Stop Bailing on Your Social Plans

Stop Bailing on Your Social Plans

Sunday, January 22, 2023

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I love when people cancel on plans we've made together. I enthusiastically say yes to things and then, when the time comes, I want nothing more than to not go. It's not usually because I'm lazy or sad or well or because the weather is bad. Usually, it's just because I start to feel kind of anxious, and I'd rather just... not bother.

On one hand, I embrace the idea of cancellation without regret, of realizing you're not in the mood or don't have the emotional bandwidth to do something social. I'm all for drawing boundaries and recognizing your limits and saying "no" without apology, etc., etc., etc.

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A Letter to My Boxing Friends

A Letter to My Boxing Friends

Wednesday, December 28, 2022

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A letter to you, my PGB friends,

I’ve never done very well in groups. I was in a sorority in college, and it was one of the worst experiences of my life. I’ve never felt more out of place, more alienated, more unworthy of friendship. And even though I’ve successfully been a part of multiple friend groups since then, that experience has always stuck with me. It’s become a deep and inextricable part of the story that I tell myself about myself, like it’s a fact — I have brown hair, I have a loud voice, and I don’t do very well in groups.

This year, though, had been the year that I’ve started rewriting that part of my story — and so much of it is thanks to you, the women in this room and the others who have been here throughout the year, even briefly and in passing. Every single person and every single interaction in this gym and on GroupMe and during our social events has taught me not only about all of you but also about myself. 

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On Moving Forward, Making Friends, and Finding Myself

On Moving Forward, Making Friends, and Finding Myself

Wednesday, April 14, 2021

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I've been thinking a lot about the last post I ever wrote on my old Xanga site. Remember Xanga? Man, I loved that place. I wrote there all throughout college.

My last post was on July 4, 2007, just over a month before my graduation from Kent State University. The day after commencement, my mom, aunt, & I loaded up two cars with all my belongings & drove me to Washington, D.C., where just two days later, I started my first post-college job as a legislative assistant at a Jewish nonprofit. I expected to work there for a year & move home, but instead... well, I never left.

Until now. 

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When Instagram Kinda Hurts Your Feelings

When Instagram Kinda Hurts Your Feelings

Thursday, October 10, 2019

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I try to be a person who doesn't care about social media numbers, about blog traffic. Someone who is driven by words & connections & relationships instead of by engagement rates & analytics & followers numbers.

But man, sometimes it's hard.

Lately I've felt like I'm following too many Instagram accounts. You know how it is: You fall for an ad, or you follow a celebrity you're briefly interested in, or you enter some giveaway... & before you know it, you're following 500 randos.

To clean house, I downloaded an app that lets me batch un-follow whichever accounts I select (rather than going through & unfollowing one by one, as you have to do within the Instagram app. Who has time for that?!) This third-party app shows me two things: a circular green arrow over "mutual follow" accounts & a one-way orange arrow under accounts I follow that don't follow me back.

"Fine," you're thinking. "What's the big deal?" And there's no big deal, really. Let me reiterate: It is not a big deal.

And yet.

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Babes Who Brunch: The Outdoor Breakfast Picnic I Threw with Friends

Babes Who Brunch: The Outdoor Breakfast Picnic I Threw with Friends

Wednesday, May 29, 2019

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Sponsored by TIKI Brand BiteFighter Torch Fuel

Spring is something special, especially in Cleveland. In a city of extremes – very cold winters & very hot (at least for me!) summers – it’s a rarity to enjoy temperate weather and sunshine all at once. When the weather’s nice, I try to maximize my time outside (more on the specifics in an upcoming post).

Because of my many recent & upcoming travels, I felt like I hadn’t seen much of my friends lately. What better way to get together than over an outdoor brunch picnic in the spring sun?

I’m not much of a cook, so I put together a “menu” that required very limited effort or culinary talent on my part, aside from some prep work. I knew my friends (Lilly, Erin, & Molly) wouldn’t mind, either, because our top priority was hanging out.

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I Went on a Self-Care Retreat - Yes, Really

I Went on a Self-Care Retreat - Yes, Really

Wednesday, October 17, 2018

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I'm not a woo-woo kinda gal. I don't, like... feel in touch with the universe, or whatever. I don't look down on people who do, it's just never felt like my jam. Sure, I bought sage to smudge my apartment, & before a recent doctor's appointment, I bought a crystal quartz to take with me, & yes, I recently bought the The Universe Has Your Back deck. 

And, um, OK, maybe I'm a little bit more into the universe than I thought I was - but still, I am fairly cynical & jaded & not really a sparkles-&-inspirational-quotes kinda gal or even, hell, much of a hugger.

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Soul Connect: Moving Wayyyy Outside My Comfort Zone

Soul Connect: Moving Wayyyy Outside My Comfort Zone

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

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I'm generally a little bit of a skeptic, if you want the truth. 

I'm not a touchy-feely person. I have a lot of feelings, sure, but I'm not the kind of person who reads Brene Brown or puts stock in crystals or gets vulnerable in groups of strangers.

Until I do.

For the last few months, I've been following Soul Connect on social media, a movement to connect local women on a deep & meaningful level. Run by life coach/yogi/entrepreneur Katie Kurtz, who I met at a blogging event last year, Soul Connect hosts monthly events for Cleveland-area women. Some are yoga-centered, or focused on the new moon, or crafty, or food-based; they're all different.

Ever since I learned about Soul Connect, I've gone back & forth about whether to attend one of their events. Would they be too hippie-dippy for me? And would I ever dare to go alone? I decided to attend the January event knowing it would be way out of my comfort zone - & with vision boarding, no less.

But you know what? It turned out to be exactly what I needed.

I showed up alone & awkward & more than a little jaded. I literally paused in the hallway outside the room where others were gathered, & I considered leaving. I could hear people chatting & laughing, but I was too scared to go in by myself. When Katie spotted me peeking my head around the corner, though, I was caught. I had to go in.

I entered the room to find a dozen women sitting in a circle, cross-legged on yoga blankets, drinking tea & eating snacks. In the center of the circle were crafting supplies - paintbrushes, blank canvases, colorful paint - & a deck of "moon cards" with the word "ANGELS" emblazoned across the front.

Oh, God, what had I gotten myself into? 

