The other day I went to go see some music and I arrived at the venue way before my friends did because I am neurotic. I was hanging out in the bar while waiting for them to show up but it was extremely crowded so I went outside to chill on the street and get some space.

That's when I met C-Note.

He approached me, gave me the head nod, and then stood right next to me. Like, rightnexttome. I decided to sit down on a windowsill and he decided to keep standing. Right next to me.

Kind of like this except for way more awkward because we were not looking at each other, smiling, and/or communicating in anyway whatsoever. Because we were not friends.

We were like that for a very long while. It felt like seven hours because why-was-he-so-close-to-me-this-is-America-not-Turkey, but in reality it was probably about 90-110 seconds before he made his next move. Which was saying in a very loud voice, "Hey how you doin', my name is C-Note, what's yours?" while thrusting his hand out in my general direction for a hearty handshake.

I shook his hand and told C-Note I was fine. 

Following that, several groups of tourists passed by and we both stared forward at them in silence. Together. Because we were apparently in this together now.

Here's the thing guys. I had no idea what C-Note was trying to do. He was young - like young 20's - and he was not hitting on me nor did he appear to be homeless. No strong smells. Clothes were Asheville-Standard (which may be considered borderline homeless in some areas but we are very in touch with our inner hobo in this town so I didn't jump to any conclusions). I glanced at him furtively a number of times while we were collectively looking at the street and he did not notice in the least. After that, I decided to be bold and I said, "So what's up C-Note," and when he outright ignored me I decided that he was playing a game to see if he could make me uncomfortable enough to move. Once I realized this (I can be very intuitive, people) I had the upper hand. Because I WAS THERE FIRST. Since I am a child and I had an excess of time, I decided to wait it out. 

C-Note lit a cigarette. 

I took out my cell phone and typed "C-Note" into my notes section.

Another eternity passed and I was beginning to get bored. Why was C-Note ignoring me? I decided that he was VERY good at his game, perhaps better than me.

Just when I was about to leave, C-Note sat down next to me. Finally.
I looked at him square in the face and repeated my OG question.

 "So what's up C-Note?"

And do you want to know what he said? Of course you do.

He said, "Hey, I was just wondering if you had five dollars."

Five dollars? FIVE?! 

When did this happen? When did it become a thing to ask for more than one dollar?


Also, why did it take you 100 years to ask for the fiver, C-Note. 

I wanted to tell him that he could have saved $5 if he hadn't bought his pack of cigarettes. I wanted to tell him to choose a better audience for this type of proposition in the future, perhaps a person wearing more expensive shoes. I wanted to tell him that you have to provide some sort of performance for that kind of money that goes beyond the invasion of personal space - we live in a busking town after all. But the entire interaction had been so bizarre, like a really bad commercial for off brand cologne or something - I didn't know how to fix it. So I simply said, "No."

Then C-Note said to me very carefully and calmly, "That's ok. You are very blessed. And you will have a blessed life." While he said this he laid his hand on the back of my neck very assertively. Then he got up and walked away.

I, too, left the windowsill after this final interaction and reentered the bar. I found my friend Mary and immediately had her check my neck for a chip or a monitoring device of some sort because guys, I am pretty sure that C-Note is an alien and I have been marked. 



Forgotten holidays

I am currently sitting outside in the blazing heat going through old photos to try and clear out my google drive because gmail keeps sending me threatening messages about no longer accepting new emails due to the fact that my storage is full. Which is rude. I obsessively go through and delete emails on a monthly basis so that I never have to deal with this type of  situation. But apparently I have all sorts of videos and pics that are ruining my organizational flow, tucked away in Google storage, a place on the inter-webs where I never travel to unless forced by unnatural circumstances.

What I have found is astounding. Shared photo albums of long lost travels. Pictures of me with princess hair. Garbage that people sent me which I never meant to download. Videos of terrible dance parties. And most importantly for today, Christmas.

