Archive for Personal

I like goals, projects, ideas with rules. Writing is something I like to do, in fits and starts, mostly bad but almost always enjoyable. So last year, around November of 2015, I started tweeting haiku*. I had no real plan, no specific goal in mind. It was just an idea that bounced around in my brain until I finally took action. They are irreverent unscripted tweets, bits of my world confined by the 5-7-5 syllabic structure, a most simple and uncomplicated poem style.

*Fun fact: The plural of “haiku” is “haiku”.

In the straightforward restricted form of a haiku, however, I found that the width and breadth, the enormity of an idea or mood that can be expressed, is surprisingly vast. As in a lot of things, it’s the actual boundaries that set you free. Freedom is an interesting term or definition to explore, and sometimes doesn’t mean entirely what we think it does.

(I just realized, there is a typo on the cover. This weighs heavily on my ever-proofing brain. I proofed the copy at least five times! The cover slipped by covert-style. Eeh gads – not ideal.)

So I tweeted, several times a week but not everyday. The reminder to tweet a haiku usually set in around 10 or 11am on a work day at the office. Morning coffee almost cashed, impending work hovering around the edges of my day, it felt like a good time to set to Twitter and type out a few, sometimes rhyming and sometimes flabbily formed, little ditties.

They are often nonsensical, and sometimes communicate my overall mood for the moment. But I didn’t do it for you, or anyone else. I just did it for me. So they didn’t have to be perfect or well-done or even interesting, they just had to be. I tried not to wish-wash on the details, or spend too long crafting them. It was the process, not the product, I was in search of.

I created a little booklet of my year of haiku, from November 2015 to December 2016, self-published it using an online service, and gave out just a few hard copies to family members and friends for Christmas gifts. As is usually the case, I want to be able to show people things I make, but feeling the content or item is sub-par, almost always pull back the reigns and keep it to myself.

Since hardly anyone reads my blog, I feel fairly safe in posting the digital version here. A quiet way to be brave. If you care to delve in, you may. Just download it here: Haiku by Shrie L. Spangler.

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Rubber Gloves Rehearsal Studio is dead and gone. I have FEELINGS about this, as I’ve detailed in typically long-winded fashion.

It’s taken me a long time to get to this post. I didn’t really know what to say about the venue, the shows, the things I learned while just being alive inside the structure and by hearing the often raucous and strange sounds coming from the stage. I still don’t know how to put it all into words. Maybe I’m just lazy… but more likely, it was just a big ole thought process to sort through and a melancholy goodbye to have to make.

I like to think that many people grew up at Rubber Gloves Rehearsal Studios, in a way, whether that was through working there, attending shows, or renting out the practice space onsite. Somehow that ramshackle building full of weirdos was a home of sorts to so many Dentonites who came for college, for small town life, or who were born and bred lil D’ers. RGRS. and the shows that took place inside, was indicative of a special ethos and culture in Denton, at least it was for me during those fateful five years, of unrestrained, brazen musical (and personal) exploration.

The building was small, perpetually stuffy and blazing hot inside. You had to cross an old set of train tracks to get there, and the sound of the train was another important ingredient to Rubber Glove’s magic. Just the act of walking, or driving, across those tracks, stepping away from the meat of the city into that dusty corner of Denton, felt like a departure of sorts but also an exciting arrival. As soon as you crossed the tracks, if it was night time, the pulsing and crashing of music inside and the bubbly laughter of outdoor smokers was apparent. From one world into the next.

A boss at the chain books/music/video store I worked at in high school had already started me out on music I would never have heard otherwise out in east Texas. He played artists like MC Paul Barman, De La Soul, DJ Shadow, Afrika Bambaata, and more, out in my Camaro, doors flung wide, music as loud as possible. He was a key ingredient in my future, unknowingly so, and I feel tons of gratitude for those tiny slices of time spent with him.

I started seeing shows at Rubber Gloves my freshman year of college. Another dude (we’ll call him J) entered the scene, albeit in a very different way, and became a big part of my life as well, crafting and molding my impressionable country mind into one of a burgeoning music explorer.

