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Author: thetypicalbroad@gmail.com

Haiku Mondays

Posted on June 8, 2015June 8, 2015 by thetypicalbroad@gmail.com

I’ve started a new project to keep me writing, at least a little bit, each day.

I’m calling it #DailyHaiku.

Props to my friend Melissa for reminding me recently how much I love haiku. She and I, along with several others I went to high school with, wrote silly haiku (that’s the plural version of the word) during drama club rehearsal. We recently had this “OMG remember that?!” moment on Facebook, and it made me contemplate haiku again.

For those not familiar, haiku is a form of Japanese verse that is written in 17 syllables divided into three lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables. I wouldn’t normally explain this, because my background in English and journalism makes it seem pretty obvious, but this week I realized it isn’t obvious to some who don’t possess a little background in poetry and verse.

Each week I plan to share my week’s worth of haiku, in case you happened to miss them on my social media pages during the week. My goal is to portray my life as is – the funny moments, happy moments, things I struggle with, and more.

Here are my haiku from the past week. I hope you enjoy.

Rain, a loving sound
bringing life to the weary
leaves and green to graves

The birds are confused.
Is it winter or summer?
Should we fly elsewhere?

I don’t mind traffic.
More time to sing in the car
and enjoy the sun.

Some days are harder
You try to forget it all
Then you remember

If you go visit
Plymouth you don’t need to see
the rock. This is it.

My brother hates me
and will never forgive me.
He never loved me.

How could he if it’s
so easy to write me off?
I wish him the best

even though it hurts
like hell and I feel as though
I’m a bag of trash

thrown out without a
second thought by him. I guess
that’s what I deserve.

Not many people
understand the battle scars
from wars of the mind.

That is why you learned
to be so entertaining;
so you could hide them.

But there comes a time
when you can’t hide anymore
or laugh them away.

It gets exhausting
to put on a show each day.
And people will leave

because they like the
show and not you. You wonder
who the hell you are

behind the curtain.
But others who are backstage
have known all along.

Mad Max is a Feminist Masterpiece

Posted on June 5, 2015November 23, 2015 by thetypicalbroad@gmail.com

If you haven’t gone to see Mad Max: Fury Road yet, you should definitely try to catch it this weekend.

On the surface, it’s your typical action flick. But the thing I LOVE about this film is that it depicts its male and female leads as equals. With no romance or damsel-in-distress syndrome. Just equal strength and mutual respect for one another.

Many leading feminist publications have been raving about Mad Max too. And in the wake of the release of the film, the #FeministMadMax meme was born.

And now there’s a Tumblr for it.

My favorite Feminist Mad Max meme has to be this one:

Why? Because I love that the film doesn’t ONCE show the female characters being raped or taken advantage of. I appreciate this because too often, when rape occurs in movies, it is sexualized. It becomes an excuse to show some leading lady tit and ass. Films hardly ever depict the absolute horror that rape is, and the trauma that results from it. Rape in film should ALWAYS make you feel uncomfortable and angry.

But it doesn’t. Because Hollywood.

I respect that Mad Max: Fury Road didn’t choose this route, and instead focused on how AWESOME and kick-ass these women are, particularly Imperator Furiosa (played by Charlize Theron), who saves the day WITH ONLY ONE ARM. We believe the women’s lives under an evil ruler were brutal without having to be shown.‪ Why else would they make such a desperate attempt to escape?

And what a BADASS name for a female lead. Imperator Furiosa. BAM! I want to change my name to that immediately.

And in the spirit of the film, Tom Hardy also gloriously shot down a reporter who asked a ridiculously sexist question about the story line. How hot is THAT?! (Male feminists give this chick the vapahs).

And you know what I just learned? Director George Miller recruited the Vagina Monologues writer Eve Ensler to speak with the actresses who played the sex slaves. She helped them understand what women who’ve been through war and sexual captivity might be like. Ensler is an expert on violence against women and its effects, and has worked to help end violence against women globally for more than 20 years. I cannot think of a better person to consult on this groundbreaking film!

