The Last 29 Days of Theresa Marie Earhart

It's like the perfect cliche. The feeling that every moment in my life has led up to this one. That fate & destiny are as real as the butterflies in my stomach. That all of this actually matters. Because now it's happening to me. 

I have always wondered how it was possible for couples to "keep falling more and more in love", because for me it was the opposite. My feeling peak in the beginning and then slowly disappear. Men get to be annoying, stereotypical, uninteresting. Their views on the world were so basic and uninspired. So boring and conventional. They were typical, stubborn men who had always had the world laid out before them. No matter how "hard" they think they have it in life, they are still white males who have so many unspoken advantages in their back pocket. 

Then I met Jordan. A quiet, cynical, intellectual artist who could match me in any every sense. Yes I am still "quicker" than him. But I'm quicker than everyone. I eat fast, think fast, talk fast, walk fast, you name it. It's a strength just as much as a weakness. But where I am too fast, Jordan is calculated and thorough. And where he is slow to come around, I push us forward. 

After 5 years of on and off dating, living and not living together, working together and not working together, and then back to working together again, both of our sisters weddings, countless mini issues and everything else that comes with being alive, we are still in love. And happy. And yes, I do love him more each day. Because we have worked for that feeling. We talk until we're blue in the face and the conflict is resolved and then try to never have the same issue come up again. It's not magic. It's definitely not a fairy tale, but it's my definition of true love. 

And I am ready to shed my girlish attitude. My sulky, bratty, and indulgent ways and grow the fuck up. Become Jordan's wife. And then become a mother. All the while keeping myself satisfied and healthy, so I can take care of my new family. 

It won't be easy. But it will be the most amazing life that I can possibly lead. And I am ready. 

The Push Pull

I can know that I will never love anything more. I can know that it will change my entire life. I can know that it will one day make me a better person than I am today. 

And I can still not be sure.

I can know that nothing will ever be as sweet as hearing them say "I love you". That nothing will ever feel more rewarding and exhausting and magical. And still not be ready. 

I can have everyone everywhere tell me it's the absolute best thing that ever happened to them, and still not feel the same pull. I can watch the smiles, the growth, the blind affection and wonderment in their little eyes when they look at their parents, and still not want to say yes to that for myself. 

I can hear every story a million times, watch a thousand movies, hear a billion words and still not know if I actually, really, truly want to be a mother. 

And that's okay. 

The Year Of a Million Marriages

So many of Jordan and I's good friends are getting married this year. Geoff eloped, Billy is next month, Samantha is the month after (elopment in Vegas!!), Trish is after that, then me!, then Renee & Ryan, then Megan from Majestic and that's just up to October!!

The end of the world is obviously inspiring all of us to commit now or forever hold our peace. 

No but seriously. I talk a lot of shit. A LOT. It's my nature, I run things over and over and over in my mind, and the first few cycles are usually mean and full of misplaced pain. 

Take my relationship with Jordan. If you have never met us and only read this blog, you probably feel some type of way. Either that he doesn't give me what I want or I am totally overbearing and emotional. The real reality of it all is that we are probably two of the happiest people ever. I am naturally an over-thinking cerebral nightmare, but it doesn't leave my brain most of the time, except here. I also really like to laugh, and so does Jordan. Our humor is definitely something we share, and something that make the world a tolerable place. 

We work together, so that means we are literally together 24/7. That is not an exaggeration. We do everything together, have the same group of friends and have pretty much the same hobbies. And we rarely fight. Mainly because I can talk us both through any issue we are having in a pretty rational tone of voice and that helps things stop escalating. But it's also because Jordan is an incredible man. He's kind, and thoughtful, and doesn't have a spiteful bone in his body. That is not normal these days. Behind closed doors a lot of perfectly nice, chill dudes are disgusting sexist trolls who still think it's funny to cat call and abuse women. Jordan was never like that, his friends were never like that, and I am so thankful for that fact. 

So for all my complaining, I really am the luckiest T in the alphabet. And Tessa Earhart can't wait to become Tessa Rolleston. It's been an incredible journey finding him and myself over the last 5 years, and I can't wait to keep traveling. 

How to Fly a Horse.

I have become one of those people who gives my close friends and family book as a present. And I keep giving everyone the same book, because I honestly feel every person on the planet should read it. It changed my life and I think about it every day. It's a nonfiction book called "How to Fly a Horse" by Kevin Ashton. 

It's absolutely amazing to read something that put into words a lot of things that were on the tip of my tongue. The edge of my brain. Things I felt were real but couldn't quite articulate. It's changed how I approach problems, how I view situations and most importantly how I will teach my children about the world. It really is that incredible. 

It talks about the essence of what it means to be human. Why we are the way we are. I don't want to delve into any specifics right now, because i think i might reread it and do several blog post in the process. 

