The MOST AWESOME Pep Talk of OUR LIVES!

I'm about to dump some sparkle on you people. With my awesome sparkle gun.

This is something I wanted to write when I was back East. Somehow I was amazed to be between the beginning of life and the end of it. My nephews, God they are gems. I would lay with them at night and tell them stories about 94 foot crabs that emerged from the ocean and were coming to seek vengeance on said nephews for burying them in the sand.

Instead of being afraid of this genius horror story, they expressed doubt. The doubt of a 94 foot crab going unnoticed while it terrorized a neighborhood. "Auntie, I don't get how someone wouldn't see the crab and call the police. Your story does not make sense." And I'm all like, "It's a bedtime story! Dear Lord! Here's the deal, the neighbors have "Lazy American" syndrome, they have all eaten Pasta Alfredo and passed out in front of their TVs....

Okay, let's get back to the part where the killer crab crushes you in his claw."

Man, I love being an aunt. With them, I was feeling like... they're so lucky, they can be ANYTHING they want to be. Your only job in life is to make your kid feel LIKE SHE/HE CAN DO ANYTHING. I never got that in my family but my Mom was kinda busy raising three kids while her husband was dying of congestive heart failure.

So I'll give her a pass. Because while back East, I figured out how to give myself awesome peps talks. (That's coming up, it's down there in BOLD.)

The point is... I will be in my nephews corner and I will be pep talking the shizzzzzz outta these kids. That's the deal. I'm there for them. For life. Assuaging every doubt and fear they could ever have.

I want them to not make the same mistakes as me. 1) Not traveling like I said I would. 2) Taking jobs out of fear - in my case it was financial fear ingrained in me since child hood 3) Working so hard that I missed out on life and reneged on promises - I've missed dates, family vacations, hanging out with friends, vacations with boyfriends, birthday parties, regular parties, going to see bands, JET SKIING. Oh, and when Jeffrey Dean Morgan asked me to lunch at Fed Ex Kinkos, I said no... I was working. (I know, I know!)

I don't want my nephews to miss out on life's joys like I did.

4) Spending too much time getting over relationships. So stupid. How can you (me) like anyone who doesn't like you (me) back? Why miss that person? My friend once said, "Your ex-boyfriend is thinking about you as much as you are thinking about your last boyfriend." "But I'm not thinking about him." "EXACTLY." 5) Mourning my cousin too much. The one who passed away when I was 14. It's like, I've let sadness coarse through me and I will not lie, it's certainly done more harm than good. It makes you not want to get close to people. I can remember a guy friend saying to me at 22, "You make loving you very difficult."

That was not my intention. I just never wanted anything to happen to him and not have pre-protected myself.

When you think of everything you (me) did wrong you (me) feel kind of melancholy like "Man, I kind of suck."

But then I went to visit my Uncle. This was someone at the end of their life. He was in a hospital bed in his home. He said to me, "I would very much like to go home right now." That's when I cried. That's when I felt... not like the self that walked through the door.

The self that thought only little kids have their lives ahead of them and only they CAN DO ANYTHING THEY WANT TO. I can, we all can. I have many, many, many years ahead of me. I mean, this should be very obvious but somehow I felt like it was deeply profound.

This is the sparkle people. Maybe you already know this. Then you are awesome. But now I see, I just have to change the things that I thought I had no time to change. The pep talks I give my nephews... I can give to myself. None of us is in a state they can't get out of. It takes work. It takes being "Queen of the Bounce Back."

That's when you shrug off things that are not worth it. What is your fear, insecurity, grief, disappointments, tendency to beat yourself up, having regrets about men/career - what is that giving you back?

Maybe it's making you so frickin' weighed down, you can't make a move. Maybe that's where you feel safest.

So here's what I believe: You can just quit all the behaviors you dislike, that are not working, that will make you have regrets in the future. First, you have to write them all down. Then a plan on how you can realistically change them. (I'll be doing mine for the list above.)

And that is the awesome pep talk. That you can give yourself your own PEP TALK.

For today, mine would be: "Girl, look at you. Your hair is looking fly today. I know your feeling nervous about a big meeting coming up because this is the company you WANT to be in business with but think about it like this: THEY SHOULD BE NERVOUS about you. You're going in there with something really great and if they don't like it, three companies already want to meet with you about it. Your worth is not measured by whether a project sells or not. And PS, pivot when you walk and know your talent is carved by diamonds. Sparkle out!"

Still having trouble? Okay, think of someone you love and would do anything for - now think of yourself that way. Now give yourself the pep talk like you love yourself like you love that other person.

Is this not mind blowing?

Sorry, I'm HIGH on the sparkle.

Okay, I want to hear, even anonymously, THE PEP TALK you would give yourself RIGHT NOW today. Put it in the comments section, beautifuls.

And if you like this post or think it will help someone, please link it to Twitter or Facebook. xoxoxo


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The MOST AWESOME Pep Talk of OUR LIVES!

Thank you, Beautiful Ones

“Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for.”


The quote above really touched me, I need to be wrapped up in a sense of gratitude. And this did it for me. I hope it's meaningful for you too.

Those of you who reached out and were amazingly sweet to express your condolences about my Uncle mean so much to me.

I will return blogging next week and dive right back into that Adventure Bowl. I can't wait! I need it so bad.

But I wanted to at least reach out and say "hi" and love to you all. xoxoxoxox

Thank you, Beautiful Ones

If I Had A Super Power...

Perhaps they are not the stars, but rather openings in Heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy. ~Author Unknown


My Uncle passed away and I did the thing I do when something sad happens and I feel sad but I can't go there because to go there, to feel what I would have to feel, I just know I can't. I'm don't think I'm strong enough. So I shut down. I push it out of my mind.

He did not die and he is not gone.

My Mom and Dad both got on the phone. FYI, when my Dad calls me, it's bad news. He never calls. He loves me, but I call him. We have a lot of laughs. But the laughs would not be happening unless I called him. Unless I flew home. Unless I said, "Let's go to the bar tonight."

I do not mind. This is how we are.

I answered the phone.
Me: Hello?
Dad: Hey, Kay.
Me: Hey
Dad: What's wrong? You sound upset.
Me: I'm just scared that every time you call that you're going to tell me that Uncle died.
Dad: Oh... (long pause) Well, he did die.