So go watch it, and enjoy the feminist fury!!!

Can’t get enough of feminist film? Be sure to watch for Suffragette, coming out this October! Carey Mulligan, Helena Bonham Carter, and Meryl Streep are starring in it. I’m SO IN.

Men In Motion at Guilt Nightclub, Boston

Posted on May 19, 2015May 19, 2015 by thetypicalbroad@gmail.com

Last Saturday was my friend Amber’s bachelorette party. She and my brother from another mother, Rob, are getting MARRIED this Saturday. Isn’t that adorable?

Commence “AWWWWWWWW”…

Okay stop that.

We went to the Guilt Nightclub in Boston to watch Men in Motion, a male revue that is similar to what you see in Magic Mike (Which, in my opinion, was a fucked up movie. It got way too real at some points).

Anyway, I’m not much for strip clubs. My first and only experience with a strip club was at my sister-in-law’s bachelorette party. We ended up at The Palace in Saugus, downstairs from what used to be the Bahama Beach Club (an 18 under club I got stalked at when I was 16 to the point that I had to hide in the ladies room). It was a strip club called Male Encounter. And it was gross. Because Saugus.

I was drunk, but I distinctly remember dudes in neon green banana hammocks dancing on tables and they were FUCKING HAIRY. And the hair was matted up on their asses due to all the oil and sweat. It was disgusting, it smelled, and it scarred me for life.

Luckily, the Men in Motion show at the Guilt Nightclub in Boston provided a better experience.

Sure, many of the dudes looked like they belonged on Jersey Shore. Sure, while most of the girls were “WOO!!!”ing, I was laughing my ass off in the corner at the ridiculousness of it all. But it was much, much better than your average strip club experience. The guys made it fun. And I had to appreciate some of the dance moves they pulled off in their routines.

It's fun to stay at the WANG-M-C-A! — It’s fun to stay at the WANG-M-C-A!

At the beginning of the night, we took a picture in front of a sign in the T station that said EXIT TO WANG, because I’m 12. We got to Guilt early and ended up seated in a corner, safely away from the stage. I thought, “Oh good,” because I’m a cheap ass and didn’t want to be pressured to tip anyone or risk touching them. I didn’t want to touch anyone, or have anyone touch me. But the Men in Motion website states that they guys “might still flirt with you.” Yeah, I researched it.

We stood up on the booth seating to watch the show from a safe distance.

We weren’t safe.

The gents do come out into the crowd. And our VIP lady was grinded on (ground on?) by some dude with tribal tattoos and a mohawk. But he was okay. He was giving attention to the bride-to-be, and that’s what the night was all about.

And then he gave her a hug, which was sweet.

A little after that I was standing in the corner when this guy in a purple Red Sox cap (Seriously, now we have purple hats?!) snuck up on me from behind the corner. I turned away and acted all squeamish, like I’m some prude. AHHH don’t touch me!!! I thought (I’m a complete germaphobe). So the dude bit the bottom of my dress and started pulling it with his teeth. Which made me freak out even more, which my girlfriends found hilarious.

He let go and disappeared around the corner. I peeked around the corner to make sure he was gone. My girlfriends continued to cackle.

And my face was like:

Then our bride-to-be was called up to the stage to sit in the hot seat. Oh Jesus. I made my way up toward the stage so I could discreetly get a few pics.

There were 4 other brides-to-be in the “hot seat” on stage. The emcee (who looked EXACTLY like Michael Westen from Burn Notice) asked us if we love a man in uniform. Commence drunk WOO!!!ing from WOO-girls.

This guy came out on the stage in a (hopefully fake) Navy uniform. I thought of how pissed my husband would be if a male stripper did a skit in a Marine uniform. Oh my God, he would be so pissed at the disrespect toward his beloved Corps. As would the rest of his Marine friends. They would probably riot over it if they saw it.

