June 11, 2014 § 2 Comments
And now, for some things:
Let the record show – I’m a fucking champion. *Licks finger, holds it against butt, makes sizzling sound*
Case in point:
Psychologist David Keirsey identifies ENFPs as “Champions,” which he suggests are rather rare. “Champions can be tireless in talking with others, like fountains that bubble and splash, spilling over their own words to get it all out,” Keirsey suggests. “And usually this is not simple storytelling; Champions often speak (or write) in the hope of revealing some truth about human experience, or of motivating others with their powerful convictions.” In addition to having an abundance of enthusiasm, they also genuinely care about others.
Go onnnnn *bats eyelashes excessively*
While they are great at generating new ideas…not seeing them through to completion is a common problem. ENFPs can also become easily distracted.
You sir, should have stopped at champion. But I have to admit, it’s so on point it’s freakin’ me out. Whoever is in charge of ADD meds please mail my ration asap.
And now you – do it.
I love a good commencement speech! I love the thought of fresh grads stepping out into the world with their dewy faces and twinkling eyes. Before the panic sets in, before everything good is laced with the promise of pain. When they are still full of faith and determination that they will, someday, get to live their truths. It just fills my heart, ya know?
I guess I’ll throw in some advice for any new grads while I’m here – Treat day-to-day decisions with respect. They mean something. Nothing is isolated. They accumulate and build exponentially. They will transform you. They can lead to something great or they can cost you dearly but either way – they matter. Those seemingly insignificant moments add up to a lifetime. Your lifetime. Remember that. Pay attention to your choices. Pay attention to your life. Time is the only currency worth worshipping.
And Lastly: This Goat with Sweet-Ass Parkour Moves
Sick to Death of Looking at Pretty:
May 16, 2014 § 1 Comment
Warning: Fuckkkkk…this is depressing. This guy will break your heart. But it’s that special kind of sad, the kind you’d pay $11.25 at a movie theater to experience.
This guy…this guy, he makes you want to set out on a mission to find every person whose ever hurt him, every person whose even looked at him the wrong way and hold them hostage, forcing them to curl up next to him and gently pet his hair while whispering, ‘hey, but at least we have each other’ until he feels better. Until he’s ok and snaps out of it. Until he wants to sign up for a triathlon, get some fro-yo and then maybe go for a sunset bike ride. Sheesh, this guy…
Or maybe it’s just me?
And also, Happy Friday, m’loves :)
Stuck in a Circle Jerk of Feelings:
Find more poems here
May 2, 2014 § Leave a comment
How ’bout we take it easy with a lil’ quote for this lovely Friday.
Here ya go – one of my favs, just for you:
There’s a little boy and on his 14th birthday he gets a horse…and everybody in the village says, “How wonderful. The boy got a horse” And the Zen master says, “We’ll see.” Two years later, the boy falls off the horse, breaks his leg, and everyone in the village says, “How terrible.” And the Zen master says, “We’ll see.” Then, a war breaks out and all the young men have to go off and fight…except the boy can’t cause his legs all messed up and everybody in the village says, “How wonderful.”
Now the Zen master says, “We’ll see.”
– Charlie Wilson’s War
February 10, 2014 § 9 Comments
I love Valentine’s Day! I’ve always loved it, even when I was single because I could be a mess at the bar and people would just assume I was sad instead of an alcoholic.
Every year I send out Valentines to all my lovies (seriously I do) but the selection is always extremely limited. I never feel as if I can fully express myself with what’s currently out there. So I decided to make my own.
Cards By Jamie
February 7, 2014 § 1 Comment
Once upon a time two of my dear friends and I took a girl’s adventure trip to Costa Rica. When we arrived in Arenal, a small town known for it’s active volcano and hot springs, we booked a tour-guided hike that promised an afternoon through beautiful rainforests followed by an evening swimming under a remote waterfall.
The morning of the hike started peacefully. Our tour guide was extremely tardy but we sat content drinking coffee at a local cafe.
After some time a shitty van stopped in the middle of the road directly in front of the cafe. A man wearing disco clothes popped out from the back in a graceless ta-da pose. This was Carlos, our drunk tour guide. Upon first inspection we knew Carlos was drunk, he reeked of booze and had a glint in his eye that said, ‘I’m fucked up’.
We hopped aboard.