And I am not trying to be flip in recounting this conversation. In fact, it makes me love my Dad more that he hoped to lure me in and distract me with day to day chit chat and how is the weather out there and then, you know, slip that thing in about my Uncle.

I started crying and I would guess my Dad has heard me cry three times in my life... though I can't name them except for the time he called me to tell me my cousin was murdered. And I know he can't take it, to hear me cry, and that comes from only a good place. A place of love. It makes him too sad.

We are family that has had so much sadness. And we have had enough. So now we block it, with a shield. Like Super Heroes.

So I expected him to do one of two things... hand the phone to my Mom which is his most famous move or to intellectualize the situation.

This is a tried and true measure for an emotional avoider and I could call up the Learning Annex and tour the country doing speaking engagements on it. I learned it from the best. The two of them.

So I thought he'd say, "He's in a better place. He was suffering. You don't want him to suffer anymore, do you?"

Then the burden falls on me... I don't want to let someone suffer! That is wrong! That is bad! I want him to unsuffer! So yes! I am now not only unsad, I am joyous! What a marvelous thing to have happened! This death to me is by-gones!

Thank you! And Good night!

But instead my Dad lowered his voice and said, "I know you are sad. But I want you to know I'm really proud of you. How you went to visit your uncle and held his hand for so long last week. How scared you were that you would fall apart but you didn't. And even though he was having those delusions, remember how Auntie said he knew it was you? How he made that joke, "You've told me 6,000 times Kayla is here." You are a good person, you let him know that you loved him and you were so strong. So, I know you are sad. But remember, you are strong, too."

He stunned me. He made me speechless. He took everything that was sad and for that moment, made it okay.

My mom of course got on the phone and said, "Why are you crying? We expected this. You don't want him to suffer anymore, do you?"

I was too proud of my father to be mad at my mother.

Life is funny. I wish there was a button you could push on someone that, as they are relaying a story or information, (say, my Dad calling me to tell me about my Uncle), every bit of back story about their life would spit out like a fortune. For my Dad, I know it's, "I have not been able to protect you enough from sad things... when I hear you cry, it makes me feel like... I'm not a good father. I didn't have a father so... I'm just trying to do the best I can."

If I had one Super Power, it would be just to know. Just what is filed deeply within you as you are telling me what you are telling me? With my mother it's, "I haven't even faced my own mother's death over 40 years ago, how can I possibly handle this?" I think it would help us be more compassionate in the world.

Maybe instead of a button... knowing that science may be years and years and forever ever away from us, we should just have compassion for each other that there is more to the story if someone is upset by something you decided they should not be upset by.

For me, if you pushed my button, yes, I'm crying for myself, but also my aunt who loved him so immeaurably that you could feel a light radiate in the room when she walked in and his eyes would meet hers, I am thinking that to come from a big Italian family, that I will lose so many more people that I love, I am crying because I wish I lived on East Coast and could have been closer to him, a grandfather figure after losing my own at 19, I wish I had my life sorted out, I wish I was ready to move to New York... even part time, so I could be close to every one I love, I wish I didn't miss my cousin so much, I wish I didn't think about my own father's mortality... I wish, I wish, I wish. I wish there was one person that I could talk to about all this... who I would feel like I was not burdening, that I felt like I could trust, that wouldn't just be using their back story to shape my future story.

So I feel a little lost. I miss my Uncle. I do. But all these other things are so profoundly swirling around my head.

Dad: "So, I know you are sad. But remember, you are strong, too."


PS, a lot of you have emailed or left comments of such sweet concern. I am a World Champion Bouncer Backer. Seriously, I think I am in a book or something. So... don't worry, I'll be okay.

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If I Had A Super Power...

What's Your Sign?

First of all, I am deeply, deeply touched by everyone's comments on the post about my uncle. I want to leave a comment for each and every one of you who cared so kindly to do that. But my internet has been down and I have raced over to the library just to write this.

(PS, someone is looking out for me, I have a huge deadline on Wednesday so the lack of the internet may be a good thing as I am easily distracted like a hamster!)

But I didn't want to wait until this internet situation rights itself to thank all of you. So, I'm doing it, here, now with the promise to follow up on your blogs once I have this immeasurably challenging deadline behind me.

But I also wanted to write a small post. I was thinking about how inspired I am by Jamie from "Inspired Mess" who did the art work in the post below (it's from her journal - incredible!) and "Freestyle Sarah" who loved some of the encouraging signs I've post here and on Facebook. So she made one for herself. Seeing it, I was bowled over. One, because something I had written had resonated with her. And two, because UNLIKE me, who just finds these signs and banners on the internet... she made her own.

She made it! Like Jamie made hers. And she hung it where she could see it every day.

"YOU ARE WORTH IT"

Yes! Yes! Yes! She is and Jamie is and I am and you are.

So because I have to get back to work, I leave you with this: What's your sign? What words of encouragement do you need?

Leave it in the comments section. You can leave it anonymously. I will put them all in a hat and pick one. Whomever I pick, I will make the banner for you and send it to you. If anyone is feeling super creative, I challenge you to make the banner or sign of your encouraging words to yourself and photograph it and send it in.

When Sarah did her's it was a lightening rod of change for her. With permission, I will link her post about it here.

Another thing you could do... this would blow my mind: Offer your services to make a banner for one of the readers here. I'll pick that out of a hat too. I like the idea that someone could make an impact on a stranger just by donating their time and creativity. Sometimes, we are so busy, bogged down, we don't make the time for ourselves. By someone else making this banner they are, in Sarah's words, showing you:

YOU ARE WORTH IT!

Even though this is a short post, I'm really excited by it.

Do you know a friend that needs some words of encouragement, a "rah-rah, you can do it" in their life, maybe someone who needs to remember how strong they are? Post this on your Facebook or Twitter and let's include other people in this powerful and EMPOWERING experiment.


Love you guys. xoxoxoxo

***

What's Your Sign?

