Sunday, March 31, 2013


I know it ain't the New Year, but it is Easter and... And I have no idea where I am going with this. I just want to reflect a little, man! And woman! And also children. Hey, children, why are you reading my blog? You are well-advised not to. It contains swears and the occasional naked breast (does it?)... Not that I find anything wrong with either of those two things, but your parents probably do not want you exposed to real life at your young age. Go back to playing your incredibly horrifically insanely violent video games and I'll go back to my Easter Egg Hunt of the Mind, okay? And hey, kid -- don't grow up too fast. Take time to swing in tire swings over rivers and shit. Play with marbles. Learn about Mesopotamia and how to tie your shoelaces. There will be plenty of time for that naked breast later.

As I wasn't saying, let me reach into the soggy corners of my mind and do a little reflection on the past few months and what I have learned. Ugh. That sounds boring, but I'm determined to reflect and then maybe as a reward to you loyal reader(s) I will post a picture of a boneless, skinless chicken breast at the end of this post. Don't scroll down and peek, sneaky perv!

Alcohol is not worth it. The occasional wine with friends sounds pleasant and sexy and possibly gross because it would be boxed wine, but alone in my room with sadness in my heart and liquor in my tumbler and Tumblr on my screen is a fun combo for about thirty minutes and then it's just downhill from there. I am better off without the crutch. So is my liver.

I am still lonely, though. The gin was a pretend friend for so long. Part of my loneliness comes from my living situation. I have learned that, oddly enough, me living alone = me being less lonely. Sometimes other people increase the loneliness so plainly and so easily that it aches. I have learned that I will go into a tiny bit of debt just in order to have that autonomy and independence. Hey, find me an apartment, okay? In return I will give you a hug and a homemade dinner at my new pad. Pad thai? Pssh, yeah right. Like I know how to stir-fry Pho noodles. We'll just order take-out.

I have learned to eat. And to be mostly okay with the fact that I am full. I am too tired to put up a fight against myself at every single meal. Three meals a day? Three battles a day. But I have my hard hat and ammo. I miss out on too much when I sit by the sidelines starving. I'd rather have my pants fit a little snugger than not try those stir-fried noodles (or gelato or guacamole or delicately prepared truffles at some fancy five-star restaurant). I have made progress, but I am still in a minefield.

I have learned knees are important, Korean convenience store owners are friendly, and Trax etiquette.

I no longer get that lightheaded feeling on elevators anymore, which I miss. I prefer walking up hills to walking down hills. I am a pro at walking across busy streets safely. I still can't parallel park.

Books. Books will always console the mind, much more effectively than gin.

I am beginning to forgive, mostly for the sake of my own psyche.

I miss him, but not enough to give him the time of day ever again.

I have learned that hot tubs don't really appeal to me. I have learned that maybe hot tubs would appeal to me if I actually used them. I have learned that I forget that I have access to a hot tub. I have learned that hot tub time machines don't exist, sadly. I have learned that I need to stop writing blog posts while buzzed on caffeine. At least I'm sober as a stone, right? Are stones sober? I guess that's something I still need to learn.

(And no, this is not a picture of a breast, but it's the "breast" I can do on a day like today, that day being EASTER. Happy Easter, sweethearts!)

Thursday, March 28, 2013


It is remarkably refreshing to have a female best friend once again. Does she actually exist, though? It's one of those too-good-to-be-true situations. I might not be the easiest person to have as a friend -- not that I am manipulative or cruel -- I am just a pro at building emotional walls and hiding behind them. But she has patience. She has gentleness and a nurturing spirit that has softened my heart and given me windows into those damn walls. As a bonus, she is as much of a desert rat as I am. Jackpot.

Sunday, March 24, 2013


"The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy." -Pema Chodron

I don't know how she does it, but Pema gets it right every single time. Oh wait, I know how she does it: She meditates, contemplates, extrapolates, and then shares open-heartedly with all. Thanks for that, Pema. She is a good example of not closing down or retreating into the self (meaning the ego self) when the "going gets rough." Or maybe she DOES retreat into dark spaces at times because she is, after all, a human being. The key is, however, that she realizes life isn't an experiment in completely annihilating "negative" emotions; it's an opportunity to directly face the grief and misery (and the relief and joy) and see it for what it is -- an emotion, a passing wave, a perfect time to practice loving-kindness towards others and ourselves. The importance of accepting, embracing, and falling in love with ourselves is vital. I cannot stress it enough. Do you think you are already being kind to yourself? Well, go one step further and then go one step past that. Be as gentle to yourself as you would be to a newborn child. We are delicate, but we are also defiant. We have more strength inside of us than we have ever thought possible. Is it possible to love oneself? Let's at least try to find out.