Don't be fooled, this is not a post about family gatherings. No, this blog is about Christmas Creatures that I have photographed. I'd like to invite you to take a look at an older blog post I wrote about Christmas in Turkey a few years ago. I also included a little Romania for good measure in that entry. Honestly, nothing is better than Christmas in Turkey. Everything is a little bit terrifying - which is exactly how I like my holidays.

This year I found myself in Paris during the holiday season. I love European Christmas markets!! They are so charming and weird. Paris was no exception.

The first thing we noticed upon entering the market was the music. Allow me to set the scene: they were playing a recording of Christmas carols - in English - but the tune, beat and lyrics were a little off for every song. Much like this:

Then we met this guy:

I know it's Santa's thing to get on roofs and break into people's homes, but this Santa really looks like he just robbed a bank. Since when does Santa travel with a rope?

As it turns out, that was not the only slightly odd Santa. There were many displays to see and some of them had more than one Santa within - isn't that against the rules of Christmas magic?

Why is he on a cellphone? THEY HAVEN'T EVEN LEFT THE NORTH POLE YET.

But at least those Santas weren't salacious.


I actually have about 14 of these photos with different Christmas statues. I'm quite possibly the most obnoxious person in the world. But come on. Look at its paw. 

And then there was the dinosaur scene. Because every good Christmas market needs a dinosaur scene.

These dinosaurs have lots of fingers which is PROBABLY why they are so good at wrapping gifts. 

As well as the African Savannah.

Why aren't they dressed up and/or giving gifts? That's racist.

More strange than that, Uncle Sam was there,

looking dapper/angry

 A Santa with the name-tag "Steve,"

"I also play the saxophone," I said to Steve.

And a Thriller Christmas roller coaster.

I think it cost 10 Euro each to ride. Maybe 5. Worth every cent. 

So that was Paris. It was all I needed to make my holiday merry. But guys? This year was exceptional. I also got into some crazy Christmas madness in Toledo, Ohio.

When we initially entered the Toledo Christmas bonanza, we were greeted by this dapper fellow: 

I mean, I guess I'm happy for him that he got his face glued back together again.  It's not another sad case of Humpty Dumpty anyway.

After that we wandered around Christmas Kitchen,

Where all the misfits poison you

We said Seasons Greetings to our friends, the sad fox family,

I'm pretty sure the fox in the background is holding a gun

Then quickly walked past the haunted dead baby family.

After that I was reminded about how I got my bangs permed in elementary school that one time,

I looked just like that

And following that we left, saying goodbye to the depressed holiday train on the way out.

Am I missing something? What does this have to do with Christmas? And why is there so much garbage around it?

So how about all that?! I mean, it's probably better that I saved it for July so that it's an even more special treat, right?


I wonder what holiday treasures Asheville will bring forth this year! I CAN'T WAIT for Santa Con!!


Leather and weapons for the fam

It has been about a year. Is there anyone out there who still wants to hear my rambling? I've got a few stories that have happened to me in the last 365 if you do.

Starting with the glory of all glories, the Renaissance festival. Have you ever been? Up until this fall, I hadn't been to one in close to 15 years. But I used to be a bit of a regular in my glory days. (Glory days = the days when I had the metabolism of a hummingbird and the charm of a viking.)

Ren fest is great because it makes the important things in life simple and awesome. The most important thing is eating. You can get everything imaginable deep fried, including turkey legs which I often mistakenly call chicken legs. (In case you were wondering, there is never a shortage of people who are ready to correct me on this.)

But the other most important thing is that this is an environment where people just do what they do. It's refreshing. The confidence of people at a Ren fest is inspiring. It is a place where you feel compelled to do all the things.

You stop and listen to the rock bands on every corner. Rock bands here usually contain a flute of some sort, an accordion, and often a lute, among other things.
You get a dress custom made for yourself and add a lot of bags to it to collect your treasures in.
You say wassup to Gandalf and his dead friend.
You find your kin and unite.
You share cokes with small fairy dogs.
You make new friends and hold their weapons.

