It's so unfortunate when your partner is stressed and there's nothing you can do, but it also seems like there's nothing they want to do about it either. 

As someone who really actively tries not to take on other people's burdens, this revolving door of bad moods about work stuff is really fucking exhausting. And on top of his stress, I'm dealing with burnout from my own job. 

I hate how often I feel like my whole life could upend at any moment because of a bad mood.

The Von Erichs

Fuck, man.

Tragedy after tragedy. And a film condensed - stripped away of a whole brother - to make the pain more believable.

Calling it now: The Iron Claw is going to be my favorite movie of the year. 

Lives of Passion...TBC

I think it's pretty wild how many lives we have the ability to lead in our time on Earth.

I met a woman today at work. She was rolling up cords from moving boxes, sorting things, helping out. She looked out of place in our small law firm with her Bill Cosby sweater, jacket covered in artful faces, and bleach blond hair. As we talked, I discovered she has traveled the world as a touring musician, been a DJ and notary and an insurance agent, among other things. And as I listened to her soft voice tell me about her life, I wondered how she ended up here.

She eventually got to that part, and it was a journey I was familiar with, (having seen my husband on a similar one) of discovering what life has to offer outside of pursuing your true creative passion as a means of living. 

Sine 2018, I've worked for my mom's law firm, learning some truly important lessons and gaining invaluable experience and insight into managing a small business. It's a job I'm excited about, but not passionate about. My goal is to one day have a small hotel. I love hospitality and I think this is where my passion lies. I relish in creating experiences for people, crafting moments that someone will remember, leaving a lasting positive impression.

But back to the multiple lives. As I spoke to the woman, I imagined the lives she must have carved out and lived that brought her to all the places she had been - all the different people she had been....

To be honest, I've been Googling her so much I've lost my train of thought. 

So, goodnight and cheers from me and my gluten free Oreos and wine glass of dairy free milk. 

Dry January

This month, I will be trying Dry January.

In the past, I've given dry January a try and either didn't stick with it or didn't really see the point because I didn't think I drank too much to begin with. But this year, my perspective on the observance has changed a bit. While I don't think I have a bad relationship with alcohol necessarily, I'm interested to see how I feel mentally without it's presence in my life and in my body.

B will also be participating in dry January, which is very helpful as a motivator, though I know that will come with its own challenges.

Dry January makes me think back on all the times I let booze ruin a good time for me. Last year, I had a particularly painful night on the town in which I drank too much whiskey and wine. A group of friends and I went to see Jenny Lewis at Tipitina's and the first half of the show was incredible, but the second half is all but gone from my mind. At the close of the show, I excused myself from my group and the throngs of people trying to leave the the venue. I wandered up to the stage and promptly asked to meet "Miss Lewis." Much to my drunken surprise and chagrin, the security guard said no. 

I was shocked. Baffled. INCONSOLABLE.

Not that I remember, but that's what I'm told. I was sobbing and the floodgates would not close. I left the venue, just trying to see through my tears, determined to walk home, when a friend who was waiting outside spotted me halfway down the sidewalk and pulled me to the friends who I rode there with. God bless them. They had to listen to me boohoo the whole way home. So, not only did I black out for most of the show of one of my favorite performers, I got rejected to boot. And I don't even want to think about that hangover. I would be embarrassed if only I could remember. (Kidding, haha, I was fucking mortified.)

I have a number of friends who are living sober these days and I'm so proud of them. Though it's increasingly common, there is still so much peer pressure to drink. (What's that about anyway?) Especially here in the South. Being sober is right up there with having antlers sticking out of your head. 

So, anyway, this month, I plan to stay off the sauce and use this time to see how this change might benefit me. I want drinking to feel fun again. I want to save it for special occasions. I want it to be the exception. 

So cheers to 2024 from me and my can of Ghia!
 

Carrie Motherfucking Bradshaw

It’s 2:36 AM and I’m writing from bed. This year, I forewent a big party and a barrage of booze and we hosted a quiet night in with a few friends. 

Brad prepared a delicious dinner, and Zoe and Nolan brought some wonderful sweets; and we watched the ball drop coverage, bitched about how we didn’t recognize any of the singers performing, and toasted with our champs at midnight and talked about what our resolutions for the new year were.

While I don’t have many concrete goals outlined for this year yet, I have a word/theme for my year: INTENTION. If I’m going to put my time, money, effort, or other resources into something, it better be for a good reason.

The other thing I have decided about 2024 is that I’m going to be Carrie Motherfucking Bradshaw. No I won’t be a love and dating columnist. But I am going to write it all down. For years, I have been so afraid, so anxious (thanks, Ashley) that one day I’ll read something I’ve written and be mortified or view myself as cringe. Or afraid that someone out there will see me and say “you're wrong.” But I don’t care.

Hello 2024! You’re going to be one hell of a year, I can tell. Looking forward to meeting you.

xoxo