Monday, March 18, 2013


But because you braid your hair and taste like
honey of heaven
We go together into town to buy wine and
yellow candles.

-Kenneth Patchen

Sunday, March 17, 2013

cockamamie cocks

Why must Instagram keep reminding me of people from my past? Oh right... Because it is INSTAGRAM. The Internet is a minefield, baby. Proceed with caution.

That paragraph above is sure goofy. My writing has become sloppy. "Goofy" and "sloppy"? Are these two of the updated seven little dwarfs? Why do they need to update the dwarfs? And oh my god, did I really just call them "little dwarfs"? A little redundant, Meg. Goofy, Sloppy, Loony, Whiny, Wacky, Cockamamie, and Meggie. There. Updated.

Here's something goofy to chew on: Why is it that the self-proclaimed feminist men end up being the most sexist men? This directly relates back to those darn loony Instagram pics I keep coming across... I see your mug on my phone and I am Insta-instantly reminded of why we are no longer on speaking terms. Yes, I am talking about you and you (and you, although I don't see pictures of you on my phone, I just see flashes of you in therapy sessions). You boys sure bum me out, or at least bummed me out, on a consistent basis. Your God complex gets in the way of common decency. Will you ever consider this and maybe make some changes or will you forever be in arrested development? Not to be a cockamamie pessimist (?), but I'm going to go ahead and bet on the latter. Well, let it be, folks. Let it be.

"Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It's a relationship between equals. Only when we know our own darkness well can we be present with the darkness of others. Compassion becomes real when we recognize our shared humanity." ― Pema Chödrön, The Places That Scare You: A Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times

Saturday, March 16, 2013

thoughts after a long walk

I lucked out when I met Meg. The Universe brought us together, I am positive. I wonder if she realizes how important her friendship is to me.

My family loves me fiercely. We are not faultless; anyone who thinks their family is faultless is delusional. I am just beginning to understand what "genuine love" might mean and I believe a critical part of my definition includes my family.

It is time for me to reconnect with my spiritual side. Spirituality is very important to me and I have abandoned it for too long.

"Abandonment" might be a recurring theme in this little blog...

Surrender is astounding. To be an individual who constantly surrenders is my ultimate goal.

The picture below is not of Meg and I, but close enough.

Friday, March 15, 2013


Holy moly, I ate a lot last night. No, really. I shan't go into details, but let's just say that caffeine usually equals anxiety for me and that anxiety is temporarily soothed by the act of chewing and gum just won't cut it when there are so many other delicious things on which to chew in this massive world of ours. This world is not ours! It belongs to everyone and everything, something that the Western culture has yet to figure out. So anyway, instead of freaking the holy moly fuck out about how much food I consumed during the wee hours of the night, I took that anxiety (which was now the anxiety over food, not the caffeine-induced anxiety) and transformed it into really hilarious tweets and reading books about boy wizards and reevaluating my life and values. Hey! That's better than many of my previous reactions to binges! It's a damn good step in the damn right damn direction. Pat. On. The. Back.

It has gotten to the point (FINALLY) where I am simply tired of hating myself. It is exhausting. It is boring. It is dangerous. (Isn't danger supposed to be exciting? I guess not.) I want to have a love affair with myself. I'd also like to, at some point, have a love affair with a disgustingly dreamy Latin pool boy who speaks no Español just to say that I've done that/him.

Fierce kindness and compassion towards myself will only lead to good things. I promise. It may also lead to a larger butt and rounder hips, which are also good things. I promise. The Latin pool boy promises. Oye mamacita, que buena estás.

Monday, March 11, 2013


I feel like I need to apologizing for being rather immature in my post yesterday. Was I being immature? Or just honest? Can honesty sometimes be immature? Who here wants ice cream cake? I do. It is my goal sometime this year to eat ice cream cake. Lofty goals, folks.

I am slowly falling into the person I have always wanted to become. I'll explain more later. If I want. (AND THAT'S THE KEY! Doing what I want! Who would have thought it would be that simple?)

I fucking love leftovers. Ethiopian food wins.

Sunday, March 10, 2013


It's normal to strongly dislike exes.

Caffeine is your inspiring best friend for about one hour and then it's all rapidly downhill from there.

That cruel and critical male voice in your head is just your ex, whom you do not care for very much. Don't listen to him.

You do not have to feel guilty for not liking someone.

You should feel maybe a tinge of guilt for using double negatives.

Eating food, even "too much of it," is totally rad.

Okay, so caffeine is your inspiring best friend for about eleven minutes, not one hour. My mistake.

There are no mistakes in baseball. Wait. There's no CRYING in baseball. There are probably a lot of mistakes in baseball. There are also a lot of mistakes in relationships! Yeah for being bitter this morning!

