I don’t wanna be your girl no more


It’s been a minute.

I got so close. But at the end of the day, it boils down to one thing. Heavier than hard no’s, red flags, and maybes?, I just want to be with someone who wants to be with me.

It still sucks to lose the person you just spent 6 months trying to love.

I think I need therapy.

A really horrible, rotten no-good thing happened to me a long time ago. It caused a decade of grief, drinking until I forgot I was hurting, and other things I don’t admit to anyone.

Maybe it would be easier, to find love. To trust people. Take things slow. If this hadn’t happened, or if I knew how to talk about it.

I just don’t.

But it never. goes. away.

I don’t know.




The earth you knew is waiting for you, dear


This week, this song.

I have not been making my runs. It’s the worst. I have developed some pesky sort of sinus irritation that I am actually blaming on not making the runs. Annoying. Thankful for health insurance that makes a doctor visit only $10.

Today I’m “working from home” which means I’m wiggling the mouse enough to look like I’m on my computer via skype chat. (WFH means I’m doing laundry, finishing a birthday present, I went running and now I’m composing letters to you in my favorite coffee shop).

I did make a to do list for tomorrow…

In sadder news,
My grandma Ruby is a very stubborn, very short little old lady. Over the past year she had a heart attack and broke her hip and now her health and her skin is rapidly failing and as your largest and external organ it’s only a matter of time until, well, you know.

The big sleep.

I only half believe it because she is such a spunky old lady that when death knocks on the door she’ll probably be like, “Today is not a good time for me.”

One time, she was treating herself to a steak because it was Friday. She had her little single serving cut of meat and one of those tiny charcoal weber grills. She was outside on her back stoop, grilling her steak and all of a sudden there was 4 members of the fire department on her doorstep. Apparently some concerned citizen had seen the smoke from her bite-sized weber and called it in.

My grandma told me she should make herself steak more often. She also told me that if all else failed, I should probably try that trick to meet a husband.

Speaking of finding partners, things are going well with that man. Today is his birthday. I made him a book.

It felt good to stitch some pages together. I think he’ll appreciate the effort and the illustrations.

I told him he makes me feel patient, which is true and also a new state of existence for me.

Like, I would be tickled if it turns out to be something big. But if it doesn’t I refuse to waste this time worrying about what it could or could not be.


I just ran in my second pair of Brooks running shoes, dare I say I’m a convert. The man informed me this morning that he is leaving me for a week to visit his parents and my first thought was “Well, maybe I can get back into my morning runs before the time changes again and it’s just as dark as it was a month ago.”

I guess that’s making lemonade?

Arm’s length, shoulders wide
Looking for a fight
Peace sign, getting by
People, we’ll be alright

Ask me again in a week. Besides, if my kick ass book birthday present fails I’ll just cook myself a steak and hope for firemen.



I feel it all, I feel it all


This week, this song.

Wahoo, I’m done for now with the bus ads. It is out of my control. My Polaroids are going to appear on a bus! I learned a ton of things about how to negotiate contracts, how to use Photoshop (better). How to turn one graphic into about 20. Blah, blah boring (but good).

Am I using my powers for good yet, TBD.

I’m using my work for personal interests, though.

Shrug emoji.

That man keeps hanging out with me, which is wonderful. I’m making him a book for his birthday.

Here’s the thing, Magellan. I love these letters but I haven’t really found anything new to say lately. Are you even reading them? I’m wondering if my time writing might be better suiting trying to tell a complete story, perhaps one that is not my life.

Ya know.

I mean, how many men have I got hopeful about only to lie on the floor a week later, disgruntled and drunk on wine, or a fine gin-lemonade I created from my optimism.

How many careers have I dreamed about (or even started) only to start again.

Same story, different week.

The processing, is helpful. I admit that.






Perhaps a poignant romance novel where the heroine is not so closely based on a rose-colored lookback of my life.

Or maybe, a sci-fi thriller where the main characters try to save the universe one small feat at a time.

I don’t know.

Ask me again in a week.





Giddy up, giddy up giddy up, giddy up

Heya Magellan,

This week its all about this jam

Just makes me so happy.

