#BENDORBUSTBITCHES

My cousin Karen - and her husband & their sons - just recently moved from Minnesota to Bend. In the months leading up to this cross-country move, which would bring them much closer to home, we would use the hash tag BENDORBUSTBITCHES to calm her down in moments of moving stress and freak out moments. It became a joke throughout the family, and whenever she'd be freaking out about where they'd live, or work, or work out, or whether or not they would meet anyone or have any friends, we'd just hash tag her, and all would be well.

I went to visit them this week, on my way to Sun River, and had a great time. I am so happy to have her home, with only two hours instead of two flights, between us.

I left Vancouver on Thursday after work, and mistakenly took the "long way" to Bend, by way of Highway 84, past Multnomah Falls and through the Gorge, then down Highway 35, and back around the other side of Mt. Hood. It was a beautiful drive, even though it took 4 hours instead of 2, and Karen was waiting up for me well past bed time. I took my time, listened to my music loud, and pulled over at a couple viewpoints to snap some photos. In the 4 hours it took to drive, windows down, from home to Bend, it occurred to me how rare it is that I have a block of time to myself, with no cell phone, no TV, and nothing I "have" to get done. It was amazing. I just drove, sang along with my CD player, and was grateful for the 3 hours of the drive in which I had no cell reception.

I don't do enough of that. I don't turn off my phone enough. I don't get off of Facebook enough. I don't log out of my email or turn off the TV enough. I am constantly connected to my entire world, to all of my friends and family, and even to my job, through my iPhone, and I don't often enough make myself log out, put it away, and focus on myself. I need to do a better job at that. Being disconnected from life always has the same effect on me - a calming effect, where I feel like the air smells fresher and the sun is brighter, and where I can literally get lost in the book I am reading or the song I am listening to. Reading a book without interruption - even when it's a friend calling - is an experience I can't get enough of, and don't give myself often enough.

Friday morning, after I slept in and took my time playing Candyland with Aiden & Grant, Karen and I went for a five mile trail walk, which was easy & relaxing at points, with some uphill challenges as well; but the views were gorgeous and being able to get outside and just enjoy my cousin's company was great.

After our walk, I took off from Bend to meet my cousin Stacey & her husband, our friend Juliana & her husband, and their 3 little ones in Sun River for the rest of the weekend. I showed up at nap time (for the kids), so everyone else was just lounging around. I read some of my book, we played board games, and after nap we had dinner on the patio and played in the grass. I spent Saturday, once again away from my phone, floating the river with Stacey, Tyler, and Patrick, while Juliana stayed behind and played with the boys. We ate, drank, enjoyed the sunshine, and rode bikes to the park. All without access to email. All without answering any phone calls. All with minimal texting.

Despite the three kids and the very full house, it was a very relaxing weekend with minimal toddler melt downs, good company, and amazing weather. Totally worth the long drive both ways, and a great reminder that sometimes life gets hectic and you have to force yourself away from work mode and just let yourself get sucked into the book you've been reading, or the board game you're trying to play, or the tricycle rider at your feet.

I left Sun River on Sunday afternoon and spent the next 3 hours driving through small towns, along riverbanks, and eventually into rush hour traffic on the freeway, again with the music up loud and my cell phone just out of reach (it was out of signal range anyway), and again with the mental clarity only a vacation weekend can bring.

I need to be better at remembering to chase happiness, in whatever form it looks like. More weekends away, more time with my family, more time with my nose in a book, and less time connected to a phone that dings every time a resident calls in a work order. The world will keep spinning, even if I step out of orbit for a moment.

Let's F%#@ in the Library

A friend of mine shared this blog about falling in love with people who read on Facebook today (for the record, why don't any of my posts go viral), and it got me thinking back to that day I posted this picture and the conversation it sparked:

The conversation went south fairly quickly, but it was a pretty hilarious thread of about 55 comments. And most of it was fairly x-rated, crude jokes about both the guy in the photo, and the fact that reading books does in fact make you more attractive - at least to some people.

I am one of those people.

I started this blog the day after I posted that photo on Facebook, but the article posted today prompted me to finish it... 

