, things that have stuck out, and attitudes that have bummed me out.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty I could go on about, but I don’t want to be negative today.

At least, I’m going to try. It’s been a brutal and weird month with the weather being a fickle bitch and I’m finding that’s making ME a fickle bitch.

I’m so over snow. I’m ready for sunshine and light jackets and jumping in mud puddles and racing around the backyard with Daryl and watching as he completely delights in the spring weather. We get outside more in the spring and that’s so important for both of us.

I’ve been struggling for a while getting motivated to do anything. Including reading. Which sucks the hardest I think. I’ve read a handful of stuff that was decent lately, but my brain still isn’t at top notch levels for anything more complicated than this dumb dumb ‘Dollhouse’ book I got at a thrift store by the Kardashians.

I need Spring to be here. I just need it. Everything will be alive again. Including me.


That was my face on Saturday when I woke up to find MORE snow.


Keep moving forward. And hopefully Spring will show up soon.

KMF: How to Talk To Pregnant Women

Hey guys, did you know there is a new kind of body shaming going on?

And it’s directed at super humans?

Which seems ridiculous, yes?

I am constantly hearing tales of how people are talking to pregnant women and not in a positive fashion.

When my cousin was pregnant with Carol I heard my family crack jokes about her being pregnant with triplets, talk about how big her ass was getting, and basically fat shaming a person who is working hard to grow another person.

Now, I don’t know if you have ever seen this, heard it, or experienced it yourself, but let me tell you something:

Pregnant women are still women.

They are actually super women considering they are making something with their body that exhausts the fuck out of them but they still get up and show up.

And people are criticizing them?!

My friend is pregnant right now and she keeps telling me how RANDOM STRANGERS are commenting on her weight and how she’s carrying her baby.

Look, she’s a tiny person; of course she’s going to look different than someone who is 5’6 when pregnant. I honestly think it looks like she’s carrying a beach ball under her shirt, whereas other people keep telling her she’s fat in the ass or something other shitty thing. So in my rage at all this I decided to give another lesson this week.

Here’s how you should talk to a pregnant woman:


2) If you see that a particular part of her body is more robust than the rest, DON’T FUCKING TALK ABOUT IT. She knows guys. She knows and is probably crying about it and praying that it goes away when the baby gets here.

3) Treat her like the goddamn queen she is because it’s likely she actually feels like shit. Babies do so much crazy shit to a womans body that even offering her something small, like food, will be appreciated.

4) Feed her. I’m dead serious. Make her dinner, a snack, find her a cookie, get that girl some sustenance.

5) Don’t ever mention how much coffee she’s drinking. First off: None of your beeswax. You’re not a doctor, you know nothing. And secondly: That girl is tired. If she takes an extra sip or two, leave her alone. She’s building a human and you know you’ve needed more coffee for less.

6)Did I mention she’s tired? Don’t fucking comment on how she looks tired. Instead use your actions. If she looks like she was dragged backwards through a bush don’t fucking say it! Remember that old adage: If you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say it at all?

Give that girl some coffee and a cookie and trick her into watching a movie so she can sleep through it.

7) Tell her she’s beautiful. Because what she’s doing IS beautiful. And more likely than not, she doesn’t feel beautiful. By the end of her pregnancy she’s going to feel like a hot angry bear carrying her cub in her. Tell that bear she looks good. (Also don’t call her a bear. She’ll cut you.)

8) Ask her what she needs. More often than not people give what they think someone wants. Asking her what she actually needs is the best! Trust me, she’ll tell you because she’s too tired to fight through socially awkward nonsense. Pregnancy is truth serum.

9) Just because you would call your sister a fat whale while pregnant does not mean you should say something equally as shitty to a stranger. The number one concern my friend shares is that perfect strangers are the ones who say the shittiest things to her. So you, strangers, stop it! You don’t know this womans life! And it’s most certainly not your place to step in and say some shit. Unless you see her trying to physically injure her bump, fuck right off with your comments.

10) Never. Touch. The. Belly.