So this is what happiness feels like, huh?

Who knew.

So far so good on this year, Magellan. Work has been kicking my behindside a tiny bit, but in that good, productive doing the stuffs kind of way.

And this man that  I’m seeing. He’s great. I have been laughing my face off more often than not. I have someone who wants to see the shows. Eat the tacos. Do the things.

I also don’t have the anxiety I’ve felt in the past.

Let’s be real- it would be *GREAT* if this is the one I’ve been waiting for.

But if it’s not that’s okay too.

(But damn if it is).

I gotta start thinking about what I’m gonna do next. My job ends at the end of 2018. How am I going to package all this work I’m doing into something that will make the right people hire me- or, do I go into business for myself.

Am I ready for that? It feels so ad hoc that I’m worried I don’t know the “right” way to do anything.

It’s your life
You gotta try to get it right
Look around, don’t forget where you came from.

Shit son!

One thing- my routine is off. Couldn’t sleep a wink for the life of me on Sunday, had to go home early on Monday (and sleep). My run schedule is off.


I have someone who wants to share dinner with me a few nights a week.

My mind is spinning with all the potential of the campaign. DID I TELL YOU I FOUND A WAY TO GET MY POLAROIDS ALL OVER THE PLACE





Do what you love, or do what you can to love what you do, amirite?

I don’t want to write it down because then it might go away, but things are going quite alright for once.

St. Vincent tonight! She’s like, the best performer I have ever seen. And I have a hot date (WHO WOULD IN FACT, HOLD MY VERY HEAVY POLAROID CAMERA-CONTAINING PURSE WHILE I USE THE LOO).


Sometimes things are in plain sight and you just need to wait for the time to be right.

Wow, wow, wow
Giddy up!
Giddy up!

Who knows, ask me again in a week!



Oh to see it with my own eyes

Happy new year, Magellan!

This is the song I wake up thinking of this week (and for the past few as well).

May I first mention, I love love love your taco project. And tacos in general. And pizza and mac and cheese so basically I have the dietary habits of a seven-year-old boy.

This year, my resolution is to use my powers for good. I am still trying to figure out what that means, but I know that I want to figure out how to use the passions I have, the skills that I posses and the basic wit that just won’t quit to put my own stamp of good into the universe.

I heard a quote I really liked on KEXP but then when I looked it up I think it’s Steve Jobs, so not sure I feel about it but here it is (something along the lines of ): “If you aren’t going to put a dent in the universe than what’s the point of being here?”

The end of 2017 eerily echoed 2016. I found myself driving across state lines in prairie states. I ate and slept beside friends and family members whom I had ended and started the previous cycle with. The temperature progressively dropped with each leg of my Midwest trip.

Kansas City was cold as balls.

There is a hint of unease I continue to carry with me as I dive into 2018, but I have to believe that it is the good kind. A flurry of buzzing moths, circulating in the depths of my belly. I say this, as I believe that maybe for the first time I can see that light at the end of the tunnel. (As Plato suggests, can you go back into the cave once you’ve seen the light? I’m not so sure one can).

I have started this incredibly challenging project at work. I never believed that I’d find a cause I deem important while finding a way to implement something I really love (the polaroids- not the transportation solutions). The process of uncovering a way to connect all the avenues is nearly as exciting as actually making the ads, and writing the copy and tying it all up in one elegant package.

Can I pull it all off? Emoji shrug, but I can pull some of it off and hopefully I’ve laid the groundwork to execute the plan. It’s exciting, I’m finding just how connected everything is.

Another thing is I have found a human who is weird, thought provoking, handsome and incredible in all the right ways.

It’s terrifying.

Like, what if he wakes up and realizes this weird, thinks-to-much headintheclouds slightly forlorn thirty-something with a tiny chip in her shoulder and equally small-sized hole in her heart is not what he wants?

I mean, that’s always the fear. Isn’t it?

But I’m not (nor will I) going to tamper that down. At the end of the day it doesn’t do you any good to pretend to be a different version of yourself.

Writing this is likely to jinx it all, but I’m going to go ahead and do it anyway.

A few days after my art show last July I had that art show and I met a man but I didn’t know it then. Later, there were a few dates that didn’t lead anywhere, but were pleasant enough.