I Am Very Content To Sit Here And Hold Your Hand

Art work by Jamie of http://inspiredmess.blogspot.com

When I was twelve, when I was thirteen, when I was fourteen and when I was fifteen, when I was twenty two and twenty three and twenty four, I thought I might see my father die. He had congestive heart failure. Sometimes he was hidden away in his bedroom. I remember that I would peek through the old fashion keyhole as a little girl to look at him.

We were not suppose to go in. He was resting. He needed his rest.

One day I realized, it has been four days. I have not seen my own father in four days. This did not seem good. It did not seem right.

I snuck in his room. To sneak in, you have to be very, very quiet. Secret operative quiet. There is a latch on the other side of the door that would open with a “Thwack” and then my mother would be on and up the stairs and I would be yanked back from the thereshold I just wanted to cross. To see my Dad.

Now if I can get in and if I did get in, now I must deal with the floors. Squeaky. It is best to get on your hands and knees. If you can get to the latch hook rug a few feet away, you are half way home.

I’m on it… I can do it. It’s been four days. I don’t see how someone can not leave a bedroom for four days.

I’ve crawled the length of the hard wood floors and I am just under him. Where he sleeps. But he is just a bump under the covers. Not even a big bump. Covers will have to be moved to see his face. I just want to see his face. If I see his face, I can see if he is breathing, if I see that he is breathing, I can believe, at least for a while, that when my mother says, everything is going to be fine, that everything might be fine, even if people are coming over with grim expressions on their face and tight smiles for me and my sisters.

And a priest. He came. He came for last rites. I know that because even though I am little, I went to CCD and had my first communion and I know all about what last rites are and all that.

They are not for people that are going to be fine.

That’s why I have to see for myself. I just see scalp and forehead and eye brows and the start of his nose. But I’ve seen some medical shows and I know I need to cup my little hand by his face and check for breathing.

Please be breathing, Dad.

It’s not there. His breath is gone and he is dead and we are left alone and she cannot take care of us and I don’t want to live anywhere else and they are already talking about splitting us up and he is the fun one and he lets me watch TV and doesn’t yell when he finds me sneaking “Late Night With David Letterman” way, way past my bed time and he gives me pep talks even though I have to wear glasses and I get called four eyes but I know he will make it okay.

He is a good Dad.

He’s alive. I can’t feel it on my hand so I put my face down near his. I can’t feel it on my cheek so I put my face right to his face. And I feel it. If I stop myself from breathing and really concentrate, I can feel it. It’s on my eye lashes.

I put my hand under his. It feels like we are holding hands.

And I am content to just hold his hand.

It’s all these years later and I will tell you, I can be an emotional girl. My sister said to me, “Sometimes, you are over emotional.” I don’t care about that. To her, that is a put down. That is like saying, “you are weak.” That would not sit well with her. To be over emotional.

I feel like if love swells your heart when you care for someone deeply, it will also break it when they are suffering.

I worry more when I’m under emotional. I can freeze and close off and you cannot get next to me. I can be in the most emotional situation but shut down and not be touched.

I can see myself at my boyfriend’s father’s funeral and I can see everything. My outfit, how I wore my hair. Planned my pocketbook… have gum, have tissues, have extra money, in case something is needed. Like ice. Someone always needs to go out for ice.

And still I waited there, in the car, by the car, circling the car because I did not want to go into the Church and I did not want to see and I would sooner end this relationship or make up some small, medium or large lie about why I couldn’t go. I do not want to see grief up this close.

I did do it. But I snuck out right after the service. I was a coward.

Two days ago, I had to go see my great uncle. He is very old. He has lived a beautiful life. In death… in death as it is coming to him, has not been kind. I could feel myself, in the knowing that I would have to visit him and that it would be painful, slowly shutting down. Like in Star Wars where Luke Skywalker and Han Solo and Princess Leia are in the trash compactor and the walls are coming in.

I know that this is all from feelings of having just, quite frankly, really have had enough of this. Suffering. I hate it. I hate not being in control. I hate seeing my loved ones cry. I hate from the last time I was there, how my uncle looks at me, a once vital and active man, looking at me, like this will be the last time.

I want to be the little girl who is protected and not allowed in the room.

I made a conscious choice going over to see my great uncle. “This is not about you. Man up. Get it together. Be a grown up. This is harder on him and harder on your aunt and you certainly can grow a spine and sit with a man that you love and be okay. And yes it might be painful but you’ve been through pain. Still here? Yes. Good, then I think you can take it.”

He was not sitting up, as I had last seen him. When he purposely put on a dress shirt and slacks. He did that for me. So I would be protected and not see how sick he was. My father used to do that too. There were so many horrible bruises on his arm from his heart surgeries (I think they take a vein from there and use it in the reconstruction) that he would purposely hide his arm under a towel so we would not see it.

So we would be protected.

I sat by my uncle. He was in a hospital bed though he was at home. He had lost so much weight. “Do not let your eyes show that you are scared, that you are sad. Let only love be here. When he sees you smile you are the little girl he took to the beach. Let him see that. He is remembering you that way and give yourself the gift of remembering him that way.”

And I took his hand. And I held it. And even after an hour and my aunt said I could leave, I just said, “I am very content to sit here and hold his hand.”

I couldn’t understand a lot of what he was saying. And when he stared Heavenward and started to point and then gasped and then stopped breathing, my aunt begged us to all hold hands and say a Hail Mary. And I was sure that he would die.

And I was not scared and I did not want to run and I did not want to not be there.

I just held his hand. And when he took his other hand and put it gently on my face, I did not cry. I smiled. I stayed present. I knew and I know, that was the last time. And if he goes and when he goes, I will be happy that instead of protecting my heart—I walked in there and I sat down and I held his hand.

I know it sounds crazy and I know you would have to know me to know that this is true. But it's the jet skiing that did it. Somehow facing all those fears... feeling boundlessly strong out on that adventure with my sister and dear friend, made this moment with my uncle come together and not break me apart. And now, when he's gone, I will have something to hold and be mine instead of being filled with regret that I walked away.

I Am Very Content To Sit Here And Hold Your Hand

Adventure Bowl Holy Shit! Jet Skiing!

Can doing an adventure a week make you a happier, stronger, spontaneous, more decisive version of yourself?