It is okay to be bitter sometimes.

Meghan, you are human.

Saturday, March 9, 2013


Anytime I get down on myself, I will try to remember that I was once that sweet little gal that cried into her bowl of mac-n-cheese while watching A Land Before Time. I am still that sweet little girl! Although I am now a WOMAN. (But am I a woman? I still feel small and invisible and incapable of so many "womanly" things. I do not like this.)

Tonight I went on a long solo walk. I admired architecture and trees and squirrels running across power lines. The electrical current buzzed and soothed the same buzz in my head. I thought of him. I loved him, or was at least on the verge of loving him. He wanted to hunt for feathers with me on city streets. I miss him, or at least I am on the verge of missing him. That was so long ago.

I am afraid of my changing shape. I am afraid of the shifts and the softness; I hid behind the sharp corners and now those safe spots have become too dangerous. I am about to become visible and I am entirely unprepared.

What exactly killed the dinosaurs? Their bones are out there, hidden, but still taking up space. Fossilization processes proceed differently according to tissue type and external conditions. Internally I'm still buried.


My therapist recently asked me what would happen if I went "soft." Soft was my word. I used it to describe my fear. I am afraid of softness -- but not in others. Only in myself.

First of all, what do I mean by "soft"? Is it physical softness, emotional softness, or both? It's odd that I cannot quite pinpoint my own fear. My fear is foreign, but it is so palpable. The fear must originate from within, which makes everything even odder. How much of myself do I understand? How much of a stranger am I to myself?

Yes, there is fear in the unknown. That alone might be the answer to all of the questions I have been asking. Softness is unknown, the unknown is fear. I have been saying that all along, haven't I? I dance around these questions in my head all day long, only to come across the answers right before I fall into an interrupted sleep.

There are cliffs in my mind that need to be approached. It is the act of stepping over the edge and seeing where I land that may finally lead me to myself.

Thursday, March 7, 2013


"Intuitive eating — or whatever you want to call the radical notion of eating what you want, when you’re hungry, and stopping when you’re full — demands that we trust our bodies. Most women learn early and often that their bodies are never to be trusted, that their bodies need strict regulation, especially when it comes to desire, be it the desire for food or for sex. As a result, learning to trust one’s body is difficult enough; when you add in a past that includes trauma and abuse, it becomes harder still. But your body IS trustworthy. I promise you that. Your body is not your enemy." -Lesley Kinzel

Sunday, March 3, 2013

just a little watts with your morning tea...

"We are living in a culture entirely hypnotized by the illusion of time, in which the so-called present moment is felt as nothing but an infinitesimal hairline between an all-powerfully causative past and an absorbingly important future. We have no present. Our consciousness is almost completely preoccupied with memory and expectation. We do not realize that there never was, is, nor will be any other experience than present experience. We are therefore out of touch with reality. We confuse the world as talked about, described, and measured with the world which actually is. We are sick with a fascination for the useful tools of names and numbers, of symbols, signs, conceptions and ideas." -Alan Watts

Saturday, March 2, 2013


I am so seduced by homes. What is it about dwellings that make me so... thirsty? I've always been drawn to structures and would have become an architect had I been better at math. Okay, so I am excellent at math... I'VE FOUND MY CALLING! Meg Lloyd Wright. Anyway, this is my newest dream home. What do you think? Want to move in with me? We can have pet parrots and drink scotch out of top hats.

teddy geisel

Happy Birthday, Dr Seuss, born 2 March 1904, died 24 September 1991

Seven Dr Seuss Quotes On Writing

  1. Nonsense wakes up the brain cells. And it helps develop a sense of humor, which is awfully important in this day and age. Humor has a tremendous place in this sordid world. It’s more than just a matter of laughing. If you can see things out of whack, then you can see how things can be in whack.
  2. You can get help from teachers, but you are going to have to learn a lot by yourself, sitting alone in a room. 
  3. I start drawing, and eventually the characters involve themselves in a situation. Then in the end, I go back and try to cut out most of the preachments. 
  4. Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.
  5. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living, It’s a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope. Which is what I do, And that enables you to laugh at life’s realities.
  6. Words and pictures are yin and yang. Married, they produce a progeny more interesting than either parent.
  7. You make ‘em, I amuse ‘em.

Friday, March 1, 2013


I really want to live either here

or here (minus the mass of children).

So I will take either place... But may I take a wonderful person with me? And some cats and dogs and a garden and a million books and no contact with the outside world? We'll make muffins and scrambled eggs together. Let's put together puzzles! And play so much Scrabble! And then we can fall asleep at a reasonable hour after building a blanket fort. Please. LOVE ME.