Good feels.

It’s Western Washington summer weather in February in Chicago. 55 degrees, intermittent rain, just a whisper of wind as I sit here on my porch post-gym.

The last few days I’ve been looping a new song, “Wildfire,” by SYML. It came up randomly on a new music playlist recommended for me by Apple Music and damn, did they hit me right on my cute lil nose.

In good time, you’ll come to know

When you release, when you let go

You can find yourself where you belong

You’re not a curse, you’re not too much

You are needed here, you are enough

And nothing’s gonna hold you down for long.


Lately I’ve been feeling adrift, unfunny, uninspired, unwanted, undesirable, listless, without a path, hunting, searching. That’s not to say that people haven’t loved and talked and reached out to me. It’s how I’ve been feeling even with those things.

I’ve done a lot of walking in the past few days. The weather has been beautiful/snowy/wet and something about walking in rain and snow and this song has been healing my heart.

It sounds weird to type this but it helps to think about sitting in front of myself and saying the words. I grew up knowing there’s power in words and something about doing this is working.

Rain and the right song at the moment I need it most from a Washington artist. Seems right. Feels good.


Why I think I should work for Mindy Kaling

I sat down to write this week’s blog and this is what came out. #priorities

  • We both look equally cute in glasses. Proof: ImageImage
  • I can add to any cultural experience by yelling “Hajima!” (stop that) at any Korean fans, or the more frightening, “Juculay?!” (do you want to die?!)
    • I have yelled the latter more often than I would care to admit at the gremlins I teach.
  • I will definitely be taller than her, thereby allowing her to be the tiny and cuter friend. 
  • I’m really good at sticking to my guns when a coffee shop makes an error on my coffee–and by that, I mean my mom’s usual Venti no-foam 2% latte. Mistakes are not tolerated and will be dealt with under the tree next Christmas. 
  • I will laugh at all her jokes. But not the donkey braying laugh of some over-exuberant women or the bad guy “hiss hiss hiss” laugh, but rather the occasional not-so-ladylike snort or a deep guffaw (despite my lack of beard, I CAN pull this off).
  • I promise to overlook my vow to marry Anderson Cooper and allow her to have a go.
  • I will be the one to order pizza and make eye contact, alone, in a gray hoodie to my knees and black leggings, with the delivery guy, despite what I know he thinks.
  • I will use my debit card to pay for things under $3 so she doesn’t have to. 
  • When (not if) we watch romcoms, I will bring the tissues. Or chocolate. Or nail polish. Or Anderson Cooper.
  • I will rock my inner Burt Macklin and guard her room trying on clothes in one of those boho boutiques where they have cloth as a door. To boho boutiques: no one is fooled. We’re all looking to see who’s bra is cuter.
  • I can get places on tiiiiime. I’ll be like a terrible, on-time personal trainer for on-time things.
  • After this year in Korea, I’m really, really going to wear skirts, heels and dresses like a model. A limping, wincing, smiling-through-the-pain model, but still.
  • I always carry gum, making sure she’s making a great first impression or prepping for a kissing scene. 
    • Also, floss. Because ain’t no one got time for that.
  • I can type like 124 words per minute on my iPhone. And thanks to iCloud, I’ll keep an eye on her schedule on all the devices!
  • Due to my past in sports, I’m able to use my butt to block out any unnecessary paparazzi, old boyfriends, or the occasional Tobey.
  • My super strong calves and butt will carry all of her stuff: phone, tablet, laptop, makeup, extra shoes, Lisa Frank journal, plethora of pencils and milky pens, 2 pairs of sunglasses, socks, nail polish, 27 hair ties, roughly a legion of bobby pins, sharpie for signing people’s napkins and shirts, tampons, fingernail clippers for the inevitable hangnail and of course, a spare Diet Coke or two.