The answer, for me, is yes. It's not even 24 hours after this adventure and feeling like the most powerful, kick-ass, optimistic version of myself, I emailed my ex and told him to stop calling me. It's something I have been meaning to do but I have been enjoying the "crutch-y-ness" of it. He's reassuring, he makes me feel good, he tells me it's going to be okay. He keeps me stuck in this place where I don't have to move forward.

But I want to move forward. I have to.

The idea of the Adventure Bowl is just for things like this - it's not just the activity but hopefully it's going to make you feel SOME WAY - usually a way that's lying dormant in you. "I've been meaning to stand up to my boss/boyfriend/co-worker/mother-in-law." Or you have a fear... Or you think you can't POSSIBLY do something.

Then the Adventure makes you feel like the strongest most awesome version of yourself and you know you can. In my case, it was get rid of a piece of baggage. Really hot baggage. But nonetheless.

Okay! Jet Skiing!

So I pulled this out of the bowl and I was so psyched. I put in there purposefully because every time I see someone doing it, I wish I was that someone. That's how you know something belongs in the Bowl - if you have a desire to do or try something, if you have an EXCITING feeling about it, that you squash because of fear or I don't have the money or "it's not really for me," or whatever "Button" you're pushing in yourself that makes the desire for "fun-ness" go away - THAT'S the thing you should be doing.

For me... there were some things to confront. I was raised by the ocean. I was a fish, in the ocean constantly, fearlessly, like all kids should be. That's the time you don't have a button, you don't push things away or if you do, the sweet reassurances of a parent or loved one can help you overcome everything.

When I was 14, my cousin M, who was like a brother to me, died in a skiing accident. I found myself literally becoming this eccentric character you might see in a movie. Everything scared me Now, let's remember, he died just months after my Dad has a series of heart surgeries and right after his heart transplant and my parents were living 3,000 miles away at the time - so there were no reassurances that everything would be okay.

I didn't want to ski. Or skate board. Or ride a bike. Everything felt unsafe. Too out of control. A year later, my five year old cousin had cancer. A year after that I was a sixteen or seventeen year old going to the funeral of a little kid I used to babysit every week. He had died in a skiing accident.

The world is unsafe. The world will swallow you up like a monster and take you down whole. I'm sure all this fear was playing out in a million different ways in relationships and bad behavior - an when they are little ways, you can ignore how you've changed... you can ignore the things that you have given up for fear.

Then I was in Greece. I was 19. My best friend was living in Paris. This sounds all very glamourous, but let me tell you, it was one of those quintessential poor college kids with backpacks and a map and with my BFFs rough knowledge of French that got us through France, Italy and then Greece.

In Greece, where literally, everything was $3 - a hotel room, a meal for 6, buying drinks for the whole god damn bar - we decided to go out on this boat trip and swim the Mediterranean. I jumped in and it wasn't long before I had my first panic attack. Something came over me. (I am a trained beach life guard at this point). Maybe it was that no land was in sight. Maybe it was the first time that the "bigness" of the ocean dawned on me. But I was immobile and I was panicking and I was going to drown.

And if I ever doubted how much my best friend loved me, it was never in that moment, even as 19 year old idiots jumping off boats in mismatched bathing suits off the coast of Greece. She saw sheer panic in my eyes - swam over to be, got behind me in a life guard stance (she was one too) and towed me in.

But that was it for me and the ocean. Until spring break, me and seven of my guy friends. I had a lot of Coors Light in the sun as you should do when you are in Daytona Beach and jumped in the ocean only to have to be horribly and embarrassingly rescued again.

So here I am in present day, just looking at this Jet Ski adventure. Fingering it on it's little piece of paper. Knowing it means so much more than... just the fun that it should be.

It's confronting a huge fear. (Yes, a normal person might just see how they can stay ON TOP of the Jet Ski and possibly not ever even have to touch water - this is not the person I am - get to know me!)

The adventure got put off when a friend could only join on a certain day. Then yesterday came. In my mind the scenarios of possible escape tactics are organizing themselves in my mind. "Maybe, they'll be out of jet skis, maybe the ocean will be too rough, maybe we won't pass the written exam, maybe they're not open on Wednesdays. Maybe a couple died yesterday on their Jet Skis and this will be a day of mourning for the couple... just out of respect, they won't be renting jet skis today."

As we got to the rental place and the door was closed and locked and I could feel the part of me - the part of my person is that is SO FUCKING AFRIAD OF EVERY THING, breathe a sigh of relief, I hated myself.

But then there was Charlie. The owner. And before I knew it, we had jet skis, and have passed the exam and were donning life jackets and being lowered into the holy shit ocean.

I got on the back of 2nd best friend's and my sister rode her own. 2nd best friend could give two shits about my fears - she's known me since I was 15 and her own words she's watched me collapse like some kind of flower that hasn't been watered over the past four years.

And she's no having it.

So she ramped that jet ski to as fast as it could go and I started howling and laughing and screaming but not in fear but pure joy! Thinking, "This, this, this, is what I want my life to be!"

Have you ridden a jet ski? It's like riding a motorcycle across the ocean. Really, really fast. You take a wave and you are airborne - not just the ski - but you, holding on your friend's back for dear life.

And it is AWESOME!

2nd Best Friend then gets me to drive. You would think I would be all tentative, afraid to do anything too extreme in case we tipped and ended up in the ocean. But no, I did not care. I revved that baby as hard as I could. Soon we were flying across the ocean - sea spray smashing us in the face because I was determined to take every wave. I put danger ABSOLUTELY out of my head.

I've never, never had that much fun. If I have, then the sad part is, it's been so frickin' long I don't remember.

My sister switched up with 2nd Best Friend. I wanted my sister who is a rebel rouser - unafraid of anything to be on the back of my ski and FEEL MY WRATH. She had been taunting me about how I would probably cry or freak out or come up with some excuse not to go. And you know, what, I don't blame her.

But once she was on the back, I hit that gas so hard that she lost her mind. "YouaregoingtofastYouaregoingtohaveuskilledNotthatfastOhmygodyouarenotjumpingthatwavvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvve!"

What a baby!

I jumped that wave - we got smashed in the face with ocean and we laughed our asses off. And mostly, I felt like a bad ass. For me, for her. But mostly for me.