What is it about pregnant ladies that people think they can manhandle another person? Just because it sticks out doesn’t mean it’s not attached!!! She can feel that! And it’s creepy as shit to have people want to rub your belly. No pregnant woman ever has enjoyed strangers rubbing her like Buddha. She’s not a lucky charm, she’s a person.

Again, if you wouldn’t do it to your sister, don’t do it to a stranger.

Hope that helps! Go forth and be kind!

Also, if you see someone doing any of these shitty things to a pregnant lady, you stop them and buy that bear a cookie. You’ll be her hero and she’ll give you her baby as thanks.

Okay, she won’t do that, but you will have just made her day.

Keep moving forward.

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KMF: How to Fight Like A Human

I’m often going on about what it feels like for a girl to be in this world. It’s hard, but there is something harder.

Being human.

It’s something that I’ve noticed with people over the last little while and it becomes the most prominent when they are hurt.

It’s so easy to throw hate and spew venom at each other when we are hurt or upset. It’s so easy to bring up past hurts or pains to make someone feel bad, when in truth, you are the one hurting. It usually happens when someone is pointing out a flaw, fault, or accidental situation where you are the main culprit.

It’s so easy to retaliate with hate than with love.

Which is why I think we need to have a serious talk little ducks about how to react when someone comes to you with their feelings on something you did. (Or didn’t do.)

  1. Deep breath. Simple, to the point, take a deep breath and give yourself a clear head.

2)THINK before you react. No one says you have to respond to that persons thoughts right away. If someone comes to you to talk and you want the time they had to think about their words, then do the same. Take the time to think it over.

3)Don’t get mad. Get glad. This person came to you because you matter to them. If they didn’t come to you with their grievances about something that hurt them or your friendship, then you don’t matter to them. This is a Repair move, not a Tear the House Down move. [Yes, I stole the title phrase from a garbage bag commercial, don’t read into that too much.]

4) Bring tea. If you are emotionally stunted as I am when it comes to real life humans, I suggest having something in your hands for this conversation because (if you are like me) you tend to ball up and feel constricted without having something to fiddle with.

5) Use your words. Words are the most powerful thing on Earth. And how you use them matters too. Don’t say that one thing that will hurt that person just because you know it WILL hurt them. Use your words for good, not evil.

6) Be kind. Duh. Another person came to you with their feelings and you returned that with venom? That’s not very nice. You were taught this as a toddler, don’t be immature.

Don’t discount their feelings because you feel caught with your pants down.

7) Kiss and make up. Most important is actually moving forward and getting passed this topic. Don’t bring it up in a future fight. Don’t hold it over someone’s head. And move forward for both of you and your friendship.

Remember that if someone is coming to you with a jumble of words that sound like fighting words but are still saying something along the lines of ‘hey there friend, we need to talk’…they are actually saying “I miss you, this is me reaching for you to come back.”

Which is important.

That’s how real humans should fight. Treat each other with respect, treat each other with love, and most of all treat each other like the other one matters. Say what you mean, mean what you say, and don’t say all the mean things you think you mean to say but are just mean to say.

You feel me?

Keep moving forward.

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KMF: Et tu, Uterus?

Have you ever been up night mind going in circles and then you fixate on one thing and then that thing becomes the thing that you are panicking about all week?

Hi there. My name is Allison.

And I Googled how many eggs I have left to procreate with.

On Saturday.

And I’m still losing it.

Much like all my eggs.

Okay, so I get panic attacks every once in awhile. I have self diagnosed that I have social anxieties, which is triggered by my also being an empath and highly able to feel other peoples emotions and those usually affect how I feel throughout the day.

(Hello only hanging with a toddler because he has such good energy and his is the only one I can take most of the time haha.)

Well, when I’m PMSing all of that blows up like the goddamn Fourth of July, but instead of fireworks it’s anxiety attacks over something that I wouldn’t give two flying fucks over generally.

So I’m just sitting there on Saturday night after having a drink (just one.) and some pie and thinking in circles about nothing and then I couldn’t sleep because my brain wouldn’t shut up, so I made a terrible decision and Googled just how many eggs I will have left by the time I’m 30. (Rolling up to 29 in 2 months.) Because curiosity, right? Nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with a little internet check up on my lady parts.


