I could quote the Anne of Green Gables line, but I'll spare you as you've all heard it a million times anyway. I mentioned this on an instagram post earlier today, but the control-loving, orderly and structured side of me is giddy over the idea that tomorrow ushers in a new day, new week, new month. I've been eagerly anticipating October for a while, largely due to our many autumn-oriented plans. Here's a teaser of what's on deck for me:
What do you have going on in October??
Also, I want to thank each and every one of you who took time out of your day to read this post, and reach out to me with so much love and warmth. It means more to me than you realize, and I am so very assured that the world we're living in is evolving for the better day-by-day due to the tender love and care, and utter refusal to accept anything but a better tomorrow by folks like you. Thank you.
so, here's the thing...
September 27, 2018 • dig a little deeper, worth a read
Well. Today was miserable.
The gradual build-up of the last few weeks to today's senate hearings has been static in the background of my news feed, but this morning, it forced its way to the immediate center of my focus. I couldn't shield my eyes from Christine Blasey Ford's exceptionally compelling testimony, nor could I stomach the entitled, whiny rebuttal offered by Kavanaugh. I've wanted with all of my being to believe that we've come so far, that in the midst of the #metoo movement, we've plowed past the days of Anita Hill, we're on the up-and-up, that we as women are unveiling an unstoppable, collective voice--that we are a force to be reckoned with, and we've finally earned the right to be believed, to be supported, to be equals.
But as I sift through my Twitter feed, and read confirmation after confirmation of politicians still planning to confirm Kavanaugh's seat, I am numb with devastation. How is this the country we live in? What have we been fighting for?
I was raped during the first week of my sophomore year of college. He was an acquaintance, and there had been drinking involved. In the immediate aftermath, I fell into the darkest of depressions, resulting in bruised relationships, a failed year of classes, and ultimately, the robbing of a piece of my soul and identity, never to fully be regained.
I've considered time and again whether writing about my trauma would be cathartic--especially in light of the endless scandal at my alma mater and the ongoing echoing of women who have experienced what I have and much worse--but was never convinced that sharing would offer any sort of healing or benefit for me. Tonight, I've been ushered over that threshold, and feel compelled to admit the absolute worst experience I've ever endured, because after years of expensive therapy, countless anti-depressants, the deepest of conversations and more gut-busting tears than I could ever count, a full decade later, I know it's not my fault. One of my best friends served as a sort of inspiration for me to share my story. She wrote about the way she's processed the #metoo movement for Cherry Bombe, and it's an exceptional piece.
I echo her exact sentiments with this line, and therefore won't attempt to craft it any more poetically: "it has been exhausting and, while cathartic for many, I am tired of women having to lay bare their deepest pain for people to finally take harassment and assault seriously."
I still doubt my own voice, which is utterly and completely wrong, but I blame the environment we exist in. While I don't believe someone should be required to have their body, dignity and safety violated to have an opinion on this matter, I absolutely believe that having experienced this gives me perspective that I likely wouldn't otherwise have.
Watching Ford shakily give her story stirred within me a suppressed anger that has been building steadily for most of my adult life. Make no mistake: the woman is a hero. I read a tweet a week or so ago that stated how she knew her life would be decimated beyond measure, that the lives of her beloved family would be completely upended, and yet she faced the senate committee to face demons that have no doubt haunted her for her entire adult life as well. While my strong, sick suspicion is that tomorrow's vote will result in Kavanaugh being voted in, I have to find the slightest inkling of hope in that Ford stood her ground, she refused to be silenced--and by the looks of Twitter and other news sources--the woman is believed! Our country is just so backward that the privileged, white boy is getting what he wants anyway.
Here's what else I absolutely know:
This happens entirely more often than you want to believe. In varying degrees, to women (and men) of all ages, backgrounds, races. In high school parties, church camps, at concerts, with friends, boyfriends, husbands. I can't tell you how many times the topic has bubbled up in conversation with girlfriends over wine--there's a reason the hashtag reads "me too."
The crystal clear clarity of some memories never escapes your mind. While thirty-plus years have passed since their incident, and ten-plus have passed since mine, I still remember the new jeans I was wearing. I still remember the texts he sent as I rushed out of the house. I still remember sobbing in the shower when I got home, sick in disbelief. I still remember the sunlight cutting through my blinds at early dawn, me wishing the night away. The fact that it happened on my brother's birthday. Breaking down about it to a total stranger the night of a Halloween party at my apartment. Some memories bury themselves deep within the folds of your mind.
I believe you, Dr. Ford. I have to believe the tides are turning, that with every voice that shakily emerges from the depth of our collective, forced silence, we're trudging on. That we're changing the narrative, and that there is immense strength in our sharing. I have to believe this.
Keep fighting, ladies. I am with you. So many are fighting alongside you. And America, I'm just beyond disappointed. And I have no doubt this will factor into voters' decisions here in about six weeks.