But seriously, buy it and read it. The paperback is $10 on Amazon. 

121 Days

In 121 says I will be walking down the aisle to marry Jordan. I will change my last name and enter into a totally different chapter of my life. 

Yesterday when we were at the beach after work, there were a bunch of young guys & gals with great bodies bouncing all around us, enjoying their summer and youth. I of course made some comment about how I don't look like the girls, and Jordan laughed and gestured to his body and said "I don't look like the guys either!" (He's a pretty skinny guy, with lots of chest hair, a chest tattoo and a bunch of harmless skin spots he's had since birth.) And it FINALLY dawned on me, I am MARRYING this man, besides my own, his opinion is all that matters. And he thinks I'm beautiful and soft and sexy. Neither of us is anywhere close to the ideal physique, and that's fucking great. It doesn't matter if any other human being finds me attractive for the rest of my life. The one person who matters already does. And he is enough.

Before, he was never enough. His opinion almost fell on deaf ears. I was looking everywhere else for the validation that was standing right next to me. And blaming him for a lot of how I was feeling. If you look back, even at my last post, I shift blame onto him for how I feel about myself. And that is bullshit. I realize that now. It was like a chip on my shoulder. Some needless weight that I finally shook off. 

The way I look does not define my worthiness as a person. I need to say this over and over until I actually believe it. 

Beach Body

I'm tired. Really, really, really tired. Tired of not feeling "good enough". Tired of caring about how I look. How you look. How everyone fucking looks. 

"Dress for Your Shape!"

"Flattering Swimsuits for Every Figure!"

"The 10 Best Moves for Flat Abs!"

"The Best Beach Hair How-To!"

Like shut up. Shut the fuck up. I get it. I get the fucking point. I know there is a certain "acceptable" (tiny waist, big boobs, small thighs, big ass) image that men "find attractive" (want to fuck) and is it my responsibility to adhere to it. If I do not adhere to these "standards" my value as a women is pretty much worthless. 

I'm tired of it. Carrying the weight of it all on my shoulders. It's so exhausting. Hating myself. Feeling the fat around my waist and wanting to cut it out or off. Thinking so many gross, awful, terrible things to myself when I get dressed or take a shower. 

Jordan doesn't help. He's too timid, too closed off to give me actual compliments. He doesn't ever tell me how he feels about my body, he just tells me I'm pretty and he loves me. Like his love should somehow erase all my insecurities. Because in his head its all about him. He thinks I'm pretty so automatically I should too. Instead of showing me by touching my chubby belly and thighs or making me feel appreciated physically. He just doesn't get it how it feels to hate your body as much as I do. 

I feel it all starting to slip. All of it. This current chapter of my life. Like all the other ones, I can feel the foundation crack. I'm not happy and no amount of rational thinking and patience is going to change that. 

Damn. 

I am Jill's Nipple

Marla: Why do you do it?

Jack: I don't know. I guess when people think you're dying, they really listen to you, instead of..

Marla: Instead of just waiting for their turn to speak?

Jack: Yeah... Yeah. 

(Share yourself. Completely.) 

There are two books on this planet that have completely changed my life. One is Fight Club. I saw the movie when I was 13 or 14, really late at night on HBO at my Dad's house. Then later, when I was 17 I read the book, and then subsequently almost every other book Chuck Palahniuk has written. The social commentary hit me so deep and made so much sense to me, even at such a young age. And ever since then I have always felt like Jack. Lost in a world of my own making with no clue how I got here and no clue how to get out. Because you can't get out. This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time. 

Micro Dosing

I have a problem with assumption. I "assume" people understand the world through the same filter I do. Thought patterns and processes that I "assume" are "common sense" to everyone else, do not seem to be so "common". And it's not just me being "smarter" than anyone else. It's deeper than that. 

It's like having a weird kind of x-ray vision. If there is a problem or issue, I can very quickly see through all the clutter to the heart of what's really going on. It's like I can shut off my emotions and personal opinions and focus on what the actual issue is. Even if the problem is me. I can clearly see that and then I act accordingly by removing myself or resolving the conflict or shifting so the project or whatever can continue. 

The main reason I can do this better than a lot of people is my natural gift of empathy. That, and learning to control the one thing that used to get the best of me, my ego.

Over the last decade or so I have learned a lot of personal lessons and thankfully my ego and I are no longer at odds. What I have found to be true in almost all situations in work and life that conflict arises, it is always a good idea to take ones personal feeling out of your critical thinking and decision making. 99% of the time in life whenever I encounter conflict I need to remember one simple thing: it is not about me. Whatever conflict, issue, problem, or situation that I happen to find myself involved in, either directly or indirectly, the best way to find a solution is remove my ego and personal motivations from the equation. I may be able to help facilitate a solution. I may be able to help bring closure to the situation, and I may have the right answer to the question at hand. But it is never about me being right. It is never about me standing on a pedestal proudly displaying how awesome I am. It is always about solving the current situation to the best of my abilities and moving on. Period. 