Men who read - who read actual, real books - are fucking sexy. Men who talk about the books they read, who share conversations about the books you've both read, who buy or loan you their favorite books, are, to be frank, Hot. As. Shit. And I think it's in part because men who read books are in some sort of minority among men who play video games instead. Finding a man who talks to you over dinner about the last book he got sucked into and read all night long is sorta like seeing a unicorn. 

Here's the thing. I read. I read a lot. I took every English and Writing class offered at PSU in college, and I devour good books like good food. I can read a novel in a day if it's interesting enough. I spend vacation time reading books. I love bookstores. I just honestly love to read. Laying on the couch all weekend, in my jammies, with the tv off and some music playing, is one of my favorite things to do. A man on the opposite end of the couch under my blanket? Not too shabby of a weekend, I'm telling ya. 

There seems to be a significant lack of men who read. I mean, to be fair, not a lot of chicks are burying their noses in books lately either, but I am not any more or less into a women based on her ability to converse about books. But really, since when do guys not read? I feel like I remember having far more conversations about books-you-have-to-read-right-this-minute with guys in high school than I do now, and that makes sense I guess, since we were required to read for homework back then. But at what point did men decide to put down the books and pick up the video game controller instead? It's seriously un-hot. 

I guess that's the question to which I am seeking an answer: At what age does a guy stop reading for pleasure? And why do so many of them do that? And actually, do they not know that it's a very attractive quality in a man? 

Okay so technically that was three questions. But I want to know the answer. 

I know this blog gets a lot of action from the guys out there, and especially when the title insinuates that it may be a sex-related topic (like the one I wrote about sexting, which is my number two most viewed post), so I wonder if anyone will tell me the cold hard truth behind men and their disinterest in books - and I wonder how many of them will go home and read a book this weekend, knowing how much more likely they are to get into my pants that way.

It's not just me, guys. Chicks are into guys who are capable of - and actually enjoy - reading a book. Not because they have to, not because an employer assigned it or because they have to take a class, but because they want to. We like a man who can chill in the quiet of the sofa all night, play footsie, read, have real conversation, and then rock our worlds. Don't believe me? Try it. I promise, I am right. 

Go home. Read a book. Watch it make your lady swoon. You can thank me later. 

I Know You're Out There. I'm Not Listening.

I have never had a regular 8-5 job. You know, the kind where you show up at 8:00, eat lunch from 12-1, and go home at 5:00. Prior to property management, which is what I do now, I was a cocktail waitress, where there are zero set hours, no way of having any clue when you'll eat, how fast you'll inhale food, or when you'll go home. And it was part of the gig.

Now, I work 8:00-5:00, but the chances that I can lock the door for 60 entire minutes right at noon, is slim to none. Because people come in on their lunch hour to rent apartments and to bitch about their neighbors or their late fees or the fact that they can't just do whatever they want whenever they want. So there are days where I lock the door at 11:00 and eat while sitting on a conference call, and there are days where I shove a salad down my face at 2:00 in the afternoon while a line of people waits outside the door. And it's part of the current gig.

The thing I find interesting, is that people find it appropriate behavior to sit outside of my locked office (where a clock is posted, by the way, with the return time), knocking on the door, thinking that I am going to get up from my lunch to let them in. Whether it is the mailman, the Fed Ex driver, a vendor, a resident, a prospect...it happens daily. Literally, daily. And every day it surprises me, even though by now it really shouldn't. Because it is a daily occurrence.

What I am saying, essentially, is that I am faced with ass holes, daily, at lunch time. Since when is it considered acceptable and appropriate to bang on someone's door when their office is locked for lunch? I don't understand.

And the reason I don't understand, is that I am not a self-centered, egotistical ass face who believes the universe centers around me. I don't wake up each day thinking that the sun should rise and set on my ass. I also don't think that when I walk into a store, restaurant, apartment community, or other place of business, that I get to demand to be the center of attention and chastise everyone in the wake of my Bitch Tornado. I understand that sometimes, in the midst of the day, someone working in an office or a store might have to eat some food or use the bathroom.