But I took a deep breath, picked the first woman in the room who'd smiled my way, & pulled up a blanket next to her. OK, let's do this.


Katie introduced herself, the group, & the evening's activity, repeatedly reassuring us that we didn't have to do anything. We could paint whatever we wanted, however we wanted - we just had to commit to being open & honest & genuine in our intentions. We went around the circle & introduced ourselves, telling the group what we were giving ourselves "permission" to do for the evening. It felt like a hippie-dippy start, touchy-feely start, but I decided to be honest: I give myself permission not to be such a skeptic. 

Katie asked us not to look at one another's paintings or to feel bad about theirs as compared to our own - to just paint & talk & enjoy. As we painted, we talked about the new year - what we think about new beginnings, whether new year's resolutions are bullshit, what we wanted for ourselves in 2018. We talked about judgment - about whether it's a learned behavior, about how we can try to give other women the benefit of the doubt, about how social media makes it extra-difficult sometimes. Because I didn't know anyone, thought I wouldn't talk much - but I was wrong. I had plenty to say.

And you know what? I absolutely loved those two hours painting & talking about life with complete strangers. 

My painting turned out ugly, but so what? It was one of the nicest evenings I've had in a long time - & to I'd almost talked myself out of it entirely. It was such a relief to be in a safe space where, strangers or not, we'd all agreed to leave judgments & preconceptions at the door; to just be ourselves. I left feeling refreshed & reinvigorated & reassured. Hopeful.

Katie & Soul Connect are creating something truly incredible - & this skeptic, for one, is looking forward to continuing to be a part of it. I already bought my ticket to the next event! See you there?

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Murder at the Manor: A Costumed Dinner Party on Lake Erie

Murder at the Manor: A Costumed Dinner Party on Lake Erie

Wednesday, January 10, 2018

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I don't recall how the conversation started, but a couple months ago, some friends & I talked about how fun it would be to host a murder mystery dinner party. Usually those kinds of "Sometime we ought to..." conversations fall by the wayside, never to be followed up on, but in this case, we moved quickly. Our friends Trevor & Callie invited us up to their family lake house on Lake Erie for a dinner party with a murderous twist!

The game we chose was Murder at the Manor, sold by a British company (& containing a few Britishisms with which none of us was familiar). A few weeks before the party, each of us chose a character from the list of suspects, complete with punny names & short descriptions of their personalities & style profiles. The character I chose was named Misty Visions, described this way:

You are a free spirit in floaty fabrics adorned with scarves, belts, bangles and big earrings. You're often seen listening to unseen forces or reading stranger's palms.

First, let's discuss the locale. How beautiful is this house? It's riiiiight on the lake, which was frozen over in jagged shards in the zero-degree temps. (The same group of friends was here just a few months ago for Trevor & Callie's wedding reception, where the only ice was in our cocktails.)

We showed up at the lake house with costumes in hand, hanging out & snacking on appetizers until it came time to get ready for the murder mystery portion of the evening. Naturally, I went all-out, purchasing a bronze dress, a lace duster, & an armful of bangles, then decking myself out in crystal necklaces & a Roman scarf fashioned into a makeshift turban. I painted on lots of eyeliner & dark red lipstick, & Misty Visions was born.

Mike's character was General Custard, a disgruntled former Army man, & he played the part with some great vintage military pieces, including a sweet hat (not pictured) & an Army canteen. Alas, I didn't really get any good photos of us aside from the group shot above, & this couple pic is disappointingly dark:

At the start of the party, we pulled numbers out of a hat to determine who was the murderer - kept secret, of course. Then, we each received a character manual that included more background on who we were playing, along with specific instructions about how to answer the questions we'd be asked during the game (with different responses to give depending on whether we were guilty or innocent).

The event took place in three acts, & during each of them, we schmoozed & kibbitzed & asked very pointed questions as directed by our character guides. Of course, we embellished a little bit to get in character, with Blanche Batters adopting a Southern swagger & Dr. Fumbles taking on an unidentifiable accent & Cinders drinking whiskey out of an emptied bottle of Clinique cleanser.

By the time act three ended, I was more confused than ever. I had no idea whodunnit!

We all voted on which character we thought was the murderer behind the tragic death of Lord Heathcliff, & my vote went to his new widow, antiques dealer Em Fatale. Alas, I was wrong - as most of us were. Only one guest, it turned out, accused the actual murderer: Dr. Fumbles, played by our host, Trevor!

As the game came to a close, we took shots of whiskey in celebration - we'd completed a murder mystery party! - then changed into pajamas for the rest of the night. Fortunately, the lake house is large enough to sleep the whole gang, & I was in (a very comfy, fluffy) bed by just after midnight, all traces of Misty Visions wiped clean & the former General Custard snoring beside me.

In the morning, our hosts put out muffins & a bubbly egg casserole, & we sat around the spacious living room drinking coffee & just hanging out, enjoying the views of Lake Erie from the huge picture windows that overlook it. Come early afternoon, we packed up & rolled out, & when we got home, Mike & I spent the rest of the day reading & relaxing & napping (OK, that was mostly me).

The verdict? It was such a fun thing to do, & I couldn't be happier that we put our "Wouldn't it be fun if..." idea into action & actually made it a reality. If you have the type of friends who would enjoy getting all costumed up for a ridiculous night of accents & acting, you've got to host your own murder mystery dinner party - & soon.

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#TheBigKaput: My Hilarious, Haunted Bachelorette Party

#TheBigKaput: My Hilarious, Haunted Bachelorette Party

Saturday, September 23, 2017

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I wasn't planning to have a bachelorette party. All my bridesmaids except for one live outside of Ohio, & I didn't want to make my friends travel twice for me. On top of that, none of my bridesmaids or close friends know one another very well; they all come from separate parts of my lives, so they've heard about one another, but it's not like they're a tight-knit group. And I'm not really a penis-straws-&-sparkly-tiaras kinda gal, anyway, so I figured it was no big deal.

When my friend/bridesmaid Sammi came home for a baby shower earlier this year, she told me definitively, "We've all emailed one another. We decided we want to do a bachelorette party." Well, OK. Who was I to argue with that?!

I invited a small group - man, there were so many others I would've invited if we weren't trying to keep it small & manageable - but in the end the guest list was just eight of us, myself included. We decided on Savannah, GA, because it was driveable for three of my out-of-state bridesmaids, & it's a cheap, easy flight from the CLE.