But slowly, I would find this man at parties or functions, and we would be the last two people standing in the kitchen, trying to out do each other with names for types of dumplings.

And then it was the National and a giant, “well maybe, why not?”

Then, my fake friends fake birthday when I felt the air change.

Now, it’s turning into a human I miss when I don’t see for a few days. It’s coffee that makes one talk too much, and board games played in striped pajamas. It’s a reassuring hand on my knee under the table and waking up in a blanket taco. It’s finding my place to put (and fill) a dent in the universe.

Ah crap.

It’s nice. It’s scary. So much optimism. Glass is halfway to overflowing.
Being cautious.
Taking it slow.

I know it (it being life, the big bad wolf I’m trying to tame) has felt like it’s taking too long to get going, but maybe while I was trying to figure part of it out it went ahead and started. ( I mean, it’s taken generations to tame the foxes in Sibera to be pet-worthy).

I feel different than I used to. I lie awake trying to figure out how to pull the campaign off. Or, I fall fast asleep to the steady breathing of someone that feels right in a way that has never happened before. Things are possible, again and I’m seeing the lines and the dots that connect the world together through time, and space.

Trying to move slow. Easing on the pressure of it having to be anything, but enjoying that it could be.

Living in the moment. I tend to worry about tomorrow too much.

I don’t know Magellan. I could use a positive year. So far, so good and we’re already eight days in.

All the men of faith,
And men of science, have their questions.
Could it ever be on Earth,
As it is in heaven?



I write for fear of silence


This letter may arrive a day late, though last night I scratched a pen across the lightly ribbed texture of my sketchbook and inked my thoughts to you. We’ll see what I recall today.

I’ve been spending time with that person I was telling you about and as expected, the usual insecurities are hanging on to my coattails and whispering in my ear. I swat at them, like batting at mosquitoes in the dark willing their little voices and doubts to leave me alone.

Alright, alright

I have been straight up freaking out. You know, dreading the inevitable “I’m not feeling this, lets just be friends but can we still have sex?” talk. I’ve been worried of saying the wrong thing, or acting too clingy or too aloof, not sure where to land in the middle.

I’ve been peppering my friends, with questions to see if they can gather any intel (a few of my dudes work with this fellow).

So I’ve been overthinking nothing because even though it’s taken 5 months we’re really only in week 2 and it’s much to early to put any pressure on anything. As I do.

(That foolish, foolish optimism).

Oh! This morning on KEXP I heard that The Verve’s “Bittersweet Symphony” is 20 years old. TWENTY YEARS OLD. Hey Zeus Christ. I feel old.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Another dude, another weekend. We spent a cool 20 hours together last weekend, hitting up the Zoolights followed by a lovely evening with dinner and what my coworkers and I are are referring to as popcorn.

Lots of popcorn.

And it’s nice, and it’s lovely. I’m laughing my face off for hours on end. We’re dancing to Motown in the kitchen. I’m eating popcorn. And it’s all so nice and I don’t want it to end and I could get used to this.

Did I mention the popcorn.

Then, like always I can feel the air change. I’m not sure what gets said or happens but the crackle in the air stops. And I start thinking.

We walk downtown, and he shows me the office. Clearly, 20 hours is encroaching on the me-time. So I part ways. Then I hit up Pike Place Market with a friend.

I feel this cold inside me
It howls away all through the market
It calls your name

I go home, and I wait. I worry. I think too much.

Until last night. I was sitting there, making garbage freezer/pantry scrounge pasta because I’m not going grocery shopping this week. So I’m sitting there eating my improvised chow mien, drinking a little mason jar of wine when it hits me.

Like mile 14 of the marathon.

It just doesn’t fucking matter.

Sure, things would be nice to have that person to lean on. And eat popcorn with. I want to eat popcorn all the time. All. the. damn. time.

But it doesn’t have to turn into anything. I have so little invested in this that it is okay.

I can stop and walk and I won’t lose the race. I was never going to win the race. I’m not in it for either. IT’S NOT A FUCKING RACE.

It’s a test of endurance. I have plenty of that. obviously.

