We All Stalk


We all do it. (Don’t even try to lie and say you have never done it.) 

We turn to social media to look up those people from our past. We want to see what they have been up to. Are they ugly now? Maybe they turned out as miserable as you secretly hoped they would. Perhaps you can look at their profile and scoff- you know they are not nearly as happy as they are trying to make it seem. 

Let’s be honest. We have no idea what someone is actually experiencing by stalking their Facebook page. It’s simply a glimpse. Not even an accurate one. So, why do we do it? What are we hoping to achieve? Is it simply morbid curiousity? Would we stalk if it was not as simple as whipping out our magic smart phone? 

I imagine (or at least hope) the answer is no. We do it because it takes very little effort and there is very little risk. (Unless we accidentally like one of their posts or photos.) 

After we have perused their “life” we may even indulge in a dangerous game of “what if…” What if so and so had not done that thing? What if I had not been so selfish? What would life be like now? 

We sit and relive the pain of losing the relationship, friendship, job, or whatever it was. We may use it as an excuse to reignite old resentments.  

Is it better to have a current selfie image for our overactive imaginations? Is there any justification for our nosiness? Probably not. 

There really does not seem to be any useful information that comes from Facebook stalking, but I bet we will all fall prey to the temptation from time to time.

I’m not judging. Just make sure you don’t comment or like anything. Also, make sure you don’t start talking about the person incessantly to your friends. They will think you are crazy. I’m not even going to recommend you abstain from the behavior. 

I would advise you to try to avoid dwelling on the past too much. Don’t go reading your old diaries to reminisce. Your time is more valuable than that. Try to focus on what you have now. We can’t change the past. Oh, and yes. They have aged badly. You are so much better off. 

Talking to Myself


Jason Isbell asked me an important question tonight. I was driving to Tulsa for work. 

“Are you living the life you chose? Are you living the life that chose you?”

Okay. Jason Isbell was not actually in the car. I don’t even know him. He certainly doesn’t know me. I’m not even certain this lyric is all that profound. But, I like it. I actually kinda love it. So, thanks for serenading me in the car Mr. Isbell.

I have noticed I have a strong affinity for collecting slogans, lyrics, sayings, and quotes. I relish the ability to wave away whatever concern I may have with a meaningless dismissive exclamation I have stolen from someone else.

It is all bullshit. 

I can collect a thousand memes from Word Porn or any other Facebook page to save me the trouble of actually expressing myself. If it sounds trite or stupid, it’s okay. It wasn’t my thoughts. I didn’t sound insipid. 

Not that any of these nice little sayings are insipid. I saved them, along with hundreds of others. They do manage to inspire me. 

Okay, wait. Let me be honest. I was actually just kinda letting my mind wander, as it likes to do, and I was thinking about all the content whores who just keep sharing the same old tired quotes and memes. The 15 different pages that shared the same click bait cluttering my newsfeed. 

Are there any original ideas anymore? Am I doomed to see the same movie remade a thousand times? Although, I did enjoy The Magnificent Seven. It’s hilarious. Chris Pratt can come be my sidekick any day. Plus, he’s a cutie pie. 

None of this is the point though. So, what is the point? 

I guess it’s just easier to allow the fear of failure to prevent me from writing or speaking from a vulnerable place. It’s far less frightening to share a stranger’s vulnerability. 

What if I am not clever enough? What if my idea is stupid? Do I even have an original thought? I guess it all boils down to that inevitable question: Am I enough?

So, I’ll continue to collect quotes, lyrics, and memes. I will continue to scribble my ideas down and attempt to fashion them into something worth reading. I don’t want to doom my characters to a life they don’t get to experience. Besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? I embarrass myself? Eh. I do that regularly anyway. 

Airport Lunch


No, the Bloody Mary is not my lunch. I have fish tacos coming. The cocktail is really just a perk. 

My friend Jill claims her favorite Bloody Mary comes with olives. This one does. So, despite the fact she is stuck at work, I am compelled to send her a photo of the delicious vodka drink. 