By the time I hit 30 (and this is the internet talking.) I will have 1/8th of my eggs left that I was born with. By 40 12%. I’m not good at math but…


Nope. No kidding for me. (Pun, get it? Haw haw.)

This is especially traumatizing and panic inducing because of two things:

  1. I’ve never had a boyfriend, let alone a serious enough relationship to ever consider kids with that person.

And 2. I want an army of children. (Probably up until I actually push a kid out of me and then I’ll be like “Just the one, please.”)

This has had my head spinning for days. Basically every woman in my mothers generation of my family had kids early. By this point my mom had all five of us, and I’ve always wanted five kids because we always have so much fun together. And I wanted to be a fun, young mom.

Then my cousins started breeding and it’s like they just couldn’t stop! And they’ve been doing that since at least being 25.

And now all my friends are like “Hey girl…we’re thinking about starting a family.”

And I’m all like “Like a dog family? That’s so cute!”

“No. A human. A human baby.”

“Oh. That’s less exciting than a dog, but I’m sure I’ll like your kid anyway because it’ll be a chubby non-talking version of you. I’m going to squish the hell out of its fat face.”


“You are always saying nonsense about things. Like making teacup humans.”

“You’re nuts.”

“You’re nuts for wanting to push something out of your cooter.”

Friendship over.

Now, I’ve since then gotten my period. (Is this over sharing? I’m not particularly ashamed of getting my period, more annoyed than anything else.) Which means that I’m losing even more eggs.

…Guys. I’m freaking the fuck out.

Not enough to go full crazy and trap some random into having a kid with me, but enough that I sometimes cry during PMS because Daryl isn’t ACTUALLY my baby. [That level of bananas is happening man. What is my uterus trying to do here??? Get me pregnant. That’s what.]

But I might be thinking very deeply about going to get some eggs frozen because there is nothing more appealing to me than telling them that they are all Captain America when they are born. But really, that just seems a smart solution to my uterus trying to convince me at every turn that I need to let it serve its purpose.


Being not a girl but not yet a woman is really difficult.

I’m not done cooking, it’s rude that my body wants me to bake a bun.

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This picture says it all haha.

Keep moving forward ladies.

KMF: Why I Decided to NOT meet Rupert Grint.

Hello friends,

As you know, I took a couple of months to myself to get sorted in my own head, heart, and soul.

Mostly what I realized was that while taking a break from writing on here made me even more crazy. I didn’t have that outlet of even short bursts of writing to relieve myself of my feelings or emotions or thoughts about feelings or emotions. I didn’t have enough time to sit and write like I wanted to and I found myself crying when Daryl cried or crying because the dad was left behind on a smouldering lava filling island while he threw his family to safety in The Croods.

I had problems.

The biggest  relief was having the kids back to school, that took so much pressure off of me and I feel like I can actually breathe again. Which sounds terrible because I love my cousins and I loved having them around all day!

But I have this insane need to be perfect sometimes. (Which is absurd when you consider how much I swear, eat, or walk around in uncoordinated outfits.)

And that put even more pressure on me when these kids were around. I had to be perfect for them because any sign of me breaking one of my own rules, or their parents rules, and it was like a can of “Ah ha! You do it too! We don’t have to do it anymore!” was opened and all hell would break loose.

Hell, even if I just do something a little differently from their parents they are up my ass.

It got stressful some days.

Add on all that extra summer fun and life stuff and naturally, I needed time to myself.

Which led me to the hardest decision of my life.

To meet Rupert at Fan Expo, or not?

Now, you’ve likely heard me express my love for him, I’ve had a celeb crush on him since I was 12. Which was scandalous because he was 10 or 11. Here’s my account the day I made this decision:

“At the time of writing this I have one hour until the decision is made for me on whether to meet Rupert Grint or not.

I have already texted my sister that I don’t want to go to FanExpo because of several things. Mainly money.