Lord knows how long I’ve gone without popcorn before.

I hit the sidewalk and this is how it starts
Hide in a raincoat when things are falling apart

It was flat out pouring this morning on my 5:30 run. I only encountered 2 other runners. I almost didn’t go. I barely took 2 weeks off for my body to recover from my unplanned marathon but getting back up to speed and distance is hard! Who knew?

It’s especially hard to peel oneself out of bed when you can hear the spitter-spatter of rain on the window in a room where you can almost see your breath.

But as I dashed around puddles (and got showered by an SUV rounding a bend near Greenlake) I decided: Resolution. Next year, no more whining about dudes. Fuck them.

They should be worried about if I like them.


I’m a god-damned unicorn.

I’m smart. Not boring smart, listens to too many pod-casts smart, but clever smart. I will find a way to fix or rig anything. I will whip up dinner out of a can of corn, noodles, peanut butter, and onion and soy sauce. And only get one pan dirty. And make you an old fashioned. While picking the one song you didn’t know you needed to hear.

Age difference be damned, I’m cute. No, not as spry as I once was but not bad for 30+. Hell, not much worse for the wear than I was in my 20s, really. And my shit is so much more together.

I’m employed and doing a career building thing! The job is an alright job. Add it to another income and we can get that DINK thing going.

I do cool shit. I write letters to strangers I meet in bars. I take portraits of real life characters, capturing faces and moments of time. I use the gifts my life presents me to help my fellow artists and friends out.

So yeah! Toots my own horn, she does. Mother Fucker would be so lucky for me to decide to chose him.

And popcorn. I know how to do the popcorn.

So sure to keep you dreaming
You understood
Oh, I know you understood
Yes sir, it shows I was no good

Magellan, it’s been nice. Thanks for listening. This is likely my last letter of the year. I’ll pick back up in 2018. New format, maybe.

Ask me again in a few weeks.



PS- this is nothing like it was, in my room, in my best clothes

I’ve been draggin’ around from the end of your coat for two week


Oh man, I’ve done it again.

And like the others, I’ll likely ruin it too. But it’s so fucking fun to feel like maybe. Maybe this time it could be a one that lasts just a little bit longer.

I never told you who I brought with me to The National, but I think I made the right choice.

(Option three, and he was a pretty big fan so it worked well).

ah huh
Everywhere you go is swirlin’
Everything you say has water under it, ah huh

So, I am cautious to enter into territory with someone who doesn’t know what they want, but does anyone really know what they want?

I woke up on Saturday feeling absolutely murdered. On Friday I had martinis with Anh for dinner and then I walked him to his company Christmas party and well, basically he said I might as well join him so I did.

You know, I keep your fingerprints
In a pink folder in the middle of my table

Anh is my original penpal. Before we met he actually sent me postcards to my apartment in Chicago, which I keep in a shoebox today. It’s his fault I found Seattle, but I don’t blame him. He’s one of my best friends and my life would be a whole lot worse if it didn’t know him.

Anywhoo, we got our 3-sanctioned drinks on, ate some spring rolls and left to go to Hot Wine Bling, a fete hosted by one of our friends.

Tested my limits, fo sho.

I managed to miss the first uber because the pin did not drop where I stood, and on the ride home a very heated conversation in Spanish occurred between one of the poolers and the driver and that part of my brain was almost activated enough to understand it.

Somewhere around 5:10 Saturday morning I regained consciousness with the worst headache imaginable.

And I had that moment, wuss out, or try and rest if off then rally. So Rally I chose. I drank some water and prayed for the throbbing in my brain to subside.

It was Hector’s birthday, after all.

I brought along the man I invited to The National for the ride. He’s growing on me.

For one, the laughing. The man makes me chuckle and the man makes me giggle.

You’re the tall kingdom I surround
Think I’d better follow you around

A few of us were supposed to take out the boat but there was no wind so we sat on the deck and drank cheap champagne out of plastic cups.

Let me tell you, a few solos of a modestTrader Joe’s finest blanc de blanc is exactly what one needs to alleviate a hangover. Must be the effervescence. Must be.