I flew out on Thursday with my friend Lilly, the only other Cleveland attendee, & we did a little bit of wandering that night before staying in a cheap but adorable AirBnB. On Friday morning, we checked into our weekend AirBnB, a beautiful, historic house in Savannah's Victorian district - & then other guests started to arrive!

Sammi, who lives in Atlanta & has spent a lot of time in Savannah, organized most of the weekend - & she did such an amazing job.

On Friday, we spent a lot of time exploring the downtown area, walking down beautiful, park-lined Bull Street & stopping into random bars & shops, including the shopSCAD boutique. We sampled cookies at the Byrd Cookie Co. (those cheddar pecan biscuits!) & drank boozy slushies from Wet Willie's & ate free samples of pralines at the various "candy kitchens" along the riverfront. We toured the Prohibition Museum (including its awesome speakeasy!), & we drank beers & ate nachos & petted dogs on the patio at Moon River Brewing.

Savannah is a hot spot for bachelorette parties, but I didn't want the standard matching-T-shirts-&-a-sash-in-public kind of event. In fact, I told Sammi that if I spotted anything penis-shaped, our friendship was over - so, of course, she found a loophole. When we arrived back at the house on Friday night, she'd hung this hilarious, glittery, vulgar-but-true banner (which I made Lilly pose under with me, as she's newly engaged, too).

My maid of honor, Christina, made the banner you see in the photo at the top of this post, a whole structure made out of PVC pipes, decorated with streamers & the weekend's hashtag. We'd compromised on #TheBigKaput because we all agreed that my original suggestion, the hilarious #KateGoesKaput, sounded a little too much like a celebration of my funeral. "It sounds like we're ritualistically partying before we murder you," Sammi said, so I relented. How cute is this photo backdrop?! (And have I mentioned here before that my new last name will be Kaput? Yes. Kaput. It means "dead" in Yiddish.)

On Saturday morning, we hung out on the patio of our AirBnB (it had a koi pond!) then wandered a farmer's market on our way to brunch at B. Matthew's. A few of the girls got fried green tomato benedict, which made me desperately wish I liked eggs! (My breakfast burrito was killer, though, so I can't complain.) We did more wandering, then a little napping, then dinner at Jazz'd Tapas Bar, where we split a bunch of dips (including a freaking melted cheese platter) & our lovely, gregarious server gave me a free blowjob shot (because bachelorette party). Sammi subsequently took the least flattering Boomerang of me that has ever existed.

Savannah is an open-container city, so we took our drinks in to-go cups for the weekend's main event, a haunted tour of downtown Savannah... in a vintage hearse-turned-convertible. Our driver was "Peg-Leg Ron" (yes, he told us to call him that) & he did, indeed, have a prosthetic leg. He also had a Southern accent so thick I could only understand every tenth word or so - which made for a lot of laughter from us as he shuttled us around town telling (what I think were) ghost stories. Look at this thing!

Peg-Leg Ron made a stop at an old butcher shop where some man (allegedly) killed his entire family. We were pretty sure Peg-Leg Ron was about to kill us there - the whole place was in the middle of nowhere & doused in red light - but as he reminded us, eight strong young women could certainly have taken on one middle-aged dude with a proclaimed peg-leg. Once we relaxed, it turned out to be a pretty hilarious part of the tour, complete with more of Ron's dramatic Southern storytelling & a creepy impromptu photo shoot.

Ron dropped us off at Jen's and Friends, a tiny bar that specializes in over-the-top martinis. After a stranger let me try her drink (she seemed trustworthy?), I went with the oatmeal cookie martini, which came with an actual oatmeal cream pie on the rim. All their drinks are dairy-based, & by the end, they started to taste like the leftover milk in a bowl of cereal - except boozy. We ended the night at Rocks on the Roof atop the Bohemian Hotel, which had a great view that I couldn't exactly appreciate because by that point, I was, uh, no longer seeing straight.

The best part of the weekend, in my opinion, wasn't the booze or the food or the city or the beautiful AirBnB or the warm weather. It was the fact that these incredible women - some of my favorite people in the world - came together for the weekend, all in one place. I thought it would be uncomfortable to bring together people who don't know one another & to have to try to connect them - but I suppose I underestimated how great they are. It was incredible, truly, to look around the brunch table & see all these friends from different parts of my life all in one place, together, chatting & laughing & genuinely befriending one another.

I felt so freaking lucky, & it was easily one of the most joyful weekends of my life. I feel so honored that they did this for me, & that they'll all be there to celebrate with Mike & me come November.

Truth be told, we didn't take a ton of photos during the weekend. Why? Well, look, you know me: I love social media... but I love real-life more, & frankly, we were too busy having fun & enjoying one another's company to snap many pics. The ones I do have are plenty - & the memories I have of the weekend are more than enough.

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Happy 10 Years of Blogging - & More - to Me!

Happy 10 Years of Blogging - & More - to Me!

Thursday, August 24, 2017

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This week marks four very important 10-year anniversaries in my personal life - like, big ones. And they're all related. Bear with me for a sec, will ya?

Ten years ago this week, I graduated from college. 

It took me two schools & five years, but I made it, graduating the summer of my super-senior year with a bachelors of science in news journalism. The top of my cap read "THANKS, MOM."

Ten years ago this week, I left Ohio for the first time & moved to Washington, D.C. 

I'd lived there for a few weeks the summer before, solidifying my interest in moving there after graduation. And, OK, I actually moved into a room in a condo in Maryland with an hour-and-a-half-long commute into Dupont Circle, but it barely mattered. I was overjoyed to be in a big city, to feel free, to feel like an adult. I planned for D.C. to be a stepping-stone city on my ultimate path to NYC.

Ten years ago this week, I started working at the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism.

It was a crazy job for me to have taken - for me to have been hired for - given that I didn't know a single thing about politics or even about Judaism. And yet, there I was, one of six recent college grads chosen for a prestigious one-year fellowship at a social action nonprofit in the heart of D.C., sitting in meetings on legislative policy & lobbying Congress on behalf of one million Reform Jews - with some of the best people I've ever met. The six of us became fast friends, & they remain some of my favorite people in the entire world.

And 10 years ago today, I started this blog right here.