Tomorrow, we wake up and try again.
suggestions, please!
September 16, 2018 • up next
weekend, I love you.
so, now I come to you, asking for help. we're jetsetting a little bit in october and november, and would love any suggestions you have for what we need to embrace in asheville, austin and san francisco!
I grew up an hour north of austin, and know the touristy high points. so what I'm asking for here is what you would absolutely push us to see/do/eat, knowing we'll be there for less than 24 hours. is there anything new-ish (within the past five years) that would be life-changing for us to experience?
october is taking us to asheville for a wedding weekend, so we're jazzed to do all of the hiking and brewery bouncing. we've been to sierra nevada, wicked weed, hi-wire, burial... and we know the biltmore is beautiful and all, but please! all brewery/coffeehouse/unique hike suggestions welcomed!
and november will usher us out to san francisco--mostly so J can attend a work conference, but I'll have a lot of solo time, and we'd love to know your eatery/coffee/bookstore recs especially.
I will always gravitate more toward hole-in-the-wall establishments, and tend to avoid the mainstream "top ___ dinners" lists that anyone can google from their phone. so, the more obscure or tucked away, the better.
thank you, thank you, thank you! now, feel free to go about your weekends.
just some things.
September 10, 2018 • just some things
(j's parents are in greece, sending us nonstop pics of the dreamiest, most gorgeous travels. thus the inspiration. and envy.)
- Like we weren't totally convinced of this already. But hey, science backing me up is always good.
- Tell me this isn't the cutest little housewarming present.
- It's a little late to be reporting on this, but if you haven't watched Meghan McCain's magnificent eulogy of her beloved father, there's no time like the present.
- And in keeping with the political realm.... GO BETO, GO!
- YES, GIRL. This is how you use your platform.
- Now that the temperature has momentarily dipped below 70, I cannot pry this coziness from my body. Getcha one. Or four.
- Ever the personal growth guru, I've kicked off a book club with my work team. Have you tackled this one yet?
- So, speaking of girl power... I scooped this up from a local shop and have gotten all of the compliments. Love it so much. #shopsmall
- Aaaand, setting us back a couple generations... I still can't decide how I feel about professional cheerleading. What say you?
TTFN, y'all!
September 2, 2018 • dig a little deeper, relationships, worth a read
Gah, blogging is such an ebb and flow game for me. I stick with it and mosey back here every couple of months because I love having the outlet. I love retreating to this little nest to just purge my thoughts into. I come up with ideas I want to write about constantly, almost daily... I just don't have the time or energy or need to pour it all out here on a consistent basis. I'm skeptical of people who post daily... I think part of me doubts that authenticity that I try to stay true to myself.
I dare say I'll never traipse into the world of fashion blogging. Can't really see myself ever transitioning into a mommy blogger--though, it's arguable that my obsession with my pups would be a great precedent for documenting the requisite chaos and cuddles with human children. Definitely don't have the patience or time to be a food blogger. So... where do I fit in? I've asked myself that for years when it comes to this scene.
What I've settled on--after being in the blogging game for about 15 years, give or take--is that I'll always just return here when something strikes a chord within me. Not to say everything poured out onto this page will be dripping with deep substance... but I can promise that when I write, it's because I want to have a voice about something, something that resonates--not merely stick to a schedule, or follow an expected cadence of post formats.
That said, more and more lately has been igniting me... beckoning to me to return here again in order to try and fit feelings onto a screen in an attempt to find some semblance of order and sense. Coming to terms with toxic relationships, the loss of McCain and what that means for our country's future, being shaped by a small town and the resentment and pride that encompasses that, drawing boundaries with people in order to become who I'm supposed to be. It's all swimming in my head, begging for some structure.
So... stay tuned. And thank you for reading still.
I dare say I'll never traipse into the world of fashion blogging. Can't really see myself ever transitioning into a mommy blogger--though, it's arguable that my obsession with my pups would be a great precedent for documenting the requisite chaos and cuddles with human children. Definitely don't have the patience or time to be a food blogger. So... where do I fit in? I've asked myself that for years when it comes to this scene.
What I've settled on--after being in the blogging game for about 15 years, give or take--is that I'll always just return here when something strikes a chord within me. Not to say everything poured out onto this page will be dripping with deep substance... but I can promise that when I write, it's because I want to have a voice about something, something that resonates--not merely stick to a schedule, or follow an expected cadence of post formats.
That said, more and more lately has been igniting me... beckoning to me to return here again in order to try and fit feelings onto a screen in an attempt to find some semblance of order and sense. Coming to terms with toxic relationships, the loss of McCain and what that means for our country's future, being shaped by a small town and the resentment and pride that encompasses that, drawing boundaries with people in order to become who I'm supposed to be. It's all swimming in my head, begging for some structure.
So... stay tuned. And thank you for reading still.
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