The sky was doing one of its postcard paintings and the big one was visible in spite of the fog. We sat on the boat and didn’t go anywhere and it was a perfect afternoon.

I lounged there, surrounded by two of my male friends and beside a man whom I am trying to figure where he fits into my life. Inevitably,  friend zone, but such is life. But whatever the outcome it didn’t matter. Bubbles helped the hangover dissipate. There was sun in December.

The mountain was out and god dammit that meant it was going to be a good day.

You might need me more
Than you think you will

I had driven to the marina and as the least intoxicated of the bunch I had to deliver us closer to our destination. (I was mellow in my consumption in anticipation of driving, don’t worry. Bae’ru has a 2 drink limit).

I might look dumb but I ain’t stupid.I knew what was happening. Parking the car in a man’s driveway before more merryment is asking for one thing. A sleepover.

We went to Holy Mountain and celebrated our fake friend’s fake birthday for the third year in a row. And my new man friend was the one initiating the hand holding and god dammit, it was nice.

It’s so glorious- the early “here is half my body against your body, and oh, there is your hand on my knee.” We played some games, ate some pizza and it was the best group teenager date I’ve been on this year.

Come home in the car you love
Brainy, brainy, brainy

In a little coach house with speakers that play throughout, we listened to The National and finally had a proper make out. I think we’ve been avoiding it since August (minus that whole bathroom thing) through why I am not aware.

No one is ever ready.

I couldn’t sleep last night but when I woke I had a text on my phone.

I was up all night again
Boning up and reading the American Dictionary

I guess I go with it. He doesn’t know what he wants but he knows he wants to see me again and I have to let that be enough.

The teenager thrills are so tough when you are 32.

The body buzz is much better so perhaps that makes up for it.

You’ll never believe me, what I found
Think I’d better follow you around

Who knows, Magellan.

Ask me again in a week.




The memory of all that. No, no, they can’t take that away from me.


How’s it hanging?

Yesterday I got a wisdom tooth out. Yeouch!

Ask me, do I feel any smarter? Jury is still out.

Other than the fact that running a marathon shocked my body into all sorts of *wonderful* new feels, things are going alright.

Let me just tell you about my molar extraction adventure.

Early last week, amidst the lingering aches and pains of the 26.2 miles I inflicted upon my unsuspecting body I began to experience a dull throbbing in my face. My upper left jaw boasted a tooth that was poking out of my gums and intruding into my mouth, effectively stabbing the sides of my cheek.

The way your smile just beams;
The way you sing off key;
The way you haunt my dreams.

By Saturday I could hardly open my mouth, and the swelling was visible on my usually fairly gaunt face.

So I googled “Seattle Dentist open on sunday” (with that exact capitalization). And found the one place that was open. So I called, made an appointment and got my tooth yanked.

559 dollars later at least I have the fun drugs?

It was a very no frills experience. The dentist office lacked the usual fluff of a standard dental practice. The hygienist, a gruff but gentle Russian man couldn’t quite grasp that I was a joker. The actual dentist was almost attractive and at least winked when I responded to his inquiry as to how I was doing with humor.

They shot my gums with Novocaine, and other than about a moments where there was pressure and some very unfortunate sounds as the vessels and bone dislodged from my skull, it was not nearly as bad as my bottom teeth removal.

The wonders of modern dentistry!

The way you hold your knife;
The way we danced ’til three;

I am thankful I have the resources to plunk down half a grand on a “whim.”

It’s funny. Life is really expensive, and there is this threshold that exists. There is a magic amount, for me that is around 100$. See, at any given time there are about eight to 10 things I need in my life that all cost around that much: Running shoes, a passport, a heavier than normal power bill, new pants, whatever. I can’t afford to buy all these things at the same time, so I space them out.

I buy one pair of shoes and use them until they are devoid of cushioning.

I perpetually put off a passport, for the power bill or an unexpected vet trip.

I get reminded of car costs.

I guess what I’m saying is gosh dammit. I was finally feeling caught up with expenses then poof! 500 dollars. But I am very thankful I could afford to pay a professional to end the serious pain that was in my face.

On a cheaper note, the pain pills prescribed for me were only 4.57 for 16 hydrocodones so no wonder there is an opioid problem in America.