Sure, it was originally called Suburban Sweetheart, a name that garnered me laughs from GoDaddy because it sounded so much like a porn site. Oops. I started it on a whim, knowing not a damn thing about blogging, because I wanted to be able to share my city stories more broadly than just posting them to my Myspace page. No really: My first post here was crossposted from Myspace.

All these things... they're related, really. Imagine: Within the span of a week, I wrapped up my existing life - finished my internship & graduated from college - & then moved to a big city on the East Coast to start my first adult job & meet an entirely new set of people.

They changed my life, all of them. The place, the people... they made me. When I first left Ohio, I planned to return, like, immediately. My D.C. job was a one-year fellowship, nothing permanent, & I I planned to move back to Ohio when it was over - to find an apartment in Cleveland & maybe try to work for Cleveland Magazine, where I'd interned before commencement. I was going to be a journalist in Ohio, obviously; this D.C. thing was just a quick detour on the path.

Except it wasn't.

It wasn't a detour; it was everything.

Here I am, a decade later, working for the same place, friends with many of the same people. Of course, so many of the details have changed: I did come back to Cleveland, albeit with a number of detours along the way. I spent four years in D.C., plus a year & a half apiece in New Hampshire & New Jersey. I briefly left my job for one I hated, & then I was hired back to my old one. I've lived in more apartments than I can count. I've been published - in a book & in The Washington Post, even! I've made new friends & lost old friends & fallen in love & out of love & in a better love. I turned 30 & lived with my mom again & settled into life in Cleveland & planned a wedding, and, and, and.

As with every life, there is just so much to tell.

And tell it I have.

In the 10 years that I've been writing here, I have published 1,140 blog posts in this space. Before I started blogging, I was, well, blogging. It just wasn't called that yet. I wrote on Xanga sites & a Myspace journal & in Facebook notes & in dozens upon dozens of old-school paper diaries. When I started blogging here, well, it felt like coming home - just like my move to D.C. did, like my job at the RAC did, like the life that I started when I started writing here did.

Life is very different these days, but it's also very much the same. Through it all, this blog has continued to serve as a sacred space for me to document & share my life - as much for & with you as for & with myself. Blogging may be dead, or so says the Internet, but my blog isn't. I have no plans to give it up any time soon.

Thanks for sticking around, friends. You make this space feel pretty darn worth-it - even after a whole freaking decade.

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What I'm Focusing On in the Second Half of 2016

What I'm Focusing On in the Second Half of 2016

Friday, June 3, 2016

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Yo, it's June. June. I'm rarely one of those people to be like, "Can you believe how quickly time passes?" but this is one of those times when I do feel like, "No, really, can you believe how quickly time passes?" Life is good, & all is well - 2016 has been good to me - but there is, of course, always room for improvement. Inspired by Amber's recent post "3 Areas of Intention I'm Focusing On," I put together a little list of my own to drive my efforts for the second half of the year.

1. Being a better friend.

I suck at keeping in touch. One of the blessings & curses of being active on social media & this blog is that people feel like they're up to date on my life, & usually they're right; I'm an open book. The problem? I have no idea what they're up to! I'm terrified of talking on the phone, & I usually choose books over Skype dates, but I miss my damn friends, & I want to keep in touch with them much, much better.

Maybe this means writing more emails or snail mail letters, just to check in. Maybe it means sending birthday gifts or "thinking of you" texts. Maybe it's calls & Skype dates. Maybe it's a happy hour with in-town friends or a weekend visit to see out-of-town friends. Whatever it is, I'm going to try to do it better.

2. Making an effort to network.

I've been in Cleveland for nearly a year now (!), & I've made approximately three professional contacts. It's way too easy to say, "Well, I like my job & am not looking for anything new, so why network?" but even if that's true, networking can only bring positives into my life - & you don't have to be down & out in the middle of a job hunt to benefit from it. Networking connects you to a larger, well, network of people - people with ideas & connections & resources.

My anxiety is so bad that I'd much rather opt out of talking to people I don't know in any sort of "official" capacity, meaning I'll chat up a storm with the barista but clam up at a networking event. As a bona fide adult, though it's high time that I work on conquering this fear. In the next six months, I want to send a few emails, make a few connections, & expand my Cleveland horizons. Who knows what it'll bring my way!

3. Writing more.

Don't get me wrong, I've been writing a lot. This year, more than any year before, I'm killing it in the writing department, by my personal standards. I've  been published in Seventeen, Cosmpolitan, Redbook, Women's Day, Good Housekeeping, Esquire, Elle... & yet, it doesn't feel like enough. I want to do more writing. I want to do better writing. I want to write until there is nothing else left to say (which will never, ever happen). I want to be able to call myself a writer & not feel like a fraud when I say it.

This year, very quietly & with my boyfriend's encouragement, I started writing a book. I don't know if it will go anywhere or be anything, but I want to finish it. Maybe that's too much to ask of myself in the next six months, but it's certainly not too much to ask that I try.

***

So there you have it. I can think of half a dozen other areas I'd like to improve upon (um, financial literacy, anyone?), but for now, these three top the list. Tell me: What are your goals for the rest of this year? Got any tips for working on mine?

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I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends (But Could Ask for More Of It)

I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends (But Could Ask for More Of It)

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

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My mother doesn't like asking people for help, & growing up, I didn't understand it at all. She'd call our neighbor if it was urgent - like the time(s) she found a bat in her bedroom or when she needed to borrow a snowblower. When it came to more important things, though - the kind of things you just can't do by yourself - she'd say, "I don't want to bother anyone."

Bother anyone? I always thought. But they're our friends! That's how friendship works! I never understood the hesitance to reach out to people who clearly care about you & who would likely be happy to do whatever they could to lend a hand. If my friends asked for my help, I thought, especially on something really easy or something that tapped into a knowledge base I had & they didn't, I wouldn't mind at all.

And I still think that way. Need me? I'm in. I would go to great lengths to help the people I love, because, well, that's what you do when you love people.

Yet when it comes to the inverse situation - the times I need help - I find myself, in adulthood, becoming my mother in the one way I'd rather not. I'm hesitant to ask anyone for help, ever, because I really, really don't want to bother people. I don't want to be an inconvenience to those who care about me, because in my mind, inconvenient > bothersome > needy > clingy > get the hell away from me. Yes, my mental slippery slope is apparently so slippery that I fear my friends will literally stop being my friends if I ask them to help me do something I can't do by myself.