It is astounding the number of people out there who do not accept this information. What the fuck do you mean you are closing for lunch? Why can't you just leave the door open and help me with these 46 things while you eat? And I don't care that you have to pee, I need something Right Fucking Now! It is truly remarkable, the way people treat people in the customer service industry. For the record, for all of you true fucking ass holes out there, it is customer service, not customer bendthefuckoverandletmekissyourdumbass.

The point of this rant is not to bag on the asinine people with their insane requests demands that I encounter every day, but rather to point out the absolute growing lack of respect and common courtesy out there in the world. The staggering number of people who truly do believe that their time is priceless while other people's time is irrelevant, blows my mind. I find it hard to comprehend the thought processes of these people, who just float around the world, demanding shit and being mean. It is not all about you. Seriously, it's not.

Stop and think for a second, about how much more pleasant our daily lives would be, if we were just nice to people? I mean really. When is the last time you were in a rush, so you were rude to a clerk who makes minimum wage, or the last time you honked at someone taking too long to cross the street so you could turn and be on your way? We do it all the time. We're rushing around, tied up in our own shit, and as a result, we're legit fucking mean to everyone. And that's not okay. No one deserves for me to walk into the store demanding attention immediately, just because I am running late for something. Just like I don't deserve to be constantly interrupted from my one quiet hour, where all I want to do is eat something and listen to some music.

Everyone just needs to calm the fuck down. Life will happen at its own pace, so why are we pushing it? Just slow down and enjoy the ride. And fucking be nicer to those of us whose job is to help get you through your damn day in one piece.

How Can We Change This?

In the past, I have written about things I fear as a single woman, things I am afraid of (MONKEYS), and things that make me worry for, well, for the human race as a whole, really. I have written about my worries and concerns, and have shared my friend's post about the fear of men that is sadly ingrained in all women.

But something in the news recently has triggered a reminder that no matter how many local murders, school shootings, mass killings, or kidnappings take place, I do not walk around in fear of my life. I am aware of my surroundings, I don't walk the streets late at night, and I avoid dimly lit parking garages, but overall, despite the very real risks, I do still live my life.

I try to remember that I can't control the bad in the world. If someone is going to kill me, it's going to happen; I'm not going to live in constant fear of what might happen. That'd be like never leaving home out of fear of a car crash or never traveling out of fear of a plane hijacking. You can't live like that. Get up, get out, and live the life you want - it's not your time to go until it's your time to go.

That said, I am absolutely fucking terrified of human trafficking. It scares the shit out of me. And the fact that there is a possibly trafficking case within a few city blocks of my apartment, is truly frightening. Despite that it may be the least likely disaster to actually happen to me, it is the one that scares me the most.

There is something just very finite about sex trafficking. I once read an article about it that said, if you go missing and are believed to be involved in the trafficking ring, if you are not found within 12 hours, you will never be found. Never. That is so final! With kidnapping or carjacking or rape cases, there is a chance. A chance to escape, a chance to be found or saved. With trafficking, there is no chance. You're literally never seen or heard from again, and that scares me more than anything else.

I recently drove from Vancouver to Olympia for a baseball tournament, and on the way up, Rachel and I had to stop to pee. In the bathroom at the rest stop on I-5 was a sign, written in about 11 languages, that said basically, if you are being forced to work or have sex against your will, call this number. It was eerie and chilling, and just too fucking scary for words. To know that this exists here, so close to home, and to know that really, if you become involved in it, there is no getting out...makes the hairs on my neck stand up.

What prompted this topic, is that there is a teen girl missing from Camas, which is just a leap from my own home. The news has stated that they are afraid she is involved in some human trafficking ring, and reading it just made my heart sink. Looking at all of the posts on her parents' "help us find our daughter" Facebook page was upsetting, because in reality, as pessimistic as it may be, she will never come home. If the suspicions of where she is are correct, these people will never see their daughter again. She is already on drugs, in another country, getting a bar code tattooed on her neck or her arm, and we'll never have any answers on her disappearance. And even though I don't know her, that makes me sick to my stomach.

I try to end my blogs on a positive, but I don't seem to be finding one today. It is just a very scary, chilling, frightening situation, and my heart goes out to this poor girl's parents.