I love it y'all. I really do. But you know what I don't love? I don't love being pulled up on stage to take part in ridiculous nonsense. This has been a problem my entire adult life. I don't get it. I can be sitting in the back of an auditorium, looking through my purse, saying my silent prayer of invisibility, and as SOON as the performance calls for audience participation, it's as if the entire room goes quiet and everyone is staring at me. I've been forced into improv routines at comedy shows, convinced to talk to puppets, bullied into holding people up, coerced into flipping food during cooking performances, pushed into dancing on stages in front of apathetic audiences ... Once I even had to salsa with a monster on a Peruvian train.

I was smiling in terror. That's a thing, a terror smile.
Look at it. C'mon, REALLY DUDE?
And maybe you're thinking to yourself, "Well, you have a choice. You don't have to do it."

THAT'S NOT TRUE! I always say no, repeatedly. Every single time. It doesn't matter. I am a magnet for the stage. 

The Ren fest was no different. I will admit, it was my idea to check out the magic show. They're fun! I chose a seat on a wooden bench in the midst of a sea of onlookers. The magician took the stage and started his dynamic performance when all of a sudden it was happening again ... he was scanning the crowd for a volunteer, i.e. ME. 

I whispered to my friend, "This is it. Just like I told you. I always get picked. He's going to pick me to get on that freakin stage."

I heard his booming voice through my anxious, hushed tones, "And how about that lady in the green dress?! Get up here! I need your help."

I looked down at my lap, feigning ignorance.

"I know you hear me!" He stepped off the stage and walked determinedly in my direction through the narrow aisle.

I glanced up and accidentally made eye contact. It was over.

"Yeah you! Come on up here!"

I shook my head no. He grabbed my hand.

Step 1: Tentative. What does he want from me. Everything is about to go wrong.
Step 2: Alone on the stage. What the hell is he doing. Sweating. Mild panic.
Step 3: Discomfort, borderline humiliation. Terror smile. Internal mantra on repeat "Please end soon. Please end soon."

This is just my life. How is this my life.

Does anyone have a solution for me? Like, how can I avoid this? It literally never gets easier. Does this happen to you? What am I doing wrong? I need a plan.

Despite the distress of stage time, the Renaissance fest IS the best. It is usually 105 degrees or raining or a combination thereof throughout the day. Also, the crowds can get fairly intense. So come prepared with money for snacks, layers to peel off and deflect mud, shoes you are not attached to, and perhaps a weapon to assist you in moving through the throngs of people. Also, although chainmail armor is socially acceptable to wear in this environment, the people who do often regret it.  

Get out there friends! Don a feather in your cap, fill your quiver with arrows, and join me the next time this festy comes to town.


My ears are perked

Since I have been back in the United States of America I have witnessed the robust chanting of, "USA! USA!" on two distinct occasions.

#1: I was tubing down a river in rural North Carolina with three of my fave friends. Upon rounding a bend we heard the patriotic calling. As the women screaming came into sight, we realized that they were yelling at us. They were so impressed with our tubing sportsmanship that they felt compelled to treat us as if we were competing in an Olympic event. I can't say that I blame them. We looked glorious on the river that day. They hailed us over, regaled us with stories of Bunco girls gone wild, filled our Nalgenes with champagne and then sent us on our merry way with multiple river roadies.

I aspire to be one of these ladies when I grow up. Their positive spirit got us through many hardships later that afternoon including (but not limited to) being chased by a very large water snake, weathering a lightning storm, and bushwhacking our way up the side of a mountain through poison ivy and pricker bushes in the hopes of finding a quick hitch hike back to our car that was parked many miles away.

#2: The other event that I heard, "USA! USA!" being spontaneously hollered at with unabashed vigor was at the demolition derby in Saline, Michigan. The demolition derby was one of the best days of my life. It was a family event for white people of some walks of life and I've never felt so out of place and in my element all at one time before. I wasn't wearing camouflage, which is a mistake I will NOT make again if I ever get the opportunity to return to an event such as the one I attended, but I was full of spirit and tried to catch on to the flow of what was happening as the action unfolded around me. There were many things that I expected and was not disappointed about such as large amounts of spraying mud, car fires, and uncomfortable port-a-potty experiences. There were also surprises. Top of the list of delightful happenings at the derby was a monster truck named Kasey. That's right - my childhood nickname spray painted white on the side of the cab of a monster truck that didn't win but put up a damn good fight. Just like me on so many occasions in my life. That truck and I were kindred spirits.

