Exceeding Expectations

Sitting here eating “Malibu Enchiladas” and basking in the glow of memory. The soundtrack is the songs from the mid to late 90s. The songs I lived when I was still a kid, still on the cusp of finding out who I would become as an adult. 

The soundtrack of our lives is such a good way to remember the past. I find myself singing along to words and melodies which escape my every day life. It was a nice walk down memory lane. 

I am so glad I did not become landlocked into the person I thought I would become. I get to be so much more today. I am infinitely stronger than I ever imagined I would could be. I am thrilled to report I exceeded all my greatest expectations. 

Rules? What Rules? 


I gotta be honest, I’m tired of telling myself to play by the rules. I don’t even know what rules I’m trying to follow. 

The interesting part comes when I decide I don’t want to subscribe to my old way of thinking and I realize I do not have a new playbook. I try to compensate by coming up with arbitrary moral ideas about right and wrong. I try to prove to myself I am indeed a good person. All I have to do is follow the rules. 

The key to happiness lies in how well I can beat my soul into submission. I have to ignore who I think I want to be. That is the responsible thing to do. All I want out of life is to be the girl who has learned her lessons and turned her life around. I want redemption. I want to be the kind of person my family can be proud of. Granted, my family never laid out any expectations other than they want me to be happy but I manage to convince myself I have not earned their pride. Wait, my mother did remind me the other day not to say f*** on Facebook. 

The lack of actual direction and goals leaves me unmoored and anxious. There is no victory or success to quiet my unrest. I have to do more, work harder, and prove myself to myself. 

No matter how much I accomplish, I have certainly never been impressed. 

If something is difficult and I work my ass off to learn it, I am stupid and it should not be this hard. Things that come easily to me are no big deal and anyone should be able to accomplish it. I am hellbent on achieving greatness. The problem is I do have no idea what that looks like. 

Praise is not genuine or deserved and criticism gets blown completely out of proportion and I am an utter failure. My imaginary rules and ideas of personal success slowly kill me. I become antisocial and only work or spend time alone. I am incapable of being myself. I am either overbearing and calous or standoffish and aloof. I have no idea how to carry on a casual conversation. I am so full of resentment I can only rant or sullenly glare at people. 

I continue to compare myself to a mythical ever- changing ideal. No matter how many step I take, the finish line will perpetually keep moving farther away. I torture myself for my failures and push everyone away. 

Oh. Wait. No, I don’t do this as much anymore. I try to allow myself room to breathe and grow. I foster relationships with new friends. I allow myself to be vulnerable and it no longer feels like the world is crumbling at my feet. I can navigate my way through most professional situations without completely embarrassing myself. Except that one time, but it was justified. Kinda. 

My family and friends have not disappointed me. They still stand by me and support me completely. They laugh at my stories and encourage all my adventures. They are still on my side. I don’t have to be perfect. None of them could even help me define the rules anyway. 

I’m not living a life without order and responsibility, I just do not allow myself the extravagance of continually beating my head into the brick wall of my own expectations. The self- imposed regulations of how I think a woman in my position should be no longer apply to me. 

I get to decide every day what adventure to embark on. I get to choose how I live, love, work, and play. I can change my mind anytime I want. 

Who needs rules? Let’s just be decent and caring people. I bet it will lead to great things. 


You know the guy, the one who manages to make every single encounter an absolute bore? The guy who never smiles at your silly little puns or laughs at your hilarious jokes. The guy who manages to suck the fun out of every conversation. Don’t be that guy. 

I finally realized life is too short to walk around miserable day in, day out. I want to have fun. Sure, there are many areas of everyday life reeking of monotony and drudgery but why do we have to be miserable while we carry on with the chores of living?  

I still struggle with a fatalistic outlook and frequently have to remind myself to look for the adventure. I never said having fun was going to be easy. I continue to battle anxiety and dread when I sit back and evaluate exactly what I am doing with my life. I have not actually figured very much out at all. 

Today, I will remember to have fun. Even if I hate every moment of it. 😜



I must admit I am very sad at the loss of Prince today. He was a superhero rock star to me. He was the guy everyone loves to sing along with. 

He managed to talk about sex and music without making it creepy. It was just hot. 

I never got to see him perform. This serves as a lesson and a reminder for me: go see the shows you want to see. Don’t ever feel guilty for going. Music is important. 

It’s worth every penny I spend to experience the excitement of falling in love with a song with the rest of the audience. I would not trade that moment for anything. 

Allergic to Everything


This is what Wikipedia says antihistimines look like

I look like death. 

