My thirty day social media break is over. I just thought to myself that now that I have my beloved Instagram and Twitter back I’d probably forget I have a blog again.  You know…life or whatever. AND because it’s my birthday I think I’m supposed to get all deep and introspective about the new year of life and blah blah blah.

Spoiler…I don’t have that for you.

Instead I’m just going to try make a better effort to be social media break me. I’m only putting Instagram back on my phone because pictures (y’all cute, hey bews).  I’m going to keep blogging at least once a week. You have my permission to call me on it if I don’t. I’m just going keep writing. That’s like Matthew McConaughey’s just keep living, only writery.

Alright, alright alright.

Happy Trina Day!

Happy Trina Day!

It’s my best friend’s birthday and here I am without social media. So to circumvent the No Social Media rule I’ve imposed on myself I’ll write this and it’ll post to Facebook. This is probably cheating…dah well.

Happy Birthday to one of the best friend’s a girl could ever ask for. Thanks for being the…okay I was going to put a Sex and the City movie character here but I don’t think you fit neatly into one character so…thanks for being the kinda Charlotte and a little Carrie to my (finally accepting this inevitable truth) Miranda. Feel free to correct me on this clearly flawed analogy. Here’s to many, many, many more.

You Are Appreciated.

You Are Appreciated.

My dad probably never thought that the universe would toss him three daughters. A house full of girls. Pink, dresses, skirts, Barbie and nobody ever asked for a racetrack for Christmas. I’m sure putting together Barbie’s Townhouse and carefully arranging those New Kids on the Block dolls under the tree earns him a place in Heaven. Nintendo and Sega had to be the only thing that kept him even a little sane. We chose girl scouts, choir, and the most girly instrument in band kingdom, the flute.  None of us had much interest in sports growing up so he had literally no one to pass his love of basketball.  That poor guy is in an estrogen storm it’s really no surprise that he only answers his phone 35% of the time. Also not surprising that one of his favorite pastimes when we were kids was tying the sleeves and feet of our pajamas and then having a beer while we were incapacitated and screamed for our mom to rescue us.

Having a dad who, depending upon who you ask, lost the son/daughter lottery three times it’s hard to find moments when you know he’s really proud. However, I think I’ve figured out what might actually be a proud moment for my dad. Not the day the grandkids were born (although there are finally some boys). Not the day any of us graduated from anything. Not the time we stopped calling him asking dumb questions about a sound our cars were making. Nope none of those. Those moments are far too pedestrian. Everyone has those moments. I’m convinced the proudest day of my dad’s life (with the exception of the day of my birth) was October 6, 2014.

Why? This happened.



Yes, that is my dad and his three daughters at a football game. Yes I know he doesn’t look thrilled. He doesn’t look thrilled in any pictures that I own. We took this picture with just the three of us and he got all ‘how you gonna take a picture without me so this happened.

Like I said we had no interest in sports but we all had interest in boys who had interest in sports.  By the transitive property or whatever we all learned and grew to love football. My dad has been a Seattle sports fan (are we here for the Sounders or nah) for as long as I can remember so we jumped on his bandwagon. I should mention at this point this was during the Hasselbeck, Whitehurst, That guy whose name is also a brand of applesauce I cannot remember, years. If you follow the Seahawks you know that this is when losing was a habit and other Seahawk fans outside Seattle was like seeing a leprechaun riding a unicorn. I assume we eventually proved ourselves to be real 12s because he bought us jerseys and I guess we leveled up when he got us tickets for the Seahawks at Washington game. It was amazing having the opportunity to share our first professional game with our dad. It had to make all the tea parties and My Little Ponies worth it for that moment where one of us weren’t ready to fling ourselves into traffic.

Do most guys with three daughters luck up and get this opportunity?

Probably not. Other dads may get one or two but all three? Nah. That’s special. He’s special and loved more than he’ll ever know. Thanks for weathering the estrogen storm.

Love you, Daddy.

P.S. Which game are we going to this season? May I suggest Maryland?

