Writings

  • All I want for Christmas is a placenta face mask All I want for Christmas is a placenta face mask

    All I want for Christmas is a placenta face mask

All I want for Christmas is a placenta face mask

My dad: what’s that stuff you’re spraying in your hair? Me: dry shampoo My dad: you should use febreze ———————————— I’m at home in Canada. They keep it pretty simple where I grew up. People tell it like it is, no one cares if you’re wearing designer anything or blinks an eye if your hair isn’t combed. I like that. When I got on the plane in LA on Monday I felt a whoosh of relief leaving it all behind. It’s kind of nice knowing the closest neighbor is a mile away. It soothes the soul to have conversations with people who genuinely listen and look you in the eye. Maybe it’s true that there’s no place like home? Until the rest of the family shows up anyway. This year I opted for a gift-free Christmas. I don’t need anything (except a million dollars) and it felt good to bow out of that frenzy of expectations with family. I hope I can zero in on the calm feeling I have inside and tuck it away for safe keeping, something to tap into when I’m back in Southern California. In the meantime: Give me youth. Give me health. Give me that placenta face mask I saw in the Japanese market last week. No really, it’s a thing.  And if you must, give me Hawaii. As much as I love being home I’m just not cut out for -20 degrees.😬  

By |December 25th, 2015|Writings|0 Comments
  • A baked potato and a xanax, sir A baked potato and a xanax, sir

    A baked potato and a xanax, sir

A baked potato and a xanax, sir

Yesterday I got up, laid there for a sec to see if my head was still spinning (head, are you still spinning?), swung my legs over the bed and paused. <pause> <pause> <pause> Yep, thar she spins (madly on, for all you Weepies fans). “Must.fight.nausea,” I said to myself while reaching over to pick my softest jeans from the floor, quickly slipping my legs in all in one motion. You can do this. It’s not that bad. Pick something fuzzy, something soothing, something that will help you blend in. All these thoughts running through my mind in a steady stream, I keep my focus on the tree lot. I have to get back and apologize to the kid I’m pretty sure I scarred for life the night before when I ran off with my hands cupped over my ears hollering, ‘Why are these lights so bright? ARE WE AT A DISCO?”, leaving a trail of trees in my wake. I’m going to be someone’s holiday retail story for seasons to come. Saturday started out okay. One minute I was driving to Eagle Rock for a ceramics sale, the next I was pulled over on the side of the road with my head between my knees. Deep breaths, deep breaths. “If you don’t get your bitch ass over there everyone and there mother will have pilfered the wall hangings!” It’s these little pep-talks that help me maneuver the ledge. The ledge I btw have no idea I’m even on until WHOA DUDE WHY ARE MY TOES HANGING OVER THIS HERE LEDGE? That’s anxiety for you. Sure, maybe I gulped a little back on my way out the door, but if I didn’t focus on it it’d just go away, right? By the […]

  • Be the apple pie Be the apple pie

    Be the apple pie

Be the apple pie

When I was a kid I had a t-shirt that said ‘I’m #3, I don’t try at all’. I got it at the sports shop while I was waiting for my skates to get sharpened aka twiddling my thumbs while my brother picked out more hockey equipment. I loved the sports shop. The owner was nice. He carried lots of cool Nikes, even for girls, and had an unparalleled wall of iron-on decals. On a pretty regular basis my mom would throw me a bone for being the patient sister and let me pick out a t-shirt and decal combo. One of my favorite things was to watch the machine press that sucker onto the cotton while steam blew everywhere. Et voilà, your own customized shirt. I’ll never forget the look on her face the day the owner asked which iron-on I wanted and I came back with, ‘I think I’ll get the I’m #3 one.’ My mom spun around to look at me, eyebrows raised so high they were almost off her forehead, ‘Oh you don’t want that one.’ Looking back at the guy with a nervous laugh, ‘She doesn’t want that one.’ And back to me again, ‘Right, you don’t want that? Why don’t you get I’m #1, why try harder? You always do your best.’ She was right, I did always do my best. But that wasn’t the point. At no more than seven or eight years of age and what was likely the first time ever, I stood up to my mother and said, ‘No, I think I’ll stick with #3. Everyone has #1 and I don’t want to be like everyone.’ And there you have it, the root of the issue. I didn’t […]

  • Gonna wash that noise right outta my head Gonna wash that noise right outta my head

    Gonna wash that noise right outta my head

Gonna wash that noise right outta my head

Yesterday morning was great. I mean, gr-eat. I need more mornings like yesterday’s, a few afternoons wouldn’t hurt either. The beach on a blustery gray day, enough rain to keep most people away. Enough rain to wash all the noise in my head away. Sounds like a pile of emo baloney (or is that bologna?) but it works. If you haven’t tried it (and live by a beach) you should. If you have tried it, back me up. Or maybe let’s keep it to ourselves so everyone doesn’t go running to the beach on what looks like a crap day because then where will we go? Nature is our (my) greatest solace. A wide open space to go and remember WE’RE NOT ALL THAT. And neither are our problems, even though they try to be. Since when does the internet have to be the happiest place on earth? Can’t it be enough to look for the good in each day? What if on some days for some people it’s only one small sliver? Can’t it be okay to say I feel like I’m dragging around a huge weight, but then I went to the beach and flung it into the sea? And so what if when you get home and bring in your towel and be damned if some of that weight didn’t creep back in from the sand on your feet? Does it make the morning any less cleansing? Not in my book. Or my coloring book.