This little realization has become almost like a golden key for my mental health. It has made it very easy for me to see my actions and thoughts honestly and re-evaluate how I act. It forced me to grow up basically. It has also forced me to be a better person. No longer can I allow myself lazy mental habits like assumptions and judgement. I have to evaluate and assess. Then I have to act in a fair and just manner because that's the right thing to do. It's why Jordan and I hardly fight and when there is an issue it is immediately resolved. I can feel in my bones that resentment is what kills the majority of relationships. Someone feeling like they gave something up for someone who doesn't appreciate it. That's it right? Why people get divorced? They completely forget about the other person standing beside them. It becomes me, me, me. "They never take out the trash I always do."  "My wife doesn't fuck me anymore, she must be a prude bitch." Or whatever sad married people think about their spouses they have grown to hate. If they took themselves out of it, and worried about their partner's happiness, and their partner did the same, everything would be a whole lot lovelier. None of those judgy, mean thoughts would ever come up. It's because people think too much about themselves. How they feel. MEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEME.

Its gross.

I read somewhere focusing on your partner's happiness is what couples have that fulfilling marriages do. That that's the key. Each focusing on the others happiness and finding joy is bringing them joy. It's almost meditative in its ability to bring a calm, awesome vibe to a relationship.  

But this line of thinking is true for almost every other relationship in life as well. Especially when it comes to co-workers and work relationships. Being motivated and ambitious is great, but it should never come at the negative expense of something or someone else. Always coming at conflict with a positive, non-egotisical point of view is key to swiftly completely projects and growing as a professional. 

The Leather Special.

It's weird being a women. It just is. I am constantly evaluating how my actions might affect my position in this world. In that same vain, I can't imagine what it's like to black in America right now. The amount of scrutiny and apathy people receive because the color of their skin is disgusting. And to be a black women? Jesus. I seriously cannot fathom all the messaging and negativity and bullshit they have to deal with every second of everyday. It fucks with my head sometimes. Injustice is my hot button. It is the passion at the core of my soul. Nothing will make me fight harder than injustice. But right now, with women's issues, immigration issues, and young men being murdered in the street by cops because of the color of their skin, I have a lot to sort through in mind. 

Last season on South Park Cartmen fell in love for the first time. But before he fell in love, he made fun of all women comedians by saying all they talk about is their "Vagiiiiinaaaaas". It was hilarious, but also the feminist in me winced. Like ouch, that's not very fair. Women just started getting visibility in the comedy world and it's just lame to knock them. But whatever. So Cartmen falls in love. And suddenly, he becomes PC and cares about women, and how smart and funny they are. He wants to impress Hedi his girlfriend with how liberal he is. But it was all done very sarcastically. I love South Park, but this time is just cut to close and seemed so off color. The main line for next few episodes was Cartmen telling everyone "Women are smart and funny, get over it." But he didn't really mean it. So I'm laughing at all of this, and for the next few weeks Jordan and I use that line everywhere too. But part me always felt bad. Like I was part of the problem for finding it so funny.

Cut to last week we watched Amy Schumer's new special on Netflix. And it was amazing to watch with Jordan, because my entire life I've sat with boys and listened to gross dick jokes and pretended it was funny. Now he was sitting next to me listening to pussy jokes trying to pretend that they were funny. That is a priceless moment right there friends. That's true equality. And yes, she said "Vagina" a millions times. Get over it. 

And Amy also talked about my biggest issue: Being a bigger women in a world of tiny people. But she owned the shit out of it and it was like a smack in the face to me. She talked about seeing herself out of the corner of her eye and thinking it's a man or a softball player or something and it was fucking fantastic. That's literally me. I think I look like a softball player. But I feel bad about it afterwards. She doesn't give a shit and laughs and doesn't give it a further thought.

So now, fuck feeling bad about dumb shit like my weight. And feeling bad about laughing at South Park. Shit still needs to be funny, even if it's too soon. 

But injustice? That shit isn't going anywhere with Trump in power. So much of my creative influences come from the black culture, hip hop, art, fashion, literally everything right now comes from the black community. Jordan and I watch BET Jams all the time, listen to Hip Hop on Sirius XM, watch videos and documentaries and are very heavily influenced by the authenticity of every part of black culture. We also recognize that none of that is for us directly. It's the voice of thousands of people sick and tired of being held down. It doesn't speak to actual events that have happened to Jordan and I, but the message is universal. And the more we support movements like "Black Lives Matter" and educate ourselves on the issues with the justice system, the better allies we become in this gigantic fight against injustice and hate.