As much as we were donuting around the ocean in our final moments before Charlie was going to take the jet skis back, I took the time to just think... you don't have to be afraid so more. You just fell down a hill and a year and a half of physical therapy and a traumatic brain injury and breaking your shoulder and surgery - you're here. If anything happened to you... wouldn't you rather die happy?

Happy seems better than afraid. Yesterday, it felt so fucking good. So fucking good, it's how I feel today. The best part, it reminded me of who I was. Being with someone who knew you when you were sixteen will do that. Because when you look at them, all you see is everything you were: sneaking into the rich boys school and stealing there stuff, egging cars down by "Makeout Lake," having roof top parties - literally... parties that were on roofs, swimming out to boats with a six pack of beer and staying up all night talking about our dreams, being bad girls and doing donuts on people's lawns in the rich people neighborhoods.

Yesterday, I heard from my sister and 2nd best friend and even from myself, a version of our laughs I hadn't heard in years - it's young and silly and unselfconscious and joyful and AWESOME. And I know for each one of us, we needed that Jet Ski outing for different reasons.

So... what is the adventure you want to do? What do you fear? What could you do that would make you feel awesomely stronger? For me it was Jet Skiing. I guess that's what I needed to cut the cord with an old boyfriend. And you know... pushing someone out of your life that doesn't belong there, that doesn't serve anything, just makes room for someone better, more loving, nurturing, fun.

Someone to Jet Ski with.

If you love this post, I would love for you to post it on your Facebook or Twitter. Someone, who's felt like me, might just need to hear it.

****

Adventure Bowl
Holy Shit! Jet Skiing!

Let's Talk About Sex!

Okay, we're not talking about sex, I just thought that would be an awesome title. I'm also feeling an incredible amount of horniness staying at my parents where there is no prospects of making out with anyone.

But don't run away just yet. I NEEEEEEEED YOU. I have some things to fill you in on and a few important questions for you.

So you're wondering why the Adventure Bowl "Let's Go Jet Skiing" post is down from this morning. And you're wondering, what happened with the nose ring I was debating getting before this trip and also, what the hell happened with my cousin's boyfriend after I so drunkenly tried to put the kabosh on their relationship two months ago, only to guiltily find out he broke up with her two weeks later because of what I said, BUT then was reuniting with her at my Aunt & Uncle's house for the weekend. This weekend.

The same weekend I was staying at their house. With my cousin who's only wish in life is to get married before 30 to someone who "looks good on paper." And she had no idea what I had (drunkenly) done. What would he do when he saw me? Would he tell her? Would her parents, WAY TOO invested in this relationship, kill me in my sleep?

First up, nose ring. The nose ring is something that on the right girl and done in a teeny tiny way, I think is sexy. It's something that's also kind of rebellious and I like rebellion. Mostly because I am so freakin' good. I mean, I used to be bad. I was bad until I was 17, then I turned good. Good can be boring. I'm bored of being boring.

But when I picked "Get a Nose Ring" from the Adventure Bowl, I was leery because I was on my way home to where my parents live and I knew they would stroke out if they saw me with a hole in my face. But on the other hand, it would be a symbolic gesture of... this is my life. They seem to be having some trouble grasping that. And that I want other things than them/dreams than them/life goals than them. And that my ideas of success are so separate from theirs.

So, the nose ring, was a go. I had to do it. I will say, reading your comments, I was blown away because you were all so compassionate in your answers to the question: "Should I or shouldn't I?" I thought it would be 100% "DO IT!" But it was really more like, and I am paraphrasing here: "The spirit of the adventure bowl is to make your life better, it's too move your forward and open you up. If getting the nose ring is going to be a big negative in your life because you are fighting with your Mom or so nervous about her reaction - what's the point?"

Wow.

Right.

I still felt the need, like, to hold up the adventure bowl as I set it up - no excuses, no backing out. But then I got the call,, "Bring home your funeral pants." My great uncle is very, very sick. One of my best friends is his hospice worker, so I knew from her, it was pretty bad. He's 84 and has lived an incredible, amazing, good person life.

But I will not and would not go to his funeral with a nose ring. No discussion. So that adventure went back in the bowl.

Now, as for the whole outcome of my cousin's boyfriend's visit, here is the comment I left in the "I'm Predicting One of The Most Uncomfortable Nights of My Life Will Be Happening Tonight," along with some added flair:

"I was able to avoid my cousin's boyfriend for 36 hours - like a stealth ninja. But I did run into him this morning.

I was coming up the stairs and there he is with my cousin, looking at him all adoring, with my aunt and uncle, also looking at him adoringly, like the son-in-law they soon hope he'll be. My stomach was spazming, our eyes locked. "Get it together," I thought just as my aunt said, "K, you remember J?"

Oh, I remember him. I remember telling him if he had no intention of getting serious with my cousin to get the hell away from her. (5 Martinis) I pulled my shit together, slapped on an innocent smile and said... "Well, hardly... I was SO DRUNK THAT NIGHT I BARELY REMEMBER A THING. So... so drunk... almost needed to be hospitalized. Like ten martinis and someone might have slipped me a roofie. Yes, the date rape drug. I think I ingested the date rape drug. So, no, don't remember you, this is, like, the first time we met. What was your name again?"

Annnnnnnnnnnnnd, then we shook hands like we never met.

I know, I'm patting myself on the back right now.

Third piece of business: Why am I not going Jet Skiing today? It was picked from the Adventure Bowl this morning, bathing suits were donned and sun screen was slathered on. So what the hell?

Because I realized the only thing better than doing an adventure to shake up your life, get you out of a rut, the damn monotiny of every day - IS TO TAKE SOME ONE WHO IS ALSO FEELING THAT WAY - WITH YOU.

Yes, that's right, I'm dragging "2nd best friend" with me. (I call her that to make her work harder to win the "first best friend" title). Life has been cruel to her of late. Let me run down the roster of the shit storm that has been her life -- wait, technically it's only one thing - lack of money. But you know how that branches off? She and her hot man were sure they would lose their house. They missed 2 mortgage payments after their ARM bank loan readjusted. Her work hours were cut back. The stress made her so sick she had to go to the hospital (she was fainting & feeling nauseous) AND to make things worse, since she has a $3,000 deductible, she had to pay for the whole visit out of pocket.