The Navy’s not that sacred, apparently. Admit it, you’re all a bunch of womanizing assholes anyway.

Then we were asked if we’re looking for a hero. More WOO!!!!ing. Navy man whipped his dress whites off, revealing Superman undies.

Which made me laugh my ass off, because the man Amber is marrying is the BIGGEST comic nerd on the planet. It made me laugh even more because earlier that evening Rob and I discussed how funny it would be if the Men in Motion did a full-on Avengers routine. (Think of it, Men in Motion! Captain America, Thor, Iron Man, Hulk, Hawkeye, and a surprise appearance from Nick Fury. It would fucking KILL).

Then the man in Superman undies proceeded to (redacted to preserve the bride’s dignity).

After that, I went to the bar and saw some girls ordering something that looked delicious. “WHAT IS THAT?” I asked loudly and obnoxiously. “It’s a Malibu Bay Breeze,” this girl replied, like it was totally obvious. I don’t know what girly drinks are, so I needed some guidance.

“I’ll have one of those,” I told the bartender. Look at me, being a girl.

“10 dollars,” he replied. Jesus Christ. #TypicalBoston

I went back to my corner with my coconutty girly drink and proceeded to die laughing with the girls over how perfect the Superman undies routine was for Amber. As I was sipping on my cocktail, my friend in the purple hat peeked around the corner again. “Oh no!!!” I said, giggling. He rawred at me, biting the air instead of my dress, and disappeared again. The girls lost it.

Another dude came over my way, and I gave him a dollar so he would get away from me. I held out the bill, and he opened his underwear. You couldn’t see any privates, because there were so many dollar bills. I dropped the bill into his undies (from a safe height) and thought, “how weird is my life?”

But then I thought, “how weird is his life?” and in my buzzed state I began wondering about him and the other dancers. What are their stories? Why do they do this? How much money do they make? What do they do to train? I saw another guy go by who looked like he had a scar from a bullet wound in his shoulder. What was his story? I wondered what it would be like to interview the Men in Motion. Is there more than meets the eye?

Then I felt bad that I hadn’t given my friend in the purple hat a tip. I have to give it to him: he made me laugh! I appreciated that more than any skin I saw that night. So when the lights came on at last call, I made sure to find him.

I found him and offered a tip. When he recognized me, he shouted something in Spanish and put his arms up in excitement. I’m assuming he said something like, “Oh look, it’s the prude!!!” Then he gave me a hug that was genuine, warm, and not creepy. It was so odd, and kind of cool.

On social media, I posted my eyebrow pic with, “Mah dress got bit.” -at the Guilt Nightclub

The next day I got this text. Because this is my life.

AHHHH!!!

Good thing my Dad is hip.

I was also at Rob’s bachelor party on Friday (in spirit). My husband Greg is a co-best man in the wedding, and co-hosted a Roast of Rob for his bachelor party.

Here’s a recording of the full roast on The Worst Episode Ever podcast page. Give it a listen. It’s fun, especially if you know Rob personally. My roast letter is the 4th one in, kindly read by my friend Todd.

Congratulations to Rob and Amber!!! I can’t wait to get smashed in your honor this Saturday!!!

Throwback Journal: Money Talks (with Roberto)

Posted on April 23, 2015April 21, 2015 by thetypicalbroad@gmail.com

Photo credit

My good friend, whom I call Roberto, works in finance.

Back in 2005, when I was a ripe 22-year-old college student, he advised me on whether or not to get a credit card via AOL Chat (Good ol’ AOL chat).

Here was his advice. (WARNING: Explicit language ahead).