By |November 11th, 2015|Writings|4 Comments
  • Wave your hands in the air, Olivier don’t care Wave your hands in the air, Olivier don’t care

    Wave your hands in the air, Olivier don’t care

Wave your hands in the air, Olivier don’t care

Yesterday while H&M was being mobbed by people who didn’t get any of that Balmain stuff, Olivier Rousteing was jumping up and down on his bed tossing dollar bills in the air like he just didn’t care. Because he didn’t. He never did and he never will. “Come peasants, line up to get my cheap knockoffs while I selfie with the celebs who got paid to sport this scratchy crap on IG while drinking loads of champlagne (that’s drunk for champagne) and dancing around to the Backstreet Boys!”  Did people really think H&M would have enough goods to go around to the masses? That the website would miraculously work? Did they honestly believe that Olivier and the House of Balmain wanted to see a D grade Balmain Nation flooding the streets? The ragers (and emotionally distraught) took it to Instagram to give Olivier and Balmain a piece of their minds. Gems in the bunch included: @adioskitty This collection gives me a lady boner @50shadesofhayyy Oh wow Cindy (Crawford) must have lined up outside the store for dayyyys 😒 what dedication #BALAME @ferbalcazar I waited in line for 7 hours for NOTHING. I wasted my entire morning. I fucking hate #Balmain now. @50shadesofhayyy Is it really a balmain nation? Or more like a very tiny balmain private island?  @aries0324 Unfollowing this stupid ass company @aries0324 One word: FUCK @takarasewitt: Help @intxchrst Suck your mom @dmzaf Balmain for eBay it should have been called, @jazi_boo2u You all must be miserable to stock someone’s Instagram because of a limited supply.. Go buy a Micheal kors from Ross and kill yourself. @tor424 Fleepig hell. @qtootie You people are insane. Can we just all be grateful he even collaborated with H&M Cous our broke asses can’t afford the real balmain. @zaid_raed97 You are […]

  • All hallows’ hoo-ha All hallows’ hoo-ha

    All hallows’ hoo-ha

All hallows’ hoo-ha

This is all that’s left of Halloween. My friend Kelly came over and we whooped it up until two in the morning over a mean charcuterie board, half a pound of See’s assorted nuts and caramels, a box of Cheez-its and a bag of Justin’s Peanut Butter cups. We’d made plans to have a coloring party and watch scary movies (RAGER), but somehow only managed to eat a bunch of food and talk about random stuff between knee-jerk reactions to whatever scene popped up on tv. “This is Michael Meyers in Halloween II. How did you know that?  Oh I watched it last night.” “How do they not see him behind the sheet? I mean he is RIGHT THERE behind the sheet. Sheet lady, SHEET.” On Instagram: “I’m pretty sure the ‘TL’ this person is talking about is Twiggy, but they don’t realize she’s been going through some things and can’t keep up with her stained glass.” Me (dying laughing): “Who the f*ck is this Twiggy and hold the phone what is going on behind you with Freddy Kruger?…Is that his name?” “I think she’s in a dream state. She’s going into a basement in the basement. A basement in a basement? Okay you know this isn’t good. She is definitely in the dream state.” “No she’s fine. Her alarm went off, she’s fine. Unless her alarm only went off in her dream then she’s not fine. WHOA THERE HE IS! Nosheisnotfine! How did this go again, is he a burn victim or something?” Me: “You know I finally realized the other day that IE stands for Inland Empire.” “Look at that blood pouring out of the wall. Damn if Jack Nicholson wasn’t a fox back in the day.” That last part was in my head […]