Just adding more stress sauce into the stress pot that was her life.

So I invited her. But she works CONSTANTLY. But she's getting Wednesday morning off to go Jet Skiing. And when I told her, her voice sounded so excited, I pictured her as the sixteen year old, when I first met her and we did very bad, mischeivious, spontaneous things together. We once laughed so hard after being particularly bad girls that B laughed so hard, she collapsed on the kitchen floor...

And then she peed on it. Peed from laughter! When is the last time you peed from laughter? Right? Life needs to be that fun again. I need it and she needs it and that's why we are waiting until Wednesday to Jet Ski.

So I will post all fun that will be had on Wednesday. But I'm curious... What adventure do you want to do? What adventure would be symbolic of getting back to that fun, carefree sixteen year old? But more importantly, what I am really curious about is: What holds you back? You can answer anonymously if you want. Is it kids? Being overworked? Too settled? Have you forgotten the things you like or the person you were (I've been through all of this except, the kids part, I don't have those - so there's no judging.) I'm just curious.


If you fee this post might inspire someone, feel free to Twitter it or post it on your Facebook. Now go into the comments and answer my nosey questions!

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Let's Talk About Sex!

I'm Predicting One of the Most Uncomfortable Moments of My Life Will Be Happening Tonight

Posts of late have been kind of heavy, as I navel gaze so deep, I think the C-5 and C-6 of my spine are fused together. Let's just tell funny stories! Oh, I know one! It's about me getting so drunk the last time I was home, that I am literally LITERALLY going to have one of the most awkward nights of my life.

Like my stomach is flipping and legs getting weak just glimpsing the horrificness of the this metaphorical car crash I have set in motion.

So 2 months ago, I'm in Brooklyn visiting my sister and we're going out to see this band with all her friends. And I can't say what made me do this, except for the fact that, knowing I didn't have to drive home and worry about killing anyone, I ordered a martini.

Then people were buying me martinis. I often become popular in a bar, what can I say? So now, I am completely f'ing high on vodka and my cousin introduces me to her new boyfriend (she lives in NYC, too.)

Now, before I start talking about him and this horrific sitch I got myself into (and no, we did not end up making out in the back room, get your smut mind out of the gutter), let me tell you a little about my cousin, just to set the scene and possibly, when you learn more of my horrificness, lay the groundwork for you not hating me so much.

My cousin is a baby in a 20 something body. Example: Her parents who live 200 miles away, drive her groceries to her in NYC. Do you really need to hear more? I can give you more examples but really, does that not cover it? She calls her Dad with a list. "Don't forget toilet paper." I'm not kidding.

Now, if you want your child to thrive in NYC, your child who already lives 3 doors down from her job and is probably already not meeting a lot of new people - perhaps you should NOT treat her like a four year old with a learning disability. Let her wag her ass to the grocery store and meet people.

I digress. So I'm wasted on four martinis and I feel like we know each other well enough to tell you it was really five martinis and I meet my cousin's boyfriend. My cousin has been know to be a stage 5 Cling-On when it comes to guys she likes and will dump all aspects of her life to be with a guy and then gets profoundly hurt when said guy dumps her and then has to enter into some kind of witness protection program.

Infinity story short. Boyfriend guy and I start talking at the bar. I am between him and my cousin and while she is on one side of me, planning their wedding and wondering whether to have a traditional butter cream wedding cake or a seven-tiered chocolate ganache, he is telling me how his family would stroke out if they found out he was dating a Non-Jewish girl.

Now, this is the point where, I should have walked away, ya know?

But, mmm, no, I ordered another martini. And then, I sort of conveyed my kind of one true thing I hold dear when it comes to relationships that involve people I care about. If you are aware that someone is in love with you or has major feelings about you -- and you know you can, in no way, return those feelings, for whatever reason -- she makes more money than you, he has a lady butt, you sense premature balding and a thick head of hair is important to you, he makes that clicking noise when he chews, she has a cat named "Commander Paws", SHE IS NOT JEWISH and you only date JEWISH GIRLS...

Then you have to vag up and let that person go. Even if you are having great sex. Although, if it's REALLY great sex, I will give you a week grace period, especially if you are a girl because good ORGASMS are hard to find.

You feel me? You can't let someone be in love with you when you know you can't reciprocate. It's called being responsible for other people's feelings. So, yeah, waiting for someone better to come along while she's debating chicken or fish - bad idea.

Get out. Just get out now. Which is what I told my cousin's boyfriend whose name I can't remember. Because I was so drunk on five martinis. Normally, I let people live their lives and just silently judge their mistakes. If you look at me and I have a wry smile and a raised eyebrow, I'm thinking about something stupid that you're doing right now that you will probably not even figure out for three months.

Anyway. Apparently, this guy broke up with my cousin 2 weeks later. And quoted me, without quoting me. Meaning, she has no idea I have anything to do with this, even though he used every reason I gave him to give her the hammer. She is devastated. Worse, her parents are devastated. They loved him. They thought he was "the one."

Worse... I AM STAYING AT MY COUSIN'S HOUSE, the cousin that I wrecked her life by getting her boyfriend to break up with her after five martinis and... wait, for it, wait for...

HE IS COMING HERE TONIGHT TO SPEND THE WEEKEND BECAUSE SHE BEGGED HIM TOO!

And he, God damn, what was his name? - is going to see me the second he walks in the door.

And that my friends, is why I am predicting that tonight, this night, will be one of the most uncomfortable moments of my life. (Especially if he has some Vietnam type flashback when he sees me and vomits up the whole story about how this is all my fault.)

I am open to any and all suggestions. I could care less if they get back together. I am selfish and only care about not getting caught. How do I do that? Wait for him at the end of the driveway and say something to him? Ignore the whole thing? Casually bring up how drunk I was the last time I saw him and how I DON'T REMEMBER ANYTHING from the last time I saw him.

Somebody please help me. Help me.