It makes me wonder what I can do. How can I help? How can I make a difference? There are articles everywhere about fundraisers and awareness, and of course, the knowledge is power brigade. Talk about it. Know that it's a real thing, and that sadly, it is happening more and more, instead of less and less. Human trafficking is the second largest crime...how is that even possible? I've been doing my research, reading the facts, absorbing the information - and being scared fucking shitless. But sometimes, you have to find the thing that terrifies you to your very core, to know what human rights campaign you should be trying to help. And this is mine.

The Struggle is Real (Real Stupid)

There is a time in everyone's life - usually between ages 25 & 27 - where we think we are failing at life. Not just a little fail, but an epic fail. Chances are, we are settling into what we believe may be our career for the rest of our working life - and chances are, we probably aren't keen on that idea. We are dating the person we could potentially marry - and we may not necessarily be super excited about that either. Our friends are getting married, they're having babies. We spend a lot of time at wedding and baby showers, and a lot of money on bridesmaid dresses and bachelorette parties. If we are in college, we're probably rounding towards the end of a degree, about to graduate and be part of the Real World. We're starting to realize that it is not responsible to quit a job before we have another one, that a 401k is something we actually will need someday, that we should probably have more than six dollars in a savings account. We realize that we can't pay for everything with a credit card, and that coupons are sometimes necessary. We learn - usually through a pregnancy scare with someone we cannot imagine raising a human with - that we need to use a condom every time (sadly, this is also when we learn that we have to use said condom from the beginning if a baby is to be fully prevented). We realize, after putting on 15 pounds seemingly overnight, that we have to go to the gym and that we can't live on ramen noodles, and that we have to wear bras in public. We come to learn that we were sheltered as children and that our families are more fucked up than we ever thought. We learn a lot when we're 25. And some of it is hard to digest.

Age 25: The Year of the Quarter Life Crisis. 

Here's the thing. Some of us experience milder cases of the QLC. Mild enough that we forget it happened. And then when our younger friends experience it, we write it off, tell them to get the fuck over it, make them feel like they're just being whiny bitches. A lot of life happens between 25 and 30, and it lets us forget about the struggle of being 25.

But the struggle is real. For those of us who, at 25, are single and without children, working in bars, living in tiny apartments with roommates, watching all of our friends get married, get jobs with daytime hours, get pregnant, the struggle of the QLC is very real. And we are the ones who remember - and can offer a listening ear - it when our younger friends fall victim to it.

When I was 25, I had just graduated college and taken a month-long trip to Australia, where I spent a ton of money, saw things I'd never seen, and had epic life experiences that I will remember forever. I was working in a bar, living in an apartment, and I was dating guys who were so much fun - and so far from The Guy for Me. Don't get me wrong, I was happy. I was having a great time, had great friends, and was making decent money for a part time job. I didn't have paid time off, I had no money in savings, I lived off cash tips, I wasn't planning a wedding or trying to make babies, and I wasn't committed to anything happening more than 3 weeks past today. All I wanted to do was travel, drink, have sex, and sleep in - and not necessarily in that order.

And then I turned 26. All hell broke loose. What was I doing with my life? I was working part time at a job with no security and weird hours, I had no money and lived off of cash tips. I wasn't dating The Guy for Me, and I was having too much irresponsible fun. I was having sex, but I wasn't planning a wedding or making babies. I lived in a tiny apartment and wasn't saving for a down payment on a house. I had a car payment and owed student loans, and I had debt to my mom & dad. I was dreaming of vacations to foreign countries, when clearly I should have been at home, getting my fucking shit together. My proverbial duckies, were not at all in a row. FUCK!

After 25 but before 30, we start being bombarded with all of the SHOULDs; what we should be doing, where we should be living, what we should have accomplished. We start to feel the pressure, start to feel like because we aren't getting married and making our 2.5 kids in our starter home with a white picket fence, we are doing something very wrong. We begin to feel like we are failing. Our world is crumbling because even though we may feel happy and successful, we aren't where we should be. And if we're not where we should be, we're not happy and successful, obviously. Because really, at 25, we are sheep. And sheep are supposed to follow the other sheep. So since we aren't doing what we should be doing, we are failing at being a good sheep.