I had such a great weekend. It’s nice to unwind and just chill out a little. I am ready to be home though. I like home and I am not there nearly enough. 

Colorado Mornings


I love coming to Colorado. 

The insane traffic seems horribly out of place in the rugged frontier world of the mountains. I guess there are lots of people who love coming up here. 

The morning is crisp and cool. Perfect weather for shorts and a hoodie, neither of which I brought with me. 

I love the freedom I have to travel and I am certain this life is more fulfilling than the one I used to lead. 

Sometimes I miss having a place I was expected to be at every day. Well, most days anyway. I guess being untethered is a double-edged sword. 

I have to be vigilant with keeping relationships a priority despite the distance. I don’t want to become a stranger. I like the idea of doing something special with my closest people once a year. We always know when we will see each other again. 

Yeah, that’s a good idea. 

Today is our second annual wine fest. Yum. 

Elevator Chats


It’s time to check out and drop my dry cleaning off so I can leave Tulsa for Denver. I am dragging my suitcase, carrying a bag of laundry, and juggling my big floppy hat. I feel a little annoyed that my hands are full and I can’t pull my phone out of my purse to pass the 15 seconds until the elevator arrives. I am reasonably certain I have not left anything behind in the room. As I wait for the elevator a fellow traveler joins me for the wait. 

“You here on business?” 

What? Business? I am wearing my favorite Misfits T-shirt and my hair is crammed up in a messy ponytail. What about that says business? Oh. It does sound rather grownup though. Hehe. “Yes, you?” 

He kinda cute in a nerdy, slightly too bright shirt and tie way. Remember to smile. Don’t giggle and sound silly. 


I am still distracted by my fantasy of being “here on business” and I forget to say anything else. It’s too bad really. I would have liked to talk to him for a few more moments. 

Here on business. That’s hysterical. I never thought of myself as a business traveler. Sure, I travel for work. I spend more time in airports than I ever thought I would. I drop off dry cleaning and make arrangements for my return. Huh. Does this mean I have finally crossed some magic threshold into a grownup, mature professional? 

I look down at my attire and realize I may not be all that mature. No fear on that front. Geez. When will I finally feel like an adult? What does that even feel like? 

What is my purpose? Am I living the life I am supposed to lead? What are my goals? Did I remember to grab my flatiron? Yes. I think I did. 

Damn. I should have said something charming to that kinda cute in a nerdy way guy. Ha! Here on business…



Pride can be dangerous. It’s the sneaking feeling of self-righteous, pious, indignation leaves you unable or unwilling to compromise. This is when communication and partnership are doomed to fail. 

Look, I get it. He’s a jerk. She’s stupid. Your boss sucks. No one can do the job as well as you can. They need YOU! You are the Obi-Wan they have been looking for. No one works as hard or as well as you do. This whole place would crumble into a ruin if you were not there to take care of it. Frankly, you resent everyone else because they don’t do it the way you expect it to be done.

Why don’t they appreciate you? 

Get a grip. Take a deep breath. Turns out there is more than one way to skin a cat. When we walk around with a chip the size of Alaska on our shoulder someone is bound to accept the challenge to try and knock it off. 

Maybe everything is not about you. Maybe the world can go on turning even if you let it go for once. No one needs you to teach them how to do it. No one needs to know the “right” way. 

Try going with the flow. Just accept it for what it is. Most likely the worst thing that will happen is you have one less thing to bitch about today. 

Oh, except go ahead and hold a grudge against that girl. She thinks she is smarter than everyone else. We hate that. 

Nice Girls Don’t…


A few years ago I was sitting on my couch enjoying a beer. My son walked up to me and started explaining “nice girls don’t drink beer.” 

Imagine my horror when I realized I was raising this child all wrong. He went on to say “Beer is a man’s drink.” In response I felt it necessary to have another beer. 

I did not have the energy for a civics lesson at that moment. All I wanted was to drink my fantastically delicious Stella in the privacy of my own home. 