One night during my freshman year I went to a party with my best friend. We didn’t know anyone there, and they proceeded to feed us Everclear cocktails (unbeknownst to us). We got HAMMERED. Some things happened, and I accidentally (purposefully) wooed a gentleman in an orange Tripping Daisy shirt (I had recently developed a love for the Dallas band’s sound) and cajoled him into spending time with me. My forceful drunken act turned into a years-long ‘thing’, and friendship that has lasted long past. This dude, J, ended up being a humongo influence in my life, musically and beyond. He introduced me to the likes of Boards of Canada, Melt Banana, Sleep, Neutral Milk Hotel, jazz (in general), Olivia Tremor Control, local Dallas/Denton bands like Adventures of Jet, Baboon, Centro-matic and many many many more. He started me on the path of music nerd-dom at the ripe old age of 18.

J started taking me to Rubber Gloves Rehearsal Studios, where I saw a cavalcade of important, mostly independent, rad-ass bands. Along with my best friend, J, and a slew of other close friends, I frequented RGRS on a weekly basis for years. I partook in Big Ass Beer Nights on the regular, got stomped on by Yasuko Onuki of Melt Banana, saw J pass out face first onto the concrete floor, made out with multiple people, bummed cigarettes off of Brent Best (of Slobberbone) and smoked them outside in the balmy Texas weather underneath that red glowing RGRS sign, and even met my husband there (when I was there with another dude, who has remained a lovely friend).

I went on to work at a small record store, Seasick Records, in Denton, start writing about music for various blogs/websites upon my post-collegiate arrival in Seattle, interned at Sub Pop Records, and continue seeing shows anywhere I could, usually getting in for free. It all started with my old boss, continued and blossomed with J, and was further ingrained because of the grimy genius of a simple music venue with no A/C and terribly gross bathrooms.

I don’t owe it all to Rubber Gloves, but I owe a lot of who I am to the times I spent there. When I heard it was closing, the pang of disbelief was strong. How could such a revered institution close just like that, leaving all of its devotees hanging? The answer, of course, isn’t any easier than the question and is a somewhat private matter of the club’s owner, who definitely did not want to close the club.

Brett and I went to the last weekend of shows, the Saturday set, with grieving hearts but smiling faces. We saw people we knew and had forgotten, long lost friends, acquaintances who we now felt more of a kinship with, and made a couple of new friends, all within the span of one night. I took the time to look at everything, to visit the nasty bathroom one more time, to look into the face of Josh, the owner, as he wearily trudged up and down the stairs with boxes of what I can only assume are residual dreams and sad goodbyes. I bounced my head to the music and enjoyed seeing some old faves and new stalwarts of the scene, and I cried a little. Walking away from RGRS that night, right at the train track crossing, I turned to see that glowing sign one more time, with feelings of both sadness (where will all the young ‘mes’ go to find their music?) and gratefulness (if not for J and RGRS, what would I be now?)

It was an end of an era, not just for me but also for Denton. New clubs and venues will pop up, thrive, and leave, as usual. The town and its cavalcade of freaks seeking liberal refuge from tiny towns (like I was) will continue to exist and grow up and move on. The spirit of that place will live on I hope, as long as we want it to. It seems silly to lament over a building, a broken-down crusty building at that. But I guess it’s more than just a building. And everyone who went there, who was imprinted with its history, relevance, and spirit, knows that.

Farewell, godspeed, good luck. xxxooo

All images courtesy of my and Brett’s Flickr pages.

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I’m so behind.

Behind on crafting and making things I’ve set aside, collecting dust on my craft shelf.
Behind on redoing my super out of whack personal portfolio/business website which is the ugliest thing ever in the WORLD right now.
Behind on cleaning – always.
Behind on writing. I don’t do it, and when I do it’s really bad. Bad writing is still writing, but it is not getting done.
Behind on achieving my goals.
Behind on actually eating right and working out more.
Behind on seeing family that I should have seen ages ago.

