Beyond 30: The Next Chapters

If you've missed that I've been down and out with a seasonal cold, well, I have. And it sucks. Usually my colds last for two to three days tops but today marks day number six. Think: body aches, congestion, sneezing, runny nose, sore throat, coughing. The whole works. While I'm pleased to say that I'm on the mend, otherwise I wouldn't be expending unnecessary energy writing this weeks blog (and as a sidenote: sorry it's late! Blame the virus, not me), it is still taking it out of me in a big way. As a point of interest, I went to bed last night just shortly after eight PM and will likely be going to bed tonight within the next hour. Today being my first day back at work just wiped me out. Colds, man. Leslie gets it I suppose the upside of all this is that in my sickness and downtime these past five days, I've had plenty of time to think about my life, goals, future. It's no secret that I'm a planner. Sometimes, I plan to have a plan before a

As I've mentioned before, being a writer is oftentimes a practice in discipline, self assessment, and diligence. There are days, like today, when the prospect of sitting down in front of a computer to mull over my thoughts for the week as it relates to my #30Before30 project just seems utterly and impossibly dull. Truthfully, minus one thing which I will touch on quite briefly, there hasn't been much going on lately. This is perhaps not a terrible thing but a delightful thing; I rather enjoy the low-key routine of work during the week and play on the weekends. I'm simple that way. Let's talk about what I have accomplished: dating someone new. (And for reference, the list so far) Now, I wouldn't say that this individual and I are dating just yet. To be frank, I don't know what we are but I'm considering this item crossed off because we did in fact go out. There's some part of me that doesn't want to talk about this, as though it were special or

LSB Mood or Lazy, Sulky Bitch Mood: A point of time wherein I am so positively unpleasant and difficult to be around that my habits and attitudes are most readily described as sullen and cranky. It is in the best interest of those nearby to stay the fuck out of the way until the LSB Mood calms down.   When I set out to do this project, it was in the pursuit of taking responsibility for my own happiness and success. But ultimately deciding what that means to me still seems to be a matter of contention. How does one define their own happiness? I've always found that I am most in the space of joy when all of my ducks are in a row, perfectly organized, pleasantly arranged, and aesthetically pleasing. Perhaps, then, it should come as no surprise then that figuring out my own measure of happiness has been somewhat difficult as of late. Even I realize that my own standards are a bit ridiculous. If I've failed to mention it already, I started a new job two weeks ago yesterday an

This week, I managed to cross off the  first goal from my list , the task of which was far, far more painful than one would have imagined. In earnest, it gives me a greater deepened respect for women (and men--this is an inclusive space!) who work in the sex industry as pole dancers.  Let me break it down for you.  My good friend Tara recently turned 34 and decided to celebrate by taking a group of us to a pole dancing class this last Friday. Going in, I had no idea how utterly and impossibly difficult it would be. Seriously. Two days later and getting out of bed is an absolute chore! We climbed, we spun, we used muscles that had not previously been utilized in such mildly uncomfortable ways. I thought it would be mostly us learning to do some halfway fancy shit and look sexy while doing it. Nope. It was more like, "Oh, upper body strength? Yeah, you'll need all of that. Now climb that pole and spin around to the bottom all while looking like the graceful and beautiful wom