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I'm Predicting One of the Most Uncomfortable Moments of My Life Will Be Happening Tonight

Untitled Part 1 (Being fully aware that "Untitled" is the most pretentious title in the history of man)

Before we get to this, let's put out what we've all been thinking... there are some God damn Adventure Bowl posts missing. Let's review. Two weeks ago, I pulled "Go to Beer Making Class" which was f'ing awesome. Beer! You can make your own! In a bucket! Your neighbors will love you! And this week... drum roll: "Get A Nose Ring." (A cute, sexy one, not one you can be pulled around by, please.) Yeah, who snuck that in? Who snuck that in three days before I go home? I have never NEVER welched on an adventure. But guys... my mother will stroke out. There's a big family party. She will lose her shit.

Which is probably why I should do it.

Shizzzz. I don't know. I WOULD LIKE A VOTE IN THE COMMENTS SECTION: Do I do it or not? Weighing - do I honor the promise to myself and you guys or consider that my Mom will lose her innards at a family party? You decide.

Alright, stay tuned for that. But in the meantime, I wrote this. It's a two parter, but I know you can handle it. You're strong like that.

I was going for a run the other day and it was hot as balls outside so I grab for a visor and go to put it on and then, there I see: it's splattered in blood.

And I kind of gasp and have this sickening memory all at the same time. That was the visor I was wearing the day I fell down a 70 foot hill in my neighborhood. A retaining wall broke my fall when I smashed my head against it and knocked me unconscious and I was lucky enough that a woman walking her baby found me. She called 911. She gave them the wrong address. She told them she thought I was dead. She told me when she saw me, a week later, still in a hospital gown, my head partly shaved (not that you could tell, I have so much god damn hair), staples in skull, arm in a giant brace, that she thought I was dead.

I started shaking. I realized that she was just as traumatized by what she saw, as I was about what happened. She didn't know that she should probably NOT tell me that. I think when you're in that kind of shock, words don't go through the brain, they just come out.

So there was the visor. The visor was in a clear plastic bag that the firemen had turned into the hospital, along with the fire chief's business card. The hospital gave it to me when I left. Technically, not when I left. I snuck out of the hospital in my gown and took my own clear plastic bag, but that is another story.

I had put the plastic bag beside my bed. I don't know why. I don't know why I didn't throw it out or treat the visor with some "Spray & Wash" and put it in the damn washer and dryer instead of keeping it like some kind of police evidence bag right beside my bed.

Then I piled it high with magazines. So I wouldn't have to look at it. I had taken the fire chief's business card out and called and asked what kind of cup cakes they wanted, the firemen. You know, for saving my life and everything. Turns out, they like every kind. I thought bringing them over would bring some kind of closure or goodness or something but instead I just started getting that feeling where I am definitely, definitely going to cry and I can't have anyone see that so I just ran in and dropped them off.

By the door.

My theory is the pug pulled that visor out of that clear plastic bag. Her name is Ruby, I adopted her just before I fell. Because of all the time I spent in bed after the accident and then after the surgery, we are stupidly bonded. If I'm in the shower, she is on the shower mat. If I am making breakfast, she is on half on my feet, half on the kitchen floor. I notice, if I am gone, when I come back, a shirt of mine will be pulled out for her to lay on, a pile of socks are in her bed.

A visor.

And weirdly, because I bought three like it, it didn't strike me as odd to find it on the floor of the bedroom and put it by the door so I could easily grab it.

Until I did and until I saw all that blood and then I can see them cutting me out of my shirt and a team of eight ER docs and nurses around me and I AM SCREAMING this completely, not only unconscious scream, but this noise I didn't even know that I could make. Have you ever dislocated your shoulder? Don't. Don't ever do that. It hurts, especially if, when they are putting it back in, they are manipulating a bone that you have also broken.

I can't remember any of the doctors there. I know one said to me, "I can give you a shot for the pain before we pop your shoulder in but it's going to take a couple of minutes for it to kick in--" "No! Just, do it, just do it now!" I couldn't last, not another three seconds. There were so many people around me. Just like on TV. And then it was back in.

I can remember that I felt instant relief even as I was in an excruciating about of pain. I still had broken bones no one knew I had, was bleeding from the elbow and head (they could not tell because of said, massive amounts of wavy hair).

But I'm getting off track. Yes, I do want to tell you what a bad ass I am for getting staples in my head without anesthesia, but really, getting off track. Or how I had to ask for my own head CT because the doctors didn't know I had hit my head. The firemen found me unconscious... Is that not in some kind of report or something?

But I'm getting off track.

The point is, I'm only at a level of honesty of about 9. I don't talk about that accident. Or here when I am talking about it, I can talk about the facts. I can lay them out all neat and orderly. I would make an excellent witness. But emotionally, I can not really go there. Honesty, 9.

I don't know. It might be a 6.

If you are a private (secretive) person, time is on your side. People will forget to ask you about things that are painful. Better yet, you will learn how to tell the funniest, most succinct story of said accident. You will boil it down to the highlights where everything you say will get a laugh and you can walk away with no one being the wiser. (And you will feel a little superior, just a little smug, as you get away with it, yet again.)

The accident has lead to the deepest of deep soul searching. Currently, I am in a chess game with myself - two opposite sides of me vying to make the winning move of my life. This is all relevant to the fact that, I'm going back home this week.

I will post the rest of the story on Tuesday... it's getting not only long... but so off track.

Yes, I go home on Tuesday night, back East, with a lot churning around in this brain here. My last trip, just months ago, the new information of my cousin's cancer, had me running to Brooklyn to put money down on an apartment, so determined with new revelations about life, and how I was so dissatisfied with how I was living it, that I was ready to ship all my things from Los Angeles to New York if I could.

Some deeper breathing, and a soul slap from my sister about what a "God damn idiot" I was being to try and make all these decisions in a really emotional moment, pushed me to reboot this blog in hopes that if I force myself to write, and I force myself out of my comfort zone (adventures) then I will put myself in the strongest, most clear headed place for decision making.

I guess I'm just turning a lot over. Going back East puts me square back to face all the feelings I had when I found out that my cousin has cancer two months ago. But also, finding that visor just kind of shook me up... another reminder about how fragile life is. Something... that to make the decisions, I need to make, I need in the forefront of my mind, yet the memories are all twisted up and painful.