12/30/2005

Roberto: I mean, it’s usually a bad idea to get a credit card unless you know you’ll have a steady source of income in the near future
Roberto: because everyone says they’ll use it for necessities. That’s what I said when I first got a credit card, but now I’m in debt
Roberto: it’s to the point where I just don’t care anymore, and I swipe the card more than I wipe my own ass
Roberto: And honestly, there are NO good credit cards out there
Roberto: They charge a ridiculous amount of interest, and they rape you up the ass with fees
Roberto: And if you’re ever late or go above your credit line, they stick their 15-inch dick in baking soda, then shove it ALL the way up your asshole
Roberto: you’d almost be able to feel it come out of your mouth
Roberto: like, with most cards, if you have a 13.99% APY (which is the usual), when you default (violate terms of the credit card), it usually goes up somewhere between 23.99% and 27.99%
Roberto: so for every $100, you’d get charged $28 a year to carry that debt
Roberto: if you default
Roberto: BUT
Roberto: if you’re responsible
Roberto: it would only cost you about $14 per year to borrow each $100
Roberto: get what the wise man is saying?
Roberto: so let’s say you carry about $20,000 in debt
Roberto: I’d say averaging the rate of each of my cards, I probably have an APY of about 15%
Roberto: so $20,000 x .15 is… (looking for a calculator)
Roberto: yeah… so you’d pay about $3,000 per year in credit card interest
Roberto: do you know what you get in return for that credit card interest?
Roberto: NOTHING
Roberto: I could go into east Boston right now and get about 500 blow jobs for that amount

The White Wall

Posted on April 21, 2015April 21, 2015 by thetypicalbroad@gmail.com

We throw everything in the trunk of Maureen’s Toyota Camry before entering one of the old brick buildings on the grounds of the former state hospital. We learn from the plaque near the door that this particular building once operated as a men’s asylum.

No cell phones.

No wrapped presents, even though it’s Christmas time.

No purses.

When we check in as visitors, I look to my left. There’s a locked door that opens at the top and bottom. A couple of plain white pieces of paper are crudely taped to the wall surrounding the door.

“TONGUING MEDS GRANTS IMMEDIATE DISMISSAL,” says one.

“Rather fail with honor than succeed by fraud. –Sophocles,” says the other.

Dan, Maureen, and I sign in. Maureen hands the unwrapped presents through a window so they can be inspected. She bought Jimmy a couple of board games and card games so he could keep himself entertained. Jimmy already got through all the puzzle books she brought a couple of weeks ago.

The board games will have to be opened, and each little part will have to be inspected before it can be turned over to Jimmy.

I look to my right. There is a man sitting on a ripped up couch who is partly bald, due to what appears to be an old bullet wound in his head.

It’s like a damn prison, or what I would imagine prison to be.

The doors and windows are locked and have bars on them. The only fresh air Jimmy gets is when he is allowed to visit the facility’s courtyard. Since he has been there a few weeks and has been sober for more than six, he is allowed this privilege.

We show the check-in lady that there is nothing in our coat or jean pockets, and are allowed inside. Jimmy is standing behind the check-in table. He looks fat, but he also looks calm.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks as we pass the check-in table. We enter a community room where other people in recovery are visiting with their families.

“Nothing,” Dan says. “How are you?”

“All right. Want to sit down?”

“Sure,” Dan says. We take seats in folding chairs surrounding an old, scratched up card table. As Jimmy nods and greets someone walking by, Dan leans over to me and explains, “Jimmy has gained some weight because of the medication he is taking. And because he is no longer drinking.”

I nod. I already know this.

We sit down. I look around. “So how is it here?” I ask.

“Pretty boring,” Jimmy says. “I got through all those puzzle books Mom brought me. I spend most of my time in my room, down that hall (he points to the east hall, where we aren’t allowed to go), and at the AA meetings they have here. Actually, I’ve been doing a lot of cleaning lately. My therapist says it’s good for when I’m feeling manic, and I’ve been feeling kinda manic lately.”

Dan nods.

“I like to stay busy,” Jimmy says.

“Well that’s good,” Maureen says. “I brought you some board games and card games. I thought you might like them, and maybe the other people here could use them too.”