I’m behind on just trying to figure out this whole ‘life’ thing. It’s evading me, still.

I know everyone is probably behind, and that the pressure I put on myself is unnecessary, and that I shouldn’t compare myself to the oodles of super successful/never a dull moment entrepreneurs, kick-ass business people, and ever-inspired artists that seem to be excelling far above the level I’m currently stuck at.

Nonetheless, I feel the pressure – my own pressure. What am I actually doing at all?! Am I wasting my time on this earth? Am I asking myself too many questions?

Time: it is a strange and weird and mystical thing. Paired with discontent, it can be a ravenous monster.

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Today was rough. One of those days that kicks you in the pants.

My morning looked like this:

• I slipped in wet cleaner on the floor (applied after our 16 year old surly ass cat decided to pee on the floor, next to a clean litter box and pheromone infuser, for the umpteenth time).
• I bobbled, and ultimately dropped, several rubber dog treat toys on the way into the kitchen, spewing dog treat crumbs down the hall.
• I realized my new ‘awesome’ jeans are definitely too long and just a tad too loose.
• I hobbled around doing the dog-walk-shower-makeup-hair-getting-ready-before-work routine amidst a killer, and unfortunately not uncommon, stomach ache.

My mid-day and afternoon didn’t look much better; I struggled today. It was hormones, apathy, incredulity and a desire to be wearing a different outfit. It was too little headphones and too much office tele-confer-eavesdropping.

They are small struggles, I realize. Teeny in a sea of awesome. But communication is key—the goods and the bads and the in-betweens.

I did focus on Buddy Miles today, which I’m grateful for. A drummer and singer with soul to spare, a silken slice of vintage sound. Recommended listening: https://open.spotify.com/album/6Kr0V00FNt8Xn3Dk3opAVb.

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I have so much to write, so much to say here. Too many swirlies… to-do lists… projects to complete..

So, let me say a word about an album I enjoy.

This Themselves remix album, ‘The No Music of Aiff’s Remixed’ is still a favorite, 11 years after it’s release. I memorized every crunchy beat, all the fuzz-obscured lyrics, the picked-apart and reassembled (slowed down, messily speeded up) layers in college.

It’s such a weird album, I admit, and this remix is better than the original album by far – which is rare. I won’t bother describing it further. You can try it out, if you like. It’s keeping my eyes and typing fingers alive at work today.

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At the beginning of the year, I said I wouldn’t make any resolutions. No one really keeps their resolutions anyway, and I’m a perpetual self-guilter (and I’ve never even been Catholic). I did decide, as I do every year, to really push myself to try new things or to learn something that I’ve always wanted to. I decided to try something new, every month, and do it for each day of that month. I haven’t kept up with that either, but even the beginnings of this process have affected me positively.

In January I decided to try meditation. Now, I’m not a hippie and I’m not very spiritual. I don’t know much about Buddha, raw food diets, or transcendental meditation (and maybe those are all sweeping generalizations anyway). What I DID know is that I was letting stressy moments define my mood, and not just for a bit, but for the entire day.

If my morning started out rough or I got some particularly difficult-to-swallow criticism at work my day was blown. I was upset, exhausted, sensitive, and felt simultaneously bored and unable to do anything productive. It felt like I was having mini bouts of depression… and couldn’t do anything to dig myself out of the feelings I was having at the time. So, I started getting up in the morning, going to pee, and then sitting on the cool bathroom floor with my phone stopwatch running – and attempting to meditate.

I am NOT good at meditating. And I don’t do it for very long… and really, I’ve dropped off in the last month in my practice. What I noticed was happening though, is that I was slowly feeling a bit better in the morning (traditionally the toughest time for me). And even though I don’t do it every day, I’m finding that there are instances where I can use my remedial meditation skills to help me manage a bit better.