Do you know that when I wrote that post about not being able to assemble my new bed frame, I received four emails from nearby friends offering to help the next time I found myself in need of a toolbox? Four friends, all at varying degree of closeness. They just, like, offered, unsolicited, for next time. I was blown away.

Tonight, my friend Aaron - who was one of those to offer up his tools for the future - drove me to pick up a couch for my apartment. I didn't ask him to help me, even though he'd offered his help a few times in the past. When he offered to help me today, I begrudgingly took him up on it, feeling terrible the whole time. The couch didn't fit in his SUV, so we had to walk to CVS to buy rope & bungee cords to secure it in place, & in all, the whole process took an hour an a half - 90 whole minutes that he could've spent hanging out with his wife or playing with his dog or watching TV or cooking dinner or doing just about anything other than schlepping a loveseat up & down the stairs & across town & fastening Boy Scout knots out of clothesline in freezing temperatures.

I'm coming to recognize that my reluctance to ask for help when I need it shows a fundamental lack of trust in my relationships - that somewhere deep within, I don't believe people love me enough to stick with me when I am an inconvenience to them. This is silly, really, because I know that helping people I love with the occasionally inconvenient task or chore isn't going to affect my overall feelings for them. I just expect them to pay it forward, to eventually help someone else, because that's how friendship works & how humanity works.

But I don't trust people to feel the same way about me.

There are other factors, too. On my own, here, I feel terribly vulnerable, more susceptible than ever to the possibility of "inconvenient > bothersome > needy > clingy > get the hell away from me" because so many of my friends are married or engaged or in serious relationships, & suddenly, I'm all by myself. There's no default person to turn to when I need something, & friends or not, I feel as though I shouldn't intrude on someone else's person to ask for any sort of serious help. It's the ultimate third wheel syndrome - but ultimately, it's also bullshit. You don't have to be someone's significant other to give a damn about their well-being.

I value my independence, & there are a whole hell of a lot of things I can do alone - but I want to be a person who trusts others to step in, too, who trusts the people who love me to keep on loving me even though I sometimes need a little backup - even when it's inconvenient or bothersome. I love my mother dearly, but this is a characteristic of hers that I never meant to inherit.

Yeah, I'm gonna try with a little help from my friends. (And I'll try not to sing out of key.)

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No (Wo)man is an Island

No (Wo)man is an Island

Saturday, November 30, 2013

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This was a weird time to move back to Washington, D.C. By Monday, when I was finally settled enough to want to see people, there weren't many people in town to be seen, thanks to the fast-approaching holiday. I had drinks in Adam's Morgan with newlywed friends that first night & grilled cheese sandwiches at Tryst with another friend on Tuesday, & I worked from my old office all three days before the long weekend, so there were familiar faces to be seen & Starbucks-&-gossip breaks to be taken.

Still, it's been feeling more like a vacation & less like a relocation. Holiday travel has kept me from seeing many of my closest local friends, & to top it off, this week revealed some annoying (though ultimately meaningless) gossip about me that left me feeling like a lepery loser. Dramatic as it sounds, that nasty combination of social barriers resulted in my spending a large portion of my first days back wondering whether I have any friends here at all. More than once, I spiraled into a dangerous mental rabbit hole: "Why did I come here? Does anyone love me? Guess I'll go eat worms. I made the worst decision ever." (I told you it was a little dramatic, but transitions are difficult, OK? And I am a fragile flower.)

But then I start thinking of all the people who helped me get here, all the friends who went out of their way to be friends to me - people near & far who reached out to me in a billion different ways, letting me know they cared about me & supported me & were rooting for me. How dare I lament the absence of friendship in my life, when the last two months have shown me that I have more people in my corner than I'd ever realized?

And so, in the slightly belated spirit of Thanksgiving - & to remind myself of all the incredible people who grace my life - I want to take a minute to thank you.

Yes, you.

You, who said to me in passing, "You're an adventurer," & believed without an iota of doubt that it was true, even when I didn't.

You, who helped me look for apartments & furniture, who answered all my questions & addressed all my anxiety-driven worries, who painted a picture for me of what life could be like upon my return.

You, who recently decided your life's calling was to travel the world & who reminded me, whenever I thought I wasn't strong enough, that I, too, was brave enough to make big changes.

You, who broke up with your longtime girlfriend & struggled to regain your sense of self, who reassured me that I, too, could strike out on my own and not just survive but flourish.

You, who talked me down from the scariest panic attack of my life, who reminded me that we all go through periods of upheaval & that I just had to make it through today.

You, who checked in with me by phone or by text or by Gchat or by email, nearly every single day for a month, to be sure I wasn't falling apart like I continuously threatened to.

You, who I hardly know but who has a knack for taking care of strangers in need, who taught me the power of meditation & drinking games & relentless belief in myself.

You, who were worried by the tone of my vague tweets & sent me a private message to be sure I was doing OK, to offer support & suggestions.

You, who read my blog post announcing the move & sent me an email of support & concern, despite the fact that we hardly know one another.

You, who checked in periodically to ask, "Are you here yet?" & who offered to to help me shlep furniture in your SUV and bring over burgers & beer after I got settled.

You, who brought over bananas & and Pop Tarts & a block of cheese on my first day alone in my new apartment to tide me over until I could make it to a grocery store.

You, who organized a dinner with our mutual friends on my first night back so I wouldn't sit alone, wallowing, & who followed up when I tried to ignore the invitation to, well, wallow.

You, who took me out for drinks & offered me your old pots & pans to populate my empty kitchen cabinets, who invited me over for beer & friendship & cable & continued support.

You, who whispered to me in quiet, sincere confidence after my first two days in the office, "I don't know if I've told you how glad I am that you're back."

There are so many of you: you who left a comment on my blog post; you who sent me a quick text of good luck; you who reached out to make return plans or just to welcome me back. You - all of you - who reminded me that you care about me & that I am strong & that change can be positive.

On Sunday, I'll return to D.C. after a long weekend with friends in Virginia, & my social calendar will be waiting for me, more populated than its been in a long, long time. There are Hanukkah parties to attend, drinks to be drunk, movies to be watched, & lunches to be eaten, all with people whose presence & friendship enriches & brightens my life immeasurably.

