“Why does everyone hate me?”, and other questions often-asked by young, suburban female rejects.


I packed up a to-go container of assorted cheeses and hiked them  to my tattoo artist’s studio, across the street. I’ve recently had a large amount of cover-up  work done on my chest and upper-left arm, and he had a lot to work over. The last time I was there, I accidentally tipped %15 in the Square app because that’s my default at coffee shoppes. Now, there is quite a large difference to me between the intimacy of 3 minutes of conversation during the preparation of my exceptionally large Latte(which I genuinely adore you for making, don’t get it twisted) and  the almost ritualistic injection of ink into my epidermis, painfully(sometimes for both the artist as well as the canvas) over a span of hours. Fifteen percent isn’t enough, so.. I could bring more cash back later:That is a totally plausible  solution. Unfortunately, I am myself, so that’s too anxiety-producing and awkward  so the answer is cheese. Cheese and me overtipping next time.

You spend  several hours taking an idea out out of your mind and pounding it into my chest, and I’ll feed you. You give me solutions, I’ll edit your paper. Watch my cat and I’ll take you to shop when you don’t want to but have to. Just know that I’ll feel uncomfortable when you acknowledge that’s what I’m doing, because It feels so odd in this sterile place.

I often feel American culture is too sterilized: we’re so impersonal, and I’m not an impersonal human. I’m intimate and small in a world filled with open-plan , overhead-lit workspaces and florescent bulbs. I refuse to change this.



We are the daughters of the witches they tried to burn

When I sit down to write, most of what I intended to say disappears.

I recently started Bullet journaling and have a million points written down, so of course I left the journal in question at home and I’m not going back to get it, because California weather is fucked up and I don’t want to walk back .

It’s been an overwhelming week or so since the inauguration of out great Cheeto-in-Chief: Arresting Journalists, Gag orders, Twitter somehow becoming a viable platform for elected officials  to communicate ideas and effect stock prices, alternative facts, You know, business as usual. There’s so much happening at once that it is really easy to get fucking furious, wall off, and do absolutely nothing .

We cannot, CANNOT be apathetic. We must fucking not wall ourselves off from people who disagree with us or differ from us: That’s how we got on the long path to here. We  also can’t afford to not stand up for what we believe.

I’m not going to tell you what to do; I’m going to tell you what I think we should do and what I’m personally going to do to be engaged. I don’t care of we don’t agree,I just believe you should follow the channels to get your individual voice heard.

Unify. March during the work week.

Defend planned parenthood, and our reproductive rights which are constantly at risk.

Practice intersectional feminism. March for the rights of people not your race or religion or assigned gender. All “us nice white ladies” are weekend warriors if we marched one fucking time in a pink hat and then gave up. We’re Nasty bitches who march with our brown, black , trans and indigenous sisters for their rights.

Don’t be stomped into believing this is normal. It ain’t.

Get pissed, and then do something with that anger that betters the world.

Live your everyday life as an act of defiance and protest.

PRACTICE RADICAL COMPASSION. Pay attention to your spirit and your soul, however you define it. Send your magic into the world. Love the world around us. expand your fucking consciousness.

Don’t listen to the loudest, dumbest voices.  Research and learn, constantly.

That’s all I got right now.

Last of all, I love you. I see you. You are not invisible, not to me.


Something I see so starkly in the industry, in the town I work in, is lonely men.

As a bar-tender, you expect this: when I was younger(so young, shit. I’ve been behind a bar for the better part of 10 years) I was aware that loneliness was what I was seeing, manifested in so many different actions. It feels somehow different here is Silicon Valley. Wether it’s my own  emotional awareness or genuinely different in the area I work and live, I don’t know. I’m working right now, and I don’t have the time to mentally unpack this all with you.

I’m lacking the emotional energy to engage the way I once did. I don’t let them  graze my hands over and over in a way that’s supposedly “accidental” but never is, I don’t work so hard to decipher the stilted or awkward way they sometimes speak to me, and I mostly just take things easier. I judge less.

What gets me, is that the men I see come in seem desperate to connect, but more than that, they try to touch base with each-other about something that isn’t work. They sit down as strangers at the bar and drink wine on lunch-breaks and start off talking about various jobs in high tech: The conversation spreads its wings out from there, until one of these men gets overzealous (i guess?) and suggests lunch or something along those lines and the metaphorical friendship/conversation  bird-metaphor gets shot out of the sky by something . I watch that happen a few times a week.  Most of these men are likely brilliant in their fields: they come from Linkdin, Google, Ericcson, Yahoo, Surveymonkey , whatever. They Just all seem nomadic and alone.  I worry about this in my partner; He’s a kind one, but he’s lofty. he needs to be pulled out of the space behind his eyes, and bound the remembrance that he’s an equal part of humanity. His field seems Isolating and I worry about that maybe more than I should. I don’t want to see him pressed down like so many others.

So, yes. Lonely men. Isolated men. I can Hypothesize on why this is, but I don’t have time  now, as I said.

There are lonely women, but The women I see come in groups , likely to  hide whatever sadness might be there.

I’m lonely , but I was born that way, seemingly in-between the Here and the There in a way I don’t fully understand myself.

This seems like loneliness-via-occupational-hazard that I’m observing:  I’m wrapping this up and and my workday at the same time. My bar is now full of Kate Spade-clad types, grouped in 3’s and the couples will start showing up about 6.

That’s my observation for the day. Make what you want to out of it.




Ethics, eviscerated.

It’s one day after the senate confirmation hearings( who needs that pesky ethics paperwork), and I made the notably bad choice to watch the Trump Press conference Live Stream first thing in the Morning. Giant yellow tumbler of coffee keeps me sane, thanks gods.


I have watched the Conference. I don’t have anything to say at the moment because my brain actually hurts, and also, why WHY does he pronounce “industry”  the way that he does, I can’t. His speaking skills are worse (arguably) than the BushMiester (the “chad” of presidents) but unlike George W Bush, well, at least he has the native skills to be a worse president on purpose? I don’t have words to articulate my emotions  right now.

I’m writing here to actually practice writing about everything in order to get over the blocks and fears that I’ve had the past year. Being too aware of the  nihilistic irrelevance of my own words broke me. I’m not even nihilistic and this year made me feel nihilistic. i’m a goddam psychedelic water-colour flower who believes that yes, we can overcome IF WE CHANGE EVERYTHING AND STOP TRYING TO GO BACK TO 1965 . ( I mean all of us? why do we still think the same old ways of protesting work?)

I’ll come back later with a list of ways I plan to try to change myself this year. Right now, I’m biking to the gym.