Sometimes I can’t sleep for worrying. And I worry about EVERYTHING… my work day coming up, my Mom’s health, money (oh, money), staying in touch with family, being a good friend to people I hold dear, making the right decisions about my career and my free time etc. I stress, guilt myself, and constantly feel like I’m not good enough, or not doing enough, or not striving enough. When sleeplessness hits, sometimes spending a little time trying to meditate in bed has actually helped me nod off before 2am!

To me, meditation is a tool, or a ‘Tips and Tricks’ sort of revelation. As I grow into my 30s, I’m finding out more about myself, how I can feel more comfortable in my own skin, and how I can live life a little freer. I’m so far away from actually having a good handle on this stuff, but it feels awesome to take action on things I know I can make better, instead of trying to control things that I can’t make better. (This is a slow process, one that I’ll probably never master – and that’s okay.)

Try it out! Sit by yourself in silence, and take a few moments to focus on your breathing and breath, clearing your mind of all the muck. It won’t make you a new person, but it just might help get you a step closer to happy living.

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Chili is the state food of Texas, and in the Spangler household we revere it as such. Yesterday, right before the 2014 Super Bowl, Brett competed in the annual Chili Bowl held at our neighborhood bar, The Nomad. Last year, his inaugural year competing, he won People’s Choice Award (ok.. mainly because we brought a bunch of loyal friends). This year he wasn’t able to spend as much time perfecting his recipe, but did make his own jalapeño chili powder and used about $80 of prime tri-tip in his brimming crockpot of spicy goodness.

Celebrating his win, trophies in hand (wearing his Cream Team hat from last year’s Quesoff Competition)

The minimal work paid off! Not only did Brett knock  the 3-years-running chili champ out of his #1 spot as overall winner but he also won People’s Choice award again! That beebs of mine is a DAMN fine cook. He even got all blush-y when a famous local pastry chef said he loved Brett’s chili. I think this calls for more cooking competitions… we might just have to get a new trophy case to hold all of the sparkly awards!

The former 1st place winner, and the NEW 1st place winner

Oh, and now I’m officially a real-deal adult. Along with my newly-sprouting white hairs, I recently had to get reading/computer glasses. Despite these signs, I’m feeling really good about the rest of this decade… my 30s. Prime time.

sportin’ the specs, droopy eye and all!

Now, who wants to invest in a catering food trailer featuring B’s delicious delectables?

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Erratic beat-punching, grand spacey echoes, digital cries, epic rise and falls. This is what Oneohtrix Point Never’s “R Plus Seven” sounds like, and it’s fueling my morning productivity today.

Some other tunes to enjoy include: Kelela – “Cut 4 Me”, Darkside – “Psychic” and Clark’s “Feast Beast”.

Hat tip to Daniel Talsky and Brett Spangler for helping me fix my borked blog. It’s still a work in progress.

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I ponied up and trekked Fun Fun Fun Fest for all three days. It was my first time at FFF… and it unceremoniously kicked it’s big sister, ACL’s, hiney to San Antonio and back. Highlights, in order of importance:

Television. TELEVISION.
Deltron 3030 and Dan the Automator, in the flesh
Losing my new iPhone 5C at the end of day 3 in the magical dust in front of the Deltron stage
Finding my phone at the Lost and Found (you, phone-turner-inner, deserve a beer on me)
Brett’s trusty Stanley flask
Sarah Silverman in the hot sweaty comedy tent (or why having USP passes, albeit it for free and by chance, is important)
Shlohmo and XXYYXX‘s beats
Haymaker‘s Green Chile Queso Fries (the remedy to my hungry and sloshing rum-belly)

I’ll be back, Fun Fun Fun Fest, I’ll be back. Hopefully by that time, you will have upped the USP pass ante (this year the perks were a joke!)

Photos courtesy of Christine Aldrich and Lori Malick, respectively.

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There has been a weird forcefield at work since I gave my notice. Like there is a thick but transparent bubble around me. Everywhere I walk in the building, past people’s desks and conference rooms with swaths of people having meetings I’m no longer invited to, I can feel myself in this bubble. The people who never really liked me ignore me, my participation is no longer relevant. The Abominable Forcefield.