  • Shake your money maker Shake your money maker

    Shake your money maker

Shake your money maker

This morning I shook the dust off my bike and hauled it downstairs for a spin. Knowing full well that after three months of slacking ‘spin’ likely meant around the block (if I was lucky), I hopped on and took off. Sort of. Okay not at all. Off I hopped, “Mother of pearl I’ve lost myself and can’t even pedal a bike anymore.” Then I looked down and realized the tires were flat. Then I contemplated going back inside to bed. But seeing as I’m on a cleanse and trying to avoid the chocolate bars in the freezer, I decided to press on to the gas station and take care of air pressure business. Once there, two guys laughed at me taking a picture of my flat tires. “WHO’S LAUGHING NOW SUCKERS?!”, I screamed silently three minutes later whizzing by on my inflated tires. Wind in my hair and Chris in my dust, I hit the beach bike trail where I skidded off while looking backwards and almost ended up with a mouthful of sand. “Dang it’s good to be alive!“, I thought as I flung myself from the bike at the last minute. PLOOP! What the heck was that? A bird crapped on my arm. I looked up. I looked back down. LUCKY DAY STATUS! Chris thought it more of a SNL skit and writhed around laughing. Undefeated, I scraped the poo from my arm (hairs), got back on my bike and raced off to buy lottery tickets. Seize the day, home skillets. All that’s left is for my ship to come in. SHIP DON’T FAIL ME NOW. I’m scared to look at my tickets. I’ll probably hold off. It’s kinda fun to be in the moment, looking at real estate listings in far away cities while potential piles of […]

  • On hearing God On hearing God

    On hearing God

On hearing God

Last month I had to go to jury duty. I was scared. Not of the duty itself but of having a panic attack IN the duty waiting area in front of a bunch of strangers, or maybe while going through the metal detector. (Previous post on post-stroke anxiety attacks here). What if? Those thoughts chased me for six months through three postponements. The week leading up to jury duty I prayed very hard and specifically, “God, please do not make me have to go to the jury duty. Please do not let them call me in. In fact, please let my name be lost, wiped out entirely from the system.” I was in the zone with my requests. On Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, each time I placed my evening call to the automated system, I felt an extreme sense of calm – like I just knew I would not be called to report on those days. Then Wednesday arrived. The landlord’s realtor called to say she wanted to show my place on Thursday. First thought: oh crap, I’m about to be called to jury duty. Next thought: I see what you’re doing here God, using my dislike for the realtor to make me actually WANT to go to jury duty. Thanks for the heads up prior to the evening call because you know I would have fallen and cracked my head open when the robotic lady voice told me I had to appear. Sure enough, I placed the call and was told to report on Thursday morning. Armed with iPad, phone, books and essential oils (wind beneath my wings), I headed out the door. Instructions said not to bring water because I would be passing through airport-like […]

  • On faith and crisis On faith and crisis

    On faith and crisis

On faith and crisis

I haven’t been writing here too often because I’ve been trying to get some things figured out. Specifically, faith. Faith is a tough thing for me. My problem is not with God, my problem is with the distance I feel from God. Like, am I doing this wrong? When I first became a Christian I never thought I’d be in this position, but a few churches and a bad relationship left me feeling like the survivor of a bomb blast: shaken, bewildered and alone. God, are you there? I knew He was because things miraculously came together and I was able to take a year off, something I needed very badly. After that year I got back to work, solidified my business and kept going, but after awhile noticed I felt jittery in church, exhausted even. I realized I was working very hard to ‘follow the rules’. It scared me to think of what God might do to me, if I stopped going. I stopped anyway. A year later I stopped attending a Bible study I’d been a part of for more than a decade when it donned on me that I was dragging myself there every Monday night. My faith had stopped coming from my heart because my heart wasn’t working anymore. I was burned out. —————————————– A month ago a friend texted to say she was quitting her job to go to Bible college eight hours away. I was stunned. But she doesn’t even go to church, I thought. We went for dinner and she told me she was leaving it all behind: a thriving hair business, cool apartment, friends and family. I found myself excited for her, envious even. All she took […]

By |September 29th, 2015|Writings|19 Comments
  • A river of irony and broken rules A river of irony and broken rules

    A river of irony and broken rules

A river of irony and broken rules

Yesterday in a twist of irony my landlord sent his handyman over to pressure wash the outside of the house. For three hours. In a drought. On the last day of the driest summer on record. There I was, trapped inside a building engulfed in more water than its seen in years. Me and three cats. Meanwhile the neighbors congregated in the back alley hollering things like, “WE’RE IN A DROUGHT!”and “HEY MAN DID YOU KNOW WE’RE IN A DROUGHT?”, while cars drove by splooshing through the river. Man didn’t care. Sopping wet from head to toe, having failed to bring along the requisite rain gear for dousing a house, man was overheard saying to his wife, ‘I know that one guy from AA. He’s not going to do anything’. At which point Chris returned from the scene bent over in laughter. “Carrie <gasp> you don’t understand. He looks like he just got out of a POOL. There’s so much water dripping off his hair he can’t even see. <gasp > His clothes are plastered to him. This is a disaster.” Yes, yes it is a disaster. I have not washed more than one load of clothing per week in over three months. That, kind sir, is a disaster. I suppose there is an element of symbolism in this going down on the last day of one of the more dismal summers. A washing away or cleansing, if you will, of the uncertainty this summer brought: what do you mean the house is for sale, why does it feel like a snake is trying to crawl out of my lower back and, most importantly, are the 100 degree days ever going to end? RUN RIVER RUN! NB: I learned something very important about plaster houses yesterday. If […]

By |September 23rd, 2015|Writings|2 Comments