Most of my pictures turned out pretty terribly. This one is of a car moving a car.

This one is of a smashed car and some white people.

And then

This one is of a guy giving a victory speech on top of his monster truck. The crowd was really going wild. I could hear exactly zero words that he said but it was epic.

In other words,


I'm holding my breath and keeping my ears tuned for more patriotic spirit to bring joy and intrigue into my life.

I will end this blog with a parting gift.

Here is a photo of a vehicle so grand that I pulled over and was late to my upcoming appointment so that I could appreciate it in all of it's splendor. It was super worth it. Are you ready for it?

YES. You CAN use this as your computer backdrop. We all can.

Hearts and hugs.


Faith in humanity

I have been back in the United States of America for close to two months now and it is beginning to feel normal. I mean, the adjustment to owning a car and taking care of my own problems without another adult helping me speak feels commonplace again.

I look back on the day that I left Turkey in July with all my most valued possessions tucked into four very large suitcases that I was managing (some what unsuccessfully) on my own and thinking about how as soon as I got into my native land no one was going to be nice to me anymore. My sweet boyfriend said to me in a voice filled with endearing consolation and compassion as he helped me pick up the suitcase that toppled forward for the 8th time, "Don't worry, people will help you get your bags to your car when you arrive at your final destination." I considered this notion for a brief moment before I repositioned the bag carefully and replied in a dejected tone,  "I'm afraid that is wrong of you to assume."

And it was an incorrect assumption. When I arrived at the Detroit Metro Airport after close to 24 hours of travel and endless security checks, I noticed all of the people noticing me: the haggard 30 something year old woman pulling her dead-weight-mismatched-over-sized luggage off the conveyor belt...and sweating it. I noticed them watch me as I dragged the cart with the backwards wheel over to my area so I could pile my bags upon it to get them outside. I noticed them avert their eyes as I struggled to haul and lift those monstrosities on top of each other all by myself. I couldn't help but think that if I were anywhere outside the US I would have had oodles of people offering up their assistance.

So annoying. 

The entire experience made me feel sorry for myself for ending up back in a place in which I was not quite ready to return.


Aren't you glad there was a but? This is not a sob story, dear readers. Although I do love toiling in my own misfortune from time to time, I am not here to write about the negative. Number 1, ain't nobody want to read about that. Number 2, my life is pretty awesome and I am an extremely fortunate individual so I don't actually have a negative story to tell.

Here is the thing. Doing something difficult is...difficult. It feels way better when someone holds your hand through the process and puts you at ease. However sometimes it is good to struggle because then you can figure out how much gumption you actually have.

This applies to much more than lifting heavy things of course. But check it out:

what uppppppp! I pulled all that out on my own - just under 300 lbs of things when it was all said and done. I felt like a magnificent beast. Thanks for not helping me fellow citizens of Detroit. I understand that you probably thought I was a terrorist. 
So back to my original point: Re-acclimating to the United States of America - it has been OK! Better than OK, really! I'm not gonna lie, the frequent usage of Trump signs in people's front yards was pretty NOT OK. I wanted to take pictures of them because it was fantastically bewildering to me - it was like a field of artificially planted racism fertilized with ignorance. I couldn't avert my eyes from them for a solid week. It was like a terrifying massacre of common sense. It was much scarier than seeing ghosts. But eventually I pushed my gaze past that blemish on the American landscape and started noticing other things, some of them being quite delightful. Like the mini van driven by the large Caucasian gentleman in his 70s that had a bumper sticker that read, "Michigangster." That was cool.