And I have to admit, there is a degree of awesome about that. Selfishly, I feel like it’s nice not to have to worry about that looming deadline or try to push through a project that I didn’t really want to be doing to begin with. It feels great to be freed from the tasks I truly detested and to let go of the hovering disenchantment I’ve been feeling for a while.

I’m ready to move on, but there’s still that twinge of sadness, that feeling of a life shift. I’m leaving my laidback, young, weird music ticketing marketing job to dive into the more complicated (for me) waters of technical communications for a hosting company. This is silly, but it feels as if I’m finally leaving all of my youth behind in favor of only adult from here on out.

And I think I’m ok with that. As of Tuesday the 24th I will be Shrie Spangler, Technical Communicator at A Small Orange. I’m not sure what the rest of my future holds, but for now I’m going to dig into this new adventure.

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My husband is a great cook. Anyone that spends any amount of time having drinks and niblets out at a local restaurant or coming to one of our many low-key weekend potluck hangouts knows this fact. They also know that I do NOT cook, like, almost ever.

Since my other half is the better one where the kitchen is concerned, and like myself can be mildly competitive, I’ve been encouraging him to participate in some local cooking competitions. Last year he won People’s Choice for a local neighborhood chili competition but was irritated he didn’t get voted in by the judges.

photo courtesy of Austin Fusion Magazine

This year he signed us (me, his coworker Paul CZ, and himself) to compete in the 3rd Annual Quesoff at The Mohawk here in Austin as The Cream Team. We, with me serving as project and logistics manager, entered a spicy queso (named Baby’s On Fire) and a meaty queso (named Cheezy Hot Gutz) complete with homemade Texas hot gut-style sausage. There were home cooks and seasoned chefs competing… we didn’t expect to even place.

But alas, after weeks of queso preparation and research, The Cream Team was victorious! We won both the Meaty AND Overall awards! I heard mumblings of us winning the Spicy as well, but I guess they figured two awards to a gang of home cooks was enough to wound the pride of several of the other participants and take the proverbial queso crown.

WAY more people showed up than was expected and everyone ran out of queso very early. Several people hovered around our table, even during the most crowded times, to snag a taste of the rumored best queso. When we ran out, people scraped our crockpots with chips and spoons – it was THAT good.

I’m so proud of my hubs and his trusty cooking partner CZ. They put in the work and made some damn good queso! Here’s to hoping that more cooking competitions are in our future….

PS – You DID notice that I made a homemade bunting banner, signs for each queso, and team hats right (couple photos here)?! I mean, that’s what I do. Brett cooks, I create, we rule.

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The last few weeks have been challenging. Nothing crazy happened and no one died, but there has been stress, money talks, career figuring, and more. My mind needs a break sometimes. Here are some things I’ve been loving during a week that really needs a bit more squishy love in it!

Giorgio Moroder Sits Down for Lengthy Fireside Chat, Plays Influential Tracks
{see interview/music here}

This guy… this guy. He is a disco pioneer, general music genius, and lover of pop, slanky beats, and dance music. He’s produced and written huge hits for Donna Summer, collaborated with Daft Punk, and inspired a helluva lot of artists in the electro world today.

Ryan Heska’s art
{see more at BoingBoing}

I am totally in love with Ryan Heska’s art. He has a couple of gallery showings coming up NOWHERE NEAR AUSTIN, so that’s cool. I’ve always loved pinups and artistic nudies, and these cards take that to an oddball extreme not unlike tattoo art.

Coloring in my modern coloring books
{like the Indie Rock or Natural Wonders coloring book}

I’ve been turning to my crayons for comfort these days. When my mind gets jumbly and emotions run high sometimes the best remedy is some couch time with my padded plastic rainbow TV tray (from 30 yrs ago), a coloring book out of my collection, and a big honkin’ box of Crayolas (and a cocktail!)