Oh God Lord, I can barely even stand to be thinking this heavy. Okay, let's all remember on the upside, going back home - nephews will be hugged and tickled and kissed; clam bakes will be had, Wing Night - where inexplicably every cousin of mine down by the beach all show up to the same bar - will be happening. Drinks on the deck, determination to pool crash the snobby beach club's pool down the street - that is all happening. Super soakers will be filled with water, water balloons will be launched, telling politically incorrect bedtime stories to my nephews as my sister laughs but shoots me a look that says, "Please, don't do that" - that will be happening. Brooklyn, bands, high school friends, all of it, jam crammed into a very short amount of time.

But also, this turning over of my future... I'll be thinking of that too.

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Untitled Part 1
(Being fully aware that "Untitled" is the most pretentious title in the history of man)

You, Too, Can Learn From A Selfish Horny Loser

This is a re-post. Sorry, I really am. I have something I really want to blog about but I am under a huge deadline. Yesterday, I threw up something totally slapdash and it didn't sit well with me. But this, this is one of my favorite entries. I hope you enjoy it. xoxoxo

This post is totally long and worth it.

First of all, WOW, so many new readers. What I love even more is that so many of you are commenting. As, you know, it's very important because comments, to me, are better than getting on the scale and losing 10 pounds.

Today, we're talking about a topic you guys had a lot to say about: How To Get Out of A Rut.

I was reading this article in "Elle" magazine called "Danger Man" by Phillip Nobel about a man who walks out on his marriage, kids, his life. He committed to this life - the family life and then he realized, he didn't want it anymore.

"I was bored, Just bored... I had one thought and couldn't shake it: This isn't the life I was meant for."

It's kind of amazing how socially acceptable it is for men to create a certain life for themselves, marriage, kids, the house and cars and then walk out of it when it all becomes too much, to routine, too boring.

But then I got to thinking, maybe there's something we can learn about that.

It's incredibly selfish and self-centered to just leave and barring that a woman is going to be devastated, cry a lot and start drinking martinis at 3:00pm because her life has gone down the tubes... it's kind of admirable what men do.

Okay, now you hate me. Let me rephrase. Today, we're gonna learn a lesson from Selfish Horny Bastards, but in order to do that, we have to look at the action of walking away from a life that doesn't work for you.

So take the whole "walking out on his wife and kids" thing out of the equation, that's depressing. Just focus on the walking out on "High-functioning misery" as the author of the article calls it - that takes courage.

You wanted to know how to get out of your rut and I'm going to tell you:

YOU NEED TO BE BOLD. Bold like a Selfish Horny Loser.

Men are bold all the time. Why can't we be?

If I look at myself, I once was just too polite to walk out on a life I was not enjoying. I had worked so hard at a job I hated that I thought it was admirable to stay. The right thing. I had already invested so much time.

I don't want to start over.

I don't want to take a pay cut.

What if I can't hack it in a new job and then I get fired and END UP WITH NOTHING?

I imagined myself living in an over-turned dumpster in a back alley rooting around for leftover pizza in a trash can. (Everyone knows, of all trash food to eat, pizza is the most safe.)

THEN I GOT BOLD.

Okay, semi-bold. Semi-Bold is when life gives you a sign that this job ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY just isn't for you anymore. For me, that came in a scared-out-of-my-mind emergency room visit, my heart rate was at 230 BPM when it should be like 80 or 90.

The doctors thought I was on cocaine. I thought, "OMG, I wish my life was that glamorous! I want to be that girl!"

Then reality set in. "This job is killing me. I have to leave."

I had to face all those really scary questions that we all avoid by watching tv, surfing the internet or keeping so busy we can't possibly register a THOUGHT INTO OUR OWN HEAD.

My friend who is a writer, like a totally famous writer with shiny awards and stuff, said to me he gets the best ideas by just being silent right in the morning right when he wakes up. He said something smart like he always does that I should have written down but kind of forget.

But the idea was that your conscious, which we ignore all damn day, is kind of speaking to you in the wee hours, in a way we can't block out, so the most truest thoughts will come to you. (Just like they often do in your dreams).

So I did it. I did it a few times. It said:

"What happened to you? You wanted to be a writer but you're so damn afraid to really pursue it that you hide in a job you hate that is eventually going to kill you so you never have to risk having a career you could love. Yeah, good plan."

My conscious is such a sarcastic bitch.

So I was like that Selfish Horny Loser who, for my first time, didn't think about anyone else but me. And I did what I wanted to do. I walked out on my old life.

AND THEN I WAS SHOCKED BY WHAT HAPPENED.

I enrolled in a class at UCLA in sitcom writing. That teacher liked my work and tried to get me an agent. That didn't really work out but high praise from this former sitcom writer turned teacher got me to end the career that I hated and take a job as a writer's assistant.

It was a 70% pay cut. And no, I'm not kidding.

I was terrible at my job. I could only type with two fingers. The writers probably didn't love that I couldn't type their notes fast enough but when I was accepted into a prestigious writing program, people were really sweet to me. They listened to some of my ideas, I got an agent.

Two years later, I had my dream job. Because I was BOLD. Because like the author of that article, I was tired of living the life I wasn't meant for.

It's amazing the things we make sure we have in life. We whip out our credit cards and make sure we have rockin' clothes, big screen TVs, trips, cars, iPods. But we don't use that money to ensure our own happiness - like quitting a job we hate, taking another and supplementing the difference in pay with a zero percent credit card, a loan, etc.

This is just one part of getting out of a rut and we'll talk about more. I just thought a natural place to start is with a job because not only do we spend so much time there (70% of our waking day) but for a lot of us, okay for me, it defines a lot of our self-worth.

I'm not saying it's something to do today, I'm saying, it's time to lay in bed in the morning and let those thoughts come to you. If you can't, if it's too hard, it's journal time.

What do you want to do with the rest of your life?

What makes you happy?

How can you get there?

Are you ready to be bold?


This blog is dedicated to being mini-bold, semi-bold and gia-normously BOLD.

I would love if you would Twitter this post or put it on your Facebook if you think it might help someone else!


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You, Too, Can Learn From A Selfish Horny Loser