It's easy to feel like a hypocrite though. With our really nice paying jobs, our Mercedes and all the invisible tools that come with being white. So I stand up and use my voice and privilege every chance I get. And keep trying to stay true to my belief in loving every human being equally and always keeping my mind and arms open.  Hopefully soon when we open a restaurant I can put my money where my mouth is with my hiring practices and the locations we open up in. Because that's how real change happens.   

Unwashing My Brain

Oh boy. Being "woke as fuck" as the kids say these days is an exhausting state of existence. There are a million things I can talk about in regards to that, but the one that cuts the deepest is the whole idea and perception of women and femininity. What does it mean to be a women? Traditionally what's been shoved down our throats is a women is an object of sexual desire for men. We exist solely for men to find us attractive and fuck us. That's it. That's what a women is. A sexual object. 

What's surprising to me is how obvious that message is once you notice it, and how deep the level of denial is. Women can do everything men can do. As long as we are considered "attractive." Because first and foremost do not forget, a women is an object. So she must always look shiny and pretty. Silent and obedient. And if she is loud, bossy and smart, then she better be a bad bitch. Hot as fuck. A supermodel. Because then it's tolerable. Because at least she's still pretty. She's still the best accessory. Her attitude only adds to her beauty. As long as she's beautiful mind you. 

This is the message every single little girl is taught. Right now. Today. Right this second millions of little girls are watching shows and movies and reading books that will cement this idea in their heads for a lifetime. Promoting dresses, make-up, long hair, manners, care-taking and being pretty. We all tell little girls they are pretty before we tell them they are smart. And it's fucked up. So fucked up. Because now I care more about how I look than how I act. 

I went out to a popular bowling alley bar in Lakewood on Saturday and while I was in the bathroom there were about 5 girls in their late teens/early 20's taking photos of themselves. I slowly washed my hands so I could eavesdrop a little. And geez, the things they were saying were just sad. Before cell phones the women's bathroom was a safe haven. Where girls gossiped and shared lip gloss and smoked cigarettes. They laughed and relaxed for a second before straightening up and heading back out into the jungle. Now they take a thousand pictures in an effort to get attention on social media and critique each other. "Pull your shoulders back" "Your boobs look better in the other pose" "Don't smile like that your face looks weird". Like, Jesus Christ. Ew. Just stop. 

But I do this to MYSELF everyday. Say awful things in the mirror and tear my little ego into a million pieces. Getting dressed is terrible. Even now after losing a little weight and working out regularly, I still have a gut. I'm still 40 pounds heavier than most women, regardless of if I am gross, I feel gross.

So I'm trying to unwash my brain. To practice what I preach and stop caring about how I look and what others think about how I look. It's an impossible task, but the sting is getting less potent. 

90's on 9

I had some old tapes from high school transferred to DVD's since I had lost the camcorder for them and hadn't watched them in over a decade. I knew it was going to be something weird and intriguing to watch them. But I wasn't really prepared for the deep silence it would bring to my insides. Turning the first DVD on and seeing my 16 year old self was quite the humbling experience. This "calm before the storm" feeling echoed in my bones. Instantly I softened as I watched this very young, very loud and very bossy version of myself parade on screen with so much confidence it made me blush.  

I wanted her calm down. To take just one second and think about the choices we were going to end up making. But she clearly could not hear me. The loud karaoke style sing alongs that was painfully blaring through my speakers had overpowered rational thought.  The giggling of 3 teenage girls alone in their bedroom making fun of themselves on camera and loving every moment of it was all that mattered. 

My first love was on their too. Kelsey. Exactly how I remembered him. Young and completely unavailable. He may have been my boyfriend, and my first you know ,and we may have said and I love you, and yes he even briefly lived with me, but no one was ever farther away. His mind was always somewhere else. But there he was. In my kitchen on Northland. With Danny and Chris and Ian. After The Snowball Dance in March of 2003. Drinking and laughing and kissing my cheek. It was surreal and bittersweet. And the kind of closure I didn't know I still needed. 

I have lived countless lifetimes already. Millions of moments and emotion and energy folded into people that I don't know anymore. 

It's like the movie Arrival. If you haven't seen it, sorry spoiler alert. It has to do with how we perceive time. We humans see time has linear, a straight line from point A to B. But it doesn't have to be perceived that way. In Arrival, The female lead sees her future before it technically happens, and although it's very bittersweet future, she chooses it anyway. Because the experiences she is going to have outweigh the sadness that comes with the loss she will have in her life. Even now I'm fighting back tears thinking about how beautiful that is. And I am trying to see my life as such. Even though things in my life may not have gone how I wanted them to, they were priceless in what I learned and how I grew as a person. And even though "you" may not be in my life anymore (I have a lot of "you's" out there) I want you to know that I wouldn't change our past, no matter how bad or brief it was. Because the experiences I've had are the only things in this world that are truly mine. 