Apparently, nice girls don’t do a lot of things.

We don’t drink, swear, or have premarital sex. 

We don’t discuss politics, religion, or any other controversial topic in public. 

We don’t dye our hair bright colors, get tattoos, or pierce anything other than our dainty little ear lobes. 

We don’t argue with our elders or anyone in a position of authority. 

Nice girls don’t ever embarrass our Mommas. 

Nice girls are docile, pretty, and smell like a walk through a spring garden. They don’t discuss their periods, burp, or fart. We certainly never risk offending other people by defecating in a restroom someone else may need. 

Nice girls follow behind a man and look to the nearest man for permission and guidance.

Nice girls never rock the boat. 

Nice girls don’t have opinions. We are able to carry on a conversation that is stimulating for men, but we always avoid out shining the nearest male. 

We don’t argue, debate, or criticize. 

Nice girls don’t gossip or worry their pretty little heads about current affairs. We would not understand them anyway. 

Nice girls don’t compete with men for professional gain. Nice girls don’t attempt to break through the glass ceiling. 

Nice girls don’t make the decision to not have children. It’s just not right. Nice girls stay home and have dinner on the table by six. They raise respectable boys and girls who conform to society’s ideals. 

Nice girls don’t raise their children as single mothers without searching for a replacement father. They are always on the hunt. 

Nice girls don’t kiss and tell. They don’t wear provocative clothing. They don’t want to distract the boys. After all those boys have important matters to focus on. They have to protect all the women and children. 

Nice girls don’t watch porn or masturbate. They don’t fantasize about sex. They don’t look for a hook up on Tinder. Nice girls don’t eschew relationships in an attempt to just have a good time.

Nice girls don’t willingly stay single. They are all waiting for some prince to come sweep them off their feet with an amazing marriage proposal so they can make a home and provide suitable heirs. 

Nice girls don’t write blogs making fun of nice girls. 

Most important: Nice girls don’t say “fuck” on Facebook. 

Airplane Photos


I suppose my new hobby is taking crappy photos with my iPhone and trying to edit them in Enlight. 

Let’s keep in mind, I don’t know a thing about photo editing in any platform. So, I’ll keep turning up the contrast and stuff. Perhaps I should do some reading on the subject. 

Also, I need to add to my list of stuff to do. 

1. Learn to use camera. (After all, I bought the thing for this purpose. I just got busy.) 

Maybe someday I will manage a good photograph. I suppose the main thing is to keep having fun with it. 

Home Sweet Home


Sometimes I think it would be nice to drag my family and all my friends around with me as I travel for work. 

I imagine a huge tour bus with enough beds and room for the menagerie of pets. The cats and the dogs would be dramatically unimpressed. I’m not sure how the family would like it either. I imagine they would revolt and go running for the Texas border. 

Other days I fantasize about finding some little hideaway island where I can listen to the waves and read all day. Floor to ceiling bookshelves crammed with adventures and magical tales, music and movies filling my days. 

I know this is not reality. 

Wouldn’t it be nice though? 

Let it go


I did not know how it was going to feel to leave. I was afraid I was destined to be heartbroken. In the weeks leading up to my departure I imagined driving down the highway a sobbing mess, listening to Sam Smith on repeat with a little Adele sprinkled in for good measure. I had convinced myself I was going to regret the entire experience. 

None of this happened. Not in the slightest. I was fine. It’s funny when you stop and think about it. It was a chance meeting which turned out to be so much fun. It was also never going to be long term. I think this fact has been my safety net. I never pretended it had anywhere to go. It was always going to fit neatly into a box. For those of you who don’t know me, I have a thing for boxes. Boxes, containers, bags, and drawers. You will never catch me willingly throwing out a box. I may need it. 

It sounds ridiculously cheesy but I am learning to accept things for what they are. I am learning to have a good time in the moment. Most important, I am learning to let go of the little things. It’s really not that big of a deal.