If you are wondering if I am high on Vicodin right now you would be correct.  Makes Mondays a whole lot better.

At the same time, thankful to have a job to give me a case of the Mondays.

Ooh, went and watched some hockey last Thursday and though my Blackhawks lost it was a really fun time and I wasn’t gonna go but was glad I did.

Sometimes, we gotta do the stuff we tell ourselves we gotta do.

We may never, never meet again
On on the bumpy road to love.
Still I’ll always, always keep the memory of

I got a month to get a passport, learn the drums and write a novel. Not sure I’m gonna make it but hopefully the Marathon can give me a pass for at least one of those.



Hey you think too much


So I’m a dumb-dumb and woke up Saturday and decided to run a marathon Sunday. With that said, I’m broken. I don’t know how you do all those ultras.

The main question I’m getting right now is “Why?”

I don’t know. I just felt like I needed to see if I could do it.

It was fucking miserable.

It started in the pouring rain, but it was about 50 degrees. So, I shed my coat and ran. Then it got sunny. It was actually quite pleasant while I was running around Seward park and Lake Washington.

Then the rain and the hills started.

At one point I realized I didn’t really need to do anything other than finish.

So I walked.

I mean, I didn’t exactly train for this. I might run every day-ish, but I def didn’t do any long runs over 18 miles in the past well, three years.

Marathons are like tattoos. You need to forget how much they hurt before you do another one.

So I walked. I played this game where I would start running and count to 100, or wait for a good song to end. At some point Pandora started fucking up a lot so I picked from the 4 albums downloaded to my phone.

Let’s just say that Lord Huron got me through about 14 miles of the marathon.

Everything hurts today.

Who hurt you fashion boy?
There’s a dark cloud above your head
Who hurt you sadboy?
You act like you’re already dead
But you think too much
Probably drink too much

But, I had some really nice moments to myself while I was testing my limits.

In the beginning each song that came on Pandora reminded me of people and I tried to take that memory energy and run with it.

Early on, a Helio Sequence song came on and I thought of Joy, the woman who rented me my first house in Seattle. Until the day I die, I will carry “You only regret the risks you don’t take,” with me. Those were her pearls of wisdom she delivered during an hour long phone conversation as we secured details across the country for my sublet.

At mile 4, it was “Wolf like me” and I thought about running around my college town, and my friend Kaitlin who gave me free tickets for Lollapalooza one year where TV on the Radio performed.

Then later at 9, “‘Cause I’m a Man” from Tame Impala made me think of my favorite barista, who coincidentally I had told the previous day that I was about to sign up to run the marathon. I used the idea of this great human to keep one foot moving in front of the other.

Next it was “Settle” by Vera Blue and you know what… It’s been suggested that I settle for things.

At Thanksgiving my father told me that I’m never satisfied, implying that maybe I should just settle. My coworker has also suggested that I settle for the next romantic partner that comes along.

I don’t think I can though.

I can’t settle for a person that doesn’t make me want to be the best version of myself. I can’t settle for a job that bores me or makes me cry at my desk.

I think one of the major challenges I’ve faced is that I just don’t know what it is that I am looking for, be it a person, vocation or whatever.

But I’m working on it. I’m conditioning myself so that when the whim calls, I can do it. I’m trying to take advantage of the time and people in my life to figure out what it all means, and where it is supposed to go. I’m learning as much as I can about how, and why the world works.

Clearly, I wasn’t going to win the marathon, but I was going to finish no matter what.

First, the 3:45 pacers passed me and I was like, okay, that’s fine. And then the 3:50, then the 4:00. I am sure I grimaced when the 4:10 passed but at that point it wasn’t so much about the time as finishing what I started.

It’s hard to do that- finish what you start. I have struggled with that theme across all my efforts in life.

It seems so confusing, especially when you compare yourself to others. How can some people have such a defined goal or endpoint of what they want to achieve while you feel still feel so unsure after all this time?

While I was running, or walking and counting to 100 then running again, I had the crystal clear realization that I am doing just fine.

I’m doing what works for me, and it’s incredible.