Breaking Up with Facebook

I just deactivated my Facebook account. I had been thinking about it for a while, and just couldn't look at one more fake article or stupid meme. I don't really care about it anyway. It's a stupid platform that traps me in this feeling of high school. The feeling of relief is actually pretty incredible. No more unintelligent opinions. No more photos of other people's kids or dogs.  No more feeling a weird obligation to tell people I haven't seen in 15 years Happy Birthday. It's so nice to not feel pressure to "like" and "share" every little thing I come across. 

The trending searches also made me sad. No news, just gossip. Celebrity bullshit. Who hates who. Who Tweeted what. "The Top 10 Whatever." Just gross human behavior and opinions taken as fact. It's like history repeating itself, and everyone having amnesia. 

I am Jack's Complete Lack of Surprise. 

I need to write more. To read more. I have like 3 books I need to finish. I need to learn more. About photography. About myself. About Jordan. I was finding myself opening Facebook more as a compulsion, not for any real purpose. I was bored, or disconnected, or both. All of that is bad. So bad. Like television for children. It really is bad. It creates instant gratification and that creates impatience. It's awful. I'm already impatient, I don't need help getting worse. 

So that's where I'm at right now. Re-adjusting focus. Fine tuning some things. It's hard to do that with so much else to escape into. 

My Harshest Critic

Beauty. One simple word, a countless amount of emotion and expectation. Am I beautiful? A question every single human being has asked. Yes. The answer my child, my love, is yes. You are beautiful. You are perfect. You are enough. It's overwhelming to think that, to believe that. You are enough. Say it quietly, say it alone. Look in the mirror and say it without crying. I dare you. 

I've always hated the way I look. I don't care if you think different. I've looked at enough women to know where my facial features fall short. But I have also never cared enough to let that fact stop me from pretending like I enjoy the way I look. All people care about is Confidence anyway. And since I do have ego about my sense of humor and intelligence, it comes off the same. Photography is a whole other game though. My biggest question right now is, would I rather be in a beautiful picture or take one?

"With a wind beaten and cracked face I looked forward. The harshest part was over I told myself. My hands were red and broken, but I really didn't need them anyway. Secret moments like this last forever, waxing and waning gently, always fluid. Just let me close my eyes against your chest one last time, to remember the warmth, the parts of your skin my fingers lingered over. I need the silence. I can't concentrate unless it's silent and I want to get this one right." 

Even slow progress is progress. 

True Love, My Way

A lot of thought has gone into him, and me and us. So much brainpower. So many questions and answers and statements. The truth is I think I've always thought it was supposed to be easy. Effortless. Immediately perfect. Or at least with "The One" that's how it would happen. 

Why do I even believe there is such a thing as "The One"? I might as well believe in God. It's the same concept.

I believe it because a great deal of things I saw and read as a little girl told me that romance is a fairy tale. A prince and a princess. Living happily ever after. So every time I see a guy I think is really handsome, I immediately think in my head that maybe he's the one. Or at least I used to. The past 6 months have really, truly opened my eyes up to so many habits and thought patterns I have cultivated over the last 30 years that are unhealthy and restrictive. 

I have never in my life met anyone like Jordan. He is home to me, in every way. I want to work on this. I want him. And us. I want to continue building little invisible threads between us. My ego and need for attention have always been my downfall. Whenever a cute guy gives me attention I have a very hard time saying no. Today that changes. I mean, it has to change sometime. And that time has come. 

Jordan and I want to be in a relationship again. And I owe it to him and myself to commit 100% to that relationship. In every sense. It's terrifying and exciting at the same time.  As more time goes on, the more he becomes my person. The only person. 

It still won't be easy. But the work we put in will come back to us tenfold in happiness. I know it. I've seen it. I look at couples who put their relationship first and are best friends, and I see this light. This radiant light that follows them around. Being in love requires patience, understanding, empathy. Putting others before yourself is an excellent way to stay humble and down to earth. And a relationship demands that. 

So I'm diving in. Head first this time. Armed with a little more age and perspective. And even if I somehow start to slip below the water, I know he will be there to help lift me up. 

The Fox and the Owl (Page One)

You light a cigarette. The perfect way. Sitting down. Bend over slightly, with such intent.

I hate cigarettes. I can see my disgust for them in the thick smoke plumes that creep and slide out of the sides of your mouth, usually so defiant. But tonight they curl and fade almost immediately. It hurts deep down in my chest, how much I love you without knowing you. A painful, aching, unfulfilled beat. Slowly, constantly, vibrating inside my gut.