And this:


When I started to realize that the world around me was still hilarious, even in my tiny little corner of Midwest suburbia, I began to feel like myself again. Feeling like myself again was great because I got bogged down in the petty little hateful stuff for a minute and I really didn't like that much at all.

Shortly after I had the revelation that I could be happy here, I had another epiphany. Well actually, I decided to run an experiment on myself. I haven't really talked about it out loud, I've mostly just had conversations in my head about this topic, but here is what I decided: I was going to pretend I was on vacation. 

Now don't get me wrong, I knew I had to get a job (check, I am gainfully employed if you were wondering) and act like an adult a little bit. But aside from that, everything else was fair game. What did I have to lose? Being on vacation makes me happy. If I am happy, people around me are happier. Everyone wins. 

So it began. I got into my vacation mindset. What is my vacation mindset you ask? It is pretty basic and I give credit to my friend Maria who helped me define it many years ago during our treks across the world. Three rules:

1) Try all the food
2) Follow the music
3) Say yes to every invitation

It's funny to think that if I had just applied these rules to my everyday life long ago, my daily levels of joy could have increased tremendously.

You live, you learn.

Many things have changed for me since I decided to live my life as if I were on perma-vacation. Nothing insane. Little things though, the types of occurrences that are sometimes so darn small that you might miss them. 

For starters, I noticed that people talk to me all the time. Not just good mornings and hellos. I mean, people start full on conversations with me everywhere I go. Like, "Hey, you look a bit tired. Did you have trouble sleeping? Maybe you should get a coffee. There is a Starbucks around the corner. Do you know how to get there?" at Kroger. Or, "Hi! What are you reading? Are you from town? Are you a student? Are you comfortable in that chair? Do you like when the sun shines in on you from the window like that?" at a coffee shop. Or, "I love your tree necklace! Where did you get it? I have to show you something!" from nearly every child I pass everyday. It's not even a big charm, how do they all notice it?

I'll admit, I was taken aback by all this chattiness upon arrival to the States. Frankly, I was so used to tuning out my surroundings in Turkey for so many years that when I got here I didn't even realize that people were talking to me. I was constantly looking around to see who the strangers were addressing and then giving startled responses when I recognized that they were in fact talking directly to me. But now I like it. I like the human connection. I never would have considered connecting with the stranger in line at the DMV about the tornado warning from last night that kept him in his flooded basement for four and a half hours. Never. I truly enjoy relaxing with my thoughts all by myself. But since these interactions keep insisting upon happening, I feel my heart beginning to warm to them.

Another thing I have noticed is that my patience has been steadily increasing. Waiting on hold, standing in lines, attempting to figure out what the hell my nephew is trying to explain to me, etc. I've got time! When you are on vacation, you don't really need to get anything done in too much of a hurry. So I have begun to let things run their course. Then, when I am finally to the point of interaction from my end, I'm not so flustered.

Take buying my car for example. I knew I was going to get what I paid for, which wasn't much. I did some research and then went to a dealership to buy a used car. It's not great. It's a hoopty. But I had all of the history reports on damage and maintenance and so I knew what I was getting myself into which was fine by me. Well, sure enough, on the drive home the old girl starts making noises that were not... comforting. Long story short she had some big problems - which sent me into a full blown panic attack because I had just signed to buy the car "as is."

I knew that I had two options  - pay for the things to be fixed on my own (sadness) or call the dealership and plead my case (stress). Normal me would have begrudgingly paid for it to be fixed because I couldn't be bothered with hashing things out with the dealership - and then I would have penny pinched everything for the next 6 months to make up for the lost money. But vacation me took a deep breath and made the first stressful call with a full dose of sweetness. I talked to four different people over the next few days, each many, MANY times. But in the end they fixed everything for free and gave me a loaner to drive around in the meantime. They were so nice.

I LITERALLY couldn't believe it. Since when are people so darn nice??!

I imagine I felt like the double rainbow guy did.