P.P.S. GO HAWKS! You had to know that was coming.


Take Care

Take Care

I’m tired.

I’m sitting here again trying to come up with the right words that will effectively express how I feel about all of the current events. So far I’ve just been able to ramble some stuff about pain and numbness, almost cry and summarize it all by simply saying that I’m tired. I think the only saving grace is that I’m missing out on the delights that social media stir up when these types of things happen.

Instead of dwelling in that space I just want to tell anyone reading to take care of themselves. I know it’s easy to get bogged down in every detail. I’m guilty of it myself. Take a moment or several and step away from all the news. Eat some feelings, exercise, do something with friends, anything just get away. There’s a such thing as having way too much information. Unless it’s your job to know everything, you don’t need to know everything. I’m a news junkie I had to pull myself away from all the news websites today. Instead I spent most of the day catching up with The Fosters on Netflix. Seriously the best decision ever. Take care of yourselves. Trust me the news will still be there when you get back.

Coupla Thoughts

Coupla Thoughts

I’ve done this blogging thing a few times. One of the types of posts I like to do the most are the non-post, stream of consciousness, random crap I’m thinking about but I can’t turn into actual post, post.  No, idea what I’m talking about? Well you’re about to see.

-I made the amazing mistake of listening to N’Sync’s Greatest Hits a few nights ago and y’all… I think we Effie White’d JC Chasez.

-This season on Game of Thrones has been meh.  EXCEPT for anything Jon Snow does. Because Jon Snow.

-I’ve legit only done yoga once since this thirty days of whatever started. I pulled a muscle in my back that one time and have been limping since.

-I need a printer. Anyone wanna gift me a printer? And possibly ink also as well?

-Seriously though…how did Timberlake wind up the solo artist? Go listen to I Drive Myself Crazy and come back and tell me that we didn’t make a mistake.

-Just edited the sentence before this one to make sure it didn’t end in a preposition.

-Facebook/Twitter/Instagram withdrawal is a real thing and you won’t convince me of otherwise.

-One of the most fantastic (<–sarcasm) symptoms of fibromyalgia is brain fog. I’ve recently been losing words. I used the phrase “sky waitress” the other day because I couldn’t remember flight attendant. Yes, I’m ashamed of myself.

-Losing words is great when you’re writing a book or trying to do life in general.

-Having sisters (both birth sisters and those you pick up over the years) is great. Those girls are just amazing.

-I’m really upset about this Timberlake/Chasez thing. HOW y’all?

-So…I also stopped what little drinking I do until my birthday. Why? Reasons I have yet to disclose to myself. I want a beer, wine, and a whiskey. Now.

-Which one of y’all finna buy me a drank for my birthday?

-OH I hear Facebook supports GIFs now. I’m gonna have a GIF party on my birthday. Prepare yourself. No, I haven’t planned an actual party because *shrugs*

You have any randomness you want to share? I’m here to listen…or read or whatever. Stop judging. I may do a real post at the end of the week. Possibly. Maybe. It’s the plan but I don’t have anything in mind. Gimme an idea.

I’m People, Too

I’m People, Too

Being away from social media gives you a bit of insight about yourself. The most important thing I’ve realized is that I rant a lot on social media.  I’ve ranted and unfriended folks over topics and given no explanation.  Most rants don’t need explanations. I could save myself a lot of time and just stop ranting. Maybe I could just tell people they’re being judgmental, obtuse, elitist dickbags. Someone told me that I’m a writer, though. I’m trying to find better use of words.

Welfare, food stamps and other types of help are the issues that I’m talking about here. You may have read a facebook status and wondered to yourself why I care so much. Well here I am without my social  media and that little voice in my head saying to write about it. You are about to get a reason. It’s about to get real. You think you know but you have no idea (you have some idea I just always wanted to say that). I haven’t worked for three years because of medical problems. I was just denied disability for the third time.  While I was waiting for disability I applied for and have used food stamps. I am the type of person in the exact situation that food stamps were created. I’m not some stereotype. Just a thirty-two year old with some medical problems.