Coughing, sneezing, sniffling, eyes watering, grumpy, nose dripping death. 

This happens to me every year. I am allergic to everything. I was supposed to start allergy shots and talked myself out of it. Maybe I should have listened to the doctor. 

Ugh. The next person who asks me if I am sick is going to get a snotty tissue thrown at them. It’s allergies! I’m just a big baby about it. I assure you, I’m fine. Now, stop talking to me. I am planning a funeral for the tender sore spot under my nose.  

Love or Something Like It

Feelings. Butterflies. Content. Excited. Happy. Satisfied. Comfortable. Relaxed. 

I don’t know what love is supposed to be like. I’ve spent a lot of time over the years assuming I was just not capable of experiencing it. 

When I can be the unedited version of me and still be comfortable when I am with you, it’s love. When I don’t feel like I owe you a smile, it’s love. When I don’t worry about saying the right thing, it’s love. If I don’t feel like I have to hide who I am at that moment, it’s love. 

When I can accept you for everything you are and everything you are not, it’s love. When you touch me and I don’t have to question your motives, it’s love. 

Sometimes the best way to describe this feeling is to just acknowledge how I feel when I am with you. I am simply me. I don’t feel like I have to perform some ritual to deserve you. I don’t have to figure out the games and all the rules. You make me feel like I can be honest and genuine. This is the best feeling I have ever had. I suppose that is why I feel like this must be love, or something kinda like it. 

Road tripping

I love road trips.

This past week I drove from Western Massachusetts to Chicago to visit one of my closest friends. It was a fourteen hour drive not including my pitstops. 

This time is sacred to me. I can think, daydream, listen to music and podcasts, and just leave everything else behind me. I can’t do anything but drive and let my mind wander. I can only do what I can do, I have to allow myself to make steady progress. There is absolutely no way I am getting there any faster than I am going to. 

It’s a relief. 

So much of my time is spent feeling pressured to hurry up and accomplish something. Hurry up and be successful. Hurry up and get your shit together. 

It’s funny. I have no idea what any of those things look like. The only thing I know is I need to hurry up and figure it all out. 

Driving gives me a chance to take a step back. I have a destination but it is okay if the road has detours. The detours can be the best part of the whole trip. 

My favorite part of this picture is how clearly the rearview mirror image contrasts with the view in front. I can’t always see where I am headed but if I take time to look back it will be clear where I have been. 

Niagra Falls

Niagra Falls was just a short detour on my way to Chicago. I did what I always do. I parked and ran over to the spectacle, oohed and ahhed with everyone else, took a few selfies (for proof I am actually interesting,) and got back on the road. 

I don’t have all day to experience the wonders of the world. 

To be 17.


I spent some time last night looking at pictures of you. I know you are rapidly becoming a man, yet I still see you as the little boy with the backpack bigger than he is. 

I can’t believe you are turning 17. Where did all the time go? As you rush into adulthood I want you to remember one thing: I am always here for you. 

If things get hard and you don’t know what to do.

When you have your first heartbreak. 

When you get the news you have been waiting for. 

Those times you find something so absurd you don’t believe it is real. 

When you are so excited you want to call someone and ramble on about it. 

When you see a movie that changes your perspective. 

That song that makes you smile and feel young and free? I want to hear it too. 

As you grow up and become a man, I want you to know I will always be the safe place for you to return. You will always have a free pass to be exactly who you are when you are with me. I will be your champion, cheerleader, defender, and biggest fan. 

Most importantly, I want you to follow your dreams. I want you to work hard to achieve the life you want to live. I want you to love and be loved. 

You are still my baby boy. I hate to break it to you but that will never change. I love you more than anything else. 

Happy Birthday. Enjoy your last year of childhood. Being a grownup can wait one more year. 

Don’t objectify me. Tinder nightmares continue.

  Ummmm. Okay. So, on what planet did calling me fat as your opening line occur to you? It does not matter if you like it or not. It’s just weird. 

I don’t want people to point out my body as the reason they want to know me. I don’t want to be an object. I want to be wanted because of who I am as a person. I know, then why am I on Tinder? It doesn’t matter- you can look at the picture and think “damn! I want to hit that” all day long. Just don’t say it as your opening line. 

Don’t talk about my tits, my ass, or any other part of my anatomy under my clothes. I don’t know you. It’s just skeevy. I promise it is not going to get you a date. 

Don’t call me thick, asshole. 

(Smiling sweetly and deleting you as a match now.) oh- and by the way- I accidentally swiped right on you. So there.