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I should be writing in my blog, but I’m not. Instead of keeping up this thing that I’ve known and loved for so long, I’ve let it fall to the wayside. Instead of joyfully blogging I’ve been:

• Creating a new career website for my freelance writing and editing work
• Stressing about my job, my freelance jobs, and my career future
• Going home and (GASP!) reading my book, working on embroidery projects, or just watching a movie instead of working on something super productive

I’ve loved my free time. But now I’m ready to devote a little time to something else. I’ll be doing some freelance web and email marketing work for a local art studio that is opening my neighborhood (and may even be teaching some crafting classes!) in the coming months. And I’m hoping to start reeling in the freelance writing gigs with my new website, once I finally start promoting it.

Things haven’t been super productive around the Spangler house thus far this year, but I’m okay with that. I’m okay with a little free time, a little laziness, and a little room to think.

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I’m almost 30. So far, my impending age has caused no ill feelings but there are still 36 days until my day of 30. A lot can happen in 36 days.

Instead of focusing on my day of 30, I will be focusing on New Orleans—hubby is taking me for my birthday! Our good friends Kiki and Jamie will also be celebrating in Nawlins’ with us and I couldn’t be happier. Our little house is 10 blocks from the French Quarter and as cute as a button.

Maison Marais 1

What does almost 30 mean to me? Newly sprouted white gray hairs, a more comfortable body, enjoying being at home more than at the bar, an increased longing to spend those precious moments with close friends and family, enjoying making things for people I care about without the stress of having to market and sell them, the completion of my technical writing certification schooling, the beginning of a more active me.

30 or not… I have a feeling this year is going to be puh-retty rad. It’s 2013 and 13 happens to be our magic number. We got married on a Friday, March 13th! My only advice for myself, when I look back upon this post, is to spend more time in the now. That’s it… just be present.

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My hubby works so hard. He caters to my every need (or a lot of them anyway), he holds down an important job at work, babies our pets and manages to cook a from scratch dinner almost every night. BUT, this guy has a hard time unplugging. He’s strapped to his desk/computer/phone so much that it’s hard for him to ‘unplug’.

A couple of weeks ago, I didn’t give him a choice… I took him to a lake house with no internet connection (gasp!). I invited six of our closest Austin friends and their pups to a lovely lake house on the Llano River that fed right into Lake LBJ. Relaxing doesn’t begin to describe it. Sandy beach, sloping mountains in the backdrop, shallow water for swimming and floating and even a rock cliff to jump off of!

We made tasty meals, drank and DRANK and drank some more, took the dogs down to the water to swim and fetch tennis balls from waaaayy out. It was just great. He unplugged and we all enjoyed each other’s company for two nights. Divine! Sometimes, it really helps to create that awesome place for yourself and yours, if only for a weekend. Expensive? Yes. Worth it? Absofreakinglutely.

Most pics are from the hubby’s Flickr, but a few are from mine.

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A few things have come to my attention recently that have all led to a realization that maybe my being super busy and productive isn’t the best way to go about life. I’ve always had this feeling (and it’s gotten stronger the older I get) that you should jump into things you do with both feet, hard-charging and ready to kick it’s ass. And I really believe that life rule… but I think a teensy part that I may have overlooked is that being busy may just be an unhealthy mechanism we force upon ourselves.

A couple of Facebook friends posted a link to this NY Times article “The Busy Trap”. I read it all the way through, each paragraph increasingly describing me, my life. This quote kind of hit home for me:

“They’re busy because of their own ambition or drive or anxiety, because they’re addicted to busyness and dread what they might have to face in its absence.”

And this one:

“Almost everyone I know is busy. They feel anxious and guilty when they aren’t either working or doing something to promote their work.”

Like a ton of bricks. REALIZATION! Hello! Doing all of these awesome things that I’m doing may NOT be better for me. Because really, life is so damn short, just so short. Yes, volunteering is good. And doing freelance work to bone up my experience and resume is good too. But I also work full-time, go to school half-time and try to fit in all the home/family/house stuff I can without freaking out.