I need time. I take it for myself. My ideas can’t be forced. I figure things out when I’m out running, or riding the bus. The way I work, express myself creatively or whatever is magic and it’s mine alone.

I moved across the country, alone. I found a job. I left that one and found a better one. That didn’t work out, but I managed to survive. I have opted to phase people out of my life that aren’t good for me. I have tried, in my own way to seek out people who inspire me to be a better version of yourself.

Here’s the best cheesy metaphor- life isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon.

How fucking true.

And you don’t have to do it for anyone else. Unless you are a super human you are probably not going to win it, and that’s okay.

You have to get through fatigue and pain and freezing rain pellets in a method that only belongs to you.

So you do it, alone. You have to figure out the cadence that works for your mind, and your body. It’s okay to walk if you need to. It’s okay to dash down an hill backed by the momentum of the slope. It’s okay to sing out loud, and high-five little kids.

I think I just wanted to feel connected to myself. Sure, I revel in all this solitude, but I just wanted to see what it felt like to try it. Also, I wanted to surround myself with other people with the same need.

For the last mile, it was “Frozen Pines,” and my body hurt, and I was dangerously cold and wet and miserable but I trudged on, singing out loud to myself like a lunatic. That song has always tugged on those ephemeral strings, especially I’m gonna find a way through there’s another life beyond the line.

And I made it to the line. And two of my friends were there and they even made a sign. And they held me up as I walked around the recovery area, run drunk in my space blanket.

So, yeah! I can do whatever I want. It might not be pretty. It might not be quick. But, I can do it if I tell myself that I am going to.

I almost feel like I could quit writing you these letters. I’m pretty sure you’re not reading them anymore.

But I kind of like them.

Being vulnerable in writing is a risk in it’s own right.

I’ll keep writing until I don’t feel like I need to do it anymore.



This is nothing like it was in my room


Good morning from soggy, sloshy Redmond. This morning’s commute was the most terrifying one yet.

Guess what? Tomorrow I get to go see my family! So much excite.

How was your weekend? Looks like you went and ran real far. I tended to stay home and keep it low key. Roommate and myself decorated for Christmas because we are nerds and I love it.

In my best clothes, trying to think of you
This is nothing like it was in my room
In my best clothes

Went to a house party on Saturday. The home belonged to someone who works with some of my friends. And I happened to have gone on a Tinder date with him. On paper, he’s a catch- owns a home, has a job he really likes, coaches a little kids baseball team and volunteers with the homeless.

But alas, in real life- no spark. A nice dude, nonetheless and everyone had something kind to say about him.

The English are waiting and I don’t know what to do
In my best clothes, this is when I need you

Speaking of friends that work with my friends, at the party there was this other guy who I’ve actually gone on a few dates(?- is that what they were?).

Sometimes you just connect with someone.

The English are waiting and I don’t know what to do
In my best clothes

Like a highschooler I made out with him in the bathroom. Eep.

I’m the new blue-blood
I’m the great white hope
I’m the new blue-blood

So that happened.

I don’t know what I’m doing with my life.

Still need a date for the National. I thought someone else would be going with me, but alas, no.

I have an idea of three people to ask, however:

  1. Will probably just confuse me.
  2. Will also confuse me but at least I know he likes The National. Also, just really want this person as a friend, not a romantic interest.
  3. Will probably just confuse me, also not sure if they like The National. But maybe there is a bathroom we could make out in.

Who to ask, who to ask #firstworldproblems.

I won’t fuck us over, I’m Mr. November
I’m Mr. November, I won’t fuck us over

Gotta ask someone though. It’s a $150 ticket. Could try to sell it on Stubhub, but then I’d just get stuck sitting next to a stranger.

But aren’t we all just strangers?

I wish that I believed in fate, I wish I didn’t sleep so late
I used to be carried in the arms of cheerleaders

So Magellan what’s a girl to do?

I won’t fuck us over, I’m Mr. November
I’m Mr. November, I won’t fuck us over

Trying not to feel resentful when the only people interested in me are completely unavailable. Trying not to kick myself for not feeling anything for the ones who are. Pretty sure I need to start dating someone soon though. It’s been a hot minute.