Why you should read Lena Dunham’s book in the nude

Dunham

This week’s InfoNews column is up and it talks about seeing yourself naked in a whole new light. It also talks about Lena Dunham and what she has to do with this. You can read it HERE.

Image by Autumn de Wilde

XOYW1

Advertisements

The oldest lie in the book

Joshua Tree Silhouettes at Sunset

Do you ever tell yourself a story so many times that you start believing it’s true?

Well, that story is my life.

When I was younger, my parents called me a compulsive liar. I blame it on my creative imagination and also never quite having the guts to launch into a full blown rebellion. Instead, I would be bad (tell 7-11 that I had $1 worth of candy when really it was $1.50 and kiss boys in dingy basements blaring Black Sabbath) and then lie about not being bad.

For the most part, I’ve grown out of it. Publishing all my stories on the Internet has a lot to do with it, because my lies (or “stories” as I call them) could be so easily exposed if the right person decided to log on and read. Also, I’ve decided it is way more fun to actually live through stories worth telling as opposed to creating them in my head.

The thing is — I have rarely even made up stories worth lying about! I made up mundane stories that only slightly varied from the truth. I think it’s because I wanted to protect myself. But I could also just be really mentally unstable.

Anyway, like I said, I’ve knocked it off.

Until this week, when Steve and I booked a trip to Palm Springs and I somehow led him to believe I had been there before. Instead of being all “Oh, I haven’t been there, silly, I just read a lot of gypsy blogs so I feel like I have,” I just went along with it.

I created a convoluted story that both enticed and infuriated him. I had been with an ex-boyfriend he didn’t know I had. We stayed in a house. And we spent our days traipsing through the desert with no map and no water and a Nikon camera that was left on the airplane en route home.

OK, see, that last part I never told him. I just told that to myself because it completed the sentence better.

Anyway, eventually I was like “OMG, I’m the weirdest person ever, I have to tell him before this turns into something bigger and the government is willing to pay for my therapy.”

Do you know how awkward it is to tell your [completely sane] boyfriend that you made up a story about something super pointless?

Er, so, uh, I’ve never actually been to Palm Springs. I was . . . just . . . kidding?

It wasn’t awkward at all, because that’s not the type of person I am, but still. It was ridiculous.

The scary part was that he took it rather well. In fact, it seemed like he expects that sort of thing from me — probably because on our second date I told him point blank that I’m bat shit crazy. Because I know what the boys like to hear.

The saying goes something like it’s easier to tell the truth than to tell a lie and I think whoever first coined that was a big fat liar.

Yes, convoluted lies are hard to keep straight and easy to mess up, but there’s nothing more difficult than telling the whole truth and nothin’ but the truth. In the truth we are exposed. We are vulnerable. We are easily wounded.

The easy part comes later, when we realize we’ve been accepted just as we are — with no frills, no judgement, and no imaginary trips to Palm Springs.

XOYW1

Are you waiting around for inspiration?

view

This week’s InfoNews column is up and it’s all about how we keep waiting for the right moment/ circumstances to be our better selves. I moved this week and told myself this would be that right moment/circumstance, but now all I want to do is shop for throw pillows and spy on my neighbors with the lights out. You can read it HERE if your big plans need a little oomph.

XOYW1

 

 

 

Image by Millan P. Rible

What happens when you accept bad vibes only

3d739c8e09d2bdb0f62576e5334b4e2a

When was the last time you had a week?

You know the kind — everything spirals into a giant catastrophic bad day, every day. It’s like that scene in Finding Nemo where the super cute sea turtles are riding the current all crazy, except they were all like “woah, dude” and you’re all like “fuck, man.”

Well, I’ve had one of those weeks.

So much so that when I woke up this morning I had to put myself back to bed because I was so miserable. I was all maybe I’ll try waking up again, and not being such a colossal C-U-Next-Tuesday. Of course, it didn’t help at all, because Taylor Swift’s “Shake it off” woke me up and informed me that I was now late.

Everything from forgetting really important birthdays to smashing Steve’s car to getting ready to move into a new place to having freak-outs about asbestosis . . . (that was totally warranted, FYI. I wasn’t being paranoid) this week has just made me feel crappy.

And it steamrolls. Oh man, does it steam roll. If Monday’s bad you just know nothing good can come from it.