Last year was a fantastic weekend of meeting heroes and seeing artwork and generally being stuff into a herd of people that smelled and rubbed their smells on you and being dehydrated and hungry and tired of the human race after three days of this.

But I met Arthur Darvill, Nathan Fillion, Matt Smith, and Stan Lee. I got to see the cast of the Walking Dead do a panel, along with Matt and Arthur separately.

And this year you would think I would be the first person signed up because the Phelps twins are there. AKA: The Weasley Twins.

I would get to meet them, I would meet Tom Felton because my little sister has been crushing on him since she was a kid, and then I would meet the penultimate of my fandom dreams, the guy I’ve been mooning over for years.


Since I was 13 years old.

Rupert Grint may not be the worlds biggest or even remotely diva-type star, he’s seemingly remained down to earth and polite, generally thought of as the coolest of the kids to come out of the Harry Potter franchise.

And I’m absolutely petrified to meet him because I’ve already met so many of my on screen boyfriends and they all turned out to be wonderful human beings.

What if I meet Rupert and it’s as disappointing as Stan Lee was?

3 seconds, no conversation, and little kids took away from the experience because they don’t know when it’s time to move on?

I know what you’re all thinking “What if it’s something you’ll regret not doing for the rest of your life?”

Well, let’s be real here. I definitely will regret this decision of not going because I love them all so much and I don’t like to do things out of fear of being disappointed or because there are so many ‘What ifs’ attached that I could drown in them.

I will regret it as far as I didn’t get to meet them. But I won’t regret missing the hours of sitting in line for 10 seconds and a picture, I won’t regret missing out on the different arrays of peoples B.O.s. I won’t regret that I’ll be spending this money on a much needed day of pampering.

I need my nails done and a super human strength massage this week. I need that night away by myself. I need to be pampered and relax and drink wine in silence.

I haven’t had time off in a little while and I’m worn a little thin lately. I need to be AWAY from people, not thrown directly into their throngs.

I need to take care of myself this week and that’s okay.

That’s perfectly wonderful really.

There will be other chances to meet these people. And if not? Well then, whoops.”

As you can see it was a tough decision and I’m basically talking myself into it.

And for the record, yes, I regret not meeting them, but I don’t regret that I took the time to be alone because I needed that more.

Keep moving forward, take care of yourself, and pray to the Fan Expo Gods that they will come back next year.

Keep Moving Forward: Fembots Have Feelings Too.

This week has been so overwhelming that I finally snapped last night after my lessons.

Now, I’m not someone who cries easily, it takes a lot to get me to bawl my eyes out and have an anxiety attack. So that should show it’s been a tough month.

We had a couple of hard things to deal with as a family, and just confusing emotions all around, and with family visiting from Italy and friends wanting to spend all summer doing stuff, weddings and events, friends who rely on me to help them with their own anxiety, add on lessons, practice, finding time to write while also having a full time job of entertaining children for 10 hours a day, spending time writing on here trying to be inspirational and funny, making cross stitches for everyone and their mothers, and then throw in a work out attempt at least once a day on top of trying not to get sucked in by the internet, it makes for a pretty stressful (but fun) summer.

Not an excuse, just my life.

I don’t think I’ve looked Doomsday in the eye for a month, guys.

Or seen my dogs that much this week besides seeing Goose on the stairs in the morning looking pathetic. I don’t even know what Artie looks like these days.

I’m fucking exhausted. Which if you’ve seen me in person and notice that not only am I not bothering with eyeliner anymore (one of my staples), but that my hair is thrown up in to some hot mess of a bun or braid, or the fact that nothing I wear lately even remotely goes together, you’d notice.

So when someone points out that you are slacking in some areas of your life while you had already been thinking that the one thing you are passionate about, the one thing that you want to be doing with your time, you were missing out on because of all this other stuff? Things don’t really go so well.

While Giles was not trying to make me feel bad while explaining that I needed to find an extra half an hour a day to suss out what I’m doing with my piano, he did. And to be 100% fair to him, he was being nice about it. Didn’t curse at me, didn’t talk down to me, didn’t throw a blunt object at my head. A nicer person in such a situation you couldn’t find.