I shake my head and look away, mumbling to myself and half laughing. Your very existence is like a cruel joke. The final nail in the coffin. Yes the world is unfair. I get it. Seriously. You didn’t have to create my perfect human being and then just dangle them in front of my face to really drive home the point.

The fire is starting to die down. The flames lick less and less at the cold night air. The embers fight and cling to their heat, warming my hands and feet.  Most of the crew have gone to bed by now, cozy and covered in tents that dot the landscape around our camp. He’s going to go to bed soon. I just know it. It’s becoming one of those “now or never” moments you see in Disney movies. What should I ask him? Maybe something about his boots? His cameras? Ugh gross. All of that seems so lame and typical. I hate typical almost as much as cigarettes.

Fuck it. Whiskey.

I pull out the bottle of Bulliet I have in my bag. It’s well worth the extra weight. So are my enamel cups.

This. This moment right here. Is the single most terrified I have ever been. My feet are asleep. My hands are clammy even though its 20 degrees out. I think my shitty mascara is smeared under my right eye.

“Hi. Are you thirsty?”

He looks up from his notebook and stares at me. It’s like he’s never seen another person before. I immediately feel stupid and look at my feet as the embarrassing heat collects in my cheeks.

“Yeah, actually. Thanks. Let me put this down and come by the fire.”

 ............. to be continued

The One Thing.

The one thing I think about the most in this entire world, hands down, is my stomach. That might be weird, but I think about having a flat stomach countless times a day. All the time. Every time I eat something I think about my stomach. It doesn't stop me from eating anything, but if it's something sweet or fried or full of gluten I say to myself "This is why your stomach isn't flat." 

I think about my stomach every time I sit because I can feel my two little rolls squish together. I think about stomach when I wake up and go to shower because I  see it's pudgy naked self in the mirror. I think about my stomach whenever i get dressed because it's usually the reason I don't like the way something looks on me.

I think my stomach whenever I look at any female. Mainly because I'm comparing mine to theirs and wonder what theirs looks like in a bikini. Instagram only feeds my dumb obsession with flat stomachs. I look at more half naked girls than any guy. I just stare at their perfectly flat tummies and sigh. 

I go running. I do sit ups. I do squats. I can plank for at least a minute. I've always been active. And I've always had a chubby tummy. Since I was like 8. I remember being in elementary school and not wanting to wear a two piece because I hated my stomach. That's just ridiculous.

Right now it's the smallest and most toned it's ever been. But I still have a sad frowning face instead of a belly button. I still have 2 visible rolls, upper and lower, just chillin. I am trying to love myself. I am 5 feet 11 inches and weigh 153 pounds. I want to weigh 145. I know that I am healthy and not the slightest bit overweight. But I want a flat stomach. I fantasize about it all the time. All the things I could wear. Never being shy in a bathing suit. Not feeling embarrassed if anyone saw me naked. Being on top during sex and not thinking about how gross I look and wanting it to be over. 

Because I might not ever have one. My body just may never have a flat stomach on it's own. Sure I could go starve myself and become obsessed with working out and maybe after a few months of hell I might have one. But I also might not. I may develop toned muscles and be super fit, and still have some belly fat. 

I'm hoping by writing about it, and being aware of my negative thoughts about it, will help me finally change and move on and truly appreciate myself and my tummy. 

Maybe. For now I'm just mad and stressed that I didn't do my sit ups yesterday. 

Public Opinion

 I got up at 6 am today. Seeing the sunrise is very personal. It seems to quiet the whole world. Blues and golds cascade over steel and concrete. Time slowly yawns and begins moving, stretching across and warming the city, already anxious for the day to begin. 

Downtown Cleveland, my walk down West 6th to my building. 

I forget from time to time that things I post on social media sites aren't just for me, that others can see them, have an opinion about them, and then proceed to voice their opinion in the form of a comment. (Duh Tessa, get it together.) When this happens I am often reminded how different I am from other people. My ability to look at things from someone else's point of view is a Super Power for sure. 

If it's a good friend of mine voicing their opinion, I can picture them reading my post. I can see them relating it to themselves, and then tearing it apart in their head based on their experiences. It's mainly women, older women, who feel that they need to impart some sort of wisdom on me. It usually comes from a place of love, but feels more like a pity pat on the head. Like I'm an immature little girl and my emotion is met with rolled eyes and a "Oh honey, everyone has problems" type attitude.  

I know everyone has problems. I know that famous people have miscarriages and get cancer. That doesn't change a thing about what I was saying. But you know what, looking back at it, I apologize. I'm sure it's my fault. I worded something wrong. Over generalized. My bad. Won't happen again.