While visiting Asheville, things were even more ridiculous. I mean people were off the hook nice. At one point I was trying to parallel park my rental car (have I mentioned I am a pretty bad driver?) and it wasn't going well. I had pulled into a spot because it looked really big. But then I thought maybe I wasn't straight enough. So I pulled out and tried it again. It still didn't feel right. Meanwhile there was a group of gentlemen sitting nearby watching me and a full stream of traffic cruising steadily by my vehicle. I began to sweat nervously and considered driving away because I felt like an asshole. However, I decided I should give it one more shot because really, what do I care? I don't live in Asheville anymore and those guys don't care about me either. They probably weren't even really watching me, right? I gave it one more shot and lo and behold, I nailed it. Third time truly is a charm.

I began to collect my belongings from the passenger seat when I noticed one of the gentlemen whom I thought had been watching me approach my car. He motioned for me to roll down my window and then proceeded to tell me that I could leave my car as it was if I wanted to but that I might get a ticket since I was entirely on the sidewalk. I looked at him and said, "Really? I thought I had it this time. You watched all of that didn't you? I'm so embarrassed." He very sweetly replied that it was a tricky spot because it was on a curve and the sidewalk was flat. And then. Then! He offered to re-park my car.

I was flabbergasted. It was nice enough of him to present my shortcomings in such a kind and nonthreatening way but then to extend this random act of kindness? As the shock rolled over my face he added, "I'm not going to steal your car. I promise. You just look like you might need some help."

So I got out, handed him my keys, and let his friends tease me a bit while he perfectly executed the parking job like a master of a trade.

After he handed me back my keys and we all gave each other genuine farewells, I realized that I needed to add one more rule on my vacation mindset list:

4) Trust.

Not everyone out there in this world is good. But I honestly think that most people are. If I listen to my intuition, things always work out.

I feel blessed to have had the opportunity to learn these things through trial and error, with a lot of time left over to experience how great the world can be.

That's it for now. Thanks for stopping your day to read my thoughts!


Trying to be cool while traveling in Vietnam

I went to Vietnam recently -- it was great. I saw beautiful monuments and learned history. Because that's what you do there.

But I'd rather talk about other topics because you can read about monuments and history on travel websites and in books and stuff.

I'd rather talk about embarrassing things.

One thing that was highly recommended for Hoi An was to enroll in a cooking class. I thought that sounded intriguing (and I really like food) so I signed the hell up.

It was a package deal -- shopping in the market for ingredients, canoeing through rice paddies to a secret island and cooking with a chef who was terrifying.

Doesn't it look ideal?

The chef wasn't marketed as terrifying and in fact, she started off in an extremely pleasant manner. I would even go so far as to call her sweet upon first impressions. But that all changed once I attempted to cook. Now listen, I'm not going to be on top chef, but I am not a bad cook. I make food in my home all the time and I think it is delicious. I do get stressed in situations that have an audience, aka large dinner parties, etc. But I thought that would be no problem in a cooking class because ultimately I was just cooking for myself, right?

Wrong. The chef was there to judge. And scorn.

Don't be fooled by her seemingly affable nature.

Step one was to make a spring roll - for which I received an approving head nod. But I lost a lot of ground fast after that. It was the required skillet flips that really got me flustered because I have poor hand-eye coordination...during the rest of the class I had many words thrown in my direction like, "Wrong!" "No!" and "Danger!" These exclamations were followed by deep sighs of sadness from the Boss Chef.

The class was stressful. However, at the end of the day I still thought my Asian cuisine was pretty tight.

But traveling can be stressful for a plethora of reasons, not just harsh criticism during cooking classes. For instance, everywhere I went in Vietnam, people told me to be very careful about being robbed on the streets. I never got robbed but I did get chased by an angry local one day.

An angry man chased me on the beach. It was mostly my fault. See, my friends and I found a wicker boat next to the water that day. It was really cool-looking so of course we started to stage a series of photos portraying us falling out of the boat and drowning. This was really fun and awesome until the owner of the boat came running down the hill screaming a violent Vietnamese rant in our direction. I assumed he wanted to stab me seeing as how I was the only one currently in the boat when he arrived. I jumped out of the boat and ran. This did not deter him. He continued to scream as he ran after me.