And that’s probably what it upset me so much. He just had to be kind, didn’t he? That fucker.

It was the straw that broke the camels back and I ended up crying in my truck for an hour before I got home.

First I was pissed off. Then annoyed. And finally just broke down in tears because he basically made me feel like shit because I wasn’t giving a portion of my life enough attention. While pointing out that other people were making time for it. Other people were finding that extra half hour. Other people sell their beds and make room and are absolute perfection.

That’s not the point of this.

The point is that you only get to see small portions of people lives.

So don’t be a dick.

Okay, that wasn’t the point either.

I took the time to really think about what he was saying and how it extends passed my lessons and into what I had already been feeling this week.

I get being passionate about things. And the fact that I haven’t found the time to write this summer is actually eating at me more than not finding the time to practice piano. It’s actually the real reason I started crying. I don’t have time for my normal outlet and I feel like I’m walking around with all my pieces sewn together with silly string. The tears were just writing coming out my face instead of my hands.

Other people are encroaching on my time and while that just seems like an excuse to some, it’s not. My daily routine normally allows for that half hour and these past few weeks it didn’t.

I probably should’ve suspended lessons for the summer so this wouldn’t happen, but whatever, I’m not completely psychic.

Anyway, this is all my backwards way of summing up that I’m going to be dropping some things the rest of the summer in order to give attention to the important things.

Bye bye internet.

The internet is my biggest time suck and I need to detox anyway. I find myself aimlessly looking at Pinterest for hours, or online shopping and then ending up emptying my cart anyway.

Why not just cut myself off? Those are the hours I could be spending writing.

Which means for a couple of weeks I’m going to be taking time off from writing here. As much as this is one of my favourite things I’ve been dropping the ball anyway and it’ll be better to start up once things are all sorted.

I’ll also be saying bye to social media after this weekend. Aimlessly wandering around on Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, or even Etsy, is essentially pointless.

So on this last day of us talking for a while I just wanted to say a few things to you:

There is always something you can do to help yourself. And while punching people in the throat is fun, I think that there are more constructive ways to go about that.

Like tossing them down the stairs. More limbs to potentially injure. Just kidding!

Take care of yourself, treat yourself with respect and speak kindly. Sort out the things that are wasting your time and keep going.

And if you are the person pointing out that someone is slacking in an area of her life, make sure you’re nice about it and not comparing them to other people. Everyone is different and some people are actually trying their best even when it looks like they are fucking everything up.

At the end of the day you are responsible for how you spend your time and no one should tell you how to spend it.

Try your best and forget the rest.

That’s a Paw Patrol quote. Thank Marshall for that one. That’s the pup in charge of fire safety. And I know that because I spend 10 hours of my day with children.

So I know what I’m talking about.

Keep moving forward. See you when I see you. And remember, it’s okay to cry. Tears are just your allergic reaction to horseshit.

For the record, Giles wasn’t being an ass, he is passionate about music. Obviously. And seeing other people not having a hard on for music is probably the equivalent of me seeing people who don’t read. What is this nonsense you speak of? Does not compute. Does not compute. Traitor to the throne! Traitor to our Queen! Exterminate! EXTERMINATE! ….I don’t know why we just became Daleks.

Bye Felicia.

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Keep Moving Forward: Hey sister, Soul sister.

I mentioned earlier this week that I’ve been doing some self love stuff.

Now, I’ve been following the lights one of my friends is leaving on her path, I’m not sticking completely to her road since I like to make my own, and I know that following other peoples journeys isn’t mine, but here is her link if you want to follow her and become a Starlit Soul! 

So, I’ve struggled with the normal things like self doubt and self esteem issues, body issues, being a lady, being a tomboy, being a nerd, and just plain old being human. It makes sense that at some point I would start looking for something that would make me feel more connected to the earth, that would make me feel more alive and just… well with the world.

I’ve always been interested in soul stuff, I am a Catholic, I love God, I love love, I love the universe and all it’s brought me. I don’t denounce my religion in the least while I’m searching for other ways to connect myself mind, body, and mainly spirit to the universe. Just sayin’, you can be into your religion and still practice these things because they are just making you more attached to the good stuff and making you a better version of yourself, which is what God is looking for, yes?