That’s why I rant. That’s why I’m sensitive when you complain about the crowded grocery store on the first of the month. That’s why I have a rage stroke every time drug testing recipients becomes a topic. When you cry about working full time and not being able to afford a steak I hear your cries. Then I collect your tears in a mason jar filled with organic limes and Perrier and sip slow. I did not eat from generic boxes of microwavable bullshit before and I’m not now. I’m not less than a person because I’ve used food stamps. That’s what I need for people to know. No one is. Most are people who have fallen on hard times and need some help.

There are people, real people like me, who read those insensitive posts. Not everyone is going to come forward and they shouldn’t have to. We all just need to be a lot more considerate about what we post. If you aren’t I’m not going to post rants anymore. It’s not my best use of words. I’m just going to say stop being a judgmental, obtuse, elitist sack of phalluses. That’s a much better use of words.

Key to Happiness

Key to Happiness

I may have taken the Final Destination movies a little too literally. It’s entirely possible. I mean who wants to go out because of some virtually impossible chain of events or even worse go through life feeling like they escaped death and now it’s (yes death) is chasing them down. According to the movie, a series of events started when Alex removed a luggage tag from a trip where his parents had flown safely. Blah blah blah things happen, if only Alex had left that tag, right? I, always one to take away a completely unnecessary lesson have my own little “luggage tag” that I’ve had for years.  My mom and sister had a were in a car accident years ago. A car had stalled in the right lane on 95 and they ran into the back of it. They walked away with some cuts and bruises but they walked away. During this time my mom owned a super small, two door, power steering-less Geo Metro. No one loved it but it got us around. We probably all had the best arms of our lives because you don’t realize how awesome power steering is until you don’t have it. After the accident we went to where the car had been towed to pick up some things and to see if anything was salvageable. The guy running the tow yard couldn’t believe that anyone had survived in that car and once we saw it; we couldn’t either.  There was barely a car left. Well let’s be honest it was barely a car to begin with but there was really very little left. We all just stood there looking at it completely bewildered. I was beyond thankful to still have my mom and sister.

Now what does this have to do with my taking Final Destination too literally? When we got home, I believe I was about to go out or I was going through my keys and I started to take the spare Geo key off of my key ring. I got it halfway off and stopped myself. I looked over at my mom and told her that I was keeping the key. They shouldn’t have walked away but they did. I needed that token to remember how quickly everything you love could just be gone without warning. Or for the awesome Final Destination tie in, if I had removed the key (like Alex did the luggage tag in the first movie) I would somehow remind Death that it was owed a debt or something.  What the actual hell were those movies about? I watched every single one of them and cannot for the life of me describe them to another person without sounding like I’ve lost my mind. Here’s my best attempt: Death=Sallie Mae. Pay her or she will find you wherever you are.  Seriously. You’re in danger, girl. Boom summarized.

It has been nearly a decade and I still have that key. I do look at my keys occasionally and have to remind myself what it went to but it’s still there. The reminder gets a little bigger as I get older. It reminds me now that life is short and that I need to live. Not just wake up and breathe and eat and pay taxes (and possibly Sallie Mae) but actually have those moments that make life amazeballs. Travel, take risks, edit that damn book and send it out into the world so that other people may experience it. I know that’s a lot for a key but it’s my constant. My little thing that helps me jump back on track when the darkness creeps in and things stop making sense. If I had removed the key might things have happened differently? I don’t know. I’ll never know. I do know that I’m not going to Final Destination myself into getting my head squished in an elevator door because a man holding a box of hand hooks bumps into me and the hook gets stuck in my hair and I trip.  That, I know.


PS. Did you get that Lost reference?

PPS. If I do happen to go out because my head gets squished in an elevator door because a man holding a box of hand hooks bumps into me and the hook gets stuck in my hair and I trip, please laugh. Laugh hard. I’m serious.