The comments made by these ladies got me thinking though. We accept failure and complacency from those around us too easily. I am very well aware that failure is a part of every creative process. Failure teaches up more than success does. But only if you learn from those failures. Grow from them. Me saying I don't have my shit together is real. And also saying that I should is a real, true statement. I don't need to hear "Oh honey, no one has their shit together, that's life." Well that's fucking dumb. We should have our shit together. And if we don't, then we should band together and help each other out. We need to stop accepting so many things that we have the power to change. Myself included. Instead of posting on social media that everyone gets "it" but me, I should constructively think and create a plan for me to start getting "it" too. And my girlfriends were just being nice, trying to not make me feel so alone by saying my pain is felt by everyone. I understand it, I do. I just don't agree with that thinking anymore. 

I can't change the past, although I have been dwelling on it a lot lately. I think it has to do with my Dad living me. He has never been able to take care of himself. Never gave me any life advice, like about credit or college or saving. If he didn't have children he would be homeless or dead. That is not an exaggeration. That is a fact. My mother isn't much better off. She wouldn't be dead or homeless, but who knows what she would have done with her life. Both of them are in their 60's, live in poverty, don't have anything saved for retirement and live off of Social Security. 

I should have seen all these signs earlier, gone to college and made something of myself. But instead I'm trying to do that now. I know it's not too late, but it is extremely difficult. I just signed up for a 401K, I pay my student loans every month, I'm working on fixing my credit from some mistakes I made when I was younger (2 ER visits I never paid for when I lived in California) and I keep a running budget for every paycheck. I keep making plans, asking myself questions, and pushing myself to figure out a sustainable plan for my future. This website is a big part of that. It helps me think out loud and see mental progress being made. 

For now I just need to finish "How to Fly a Horse" and stop comparing myself to others. I need to have that on repeat in my head...

I will not compare myself to others, I will not compare myself to others, I will not compare myself to others, I will not compare myself to others, I will not compare myself to others, I will not compare myself to others, I will not compare myself to others, I will not compare myself to others......

Blurry & Underexposed

My life is more routine than I ever thought it would be. Monday through Friday my alarm goes off at 7am. I snooze until 7:27 or 7:36. Get up, shower, get dressed and leave by 8:15 to either catch the 22 bus down Lorain. Or if I have no cash, I walk to the 25th rapid station. I leave work at 5pm, either get a ride and get home by 5:15, or take the train and I'm home by 5:40. If it's a Monday, Tuesday or Thursday, I go running right after work. Then I don't get home until 6:30, don't eat until 7:30, and fall asleep by 9:30. Friday nights I usually hang out with Chris & Jordan, Saturdays I babysit for a 5 month old named Max and Sundays I clean my house. 

There. There it is. My life in one paragraph. I've been trying to take photos when I get home on Wednesdays, or on Sundays. I'm too broke to get the 6 rolls of film I have taken over the last month developed, but I get paid in a few days and I can take them in then. Once they are developed, I can scan them and have a project for a few days uploading and going through them. 

I feel like I'm waiting. I'm in limbo. It's like that moment of holding my breath before jumping off a cliff, but I never jump. I just stay in that moment of anticipation, forever holding my breath.

Everything is always later. Tomorrow, next week, in a month. Holidays, birthdays, parties. Planning, waiting, always waiting.

 It seems that every paycheck is a bill paycheck. Rent, electric, gas, phone, internet, 2 student loans, money for my dad, bus fare, food & litter for the boys, sometimes food for me, beer, Netflix, Spotify, Birchbox. It cost so much money to still be so poor. 

I haven't been able to run the past 2 days. I bruised my right foot jumping off a ledge. It wasn't even a tall ledge, and I landed on both my feet. But apparently now that I'm 30 my foot is just shitty. I just have a shitty foot now. So because I can't run, I just feel fat. Bratty & fat. I can't run tonight either because it still hurts to walk and we have a happy hour after our staff meeting. 

Maybe something is coming. Something just off the horizon. Something I can't see yet. 

Three Years Later

I remember being so nervous. SO nervous. It was my first real date. I did a ton of research. Looked at art galleries, events, anything artsy for us to do. I didn't know anything about him yet. All I knew was that he was a painter and a cook. He was quiet, reserved and so cool. Like, the definition of cool. I am loud and awkward, the opposite of cool. But, nonetheless, I was waiting on the corner of East 4th and Prospect at 1pm on Thursday 10/11/12 for him to pick me up. 