Am I giving all I have to any one of these things? Is my stress taking a toll on our family life? I’m just thinking out loud here, but maybe these are questions you should ask yourself as well. How present are we? How able to really do ONE thing well are we?

I recently shut my Etsy shop down, maybe not forever but for a while, after years of halfheartedly managing my shop and attempting to sell things. Shutting down the shop felt SOOOOO good, freeing even. It’s not that I don’t LOVE to make and sell things, that’s not it. It’s just that I never really found my focus, I never was able to make any money (and in turn never felt good enough to do it) and I was guilt tripping myself about my inability to succeed. GUILT-TRIPPING myself. People, this is a common theme.

Over the last couple of months, I’ve slowly worked on an embroidery piece for my hubs’ and my house. It took forever and no one paid me to do it, but it was oh so gratifying. I ENJOYED it, and I didn’t have to worry about listing it, trying to sell it and shipping it. In fact, I loved making it just for us. So the point of this overly long and drawn out (I’m totally long-winded when I get to writing) post? I’m re-assessing. I’m QUITTING things, that’s right quitting. But in this case, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that, and I’m gonna embrace it.

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Confession: I get stressed (doesn’t everybody?!). I worry A LOT, I hold on to things that don’t mean anything at all. I try to stay so organized, so on top of things, so “with it”. And I’m buuussssyy. I work, go to school, volunteer, write on here sometimes, blog and manage the social media freelance style for a local biz and until recently, sold handmade items on Etsy.

I always thought, when I get that life I’m gonna love it. When I start living my dream, I’m going to dive in and appreciate it 100%. When my life starts resembling what I’ve dreamt about for so long, I’m going to relish it. But I didn’t. In fact, I didn’t even realize that I have been living my dream for quite a while now.

I remember when I interned at Sub Pop Records, right out of college and a fresh transplant to Seattle from Texas. I thought everyone that worked there was so cool. They had cool tattoos, cool boyfriends/girlfriends, cool bands, cool jobs and cool friends. I wondered if I would ever be that cool. Now that I have an intern at work, I wonder… does he think I’m that cool? AM I that cool? Whoa. Maybe I am!

I stress so much about making things rad, being the best I can be, working hard… even (if you can believe it) having fun, that I lose sight of reality. The glaring awesomeness that is my life somehow has totally slipped under my radar for years. While doing the dishes one morning this weekend I came to this realization. Let me illustrate for you how cool my life is right now (written with total and utter non-sarcasm).

• I work in the music industry, for a local ticketing company
• My husband works for Electronic Arts, a video game company (Psstt… I’m married to a guy that loves me!)
• We just bought a lil Atomic Ranch style house in an up and coming neighborhood in one of the best cities in the US
• We have four awesome pets (okay, well… they’re pains in the asses but we love the STUFF out of them)
• We have lovely devoted friends who: screen print for a living, make jewelry, work with autistic kids, do awesome metal-smithing and welding, perform burlesque for fun, invite us to VEGAAAS, move to Thailand without a job purely for the adventure etc
• We live near my amazing family and have their support in everything we do
• We lived in Seattle for five years, where I learned so much about myself and about life
• We have enough expendable income that we can eat fancy dinners on occasion, drink champagne for no reason and donate money to our local no-kill rescue organization
• I’m going to school to learn to become an amazing technical writer, and I don’t have that much longer left!
• My husband is a STELLAR cook (and no this is not an understatement) and calls me sweet baby princess almost all the time

There’s more, but I’ll spare you. Pretty cool life right now huh? And to think that I couldn’t even see it from where I was sitting (in the freaked out/over-committed section). File me in the under-appreciative, and lost-in-the-details drawer.

But it’s turning around now, everyday I’m going to work on realizing the lot of all this greatness. I won’t remember everyday, and I’ll probably still stress about tons of stuff and suck at being a friend sometimes and make myself sick with worry sometimes. But I’m going to try… and this realization, this trying, this working is a HUGE step for me.

On to LIFE and living and love and appreciating and working towards a goal and being the person you always wanted to be.

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