Today, when I changed my Facebook profile to reflect my move & pressed "save," this is what it showed me:

Eighty-seven people in the District who I know & presumably love, plus countless others afar. How dare I feel lonely or alone for even a minute?

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On Not Having Any Friends, Still

On Not Having Any Friends, Still

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

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Sometimes you find yourself suddenly sobbing into the mirror while brushing your teeth at noon on a Tuesday & listening to a Top 40 song by, oh, God, Train. Now, I know that's not quite what they call "rock bottom," but it sure doesn't feel like the top, either.

I've been hesitant to write about my struggles to make friends because the last time I did, I got half a dozen anonymous comments lambasting me for being a whiner, for not trying hard enough, for not taking hold of my own destiny, or whatever. Since then, I've kept it to myself, because I'm smart enough not to invite people to kick me while I'm down. But the truth is that I'm still struggling, hard, & if I can't talk about it here, where can I?

Here's my truth right now: I've lived in Red Bank for 14 months now. In that time, I've made exactly zero friends - & it's taking its toll on me. 

I've tried, of course, but I'm just not sure how to find people. Friends have told me that to find like-minded people, I should "do what [I] love" (I think they mean things like volunteering, yoga, etc.), but with all due respect to those people, I loathe this advice because what I love to do is blog & watch TV - two activities that don't exactly lend themselves to fun after-school activities. What else do I love? Being in cities, spending time with friends. And oh, wait, those don't really apply here, either.

Originally, I adopted a mindset that if I traveled all the time - to places where I do have friends - I'd never have to cultivate one. That worked for awhile, but now it's sort of backfired: I never want to be here because I have no life here.

And it's ruining everything. I've come to resent my boyfriend & my cat for all the time we spend together, for the total dearth of other human connection in my life. I'm picking fights, inventing drama. I'm extraordinarily, alarmingly sad, to the point that, apparently, Train songs make me cry. I feel like I'm on the verge of a mental/emotional breakdown all the damn time, & while some of it can be attributed to other issues, most of it, I suspect, is related to all this goddamn loneliness.

It's not like I'm not trying. I am! I am trying!

I joined Meetup.com before I even moved here, & I check it a few times a week for possibilities. So far I've been to exactly no events. Most of them haven't interested me, or I see that all the other attendees are much older than me, so I decide not to go. I even joined a lesbian book club meetup, for crying out loud.

I keep an eye out for things like classes at the library & community centers & stuff, but nothing has caught my eye. I don't want to learn to knit & I don't have kids & I don't run 5Ks.

I joined a gym, went to a couple of classes, even got a personal trainer. Who are you supposed to talk to at the gym, though? I can't work out & talk at the same time, & I don't want to. Nobody wants to be chatted up while they're getting their sweat on. This option is ludicrous.

I work from different locations a few days a week, & I try to make small talk with people when the time is right. I've had some good small talk chats with folks I've met there - like Raoul, who another regular referred to as "the mayor of Starbucks" - but nothing worth pursuing. I even looked into coworking space, but it's $20 a day, & if I wanted to spend that much, I'd commute into my office in the city .

I meet people at bars sometimes, set my sights on befriending somebody like I'm trying to take them home. I've exchanged numbers with two girls, Abby & Meredith, though neither went anywhere - presumably because once sober, they think it's weird to be "hit on" by a potential friend. I suspect I come out of these exchanges looking desperate &/or creepy.

I emailed the local roller derby about joining, thinking I could adopt a sweet name like KATEASTROPE & check bitches on the track & become really fierce, or something. They practice every Wednesday & Sunday; given my frequent travel schedule, though, I can't commit to Sundays, so that's out.

I made plans with two people I met on Twitter, & both were really nice but nothing came of them, no big friendship sparks or mutual interest in making future plans. And now? Now both of those women are pregnant, so all hope is basically lost on that front. 

Maybe I'm not trying hard enough. Am I doing everything humanly possible to meet people & make friends of them? Well, no. But that's only because it's really hard, & not just to find people. It's hard in that it's emotionally exhausting, & there's so little pay-off, & it just... becomes really awful really quickly. It's embarrassing & awkward & consistently disheartening, & frankly, it sucks. Remember when you were a teenager & your mom would insist that you not use that word? Well, sorry, Mom, but this sucks. It sucks my energy & my motivation & my hopefulness out of me. It sucks my positivity away. It sucks. So if I'm not trying hard enough, it's only because it's really hard. Oh, I already said that? Because it's true.

So you tell me: What am I supposed to I do?* I'm thisclose to moving out of this town & back into a city, to someplace where I know people or at least know how to find people. I'm trying my damndest not to see that as my only option, but two & a half years into this no-friends-on-the-premises life & I don't know if I see any other solution.

Goddamn, I'm lonely.

*Disclaimer: I don't actually want you to tell me what to do unless you can do it without making me feel terrible, because I already feel terrible. If you want to tell me I'm not trying hard enough, please STFU.

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Now & Then, You're Right Here With Me

Now & Then, You're Right Here With Me

Friday, July 12, 2013

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Today is my best friend's birthday. Of course, I forgot - but not because I really forgot, just because I've spent two decades of my life positive that her birthday is July 19th, not July 12th, & this year proved to be no exception. The card I bought her is still sitting on my kitchen table. Because some things never change.

Our friendship is one of those things. I mean, it's changed, for sure, but it hasn't really changed. Honestly, thinking about the 20ish years or so that we've been friends chokes me up a little bit; I can hardly recall a childhood memory that Christina isn't a part of. In fourth grade, her mom started babysitting me after school while my parents were at work. We didn't know one another - we'd always been in different elementary school classes - but we became fast friends.

Best friends.

The kind of friends who have too many inside jokes to keep straight, who get into innocent little-kid trouble together, & who spend every day together that they possibly can. We went swimming at the lake & rode our bikes to each other's house & used up a metric ton of sidewalk chalk & played tricks on her little brother (um, I love you, David) & had countless sleepovers & listened to a lot of TLC & Alanis Morrisette. Obviously.