“Thanks,” Jimmy says. He points his thumb to a bookshelf behind him. “A lot of the board games they have here are pretty old. Most of them are missing pieces.”

“So do they do anything for Christmas here?” Maureen asks. She looks around, but sees that there are minimal Christmas decorations and no Christmas tree.

“Yeah,” Jimmy says, “They cook up a special meal. Roasted turkey, stuffing, green beans, the works.”

“Is anybody allowed to visit on Christmas?”

“No. Visitors are only allowed on the weekends.”

“Well that’s kind of sad.” Maureen makes a frowny face. Yes, Maureen, why don’t we just rub it in Jimmy’s face that he’s not going to have a real Christmas this year, I think.

“It’s all right,” Jimmy says. “We have a special AA meeting that day and we have a new speaker coming. He’s sort of well known in the area. Used to be a boxer.”

“That’s good,” I offer.

Maureen and Dan nod.

Jimmy darts his eyes around the room. “Let me show you guys around,” he says.

It’s an all-male unit, so I see several men visiting with their families. None of them look as weird as I expected, like bullet wound guy. They just look like normal, white, middle-class people. Like us. When we get downstairs to the recreation room, one man, who appears to be in his thirties, is playing table tennis with his daughter as his wife (or girlfriend) looks on.

There is one man in the corner of the recreation room punching a punching bag. The sound of the chains rattling each time he punches the bag disturbs me. It’s so noisy and the sound echoes throughout the room. He doesn’t have any visitors. I feel bad for him.

“Don’t mind him,” Jimmy whispers. “He’s here by a court order. Some of those guys get better, but most don’t. It’s because they don’t want to be here in the first place. You have to want to be here and want to get better.”

There is a kid bouncing a ball with his little brother as we leave the recreation room. Jimmy then leads us to a wall on the west side of the building. It’s painted white, and has names listed on it, under local town names. I see that there are seven names under our hometown.

“Are these people who have been here?” I ask.

“No. They’re people who have lost their battle with addiction,” Jimmy says. “It’s a memorial wall. So if you know somebody who has died from addiction, you can put their name up here.”

I notice a familiar name under our hometown.

“Kevin Meara,” I say, pointing to the name. “I went to school with a girl named Allison Meara.”

“Yeah, Kevin was her younger brother,” Jimmy says. “I used to run into him here and there.” Jimmy points to another name: Derek Mulvaney. “I used to see him at the Charlestown meeting.”

The wall is completely white, except for the names. Some of the names have positive messages surrounding them, or simply, “Rest in Peace.”

“They ask everyone to remain respectful and not write anything bad about the people who died,” Jimmy explains.

There are more names listed under the poorer communities, like Charlestown and Lynn.

Dan surveys the wall thoughtfully, looking at the names.

“There are too many names on this wall,” he says.

We all agree with his statement in silence, adding nothing to it.

Jimmy shows us around a little more, and then we hear a bell ring. It’s time to go. We’ve only been visiting for an hour. Jimmy leads us back upstairs.

“Can I give you a hug?” I ask Jimmy before we get to the door.

“Sure.” We hug. I want to tell him I love him, but I’m afraid that I’ll cry.

“Merry Christmas Jimmy. You’re doing good. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Katie.”

I’m proud I finished college.

It may seem like an ordinary thing to be proud of. However, I dropped out of college my senior year after a severe bout with depression and anxiety. It was the worst decision of my life, and was partially due to the fact that I wasn’t receiving the proper mental health treatment and was on the wrong medication. I didn’t even recognize that I was experiencing severe depression and anxiety. In my depressive state, I just thought I was stupid and couldn’t handle school.

My decision to drop out of school was very rash. Prior to dropping out, I stopped functioning altogether and my grades were terrible. I just wanted to stay home and sleep all day. I also had terrible anxiety whenever I had to do something school-related, to the point where I couldn’t get anything done without having a breakdown.

It became too overwhelming and I couldn’t take it anymore.