Here is one of our photos. Pretty good, huh? Moral of the story: If you fall out of a boat and I am the last person left safely inside of it, I'll probably just wave goodbye instead of trying to help you. You're welcome.

I was REALLY scared. I knew I was going to die or in the very least be assaulted by this very angry man. And I probably deserved it. But it turns out he wanted to return my backpack to me that I left in his boat while I was playing. So that made me feel better.

Those weren't the only times I was scared on this holiday. One day I woke up with a really stiff neck. That morning I didn't have time to wallow in self pity about it (like I usually do) because I had signed up for a walking food tour. (Really, I plan all of my trips around food) So I found my guide for the tour and was off. Well, as the morning wore on my guide began to notice my awkward movements (rotating the entire upper half of my body when he pointed something out rather than just turning my face to the right or left.) When the opportunity presented itself he approached me and said in a hushed tone, "Pardon me, but do you have neck pain today?" I replied affirmatively and he continued with his line of questioning. "If you don't mind me asking," he went on, "might you have had scary dreams last night?"  I was mildly alarmed by this question because I had in DEED had bad dreams the previous night. He must have sensed the answer from the look on my face because without a verbal response he said to me, "Aahhh, I see. Just as I thought. I have a solution for you when we arrive at the meat market."

About a half hour later I arrived at the said destination. It was brought to my attention that demons needed to be released from my neck/soul and that the way to do so was via an application of aggressive skin scraping and cupping practices done on the dirt floor of the local market, administered by a very sweet woman who spoke absolutely no English aside from the word "yes." So that is what I did

trying to be cool
end result
The demons were not released.

So that's a wrap. To be continued some day down the line. Happy Summer everyone:)


Accommodating the 7th Secret

Lately, when I am taking a break from my regular reading selections (which are typically trashy Victorian romance novels) I read spiritual self help books. So that I can get better at life.

This is what I imagine my goddess spirit guide to look like.
I'm not sure if this is working but it makes me feel like I am moving towards self improvement.

The other day I brought the self help book that I am currently reading to the office and I typed out a section during my break. Then I printed out multiple copies and distributed them to several colleagues. I thought they might like it.

As it turns out, not everyone is interested in changing their realities by accessing the Universal Principles via alchemy (aka magic). Who knew?

I assume everyone is always thinking the same thing that I am thinking.
Is that wrong?

So then I got to thinking, "Am I wasting my time?"

Despite my spiritual self help, I have yet to stop/change any of my negative behaviors. I regularly find myself doing things like eating candy while reading health articles, pressing my snooze at least seven to nine times in a row on most work mornings and binge watching trashy television shows like Project Runway-Australia for hours on end. A few weeks ago I invited over 15 people for dinner club and tried a new recipe which resulted in poor time management, panic, yelling at the guests at the door to go away, and a last minute "peanut butter washing in the sink" episode. I was at a really low point when I recently forced my boyfriend to try on my jeans and then lamented over the fact that he looks better in them than I do.

Why do I keep setting myself up for disaster?

I think I may be focusing my brain energy on the wrong areas in my life.

Take Elizabeth Babstein for instance. Who is Elizabeth Babstein? I'm not quite sure. But my students act like she is real. They regularly refer to her, sometimes in first person (like, they pretend to be her), sometimes in passing. Sometimes they call her a princess, sometimes a queen, but often just an everyday lady. After about a month of Elizabeth Babstein talk at school, I finally googled her. And you know what? Elizabeth Babstein isn't real.

Yet I am still thinking of her.

Then this week I've been plagued by sadistic snowmen. I know that children made them and that they probably are not actually infused with evil, but still. They scare me each and every day when I walk down the damn hall.

Here is one that wants to murder me.

Here is another one. It's mouth is like a black hole that wants to suck me in and crush me.

Et cetera.

How do YOU get the unnecessary junk out of your head? Let me know.