The thing about the Quarter Life Crisis though, is that it really is all about perspective. That's the part we don't learn til we're 30. When we turn 30, we stop worrying about what we should have been doing for the past five years, and begin to be able to focus on what we want to be doing now. We stop caring that all of our friends are married and have their 2.5 kids. We stop being concerned about mortgages and realize that home ownership is a bitch and sometimes not worth it. We look back on our abusive relationships, our heartbreaks, our bruised credit scores and our slowly growing savings accounts, and we realize that we're fine. We're happy. We don't need those things to make happiness and success for us; our happiness and success is right here waiting for us to open our eyes and see it. We realize that if something doesn't work, we don't have to do it. We can change anything we want to, in the pursuit of happiness. Marriage, babies, and a picket fence is what sheep think they need to be happy - because we are programmed from birth to think that that's what we should have. I'm not a sheep. I don't need that. I don't want that. I want companionship, sex, sleep, and a roof over my head. Those things may not come in the form of husband, child, and mortgage, and that's just fine. By the time we make it to 30, we realize that all we're really after is a purpose, a reason to get out of bed other than the need to pee, and someone to laugh with on a long drive.

And once we realize that we've made it through the struggle - that we've survived the QLC - we can dive into life head first, proverbial duckies strewn about, without order or purpose, and just do what makes us the happiest. My duckies are all over the place, but my duckies are happy. Do more of what makes you happy; it really is just that simple. 

Boys Love Fire

Boys sure do love fire...

This weekend was the 4th of July, one of my favorite holidays. I love the 4th because there is no pressure to spend it with anyone specific, just a fun weekend to take a day or two off work, get together with family & friends, and enjoy the summer weather. If you read my blog on the regular, you may know that this past winter holiday season was especially difficult for me, as I was dealing with what I now know was grief, but was then being personified as anger and hostility. Getting through Thanksgiving and Christmas of 2013 was a challenge, and I was very excited when I would up with some fun, relaxing, family and friend plans for this holiday weekend.

I spent the 4th with my cousin Stacey and our friend Juliana, and their husbands, kids, and parents. We ate, drank, and once it was dark, sat in a row on the sidewalk and watched an hour or so of fireworks. It was great! The little boys played with Pop-Its and sparklers, and the guys set off some great fireworks for us.

I then spent the 5th and 6th in Pacific City, with one of my best friends, her boyfriend, her son, and another guy friend. It was exactly the holiday weekend I needed to relax and recharge, and to give myself a bit of an attitude adjustment. I drove down in the morning on the 5th, and thoroughly enjoyed the company in the car - lots of laughs, not too much work talk (which is sometimes a downfall of being friends with your coworkers), and some poor traffic choices. We all met up at my aunt's beach house in Pacific City, which is literally my happiest place on Earth, had lunch & a couple of beers, packed the cooler, and headed to the beach. The weather was amazing; we played in the sand, put our toes in the ocean, and then, of course, the guys made fire! I mean, don't get me wrong, we needed it - we were roasting hot dogs and marshmallows, and a fire on the beach is never a bad thing - but it was really funny to watch Josh, Mike, and even PJ build their fire. There is just something about boys and fire; like, they can't just make a fire, they have to maaaaake a fire.

The fire party extended into the night, as Rachel and I sat back and watched an amazing fireworks display put on by the city of Pacific City, while PJ couldn't deal with not playing with fire of his own and proceeded to light his own little tiny fireworks display in the sand.

After our fire was out and the fireworks were done, we headed back to the beach house and put PJ to bed, then proceeded to have a couple more drinks and another fire in the fire pit in the backyard. I had made the decision to camp out on the deck, but I ended up laying on my cot, under the stars, next to the fire...because what better place to be?! The fire wasn't out as one by one we all crashed out, but there is something just awesomely mellow about closing your eyes and listening to one rage on nearby.

There is something about playing fire that boys apparently just can't help, and it seems to be fairly universal. Whether they're 10 or 35, boys love fire. I think they can't help it. It's part of why I love the 4th of July - the way men turn into boys around all the fire and explosives, the way they jump to cook your dinner outside, the way they can't stop poking at a fire with a stick. It's just funny. I love it.