We first headed to the William Busta Gallery on Prospect. It was one of the only cool galleries I could find that was open. Thinking back on it, it was so lame. But I was trying so hard to connect with him and the only thing I had to go on was art. After about 10 minutes of us walking around pretending to be interested in the weird art on the walls, we headed to the Cleveland Museum of Art to check out this cool balloon exhibit they had going on. The exhibit was 2,000 purple balloons blown up and kept in a glass room that you could walk through. I thought it would be cute and romantic. So naturally they only let you in one at a time and I didn't even see him in there. I remember getting to one of the walls/windows and just looking outside and thinking "What the hell are you doing?". 

We went to MOCA next, it was right around the corner and had only opened 2 days prior. It was really cool and we relaxed a little bit. Then he asked me if I was hungry and where I'd want to go. Since he's the cook I asked where he wanted to go:

"The only place I ever want to go on my day off is Ginko, would you want to go there?"

Ginko is a sushi restaurant. At the time I thought I hated sushi. So I lied. Straight up. 

" Sure, I've never been to Ginko! Let's check it out."

It turned out to be one of the best meals of my entire life and we have been back about 15 times over the last 3 years. We have taken our friends there. We tell everyone it's the best restaurant in Cleveland. And it always reminds me of our first date. 

Yes, technically we are broken up. I am not Jordan's girlfriend and he is not my boyfriend. We chose not to move in together again after living together last year. Not because of anger, or fighting or anything negative. We let our friendship take over and forgot to be lovers. I was waiting for my fairy tale and since this wasn't perfect I assumed it was still out there. I stopped trying to kiss him all over his face in the morning and every night we just rolled over and went to bed. We just gave up.

 Over the past 6 months those reasons that we broke up seem so dumb. It's me. It's my fault. I didn't want to work on the issue. I just wanted it fixed. And other guys were giving me attention, and my girlfriends kept saying it's not worth it. 

So we moved out and into our places. And decided we needed our space. 

But we helped each other move. And kept texting each other. And calling each other. And hanging out. And being each other's dates for things. And now he is the most important human being in my life. The only one who knows me and feels like home. 

Last night he made cucumber avocado rolls for our "anniversary". 

It was perfect. We watched Halloween 6 with Paul Rudd and I went home at 8pm because we were both sleepy. 

I'm finding out more and more that love, real love, is a choice just as much as it isn't. Yes I know we don't choose who we fall in love with, but we do choose how long we are in love with that person for. I gave up on Jordan and I because our one issue is tough for me. Almost impossible. My ego and self-esteem cannot handle it. Or so I thought. This past summer I had a few "flings" if you would. With really talented, handsome boys. But something is always missing. And none of them made me want to give up Jordan. Not even close. The opposite actually. I missed him more. 

I know I usually talk everything, but Jordan is a private person. And while I hope you can all guess where our issue stems from (the bedroom), I just can't go into detail. It's not just him, it's me too. I have a lot of image issues and it causes me to shut down and if the guy I'm with isn't all over me or making the first move I feel gross and can't get past it.

So here I am. Three years later. Trying to make the right choices and not lose things that I will regret later. Like this amazing human being standing right in front of me. 

Smoke, Fog & Fire

We headed out early Wednesday morning, September 23rd. It was perfect warm, breezy weather. We stopped and grabbed a coffee in Tremont. We also made the last minute decision to buy a growler of toddy, which was super clutch. We had about 9 hours of road ahead of us before getting to Asheville, NC. 

We listened to Jordan's road trip playlist, smoked, laughed and drank coffee the whole way down. It was one of the easiest long trips ever. We stopped a few times, and I didn't have any epic bathroom emergencies (which has happened many times on our trips since I always have to pee). We arrived in downtown Asheville to Billy and Geoff's glass blowing studio and gallery, Lexington Glassworks. 

It's an incredible space. They built everything themselves. It's an old mechanics garage so it has this amazing modern, industrial feel to it, with steel and reclaimed wood benches, railings and accents. They have only been open for 10 months and are absolutely killing it. 

Our time in Asheville was pretty short, being there for only a day and a half. But it was enough to drink lots of beer in their brewery district (Wicked Weed's Funkatorium), get caught in a rain storm, drink kombucha (Rosetta's Kitchen/Buchi Bar) and drive up to the summit of Mount Mitchell. Geoff, Billy & Ashley (Geoff's's girlfriend) are some of the coolest, talented people. They let us crash in their spare bedroom and took great care of us while we were there. Ashley took us to The West End Bakery for great coffee and the best breakfast sandwiches I've ever had. 

We plan on heading back down for New Years Eve, which also happens to be their one year anniversary of being open. Although I didn't love Asheville as much as I thought I would (too many crusty, hippies) I loved them and the work they are doing much more than I thought I would. It was just nice to meet new people and instantly feel at home. I also can't get over how beautiful the pieces they create are. 

With full bellies and rain falling overhead we left Asheville and headed west for still yet another adventure in Nashville.