The van took us to seemingly the middle of nowhere. As we exited, Carlos chucked grocery bags filled with 2-liters of soda, Tampico and loaves of bread at us. The brochure had promised lunch so I’m guessing this was Carlos’ attempt.
Next we followed Carlos as he took us down a trench, up a trench and through a barbed wire fence marked ‘private property’.
Can we pause here to appreciate that three girls who, I’d say, function fine in society hiked down a trench, up a trench and through a barbed wire fence all while carrying groceries because a very drunk stranger told them to. At this point of course our guts were saying, ‘remember Natalie Holloway’ but our hearts were saying, ‘no, it should be ok’.
But seriously, if all of us paid attention to every little red flag we’d miss out on mystery and adventure and life. That logic is sound. People who are overly red flag cautious don’t get to do things like drunk guided tours through Costa Rican rain forests. They are also probably a lot less likely to die in an embarrassing circumstance but sometimes you just gotta get your hands dirty.
So there we were, getting our hands dirty.
We must have taken some back-wood shortcut because we eventually did end up on a legit trail. Once there, it was much more apparent just how drunk, Drunk Carlos was. This motherfucker was real real drunk.
He spent a substantial amount of time making zero progress, shifting weight from one foot to the other, staggering from one side of the path to the other. His ankles were buckling, his shirt drenched in sweat. We did our best to encourage him, ‘All right, all right, you got this. Just a little further.’
But Drunk Carlos was the kind of drunk you can’t just shrug off. At a point early on Carlos realized this. He took a swig from his water bottle (which we later discovered wasn’t actually water at all) and plopped butt first to the ground.
Carlos was sick of hiking. Maybe he was sick of life. Either way he was done. He looked up at us, smiled a true bright smile and then in the most cartoon character-ish way possible he passed out. It was actually kind of cute.
Eager to get on with the hike we told Passed Out Carlos we’d come back for him. We didn’t get very far before we realized we didn’t want to die in the rainforest so we returned to Passed Out Carlos.
We frisked his pockets, found his cell phone and rang the travel company. They arrived, extremely apologetic, to swoop all of us, including Drunk Carlos and then the real adventure began – To be continued for another post.
Carlos is the kind of man who lives life one drunk day at a time. He doesn’t change his behavior to impress or please anyone. He just simply is Drunk Carlos. And although I can say with almost complete certainty that we are not even a spot in Carlos’ memory, he is very much tied to ours.
In that short amount of time we bonded to Carlos forever. We’ll carry Carlos in the highlight reel of our lives, we’ll try to explain the oddity and absurdity of the situation to others and although some might find it amusing, words will never truly capture it.
That’s the thing about sharing moments in life like that, they bond you forever because, well, you kind of had to be there.
Glittering Hearts Wander
June 24, 2013 § 6 Comments
I’m standing at the corner of E. Randolph and Michigan Ave. in a part of Chicago known as the loop. I’m waiting for the bus. It’s January. If you’ve ever stood on a Chicago corner in the dead of Winter waiting for public transportation and decided to make a bold scream-cry declaration to absolutely no one in particular that, “YOU ARE MOVING TO CALIFORNIA BECAUSE YOU AREN’T ABOUT TO DIE OUT HERE AND BECAUSE YOU HAVE SOME FUCKING SENSE OF SELF PRESERVATION!” then you may have an idea of what I’m talking about. Or if you’ve ever woken up in a bathtub full of ice missing your kidneys then you might also have an idea.
This particular Chicago day was the coldest they had had in a decade. It was -9 before factoring in the wind chill and with the wind chill it was -33. Which is fucking cold, people. It’s real fucking cold.
Seconds before I found myself on that corner I had burst through the turnstile doors and ran for my mother-lovin’ life to catch the bus and I’d reached the stop just in time to miss it. The busses came in 15-minute intervals. Another 15-minutes, I thought to myself. Oh.God.No. I stumbled back into the corner of the bus stop overhang and huddled down, moving slowly to conserve heat.
15 minutes isn’t long if you are waiting at the bar for a late dinner guest or if you are paying for an awkward public massage at one of those mall kiosks but when you are freezing your fucking ass off 15 minutes is a lifetime. And the longer I waited the more the unapologetic wind that whipped off the lake to bitch slap me in the face felt less like the elements and more like a metaphor for my life.