Weekends like these - the ones where I am surrounded by my favorite people, where the weather is fabulous, where I am at the beach, where I get to have real conversations with real people - are my favorite. Weekends like these remind me that sometimes you just need to take a step back from the daily grind to have a little fun, drink too much, and take a nap in the sand.

Be a Lion, Don't Sweat What the Sheep Think

This post topic was at the request of one of my friends; someone I haven't known a very long time, but with whom I had a fairly strong connection from the jump off. There are people I meet and become friends with on a very surface level, and then there are people who I meet and share a lot with on a little deeper level. This is one of those people - someone who "gets me", someone who can talk me off a ledge when I am flipping the fuck out over something stupid. So, when he requested that I write this blog, I was happy to oblige. Because, I feel the same way!

Today's Topic: Just because I have known you longer, doesn't mean I have to be on your side.

Sometimes friends get a little possessive. Sometimes they have unrealistic expectations, or expect that you are going to have their back on any and every dumbfuck thing they ever do or say. And when you're a teenager, that's totally a legit expectation. Because in high school, we are all sheep. We do what our best friends want, we wear what they wear, we think what they think. In junior high and high school, we are much less individuals and much more in a pack mentality where you want to be exactly the same as everyone else to avoid making waves.

However, we are no longer in high school; this is real life. I have thoughts, feelings, and opinions of my own, and many of them don't line up with those of all of my friends. I have now had just shy of 31 years to form these beliefs - but my friends have also had 30+ years to form beliefs of their own. Do they always line up? Nope! Do we sometimes argue about politics or religion or sex education or children? Yep! And that is the difference between a high school bromance and a real adult friendship. It's okay to think differently. It's okay to argue and debate. And it's okay to not be a clone of your "bestie."

The thing about real friends is, even when you're wrong, they will have your back. They'll support you even through your stupidest decisions. But unlike the clones you were in high school, your real friends will not always agree with you when you are being an ass hole. A real friend will call you out. A real friend will sit you down and explain why they don't agree with your choices or why they think you're acting insane. That doesn't make them a shitty friend. That's what makes them a real friend. A real friend doesn't go balls to the wall to start a bar fight with you, nor do they agree with you like a sheep when you are debating something with someone else; a real friend has your back, but is honest with you when you're being insane.

We are adults. We don't have to agree on everything. How boring would it be if we did? A little debate or disagreement every once in a while is what keeps things spicy between friends. Part of what I admire about my closest friends is that we are not all exactly the same. We are different, and none of us fits in a little box - but we can respect, admire, and learn from those differences, and really, we're better friends for it.

Stop trying to be a sheep. Be yourself. Stand your ground. You don't have to be your friend's twinzie to be their BFF. Just let them do them, and you do you. You'll be better friends on the other side of your first real disagreement.

Keep Your Political Agenda Out of My Vagina

I had every intention of not writing this blog while I was still angry. I was going to wait til I calmed the fuck down and then write a thoughtful, organized post on all the reasons I am disappointed in the Supreme Court today for their ruling about the availability/coverage of birth control for women - that ruling being that "conservative" business owners need not provide birth control to women under their health care plans.

However, as a debate rages on my Facebook page, I find myself getting more - not less - pissed off, so here goes nothing.

Why in the fuck does anyone think that they have the right to take away my access to birth control, based on the religious beliefs of some bazillionairre in a suit somewhere way up in some company??? What the fuck right do you have, as my boss, or as my insurance company, or as my boyfriend, or as literally anyone other than ME, to tell me that I can no longer access birth control because someone else believes life begins when a guy cums?!? What the fuck kind of bull shit, sexist, asinine garbage is this?!?

Here's the thing: I don't care when you - "you" being Corporate Big Shot in Charge of My Medical Care - think life begins. It doesn't matter. Providing health care coverage to employees does not get to bring in a religious "but what if." It shouldn't matter. It should not matter whether Man in Suit believes life begins at conception, or whether a sperm isn't a baby til it looks like one. It doesn't fucking matter because I am not trying to get health care coverage from a church! I don't work in a church, I work in an office. I work in an office for a company for which I pay way too much into my own medical benefits. I deserve to have adequate, fair, comprehensive access to the birth control of my choice.