I felt really ashamed about dropping out for a long time. My family and I put so much value on education and intelligence. I felt like I couldn’t finish school because I was stupid, which led to more depression. Then I saw all of my friends graduating and getting awesome jobs, which led to more depression. Then I had the shittiest job on the planet in the shittiest work environment I’ve ever encountered, which led to more depression. I eventually had to work two jobs for 70 hours a week just to get by, which led to no time for thinking about or doing anything.

I constantly regretted dropping out of school, and had regular panic attacks because of it. Because I dropped out, I was now working two awful jobs just to get by financially. I couldn’t afford to pursue my dream of traveling, experiencing more of the world, and writing about it. I often dreamed of going back and finishing my degree, but in my depressive state, I figured I would just screw it up again.

After a few years, I was tired of living that way. Sometimes you have to sink that low in order to make a positive life change.

Finally, with money saved from my two jobs, I signed up for online classes to finish my degree. School became my new second job. Even though the classes were online, they were very challenging. I worked really hard every night after work to excel in my classes, which I received all A’s in.

Getting my degree in the mail was one of the most exciting and happiest days of my life. That night, my husband and I went out and celebrated.

I wanted both my maiden name and married name listed on my degree. Because both my family and my husband supported me and made finishing my degree possible.

I’m proud that I finished my degree. I am smart and capable of overcoming challenges. The biggest lesson I learned is that I don’t need a piece of paper to convince anyone of that.

I was the first person in my immediate family to graduate from college. Then my Dad one-upped me and graduated from Harvard. Because he is wicked smaht! (This is a whole other awesome story I will have to share with you later. My Dad overcame MANY more challenges than I did to earn his degree).

My Dad is the person who gave me the passion for learning in the first place. When I was growing up, he always told me: “Lisa, if I die tomorrow, I still want you to go to school.” That passion is what drove me to initially pursue and eventually finish my degree.

I wish I had the money and time to go to grad school, but I don’t right now. Maybe I’ll get to go to grad school someday, and that will be something else I can be proud of!

Day 25: I’m Proud of My Response to Being Robbed

Posted on March 19, 2015March 19, 2015 by thetypicalbroad@gmail.com

A year ago yesterday, the day after St. Patrick’s Day, the apartment my husband and I live in was robbed.

Talk about the luck of the Irish.

I came home from work that day, and the first thing I noticed when I walked through the door was that my dresser drawers were all open and looked like they had been rifled through.

Then I walked into the living room and everything was in a complete disarray.

An Xbox we borrowed from a friend was gone, and I soon discovered that our laptop and iPad were also taken, in addition to several of my husband’s video games.

I walked into the bedroom, and the mess was even worse. EVERYTHING, literally everything, had been rifled through. No box, draw, or item of clothing hanging in my closet was left untouched. The thieves even rifled through our photo albums.

My jewelry was strewn everywhere. I was really nervous that a pearl necklace my husband gave me for our wedding anniversary was gone. Strangely, it wasn’t. They opened the box it was in, looked at it, and left it. I had jewelry making supplies which included fake pearls, so they must have thought the necklace was fake.

However, they did steal a 14 karat tri-gold necklace and bracelet set my brother and sister-in-law gave me for my 16th birthday.

After my initial freak out, and repetitive “WHAT THE FUCK!!!!”s, I called the police. Then I called my landlord, whose apartment was also targeted.

We later found out that the thieves broke into our side window and broke down the door to get into my landlord’s apartment upstairs. That apartment was completely rifled through, and it looked like the thieves spent A LOT of time up there. They stole their camera, portable electronic devices, an expensive watch, rare coins, prescription drugs, alcohol, and more.

We learned that the robbery must have been drug related. They were looking for quick cash and portable electronics – items they could easily sell. They were also very likely on foot, since they didn’t take larger electronics and stole my husband’s backpack to carry things in.

They were also looking for drugs, and found some leftover pain killers our landlord had leftover from an injury.