There were rough spots, man, for sure. In middle school & into high school, I was sort of an asshole. I had crap self-esteem & really wanted to be "cool," which meant that I didn't always treat my real friends as well as I should've. Because being a teenage girl is tough, & some of us do better at it than others. We become close again during the last two years of high school, when we were in show choir together, & then Christina went off to a Mennonite college, while I went off to a state party school. As she toyed with a conservative life that bordered on evangelical, we found we didn't have much in common.

Or did we?

We've always come back to one another. We always have. We don't talk nearly as often as we should, as it seems is too frequently the case in adulthood. But we've always made our way back to our friendship, & I'm always the better for it. Christina is, hands down, the nicest person I know. She a talented musician, a teacher to children with autism, new owner of a masters degree. She's a loyal big sister & a loving wife & a million other things I can't even remember because she's just really great. OK? She's great. And for 20 years now, I've had the honor of calling her my best friend.

There is more to our story, of course. There are hard times & fun times, inside jokes & ridiculous memories, secrets & mishaps & million stories. There is a whole lifetime of love & friendship, the kind of love & friendship that shape your life & personality & self because that's what good friends do - they make you.

Happy birthday, my psychic sis. I love you so, so much.

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The Time I Took Part in a Birthday Conference (Yes, Conference)

The Time I Took Part in a Birthday Conference (Yes, Conference)

Thursday, May 30, 2013

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Any press is good press, they say - whoever they are - and my friend Emily whole-heartedly embraced that bit of wisdom in the lead-up to her 30th Birthday Conference, which took place earlier this month. You read this right: birthday conference.

Emily is a lady who knows what she loves, & among the many things she loves is conferences. Nametags, schedules-at-a-glance, learning sessions guided by PowerPoint: They all make her swoony. So as her big 3-0 approached, Emily wondered: Shouldn't birthday parties be a celebration of the people for whom they, um, celebrate? Thus, the idea was born for Emily's 30th Birthday Conference. She got some press for it, including a great NPR interview, a neutralish HuffPo piece, & a scathing bit of commentary from Fishbowl DC. But yes, all press is good press, & in the end, Emily's conference had 100 attendees (plus 11 children, referred to as "tiny humans," who were welcome to attend with their parents & guardians).

I was thrilled & honored to be asked to be presenter at the conference, speaking on social media alongside radical doula & feminist extraordinaire Miriam Zoila Perez. We were up against some stiff scheduling competition, including a massage how-to & a social justice session from Jews United for Justice with the quirky title "No Boogers in my Burgers."  Nervous Nellie I so often am, I feared no one would attend our little social media session - but we filled the room almost to the gills! Our PowerPoint centered around Emily's own social media presence, dissecting her personal brand as a means of individual marketing. You can find the whole presentation here, if you so desire, though it will not quite convey how fun it was in person.

What else happened that day? To name a few:

• A session comparing the birthday girl's two favorite cities, DC & Austin, which involved free tiny bottles of Tito's Vodka to sway attendees into voting Austin

• Lunch catered by DC Empandas, a food truck that distributed three tasty pockets of dough & fillings to all conference attendees

• A mini Minnesota State Fair session run by two bonafide Minnesotans, complete with authentic Sweet Martha's cookies, accompanying glasses of milk, & a very loud round of group karaoke

• Oprah-style giveaways for select lucky attendees, with prizes like Phickles Pickles & Humble Pie desserts

• Free (!!!) headshot sessions with DC area photog Pam Rutter, who took the lovely photo of yours truly that you now see at the top of this blog

• Swag bags filled to the brim with sponsored goodies, including caramels, cookies, stickers, & more, all presented in a customized #EPGis30 tote

• Customized nametags that read, "Ask me about ___," filled in accordingly for each attendee to serve as conversation starters. (Mine said, "Ask me about sandwiches!" though I can really only answer questions about hot sandwiches, as cold sandwiches are explicitly not my jam.)

• Additional sessions on cookie decorating, inbox organization, sailing (taught by the birthday girl's father!), flower-arranging, yoga, & Cranium. The winner of the Cranium session got to name a new flavor at DC froyo fave Mr. Yogato!

• A table staffed by a Planned Parenthood volunteer who offered free condoms, dental dams, & lubricant while educating attendees on the importance of safe sex & related advocacy work

• A rousing group rendition of "Happy birthday" at the end of the event, plus cupcakes for all!

So yeah, that all happened. Was it wacky? Yes! In a good way? Most definitely. It may have been an unconventional way to celebrate, but Emily has never exactly been conventional. I, for one, thought it was a fabulously creative way to ring in 30 with all the people, activities, things, & brands she loves. And speaking of love, I loved being a part of it & wish Emily would turn 30 every day. Is that too much to ask?

Also, I turn 30 next August. Just sayin', Em. We've got a little more than a year to plan!

 

A note: All photos come from excellent event photographers (& friends of the birthday girl) Tosha Francis & Pam Rutter. Ain't no way yours truly could take such great shots!

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Not Those Kind of Friends!

Not Those Kind of Friends!

Friday, October 26, 2012

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Life in New Jersey has been significantly better since I identified a few coffee shops that I like working from. There's a Starbucks less than a mile from my apartment, but I quickly learned that it was in no position to become a favorite of mine. It's small & cramped, & only two of the tables are near electrical outlets. Worse, it's practically next door to a high school, so come 2:30, it's swarming with chatty, squealing teenagers who do asinine things like FaceTime their absent friends into very loud public hangouts. So no, thanks.

There's a Starbucks five miles down the road that I like a lot more. Friendlier baristas, bigger space, more outlets, zero hoards of kids - now that's what I call a work space! What I like even more is the cafe I discovered just a couple of blocks from my apartment - entirely walkable with the world's friendliest staff. And they play a radio stations with American music & Danish commercials. Quirky!

The staff is equal parts hipster 20somethings & middle-aged Scandinavian men, all quite nice, & I've already identified a few regulars, people who spend multiple hours there on their laptops like me. I'm determined to befriend a couple of them, though I'm not sure how to accomplish this. "Hey, can you keep an eye on my stuff while I run to the restroom?" does not a friendship make.

Earlier this week, just hours after I tweeted my friend-making intentions, I had a run-in with a dude who, thankfully, I've not seen there before today. He sat down just as I was packing up to leave, talking very quietly & making some hand gestures that I assumed meant he was asking me whether there were outlets nearby for him to plug in his computer. I pointed him toward them as I got up to leave, which was when he got slightly too close & whisper-talked, in a smooth voice with a thick accent, "Take me out for café, you are amazing"& slipped me a tiny piece of paper with numbers on it. And then I mumbled, "I have a boyfriend, sorry" & almost literally ran away. 