A gentlemen sauntered up to the bus stop. He offered me a reassuring look of encouragement as if to say, ‘Don’t worry. It’ll all be ok…maybe.’ It was a welcome distraction. I returned his gesture with a nonchalant nod meaning, ‘Crazy weather we’re having but what can you do? Also, are we going to die out here sir?’ Only a few minutes had passed and I was already about to break.
Next a woman wearing a jacket made completely of luxurious dead animal fur joined us. Now I know killing animals for the sake of fashion is something that should be avoided but as I stared at this woman I noticed she looked slightly less cold than the rest of us. And I have to admit if a beautiful rare silver fox had suddenly appeared before me I might have slaughtered it for the sole purpose of warming my hands inside its dying carcass.
Somewhere in between my daydreams about murdering innocent woodland creatures and the bus arriving is where I made my scream-cry declaration to move back to California. Under normal circumstances my two fellow commuters would have most likely laughed politely and shifted away from the small psychopath who makes life decisions by yelling them to strangers but we had just endured the same cruel 15-minute fate which means we had bonded in a way that would typically have taken several months of forced awkward small talk. So my new friends were oddly reassuring and made an effort to make me feel as if I had correctly panicked.
And then the bus pulled up and just like that we were saved. Once aboard, it was clear I wasn’t going to die but it was also clear that I would be moving back back to Cali Cali.
Beautiful Cold Chicago. I Love You But You’re A Cold Hearted Bitch:
June 6, 2013 § Leave a comment
You did it! You are truly amazing!
Graduations always make me a little sappy. I love the thought of a new bright-eyed-bushy-tailed generation stepping out into the world all growns up and shit. And this year my sappiness is at a whole new level since my little brother is graduating from college. So for what it’s worth I’d like to offer a few bits of advice:
Move outside your comfort zone. Not figuratively. Literally relocate. Pick somewhere far enough from home, somewhere that both scares and excites you. Nothing builds character like spending two-thirds of an entry-level income on a tiny studio apartment, struggling with bags of groceries on a packed train and meeting the eclectic mix of people a city has to offer. It’s a crash course in transitioning from college student to full fledged functioning adult.
Do some fucked up shit. Not ‘ruin your life’ fucked up, just ‘I don’t think I’m ever going to tell another person about this’ fucked up.
Follow your dreams with persistance but don’t be an arrogant asshole. Get lost, get brokenhearted, spend all your money. Find yourself, fall in love again, start saving. Know that you don’t know shit, that right there will make you a little wiser than the rest. Be more like you and less like them. Listen to advice but be careful what advice you take, including this.
Sincerely-lots of love-your friend forever and eva,
P.S. Everyone who has their ‘act together’ is faking it.
And Now For Some Inspiring Commencement Speech Quotes:
“I hope you’ll make mistakes. If you’re making mistakes, it means you’re out there doing something. And the mistakes in themselves can be useful. I once misspelled Caroline, in a letter, transposing the A and the O, and I thought, Coraline looks like a real name …” – Neil Gaiman, University of Art 2012
“If you’re offered a seat on a rocket ship, don’t ask what seat. Just get on.” – Sheryl Sanberg, Harvard Business School 2012
“Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don’t lose faith. I’m convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You’ve got to find what you love.” – Steve Jobs, Standford 2005
“So why do I talk about the benefits of failure? Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered for all that it is painfully won, and it has been worth more than any qualification I ever earned.” – JK Rowling, Harvard 2008
“You must knock on doors until your knuckles bleed. Doors will slam in your face. You must pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and knock again. It’s the only way to achieve your goals in life.” – Michael Uslan, Indiana University 2006
Enjoy This Summer. No Seriously…Enjoy The Shit Out of This Summer:
April 19, 2013 § 4 Comments
Something has come up that demands my attention. Apparently men and women have a history of misunderstanding each other when it comes to what they really want. I’ve spent my life quietly observing the inner workings of both sides so I can clear things up.
Women – want to be with someone who will buy them things, play with their hair and tell them they are pretty.
Men – want a close loving relationship with someone who is hot and will leave them the fuck alone.
Both – want someone who is good in bed.
I’m pretty sure that right there just qualified me to be a marriage and family counselor. Which is a career I totally respect but would never do. Only because I’d rather spend my day listening to a baby monitor in my own little corner of hell than spend the day listening to other people’s relationship problems.
Dysfunctional is the new functional. Problem solved. I’m glad I could help.
Which reminds me, can we talk about something else now?
You Had Me At…Nevermind: