Ride or Die Chick - Why I Claim It though with a Slight Twist on the Meaning

For those who don’t know, a ride or die chick means a gal who is loyal to her partner regardless of the cost, even if it endangers herself. I get this, but not necessarily in terms of a partner. To me there is something a little off about that one. No, I change it a bit to mean a gal who is loyal to her family regardless of the cost, even if it endangers herself. This I completely relate to. I normally live by one rule, you can say and do whatever you want to me, I’ll handle it. But you do F with my family. Nothing gets me more upset than someone messing with someone I love. Call me names, it will slide off my back. Call my mom something, I just see red. And for me family is not just blood. As I previously have written one of the most important people in my life I shared absolutely no blood with. I have friends who are very much my family. And if I get a phone call in the middle of the night from one of them half way across the country and they need me, I will be there.

So this idea of a Ride or Die Chick appeals to me because it is very much how I feel about those I love. But it is not limited to a guy and to be honest, I don’t know if I have ever had a relationship with a man that has ever made me feel that way other than he is my family. Apparently I am already built for it so why wouldn’t it naturally happen to the level were I was also a more traditional ride or die chick. And I think it is because there is something a bit sad about the traditional concept.

So both types are referenced in the Fast and the Furious franchise. Letty and Dom are the ultimate traditional type of ride or die for each other. And I love me some Letty and Dom. But it is also a bit rough because though they have each other backs, they are ultimately bringing each other down in the process. They don’t question each others actions. They don’t encourage each other to be better, just to be safer in the execution of what they are trying to do.

My kind of ride or die is a bit different and that is VERY much on display in Fast and Furious. Ride or Die for your family. Dom will do anything to protect Mia, but he also wants the very best for her. Brian, who starts off getting to be traditional ride or die as a friend with Dom, becomes a family ride or die because of his love for Mia. He wants her safe, he wants the baby safe, and he wants them to have the opportunity to have a better life than the life they are currently living while on the run. Letty and Dom, come around to the family ride or die view because of their love for their family, but if left to themselves would Bonnie and Clyde it up without any hesitation.

And that is where the problem to me lies. Bonnie and Clyde were betrayed by their friends, split up by their family and ultimately died because they truly only had each other. And in this world, that is simply not enough and frankly selfish. Bonnie’s family had to deal with a lot when she ran off with Clyde, and they hated Clyde for it so much they did not allow them to be buried together.

I love the F&F franchise a lot. Like damn, a lot. But I think that is because it gets my world view so much. Family first. And family is not just by blood. There is a certain young man, now married and a dad, who we could not speak to each other for the next twenty years, where he now governor of a colony on Mars and I am building algorithms in a massive super computer deep underground in order to keep its servers cool, if he called me up and said “Hey, I have a political opponent who is messing with me and going after my family, I need help” it wouldn’t even take a heartbeat for me to book the travel and start doing research to find a play to help. That is the other twist, ride or die implies a level of violence but for me, I know where my strengths are. I know where I would help the most. Yes, I guess I could get all grr and such, but lets be honest, a fist won’t solve unemployment or determining if an opportunity is right, ensuring medical care is timely and appropriate while in an ER or even just figuring out how to do their taxes. No, I know how my ride or die is best executed for those I love.

So odd topic, I know. But As I have watched the new trailer for Hobbs and Shaw for the 18th time, I felt the need to talk about this.

Horror Movies have always been Political - They are Our Modern Day Fairy Tales

Another horror movie has come out and breaking box office records. Reviews are pretty good and people seem to be enjoying it.

But in my feeds I will see on occasion “It’s too political”. “Why does it have to be so political?” “Horror movies should just be fun and not political”

Hate to break it to you but Horror has ALWAYS been political. They are our modern day fairy tales. And I don’t think anyone would call Grimms Fairy Tales not creepy or political.

The Castle of Otranto by Walpole, pretty much considered the first horror novel, set in times of chivalry, it deals with people in power being punished for either their, or their family’s past deeds. You then go on to Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and you get pseudoscience added into the mix to call into question are human beings the real monster because in a privilege state of power we fail to do the right thing and others are victimized for it (honestly, Dr Frankenstein is a dick). Dracula, which is trippy, deals with parasitic nature of aristocratic society, the hubris of modern scientific society blind to its own weaknesses and women having premarital sex, autonomy and not acting like a proper lady.

Pushing forward to movies though there are others that came before, Like the Golem and Le Manoir du Diable, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1919) is seen as a the first REAL horror film. A twisted take it is a man trapped in an insane asylum run by a mad man. It was made by Robert Weine and is a beautiful example of German Expressionism. But that’s the thing. It’s an allegory for how Germans were feeling after losing WWI and not being able to escape the economic impact of both the war and the reparations they were forced to pay.

You get into the Legosi and Karloff eras and monster movies were huge. But they were very political, often based on the first horror novels that had come out. The two actors most known for the era played these roles with both menace and pitiable qualities to help both scare and make the audience be able to relate to the monsters, pushing for them to look deeper into the allegories.

Then the 50s show up and you start to get cold war paranoia running through your movies along with fear of the status quo being overturned. The “others”, often aliens, would invade, our women would be easy prey and only the manly popular all American boys could save the day. Pushing an agenda that tries to make a very narrow view of what is the “right way” to look, act, be, which might exclude folks that can never look that way no matter what, as the default and Best is the very definition of political.

The 60s started to really focus on the role of women. Makes sense, you are starting to see divorce, birth control and women going to college in much larger numbers than before. That was very much changing the dynamic. So in comes the Bad Girl. Whether due to her own naivete and unwillingness to grow up (Rosemary’s Baby) or her truly being a Bad Girl (Psycho), these morality tales wrapped in horror wear their origins on their sleeves. BTW, Hitchcock and the Bad Girl/Cool Girl troupe, honestly, no one has done it better.

70s, 80s and 90s - premarital sex in full effect + new-fangled tech + plus drugs = devil children and the start of the slasher. I’m going to stop the timeline here because if you want to have it explained to you as to how these are political, trying to maintain the previous generations perception of what was moral and good in the world, go Watch Scream. Honestly, Wes Craven is way better at this than I ever could be.

Even when you think of the torture porn subgenre of horror (think Hostel, Wolf Creek, Saw) and splatter jump scare sub-genre (think Final Destination), these are incredibly political. Growing to popularity after 9/11 they deal with death being inevitable and you can’t escape it, people are horribly sadistic to each other and that in the case of the Saw franchise, we deserve it because we took for granted the good things we had in life and that if we are willing to sacrifice we can get back what we lost. Incredibly political.

Now if you are only used to Disney fairy tales, then yes, this makes no sense. But Cinderella has her step sisters cut off pieces of their feet to try and fit in the shoe and still don’t win (because they are entitled and not proper polite ladies) and the step mother who married for money, has her eyes pecked out by birds. Little Mermaid, who tried to marry a guy who was not from her world or station ends up constantly in pain because every step is like walking on glass and dies at the end because the prince doesn’t love her. So not exactly happy stories and certainly were there to teach little children to not wander in the woods alone, listen to their parents, and stick to their station in life. But only through being the best of the best in your station could you potentially rise up. For feudalistic times this seems super political messaging for the masses.

So I get it, sometimes it can be heavy handed. I mean have you seen Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2? Dennis Hooper is the walking talking moral of the story brigade in that film. But that doesn’t mean they are not being loyal to the genre. They are.

The difference is the medium is opening up. New voices, experiences and stories are coming out. This is a good thing. We would have never gotten a movie like The Ring in this country, that is very much based on adapted from an Japanese fairy tale and that movie is AMAZINGLY scary. And I like being scared in new ways. Paranormal Activity, which a complete throw back to classic horror of the 30s and 40s exists because the barrier of entry lowered so much.

Just like music, movies are going to split itself out. With sub sub sub genres and niche markets. The tent-poles will still be there (Taylor Swift and Adele post the music split) but people will more easily find things that speak to them in ways that are new and interesting.

So embrace it. Soon you will be able to find new horror movies that feel right to you. They might not be a huge success, but if they are speak to you, that’s really what matters. Art is subjective. And maybe you are just watching the wrong morality tales for your taste, that’s all.

He Chose Me - Why Stepparents mean way more than Society is willing to Acknowledge

Three years ago Joe died.

Joe was my step-father. He adopted me when I was in 5th grade and I went from one ethnic last name my elementary school principal couldn’t pronounce to another. My baby sister had been born and I remember the day of the adoption so clearly.

My newly legal grandpa was there, I was wearing a red and white little girl suit (I have always loved suits and Joe had amazing taste) and Judge Glavas is the one who signed the paperwork making me officially Joe’s daughter.

My Daddy and Me

Joe was a hard man. He didn’t hold back on criticism and firmly believed in tough love. I have had six surgeries in my lifetime (I think, sometimes they blur together) and Joe was there for four of them. I remember coming home from the hospital when I was fifteen, still incredibly groggy from anesthesia, first time I had had an outpatient surgery (three had been before this and all inpatient for a long time) laying on the couch in the living room. Joe dropped a basket of laundry next to me and said I needed to fold it since I was just laying there. Yep, not always the most compassionate man when you would think a person would be.

But that’s the thing. He was actually compassionate but it came in really weird ways. When I was 25 and having a surgery, he stayed with me all night in the hospital. The doctor said I had to stay elevated and on my back. I sleep with the flatest pillow possible and on my side. He kept moving me so I stayed in the right position all night. I was a grown ass woman, married with a kid and yet my daddy would not leave my side. Now when I was awake and went home he told me I should put away the dishes that were out, but see, that is were the interesting aspect of his personality came in.

My dad taught me many things but he fundamentally taught me three HUGE lessons.

“If you can walk, you can work.”

I heard that so many times growing up from him that when I think of the phrase I hear it in his voice even still. Joe lived with pain most of his life. Some he caused himself, some was simply his body being a dick. I can relate to that. And I think Joe saw that I was going to be in for a lifetime of that kind of problem as he had. So he instilled in me the ability to push through. I can be tired, sore, have a migraine that is making keeping water down a problem, doesn’t matter, shit still needs to get done. Life doesn’t care. And whining about it doesn’t do fix the pain or get stuff done. So just get up and do it.

“I know you’re smart. I know not because of how well you doing things but because of how well you get out of doing things”

Joe didn’t like people. There are very few people he liked in any real way. Most of them were fictional. My brother is named after a John Wayne character so I think you can guess who one person might be. He preferred nature. He preferred westerns, mysteries, wrestling and B level action movies. I might get some of my taste in that aspect from him, to be honest. But what he didn’t like was people wasting time and quite often that involved societal expectations that might force him to have to deal with stuff longer than what he wanted.

A girl growing up in the 80s and 90s, I had a LOT of mixed messages. I can be anything but don’t be too smart or guys won’t like you. You should have a career but children, marriage and your husband’s career need to come first. Geeky girls who are good at math, science and like things like sci-fi and comics are the comic best friend of the guys but not the ones they date. Oh and course, you are all going to die young from AIDS, cancer and the hole in the Ozone layer. Like I said, weird times. I had a math teacher who would make fun of the girls in the class when they made a mistake but praise the guys for trying even when they failed miserably. Role Models were hard to come by and 80s teen movies that were now being played all the time on tv like 16 candles drove home a lot of those lessons (oh Jake Ryan, that movie is so problematic and yet to have a guy sit on a kitchen table - probably more like a blanket in the living room because now I don’t want butts where food is going to be - with me and a birthday cake is still one of my fantasies).

Joe saw all of this. He knew I was smart, my test scores showed it (even when my grades didn’t always hahaha). But he saw me floundering. I was being torn between what I thought I was supposed to be and who I am. So he yelled at me one day. I don’t even know what I was supposed to be doing but I wasn’t doing it and there is a good chance I had figured out a way to not have to do it or get someone else to do it. And that’s when he told me I know you’re smart. I know not because of how well you doing things but because of how well you get out of doing things. Then I am sure he probably made me do what I was supposed to be doing.

In that one statement I learned two things. One, I was smart. And not just book smart but actually smart. Yes, I had been told this by other people but it was normally in a you need to apply yourself, do great things or what you future holds way. Not a No dude, you are smart regardless of what you do. And there wasn’t a but. It wasn’t followed by you need to calm down and let other kids have a chance to talk about it or you are too aggressive or a know it all or just tone it down or you need to smile and be nicer. These are all things I had heard when I was little, I have always been hyper and talkative, that never changed.

But what he said was just put out there. You are smart. Period. It wasn’t an excuse or a call to action or a you need to blend in more. That was odd to hear. But it was needed. To this day I don’t doubt my intelligence. It took a bit to realize that it was okay to be ambitious (like my 30th birthday, lol) but I have never doubted my ability to learn, adapt, grow and change through the pursuit of knowledge.

The other thing was that I am not traditional. The whole “how you get out of things” part of the statement. Now that took a bit longer to fully sync in but it did. And he was right. I love to automate myself out of jobs. I often refer to myself as a pragmatic lazy person. I would rather just put the time in to write the algorithm so I never have to touch the damn thing again than do what most people do which is procrastinate which ultimately takes up more time than if you even just did it right away. I mean honestly, that isn’t lazy that is just inefficient time wasting.

But he saw that in me before I ever saw it in myself. And as I got older I did start to see it. And the more I saw it the more my bosses did too. By it’s very definition I am okay with change, it doesn’t scare me. Because as long as the change means less boring work, it is in my favor. And that is an asset.

Dad with my niece

But through all the things he taught me there is one thing above all others that he did that words can’t even begin to express how much it means to me.

He chose me.

He didn’t have to adopt me. He didn’t have to refer to me as his daughter, to treat me as if I was his own, to fiercely protect me, to hold me when I was scared, to even love me. It is sad that these are true statements yes, but they are. And there are PLENTY of people out there who have stepparents who these statements are true for. But they weren’t for me.

And for a little girl who though has a huge family filled with many loving people, most of them strong confident women, you would think it wouldn’t matter that much. But it did.

In a world where I felt abandoned by people who left or died, betrayed by my own body a lot of times, unsure of so much, there was always Joe. I was in a car accident when I was 17. I skidded on a patch of ice and slammed into another car. Not that big of a deal but in the moment it was huge. My mom picked me up and we went home. The first thing I did was climb into my daddy’s lap and cried. 17 years old but I needed to feel safe. I needed to be weak and he was the ONE person I knew that no matter what I could be weak without judgement or reprisal. Over two decades later that is still a true statement, which is actually quite sad and probably says a lot on why his death still weighs on me so much.

Was he the best dad ever? Oh God no, I would never claim that. Ever. There was a lot of stuff. But he tried. He sincerely tried. With a little girl who was kooky, hyper but introverted, strong-willed and passionate but scared of so much who happened to be sick a lot. And for that, I feel special. Because he didn’t have to do that. But he did.

He loved me for me. And to have someone do that, truly do that, who isn’t obligated because they are biologically related to you. It makes all the difference. Especially to that little girl.

On the way home from vacation in Cinci, asleep on my dad

My Sanctuary

There is something magical about Art in it’s classical form. Now there are many things I classify as art, but what I am referring to is more of the traditional form of art; paintings, sculptures, etc. So often people see these forms of art as walled off, elitist in many ways. To me that is farthest from the truth. Yes, many might try and wall it off, but when you actually read about the artists and look at their works, it becomes crystal clear, it is for all of us, not just who can drop a few million to then hide away.

What is a shame is that a lot of artists were total fan boys of whatever was the pop culture of their day (Degas, Miller), were absolutely moody adults who never grew out of the teenage angst phase (Michael Angelo, Pollock), dreamed of a better world they new didn’t actually exist but wanted to show in their paintings (Van Goth, Dali) or saw beauty in what most would call mundane (Picasso, Warhol). By looking at these works of art they can ground you in a way that the world tries so hard to untether you from.

I luck out, I live in Cleveland. We have the amazing Cleveland Museum of Art. The collection spans so much and so many different flavors, any mood you are in, it can raise you up. What I really enjoy is that they acknowledge that art can come in many forms. One of the favorite areas is where you can wander a great hall filled with armor and weaponry. On the walls, high above, the telling of a myth across about 8 massive tapestries plays out beautifully rendered from so long ago. Placing the two, weaponry and tapestries together helps to make you transport to the time when that would have existed. Tapestries were insulation back in the day of castles. In the large echoing hall it makes history come alive.

Aside from those I have above, there are a few pieces I always go see when I am there. They speak to me in an odd way. The first is a prayer book. Before printing presses, books were precious and the amount of effort that went into creating them was massive. When you look at the pages, seeing the painstaking detail, you can feel the pride of the creator in the work. Talented and deft at his work, it is awe inspiring to think of the amount of time that went into it’s creation. http://www.clevelandart.org/art/1963.256

Another is a painting by John Rogers Cox called Gray and Gold. http://www.clevelandart.org/art/1943.60 When I first saw the painting it reminded me of the beginning of Wizard of Oz. Though it is painted in response to WWII, it hits me at a more personal level. Beautiful and yet worrying, it has a dream like quality that makes you wonder which way the dream will go.

Lastly, but far from least, is a painting called Stag at Sharkey’s. Painted by George Bellows it is of a group of guys watching a boxing match. http://www.clevelandart.org/art/1133.1922 Boxing has always intrigued me. It has always felt like the violent version of dance. Where dance in all of its forms from ballet to krump tells a story, but in telling it is only making you aware, so there is a lack of finality to it. Boxing, and it’s cousins in martial arts and MMA, solve a problem. It comes in to play in the third act of the story and shows the resolution and holds out the consequences for all to see. Dance can seem so violent, especially when dancers bodies contort in ways that painful to see. Boxing looks so graceful and elegant as they weave together and apart during their fight.

What I think makes this painting though so amazing is that the beauty and elegance is shown as the bodies merge together in the painting. Like, dance, boxing is incredibly intimate and yet is on stage for all to see, often by those who don’t even sense the true beauty of it, only engaging for an adrenaline high, or as depicted, gambling. This painting captures this juxtaposition so well that the first time I saw it I just stood and stared at it for so long. It seemed to capture in what is a mundane premise and a sporting event the true beauty of everyday life that we all fail to miss so often. And that just hit me hard.

The Art Museum is my sanctuary. My hideaway from sorrow, pain and chaos. A place I can go and wander, with headphones on, feeling the weight of millennia of human culture helping to put into perspective how tiny I am in the grand scheme of things. And if I am that small then my problems are minuscule. It all melts into a abstract mess until the pictures of potential solutions start to appear as masters tell me their stories through their works, guiding me to what I know I should do.

I know it might seem odd. An Art Museum? Really? But really. Try it. But I mean really try it. Go and read the plaques next to the art. Look at the detail and image what it had to take to create it. Try and figure out how the hell that crazy idea was even thought up of by someone and what that person must of been like. Not everything will speak to you, but in some of those moments, you might hear something. And that can be wonderful.

A Bad Case of the Used Tos

I have realized I say “I used to” a lot. Like Damn. I used to be a runner. I used to game. I used to cook. I used to have hobbies. When it hit me I was doing this it was a bit overwhelming. These were all aspects that were a deep part of me and now they are not. And if they aren’t, then what replaced them.

When I get baking, especially for those I love…

So I started to take stock and think about what had replaced it. I didn’t actively choose what replaced it. I didn’t go from I used to cook but now I’m really into grilling. No it was just I used to cook. So what replaced it was the default opposite of what was there. I used to cook? I must just get take out. I used to run? Now I just mainly sit. I used to game? Now I just passively sit watching TV. And that is really depressing when I think about how it impacted how I was approaching going back to the things I loved.

I would go to the gym, hop on the treadmill and start to run. Nope, can’t do that, it’s too hard. Now normally I know that I need to build back up to running, you can’t just jump right in to where you were but that isn’t what was playing in the back of my head. That would go with. Wow, I’m not as fast I used to be. I can’t go as far as I used to be. I’m not a runner anymore. Why am I evening trying? I should just go home and stop embarrassing myself. And given my anxiety and often life saying “hey the to do list is getting longer as you are over there trying to be something you’re not”, I would stop.

And that is really depressing because I used to do a lot of cool stuff. Yes, I have always had intense anxiety and fear but after four decades I have gotten pretty good at pushing myself to try something new. But so much of that strength was gone. Now I am sure at some point I will go into how that got eroded by multiple tides from different directions but that can be a different post. Or actually probably multiple. But I have been trying to push to get back to me I liked. I used to go to concerts. I now do. I used to run 5ks. I am registered for several. I used to try new things. Well, thanks to an amazing Nancy, I tried boxing. And wow, what an amazing positive in my life for so many reasons. And that helps with the I used to be fit. I might not be it now, but is no longer I used to be to I will be. And that is mindset I need to keep.

So Yep.

I Don't Believe in Horoscopes but I am a Total Virgo

I have never really invested in horoscopes but I have always loved the whole Virgo persona. So the “traits” of us September babies are:

Strengths: Loyal, analytical, kind, hardworking, practical

Weaknesses: Shyness, worry, overly critical of self and others, all work and no play

Virgo likes: Animals, healthy food, books, nature, cleanliness

Virgo dislikes: Rudeness, asking for help, taking center stage

(from - https://www.astrology-zodiac-signs.com/zodiac-signs/virgo/)

Yes, I know these are purposefully general in order to relate to me but yet I look at that list and go, yep. Well…except for the healthy food. I do devour all sorts of berries and do love soups and salads, but I love beef. A good burger or a steak? Of course! My Wela’s red rice and beans, that is my one island food answer. But the rest, very much so.

Well cleanliness, technically that is true. I hate dirt, germs, etc. Now clutter…well, sometimes my kitchen table will go all weak without having space and I do fit the Puerto Rican mom stereotype and there are currently cookie sheets in the oven.

That said, I think there is more to why I love the concept of Virgo. I am a mythology buff. Shocker, my name comes from the goddess of the moon. And though the Virgo constellation originally was the Sumerian goddess Shala, the goddess of compassion and grain, it is most identified with the Greek goddess of Demeter and her daughter Persephone. Demeter, the goddess of the grain was also the most dedicated mother. Her daughter, the queen of the underworld, when married to Hades leaving her mother, caused the seasons to be created. Her mother was so upset that her despaired caused the crops to whither and die and winter to start. Persephone, trying to be both a good wife and a good daughter, splits her time so that way we can have Spring and Summer. Yes, Virgo is also related to the Roman goddess Ceres, but the Greek ones are my favorite. Hades, is a pretty cool guy who is just trying to make the best of a bad situation. As the oldest, he had to deal with all his siblings, took the worst job and had a dog, Cerberus, whose name translates to Spot. I mean, not that bad.. So the characters involved are some of my favorite besides my namesake and of course, Athena.

Then there is the iconography related to Virgos. Often a woman with dark wavy hair, holding grain and surrounded by the stars, often the moon is also in the mix, which I like because it hints at my name. I love the grain imagery because I do love to bake and feed people. That is a familiar trait, there is a deep seeded fear that is passed down through the generations that at any moment people will be hungry and you have then failed them.

So pretty adjectives I like to think pertain to me, cool myths that appeal to me and awesome pictures that looks like someone I would look like if I grew my hair out and wore more free flowing clothes with cool symbols. I just can’t help it. I might never look up what my horoscope says for the day but damn it, I am a Virgo.

So yep.

Let's Get Started or How Sims Made Me Start This

I have been wanting to do this for a long time and have tried and then stalled multiple times. But my life has taken an odd turn and as I entered my 40s (I’m currently 41 at the time of writing this). I found myself single, in a job that was sucking the life out of me, a family that literally kept trying to die for various reasons and child who was now an adult.

As I got through 40 and entered 41 I changed jobs and found out that gasp there is more to life than work, cleaning and taking care of everyone but myself. I also learned that though I normally turn to cupcakes or Target to sooth my stress, it leaves you with extra pounds of both weight and stuff. So I decided to to work on that. And I tried but I was now working from home without constant fires and people going in and out of hospitals every month and I didn’t know how to refocus. I felt so freaking lost. I wasn’t running on caffeine, sugar and adrenaline. And like any true woman feeling lost, I got a pet.

So Pepper joining the family. A kitten found in a garbage can, she came and decided she was in charge here. She is picky, demanding and really enjoys video games (my tv is covered in paw prints as she tries to catch whatever is used for the loading page).

And as I started playing Sims due to watching various Twitch and Buzzfeed videos of game play while cleaning out my house, I realized I really really liked the game. I am normally a FPS person but there was something calming about it. And then it occurred to me, I could organize their lives in a way I didn’t feel like my life was.

So while Pepper tried to catch the moving arrow I played thinking about what specifically was motivating me to make the clicks. The first was I could pre-load activities and rarely did my Sim deviate. I, on the other hand, procrastinate, like checking instagram, twitter or playing Sims for just a few examples. I used to have a calendar that I kept up to date and had alarms on my phone. Now, I’m technically winging it in comparison to what I used to be. I need to find a happy medium.

Second - my character was leveling up her skills in things I used to love: writing, cooking and fitness. She also was working on other traits but those were the first ones I focused on leveling up. When that moment hit (which I know, my Sim is named Diana and is a brunette with curly hair like her creator so duh), I realized I missed these things. Over the past 6ish years they all fell away. I used to do movie and comic reviews for other sites (no, I’m not good at it) but I enjoyed it. I used to love coming up with new recipes. And I used to run 5ks and was so super proud of that line in my triceps and calves. And they all fell away as I let life impact me.

Third - there was direction. And was sad was I was literally the one driving the direction. So I could build a great life for my Sim but not for me? Now how ridiculous is that statement.

But I felt so all over the place. Maybe it was a midlife crisis or the fact that for the first time in a while I haven’t been on the go from 5am to 9pm daily non-stop, but now there is time. And I am not taking advantage of it in the right way.

So after talking it over with a heavy bag (I will talk about how amazing Title Boxing has been for me) and Pepper and decided to start this blog.

So, that is the rambling story of how an idea inspired by Sims is now this website. Now whether a single person reads this, I have no clue.

But I think having a way to keep myself accountable while writing again is probably not going to be a bad thing.

So yep.