Pursuit of Self-satisfaction

I was listening to a podcast yesterday that struck a chord, because it unpacked something that's been bothering me, particularly for the last few weeks. The podcast episode was called The Problem with a Pinterest-Perfect Life, and it's worth a listen, especially if this topic hits home. In it, the hosts describe social media as a highlight reel — and I couldn't have said it better myself. In fact, this is what bothered me; my inability to phrase the problem as precisely as they had. A few weeks ago, I was spending time at a friend's house when her 16-year-old daughter started telling me about how amazing some Insta-famous girl's life was. My friend's daughter had never met this girl, and yet she was convinced she lived the perfect life: a fashion blogger with thousands of fans and flawless photos that painted the picture of a girl whose every waking moment is exceptional. I grew frustrated the more she gushed about her girl-crush. Here she was, a beautifu

I quit my job just over two weeks ago, and while the bustle of Christmas and New Years kept me distracted for a good chunk of it, I'm back at my San Francisco apartment, where the days are inching toward mid-January and reality is quickly setting in. A very different reality, one where I can sleep in, make an elaborate breakfast and have the apartment sparkling before CJ comes in from work. As for the middle chunk of the day—after the elaborate breakfast and before the tidying up process is imminent—your guess is as good as mine. I've intentionally been slow-playing the job hunt, although my strategy could use some work. The idea of being unemployed and draining my savings puts a lump in my throat, but its because of that fear that I picked a job so frivolously the last time. I choose jobs today the same as I did when I was 18. You'll hire me? That's good enough for me. This last job was a deserved and needed slap in the face. I can remember being told in college th

I'm a little bummed I haven't posted since June. I'd say once every other week there's a second that I think, Oh yeah, I need to post, and then in an instant the thought is gone. Today is November 8. It's election night. And up until about five hours ago, like thousands of other Americans, I didn't think the next presidency was a question. Projections, or at least the projections I've seen, have been nothing but Hillary. Here we are, 10 PM, and only a few states are undetermined as too close to call. Trump for all intents and purposes has it in the bag. As an American, it's horrifying. I can't imagine putting myself in the shoes of any minority American. To be a Muslim right now... to be a minority right now. This is by no means a comprehensive look into this election.  I'm ill informed, because I have rarely tuned into these debates. I've kept my mouth shut for the most part because I don't see the point in debating with friends or

This is twice now that I’m blogging from an unconnected notepad to later post—and the gap in time between posts means I’m failing at keeping up the habit. Lots of travel and a title change that boosted my workload significantly, so nearly all habits I’ve been working on are suffering. Less writing, less gym, and I’m even finding that I prefer day dreaming on my commute instead of reading. I partially blame the book I’m reading, but I’m being stubborn about stopping and starting with a new one.  My fears about the fourth book in the Stieg Larsson series came true: the story line is solid, but I’m disappointed with the writing itself. Dialogs seem so unrealistic, and I’m curious if that means the writing is worse or the translation is worse, or maybe both. I believed it, like the originals, was translated from Swedish to English.  But I’m halfway done with it and still feel too invested in it the plot to quit. I don’t know if there has ever been a book I started reading willfull

I arrived exceptionally early to the airport this evening, due to a combination of Memorial Day weekend traffic paranoia and some TSA understaffing drama, which fortunately were both non-issues, but it gave me a chance to peruse around the bookstore for longer than usual, which I love. I can typically spend hours reading the backs of books and puttering, although the chance to do so doesn't come up too often. And tonight here it was, but I spent nearly all the time I had contemplating one thing. Steig Larsson's Girl with the Dragon Tattoo trilogy is hands down the greatest thing I've ever read. Each individual book on its own and the series together; I've never been so entranced by a story or characters. Lisbeth is the most intoxicating character I've ever come to find in fiction, and I'll admit, I was a little behind when I started reading them, unaware that their beyond-brilliant author was already gone, and there would never be another part of the series.

Something occurred to me today out of seemingly nowhere: I can't remember the last time I was bored. I was walking toward the bus stop that would take me home from another long day of work, and I was thinking about how my to-do list will never be over. Not my work to-do list, not my home to-do list. There are weeks that I make good dents and there are weeks that I lag or that more things than usual get piled on, but even if I had one productive week after another, I can't conceive getting to the bottom of those lists. There are points in my week that I'm doing nothing, sure. Laying on the couch, hypnotized by the TV. But frankly I feel like the downtime is necessary. If all my rebooting time was strictly to sleep, I'd be miserable. I need some mindless goofing off. Both for me and my relationship with boyfriend, CJ. But at no point does the mindlessness last long enough to come close to bored. At some point something in me turns on that says I've had enough nothin