But, last night, in an attempt to make up for that forgotten birthday I told you about, I took a girlfriend out for a well-deserved dinner. The moment I stepped into her car, my entire world was rocked.

Radiating out of this woman, and literally punching me in the face, was the most incredible and powerful and positive and beautiful energy. She told me stories of how she had recently opened herself up to accepting things from *The Universe* (put in asterisks because you can insert whatever you pray to here) and how everything was falling into place perfectly.

& I was like . . . what am I doing wrong this week? I am attracting all the bad vibes. All of them. Every single last bad vibe on the planet I am attracting to myself. But other people are attracting good vibes only. What is the difference between a person who attracts all the bad vibes and one who attracts only good ones?

good vibesI think it’s that whole you get what you give mantra that they use in all those crappy financial advice books. For the record, Scotiabank, I’m not richer than I think, no matter what I invest with you.

Anyway. If all I’m sending out is negative, high strung, whiney energy, it kind of makes sense that those are the “vibes” I’m going to have reciprocated.

Which is why, earlier this afternoon, I thought I was really onto something when I started sloughing things off and slowing down and keeping my complaints to myself. I thought I was doing it right.

But then I bent over and the zipper on my pencil skirt exploded from the pressure of my bass (seriously, how stuck in your head is that awful song?!) and I just stood there like . . .

REALLY?

But in the scheme of things, it’s my weekend now, so I’m just rocking the 1990’s around-the-waist sweater trick until I have a chance to change.

How do you guys attract good vibes only? I wanna be more chill, bro.

XOYW1

Is Pinterest making me more domestic, or . . . ?

pinspo

This week’s InfoNews column is up and it’s about what Pinterest can do for you. Originally it was about how Pinterest has made me less of an extrovert but then I got onto a roll about nutella and decided to shift my focus because I was hungry. If you need to be convinced or need to feel justified you can read it HERE.

XOYW1

It’s fall, so chill out already

apples The other day I got quite aggressive with my daily commute. It will fer sher be the death of me one day soon, so I was all “EFF IT” and I put ZZ Top on blast and just plowed through people left and right.

One guy yelled “woah, bitch, Imma get out the way,” which temporarily put me in a better mood — because Luda — but for the most part I was a tornado blowing through the streets of downtown Vancouver looking for any one to challenge me.

Why was I channeling my inner Twister? I don’t have any idea.

I could blame my adrenals, definitely. I’m sure what I need is more sleep and less coffee and a better commitment to warrior pose. But really, who wants practical advice when it comes to learning how to relax? It’s like everything else — give it to me fast and make it work faster.

OK, maybe not everything else.

When it comes to October I always find myself with mixed emotions. The world around us says slow down, but my immediate response is to go full-blown Martha Stewart and start collecting pine cones and leaves for random Pinterest projects. It’s a fragile season for me — one during which I always get sick and crabby — but it has such an exciting energy that I can’t help but want to do everything.

It doesn’t help that it’s my birthday month. (What, you thought I was going to keep turning 27 a secret? Puh-lease. Bring on the cake and flower crowns. Those are the new tiaras, right?) & the last thing I want to be doing during my entire month of birth is stressing out about the fact I have yet to go apple picking.

I always forget to go apple picking.

Sure, fall doesn’t feel like fall without its collection of scarves and playlists and pumpkin spice scented Bath & Body Works products, but that’s not what it needs to be about. The reason it’s a spectacular season is because this stuff happens whether you plan it or not. Your neighbor’s apples will fall off the tree and she’ll bring them over to you and you’ll attempt to make a pie. It will rain on top of dead leaves and you’ll smell something better than any B&BW lotion. Your boyfriend will drag you to tailgate at a football game. You’re going to turn the heat on and bundle up.

These things are all just going to happen. The last thing we need to do is ruin a magnificent naturally occurring season (as they all are) with another one of our to-do lists. So, while I’m not about to stop pinning recipes of gluten-free pumpkin bread and Hunter rain boots, I’m going to stop pressuring myself to go full tilt.

I’m spending this weekend in the mountains with no cell reception, and while I really want to roast marshmallows on an open fire, I’m not going to feel defeated if it rains and I can’t cross it off my to-do list. Instead, I’ll go back to reading my trashy young adult novel under the blankets.

And, without trying too hard at all, my adrenals will thank me. XOYW1