You can give me all of the excuses in the book: the fact that health insurance doesn't pay for condoms for guys, the fact that I can still use the pill even if I can't use an IUD, the fact that corporations are legally allowed to be discriminatory pricks if they want....none of these arguments will change my mind or change my opinion. I don't care what the reasons are; it's wrong to deny any sort of medical care based on religious or political views.

Let's look from another angle, shall we? I manage an apartment complex for a living. Part of my job is to treat everyone the same, whether they are old, young, black, white, or purple. My ass in on the line if I even think about thinking about refusing to rent an apartment to someone based on their race, class, disability, yada, yada, yada. However, I am, in my personal life, very pro-choice. I am also very supportive of gay marriage. I also think you should be able to take a gun pretty much anywhere if you have a conceal/carry permit. BUT, I do not get to refuse an apartment to someone who is pro-life, nor do I get to deny the rental application of someone who is homophobic or in favor of major gun control. It's not how it works. I have to treat everyone the same, and I deserve to be treated the same.

Whether you believe life begins at conception, or whether you support abortion up to 12 weeks, is irrelevant. Whether you think condoms are expensive or not, is irrelevant. All that matters here is fact: and the fact is, when I signed up for my health care package through my employer, I did not - and should not - have to worry about them taking away access to certain medications, no matter what reason I need them for.

End rant.

Done, And Done.

Despite my seemingly tough girl exterior, I really do tend to give people - my friends specifically - the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes, to the point where they don't deserve it. I care about the people in my life a lot, and for that reason, when someone I care about lets me down, I find myself really disappointed and hurt. And while it may take me a long time or a lot of crap to arrive at the I'm done point, once I'm done, I am done. 

Right now, I'm feeling very done. I have spent the past 12 months being a damn good friend; being patient, considerate, kind, and without expectation. I've asked all the right questions and have had all the right answers, and without giving myself a high five, I have to say I've been nothing but a great friend. And yet, it has occurred to me that I am not getting the same out of this friendship that I am putting into it. I am on the back burner and am the only one making an effort; I am a second thought (if that) and am not a priority. And I've exhausted myself trying to justify and excuse someone else's poor behavior, while the reality is, I am just not as important to this person, as this person has been to me. 

So I'm done. I will not continue to make that effort. If you want to talk to me, you'll call. If you want to see me, you'll drive to my place and take me to dinner. You won't say stupid or hurtful shit in front of me to impress your other friends, because you'll figure out that my feelings are important. And more than anything else, you'll make me a priority, the way I've made you one in the past year. It's very simple. And you'll either step up to the plate, or we won't continue to be friends. It's been hard to come to that realization, and it's hard to say it that way, but it's true - the ball is no longer in my court, but in yours. 

It's not as easy to make new friends as an adult. It's also not as important to have a thousand friends you party with. I care much more about developing closer, deeper friendships with fewer people these days. Do I want to have fun? Of course! But I don't want to surround myself with a ton of people who really, at the end of the day, don't care about me enough to make an effort for me. I deserve more than that from people. We all do. We deserve friends who support and encourage us, who inspire us to be better people, and who are there for us when we need somebody. When you find yourself in a one-sided friendship, sometimes the only thing you can do is take a few steps back and wait to see whether your friend really cares enough to put in the effort, or if it may be time to admit defeat and walk away. 

It's hard to get to the point where you're done. It's hard to wipe your hands of someone you care about. But sometimes people just don't do what you need from them; sometimes they fail to come through on their end of a relationship. And when that happens, in order to take the best care of yourself, it may be necessary to walk away. 

Good friends are hard to come by. When you find a good one, hold tight. Make the effort. Do your best. Remind that person how important they are and how much you enjoy having them in your life. As good friends, we all need to hear that sometimes. 