So, while I’m not completely like HEY GOD LOOK AT ME AREN’T I A GOOD GIRL?! HEY GOD! HEEEEEEY GOOOOOOOOOOD! I’m still like Yo, bro. See what I did there? Thanks for helping.


I’m just using the tools the big guy gave me. Which is me and the earth.

I have been working with crystals, not intensely, but I’ve been testing out their magical powers. They do not glow. Just so you know. Which is kind of disappointing. But they do make me feel better, some intensify my energy, some sooth it, and all just make me feel more connected.

Can I say “connected” more? Haha.

Anyway, all of the trying-to-get-magical-powers aside, I’ve been working mainly on affirmations and self healing via self love.

I’m a negative person in my mind when I talk to myself, I’m not particularly kind when I look in a mirror at what I’ve done to my pet body, I yell at myself when I’m working out and calling myself names.

So what do you do when you can’t even stand yourself anymore? When you are bullying yourself to the point of depression, weight gain, blah blah blah? (Old record screeches.)

Toss some glitter bitches.

Reading Heathers stuff it made me see the similarities in how we were treating ourselves and that we were heading in the same direction towards this our entire lives.

While she was quietly contemplating her own self esteem issues and confidence, I was quietly doing the same.

I’ve never properly fit in with people, and in a sea of faces that barely registered my specialness here was a soul that pinged with mine when we were teenagers and even though circumstances led us down different paths away from each other, we’ve somehow met back up on this road. It was inevitable.

I’ve often thought about a pivotal moment in my high school years that she was there to witness and partake in. (Likely without knowing it.)

I’m not so good with the mathy math, instead of studying I would write my friends notes and was far more interested in trying to get guys to acknowledge how pretty AND funny I am. (I’ve gotten over that.) So in the 9th grade, one of my most important moments came when I was FINALLY in a drama class. I was finally where I was supposed to be. I was doing something that made sense. And this all came to me as I was yelling jibberish into Heathers face, as she was trying to do that same, and laughing so hard my guts felt like they were on fire with purpose.

I’ve always known that if I had just stayed in that class that I would have gained more confidence in myself, I would’ve bloomed like a son of a bitch, and been more in tune with my body.

But I did this to myself and I was forced out of there into another math class because I failed and spent the rest of the semester having my mind be like “I’m just going to sit in the corner and talk about how stupid you are.”

My soul hid behind her.

It took me years to work through all of that and now I’m so grateful that Heather is back again and helping me to work through the damage that I did to myself all those years ago.

But to be fair, I failed the first math class with like a 48%…what kind of turd blossom doesn’t give a kid a second chance and extra credit when they are that close? Even my bitchy French teacher did that for me and she hated me and I hated her. So what the hell?!

Anyway…common sense aside, I was supposed to be telling you about my current self love healing technique.

Now, I have a handful of affirmations that I think are both hilarious and make me feel powerful.

“I am mighty.” Is one. And it both makes me think of being strong and Firefly. Which also makes me feel powerful.


“I am powerful.” Obvious.

“I am Thor!” Okay. That ones a little off, but he is also mighty and powerful, so give me a break. And look at this guy? Don’t you want to feel as powerful as he looks?


“I am fantastic!”


And while affirmations are the greatest, I’ve basically taught myself this fun, and slightly flirtatious, thing that I do before I get into the shower.

And I only do this before I get into the shower because I’m already naked.

I start from the top of my head and work my way down to my toes and touch on every body part and tell myself either that I love that body part or something I love about that body part. And honestly? It feels like I’m flirting with myself, and it makes me feel good because I love me.


Instead of focusing negative energy and thoughts at my body when I’m naked, I ignore those and think of stuff that is positive and loving.

That’s what I do for me, that’s what I do for my body and heart, and I think that’s what God would want. He’d want me to love every part of me! And I’m really starting to because of this.

Earth hippie warrior goddess glitter sparkle ramalamadingdong out!


Keep moving forward. 🙂