What? That's not even a suave move, guy. Ain't no shame in tryin' to have a little game, but if you're gonna try to seduce a lady, give it some goddamn effort. Chat a girl up - & pantomimed requests for directions to the closest electrical outlet don't count. Also, let's not throw around words like "amazing" when we're talking to strangers, OK? I mean, what are you able to deduce is amazing about me? The fact that I'm wearing leggings as pants & successfully balancing a heavy computer bag & a half-full mug of cold tea? My post-bronchitis hacking cough? The fact that I am able to give you directions to the closest electrical outlet? Low standards, dude.

If that's what I get for wanting friends, I think I'll stick to the loner life.

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On Life in New Jersey, Honestly

On Life in New Jersey, Honestly

Friday, September 7, 2012

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The impression that I get every
time I talk to anyone here

New Jersey is really taking its toll on me.

I haven't written about it here because although I value sarcasm & wit, I do not value moping or whining, & I fear I'll cross the line if I get to talking about it on here. But this is my space, right? And these are my emotions. And why not just get 'em out? Better out than in, they tell me, whomever they are.

I know what you're probably thinking ("But Kate, you didn't like New Hampshire when you first moved there, either!") & you're at least partially right. There's a key difference, though, between then & now. In Portsmouth, my frustration was at being alone all the time, not at hating the place. I always thought it was nice there, even when I didn't like being there.

In New Hampshire, at least, I could go downtown alone with my laptop & be like, "At least it's pretty & quaint here. Being alone is OK!" I'd park myself at the Starbucks on the square, watching people congregate on the town square outside or at the church across the street. I'd have a flatbread for lunch at Popovers, giving directions to Canadian tourists who spotted my laptop & assumed I was a local. After work, I'd wander in & out of the independent shops downtown, into the pretty paperie & the used record store. Alone? Always. Lonely? Sometimes. Oftentimes. But the setting for my loneliness was enjoyable enough that it eased that pain.

In Red Bank, I'm alone and I hate it here. This place has no character. It's dirty, & the people are rude. And it has no business being as expensive as it is for as crappy as it is. I come to downtown Red Bank & I'm like, "WHY ARE THERE TWO FLIES SITTING ON MY ARM IN THIS COFFEE SHOP & A WOMAN WITH A REAL HOUSEWIVES ACCENT SCREAMING NEXT TO ME?!" The Starbucks downtown is small & dingy with rude employees & no comfy window seats. I'm terrified to drive here because the highways are jam-packed & generally scary, & because I'm always lost, even with my GPS. I've heard that New Englanders are notoriously cold, but New Jersey is definitely winning this contest.

I have Nathan, yes. And thank God for that. But it's not healthy to have no life beyond your significant other, & I'm not a person who would ever choose such a lack of social life for myself. I like being alone, yes, & I value my time to myself. But being alone is so, so different from being lonely - which is what I have become here, in New Jersey. What I wouldn't give for just one girlfriend to watch the season premiere of "Grey's Anatomy" with, for a weekend party crowded into a friend's not-quite-big-enough apartment, for somebody to meet downtown for lunch in the middle of the workday. And if I can't have those, what I wouldn't give to at least enjoy my surroundings alone, to feel comfortable & quiet & just OK.

Instead, I am unbearably sad & lonely & angry & tearing up in this crappy Starbucks.

New Jersey is beating the shit out of me.

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"Get Busy Living"

"Get Busy Living"

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

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A close friend once observed that he feels I have a "grass is greener" outlook on life - that is to say, wherever I go, I idealize where I've been or where else I could be. While I don't necessarily agree with him that this is, like, my primary worldview, I have since tried to become more cognizant of the times when I catch myself thinking this way so I can redirect my brain to stop - and to love my life as it is.

I've been thinking about this lately as I try to adjust to life in New Jersey. I'm only moderately embarrassed to admit that I miss New Hampshire so much that it hurts - & yet, I know full well that I didn't love my life there as I was living it. I spent days - weeks, months - feeling lonely & disconnected. I went days without speaking to anyone but baristas & grocery store employees. I dressed up for the sake of dressing up, knowing no one would see me that day. My only friends were through Skype & text, Twitter & phone calls. I made plans to live a bigger life - to get involved, to meet new people, to do - but I never followed through with them. Instead, I dreamed of a day when I'd get out of there & move onto something better.

"Something better" turned out to be New Jersey.

And? So far, I borderline hate New Jersey. It's dirty & congested & disjointed & people keep telling me I should like it, but I just don't. Maybe I will eventually. But for now, all I can think is that I don't want to live in New Jersey. I've never wanted to live in New Jersey. It's perfectly fine, I suppose, but it's not a place where I have any interest in living. Nathan, of course, has to stay here... but do I? We've been discussing the possibility of my moving to NYC, which fills me all at once with both relief & terror.

But I have to wonder: Will moving solve anything? I wasn't making the most of life in New Hampshire, & now I'm not making the most of life in New Jersey. What makes me think I would make the most of a life in Brooklyn? I seem to expend a lot of emotional energy waiting for things to fall into place - to be in a place I want to be in so that I can start living a life I want to live.

I recently Skyped with my friend Will, who up & moved from Boston to Asia to teach English. He's spent been there for a month now & has spent every weekend since he arrived traveling to different provinces, seeing the sights, living it up. Sometimes he goes alone, sometimes he brings friends - but the point is that he goes.

I have another friend, Juli, who makes new friends everywhere she goes. She met one of her best friends on an airplane when they were seated next to one another, total strangers. She seems to know someone in every city, have a life wherever she goes.

And then there's Micaela, who did humanitarian work in Uganda & Rwanda before heading to grad school in California. Micaela spends almost no time worrying about details or "what if" scenarios. She is always upbeat, always friendly, always happy.

These friends - I want to be more like them. Instead of sleeping in on the weekends, eating cereal & moping about not knowing anybody in New Jersey, perhaps it's time I start doing things. Going places, talking to strangers, falling in love with my life. I may not fall in love with New Jersey - but then again, maybe I will. The point is, it's time to start loving my life as I live it.

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