Yoga for the Soul

365 days ago, I was smack dab in the middle of my very first Advocare 24 Day Cleanse. I was starving, detoxing off of caffeine, craving salt like a crazy woman, and was one cranky bitch. And yet, I was doing the best thing possible for myself - eating green! The cleanse itself was the jumping off point to a whole new mindset for me: green is better, processed is bad. Seems fairly simple. 

When the Cleanse was complete, I wrote this blog about organics, and about the ways that I'd learned that eating green and choosing organics was completely worth all of the hype. Food tasted better. Fruit looked real instead of plastic, veggies needed to be rinsed off because they came out of the dirt, and I could not believe the difference in my meat and dairy, especially eggs. I was on board! 

A year later, I still believe that organic food is the best for you. Where I used to spend an hour grocery shopping at Fred Meyer, I now spend a whole Saturday picking berries and visiting local farmer's markets. And honestly, I love it. I have always enjoyed my "me" time at the grocery store, but spending a day in the sun, with some chill music and a friend, is even better - it's like yoga for the soul! I spent an entire day outside this weekend, buying much more local produce than I could possibly need, but just enjoying some best friend time and good music, and then ended the day with a local hard cider out on Sauvie's Island - it was great!

Could I do better? Yes. I don't buy 100% organic produce, because sadly I can't afford to. (Which is bull shit, by the way, that it costs a percentage more to purchase clean, non GMO, non cancer causing fruits and veggies.) 

But I am doing much better than I was at this time last year. I read labels. I never, ever buy meat that isn't organic. I also only buy organic eggs and milk. I buy as much of my produce as possible from local farmers. So it is a change I was - and still am - committed to. Because I don't want to get cancer from my lunch. 

It seems so easy, the whole eating green mentality. And yet, it's not. And it's not because of - big fucking shocker - money and politics. Because of course, we cannot just eat food. Instead it has to be about being spoon fed by whoever makes the most money. And suddenly, reading your food labels becomes way more challenging than it should be - to the point where half the time I just say fuck it, and take a leap of faith that the yogurt I am buying is not full of chemicals (though I am sure more often than not, it is). 

Did you know that Naked Juice is owned by Coca Cola? And that Odwalla is owned by Pepsi? Or maybe vice versa, but the point is, what the fuck kinda double dipped bull shit it that?!? Soda is like, literally, the worst thing to put in your body, and the giant soda-producing companies are going to trick me into thinking that Odwalla and Naked are chemical free?! Yea right! Sure enough, they just recently came under attack for having cyanide or some shit, in their Naked juices. No, not cyanide...formaldahyde! Umm, yes, the shit that you put the dead pig in that you have to dissect in high school. The stuff that prevents your dead pig from decomposing in your classroom before you're done studying it's guts. 

Fuck that.

It becomes so difficult to choose healthy, non-GMO, pesticide free products, that I bet half of the people who are trying to do right by their bodies end up giving up. It's hard! Grocery shopping, which I did used to enjoy, now feels like homework, and most of the time, I just decide that all I need is produce because I'm too freaked out by what is in anything else. And it should not be that hard. Nobody should be able to trick us on their labels; it should be straight forward: this shit will cause cancer, and this shit won't. People should not be scouring labels for the truth after some bold faced lie about "natural" ingredients is blasted on the front of the box - these labels fool people into buying unhealthy, dirty foods instead of the natural, green options they are after. It's wrong. And we should be mad about it. And we should not be tolerating it.

But we are. I mean, some of us are. It is very refreshing to see my Facebook bombarded with posts from people not tolerating it, from people writing articles and publicizing what really is a serious issue. 

365 days after my initial cleanse and my initial attempt at eating more locally grown, chemical free, organic foods, I have learned a lot about what is safe to go in my body and what isn't. I have learned that non-fat is usually worse than full fat, and that the best things for you are generally not even sold in the grocery store. I have learned that I love picking berries, looking for new farmer's markets, and being outside when I buy my food. In reality, it is unlikely that I will ever be able to consume 100% clean food - but I can try my best to do so. All it takes is more effort and more patience, and if it means my salad won't give me cancer, I am willing to do the leg work.

You should be too. Read your labels. Know your product. And most importantly, buy foods that make you feel good.