The police came, took a report, and dusted for fingerprints.

I felt really scared and violated. But what was really freaky was that the thieves didn’t get through our apartment as much as they got through our landlord’s. They took the Xbox, but left our PlayStation. In fact, they began to unplug the PlayStation, but left it. They also left my digital camera out of its bag.

Eerily, a single blind was left open in the kitchen, which told me they looked out the window at one point. They barely made it to our kitchen and bathroom, as several items in those rooms were left undisturbed.

Something or someone must have interrupted them. Could it have been me, coming home from work? They left the front door unlocked, and I entered the house through the back door.

Upon realizing this, I was immediately thankful that I wasn’t home when the robbery was happening.

I was also thankful they took mostly replaceable things from us. The only things they took that I could not replace were the 14k necklace and bracelet.

It could have been so much worse.

We have renter’s insurance, so we weren’t worried about being able to replace things.

It’s just stuff.

There is an epidemic that is increasingly prevalent in our area and across the country: heroin addiction. In the last year or so, we’ve seen more robberies in our area that I now know are directly related to this epidemic.

I have had friends and family members who have struggled with addiction. So upon reflection, I felt a little sorry for the people who robbed us. What were they addicted to, or what happened in their lives to make them this desperate?

So I’ve made it a point to pray for them, hoping they find help and change their lives.

In the last year, we have increased our home security through various measures, including installing an alarm system and window bars. No one should be able to get in our home again.

Below is a Facebook post I shared after we were robbed last year. I’m proud of the way I responded to the situation. I could have been super mad and upset about the whole thing, but it made me recognize what really matters: our health, our safety, and our memories.

AND my husband’s comics, which the thieves stupidly ignored. Can’t forget those! 🙂

The thieves were never caught, and we were never able to recover our lost items.

Day 24: I’m Proud I Joined Meetup Groups

Posted on March 18, 2015March 18, 2015 by thetypicalbroad@gmail.com

I just discovered Meetup.com, which is a super cool website you can browse to meet new people in your area who have similar interests.

There are oodles of groups on there for every interest. There are wine tasting groups, hiking groups, book clubs, crafting groups, and so much more.

The best part is that you can read reviews about groups and post reviews about the groups that you try, so you know you’re not meeting up with a bunch of creepers.

I have realized recently that there are some things I really miss about myself. I have great friends, and I love my husband to death, but there are some things I really enjoy that none of my friends or my husband really enjoy.

So over the years, I’ve kind of given those things up. And I miss them.

One thing I really enjoy that many of my friends don’t is reading non-fiction. I still enjoy fiction, but some fiction books that enthrall the masses bore me to death. Because I want to read about REAL things and REAL people who have REAL struggles to overcome (or who have already overcome real struggles). I think the reason I chose to pursue a journalism degree in college is because I think real stories are the most interesting stories. I’m also a complete nerd for memoirs. Many of those stories are inspiring to me. Because if someone else in the real world did it, so can I.

So, as luck would have it, there is a Non-Fiction Book Club in my area! I have joined that group, but they haven’t had a meetup yet that I could attend. I am looking forward to the next Meetup, where we will discuss the book I Am Malala: The Girl Who Stood Up for Education and Was Shot by the Taliban.

I also joined a local women writers group. I have a few friends who write, but not many. And it’s been years since I’ve gotten together with other writers to work on my craft. Even though it gave me a panic attack, I attended one writers Meetup and it was great! We were given a few writing prompts and I went to town on a couple of them and came away from it with some good stuff (maybe I’ll share it with you later!).

I also love to try new things. I am joyful when I have new, exciting experiences, meet new people, and learn new things (this is why I love to travel). I have also joined a group of people in my area to try new things in the area- like new restaurants, bars, landmarks, etc. I can’t wait to attend some of those Meetups.

So I’m proud that I overcame my shyness and anxiety to meet new people and pursue the things I enjoy doing. I am looking forward to trying new things and forming new friendships!