Literally No Idea What I am Doing

 This post is not about marriage. Very few things of the last month have lined up with my expectations for this period of my life. And before the chorus of "well duhs" come in, hold on a sec and listen to my rambling.  I didn't expect to be in my mid-thirties. I didn't expect to meet on an app. I didn't expect to be in Kansas. I didn't expect my dad to be dead. And I didn't expect that my sister would hate me. Hah! You thought this was going to be another post about my dead dad, didn't you? Nope, sucker. It's a totally different emotional and depressing familial scenario. I mean the dead dad thing still sucks, don't get me wrong. Especially at this time of year. But this is a whole separate kettle of onions, can of worms, giant stinky mess. I know that just by writing this (and inevitably posting on my Facebook), there's a chance my sister will see this and get extremely angry and make yet another post of her own on FB talking about how wro...

  My dad is limes. My memory of a perfect Christmas is a recipe for key lime pie. The limes are all gone. For most of the year, I don't really need or crave limes. Sure, there are times when I think limes would be good, or I particularly miss them, but there are so many other things that fill the need for limes. On a day to day basis, a lack of limes does not affect me too much. Christmas though...Christmas was the time for limes. They are, after all, the key ingredient in a key lime pie. How can one have Christmas without them. There is nothing I can do to substitute limes and still come up with a key lime pie. I have all the ingredients in the world, except for the one that makes it work. No matter how hard I try, I will never have key lime pie again. Does that mean I still can't have something tasty? No, of course not. It just won't be key lime pie. It'll never be key lime pie.  It's kind of a hard thing to accept. Every year, without fail, the craving for key li...

Ok, so first of all, no, not all of these posts will be about my dead dad. This is just a special sort of weekend and it coincided with my idea to start blogging more, so here we are. Second of all, yes, this is supposed to be about stuff I cooked and/or baked and I did NOT make ice cream, but hey, my blog my rules. See above for special weekend. This is also a sort of filler post until my next one, as the food I am making for that takes a while and won't be ready until tomorrow at earliest. That out of the way....here is a picture of the completed cinnamon rolls from before that I didn't add to my last post because it ended kinda abruptly: They were as ugly as sin...namon. See what I did there? I will see myself out... Grief is real weird, y'all. Also kinda dumb, if I am honest. Did I say that before? Don't know, and too lazy to re-read what I wrote. But really, it is dumb and weird. Earlier this week, while at work, I became overwhelmingly sad. For no...

How appropriate my last blog post was about my dad as well and what a great father he is… My dad has cancer. My dad has cancer . My dad has cancer. My dad has cancer. I keep repeating it to myself over and over and over again, hoping it’ll help me believe it. It doesn’t. I have told this story a dozen times already, but I want to write it down once more. Two months ago, everything was great. I had a boyfriend whom I loved, I was getting ready to go on a trip to my favorite place (Syracuse, NY) with my family, my sister had just adopted an adorable puppy, and my depression was more under control than it had been my whole life. Things were sailing along. My sister mentioned my dad was acting sort of strange, but we brushed it off because he seemed mostly fine. He had just been told he had a sinus infection, so we figured that was making him a little tired and it explained his memory problems and just slightly off behavior. Four days later, whe...

A friend and I were texting each other the other night and I told her how jealous I was that she works as a freelance writer and has written novels (or at least a good chunk of a novel) and that she gets to spend so much time working on her craft. This is nothing unusual for me; I spend a lot of my time marveling and admiring my friends and how awesome they are. I’ve told them this enough to probably make them plenty uncomfortable. Like so many of my feelings, it is perhaps best depicted in this comic from Girls With Slingshots (link) THIS IS HOW I FEEL 80% OF THE TIME ABOUT MY FRIENDS. *cough* ahem But really, they are that amazing. At least in my eyes. I have friends who are writers, voice actors, photographers, doctors, etc. They are doing what they love and they are doing it well. I don’t mind it. I love that they are happy. They’re all beautiful amazing people and I love them so much. But this has nothing to do with writing, except that their wonderful accomplish...

Now is the time of year when people go off on long, nostalgic rants about the ending year and the one that is eminent. They recant the things they have done, the things they have learned, and their goals for the next twelve months of their lives. This makes sense; one year is ending and another is beginning. It is a time of rebirth, starting over, and getting a clean slate. It is just like how every morning is the start of a new day, but on a bigger scale. It literally happens once a year. Overall, this past year has been mixed, as I am sure it has been for most people. There have been some goods, some bads, and some in-betweens. Should I judge the quality of the year by the events that have transpired? That does seem a bit arbitrary as very often life events are out of our control. Instead, I would perhaps prefer to critique my year based off of a quote from Parks and Recreation : “Are you better off?” Am I better off than I was a year ago? The answer is, undeniably, yes I am. ...

If I have one superpower (and lbhrn [lets be honest right now], I probs only have one), it would be procrastination. Proof? Well while I’m writing this post, I am also working on a Christmas card for a friend that I said I was going to be putting in the mail like, two days ago (Moogle-chan, I’m sorry that I suuuuck). Which is I guess less an example of procrastination and more an example of me sucking, except that it IS procrastination when Christmas is in less than a week. I also have a writing job that I should be working on because I said I would have it done before I left on Christmas Eve, but I’m not working on that yet. Why? Well, partly because they don’t pay me enough, BUT REALLY: I have a simultaneous fear of success and failure. Which I guess a lot of people do, but here is how it works into my procrastination. The longer I put off doing something, the longer I have where the thing I am creating still has potential. That might not be clear, so let me explain. I...