I cannot be trusted…

…to keep my word on consistently blogging.

I promise you that it’s not intentional. There are days where my fingers effortlessly gloss over my keys, writing carefully thought out prose for you to happily ingest (those are my narcissist days). On the flip side, I have my days where my ego is shot, I’m moody, and hopelessly confused on what it is that I want to share with the world (I attribute this to shitty eating, lack of sleep, and misspending of funds).

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I have a tendency of being hot or cold emotionally. I’m either all or nothing– which makes for inconsistent everything. Of course there’s no magic pill that will magically make me super organized (unless you know of one, then please share the love!). I will say that I am making the conscientious effort to change my ways. “Evolve or die” is my new motto for both life and work. While I make no promises on how quickly I conform to this new found perspective, rest assured that I will do my best to keep you entertained with my latest shenanigans. But, just in case you get your hopes up, see the photo below. 😉

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P.S. I started using Tinder again… stay tuned! 🙂

15 Random Facts About Me

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I figure in an effort to share more with the world, I’d give you guys a glimpse into the mind of the girl behind this blog. Here are a few facts about me 😉

1. I.Hate.Pants. If it wasn’t considered indecent exposure, I wouldn’t wear them. Boyshorts FTW!!!

2. I am left handed. Meaning, I think in my right mind.

3. I am the middle child. I’m sure that explains a lot haha.

4. I am very close with my parents. They’re pretty legit, and no, they are not sponsoring this post, promise. 😉

5. I am a closeted introvert. Honestly most people don’t know this because of my bubbly demeanor, but  l like to escape to my room with my fur-child to recuperate after most social festivities. Also, very animated people overwhelm me, lol. Don’t worry, I can be coaxed out of my cave with a caramel macchiato and good conversation. This works for any bribe, you know just in case you need an excuse to bring me coffee 🙂

6. I am a good listener and keeper of secrets. In fact, my hair is full of them.

7. I am an early bird. I love waking up before the sun does.

8. Libra is my sign. I don’t really put much stock in astrology, but the balance thing is pretty spot on.

9. Confrontation is not my thing. Seriously, I’m all about keeping the peace.

10. I come from a musical family. I play multiple instruments and teach too.

11. Classical and Jazz are my two favorite genres. If all other music died tomorrow, I’d be ok with that.

12. I love people watching.

13. I have some serious love for my home state. Cali pride til I die!

14. I love live music, mainly for the people watching and good vibes.

15. I keep a few close friends, so if you’re in my rotation, consider it an honor 😉

Welp that’s a little about me. Hopefully that gives you a better understanding of my neurotic personality. 🙂

What are some random facts about you???

Let me know in the comments!

 

5 Things You Shouldn’t Say to Someone Working Freelance

By definition freelance means:  A person who sells services to employers without a long-term commitment to any of them. Now that we have that covered, a freelancer can be involved in virtually any industry doing almost anything. But for the sake of this post, I’ll be talking about freelance writers. Believe it or not, the writing industry is incredibly vast and there are so many avenues one can take. No matter which niche you decide on, writing as a profession takes some serious commitment and is not as easy as one might believe. With that being said, I’ve heard from my peers some of the most unintentionally ignorant remarks about freelance writers that tend to make my blood boil. Without further ado, here are 5 things you shouldn’t say to a freelancer.

“I wish I could sleep in”

On the contrary, freelancing has made me more punctual than I have ever been in my 24 years of existence. I have a set morning routine in which I wake up before the sun (early bird over here), get coffee, walk a few miles with Abbey, shower, and get ready to start working. I find that mornings are best for me when it comes to working. In addition, besides doing actual work, I’m always reading up on brushing up my writing or looking at new projects. Since you’re getting work from companies, it’s best to keep normal business hours. Most successful freelancers take their work seriously, thus have set hours in which they work.

“I’d love to work in my pajamas”

To be honest, I’ve never worked in my PJs. I do have an aversion to pants, but most times I am fully dressed. Freelancing is different than the traditional 9-5 but it still is work, so I treat it as such. By getting dressed I set the tone that I am in “work mode”. Plus being in your PJ’s 24/7 just doesn’t sound appealing to me.

“Must be nice not having a boss”

While I do not have a “direct supervisor” I do have editors to please and it can at times be a bit trickier than your traditional boss. Editors that I have worked with come in all different shapes and sizes. Meaning to say some have given great direction and communication and others… well, might as well be speaking in a different language. Having the same boss would at least give you the ability to understand their expectations. Don’t get me wrong, I like it this way, but it’s not all sunshine and daisies as some might believe.

“You must not like people, or you’re anti-social”

Just to clarify antisocial is a term that is supposed to be used for the likes of Jeffrey Dahmer and Ted Bundy. I assure you, I am not a serial killer. I do like people though that can be debated from time to time. Some think that freelancers are by nature hermits. That is totally not true. Sure, I have to make more of an effort to socialize, but it’s something that I try and keep up with. Not having coworkers was one of the hardest adjustments I had to make. I have had some interesting times with the help of Meetup.com (more on that later). Plus I’m sure my dog only listens to me for Dentistix so for her sake and mine, I make time to hang with friends.

“When are you going to get a real job?”

The biggest and most common insult of them all. I get this a lot from well meaning friends who do not understand what I do.  While the human side of me wants to point out that I make more per hour than they do, I simply smile and say I’m happy with where I am. I suppose to the outside world, I get to sit on my bum and ponder life’s mystery while magically getting paid. I get that it’s hard to understand the ins and outs of freelancing, I’m still figuring it out myself really. But seriously, it is real work in exchange for real money.

To be frank, if I worked the way my peers thought I did, I’d be broke living in a van down by the river. I am not an existential hippie smoking peyote while doling out philosophical advice to the masses. Sure it’s not the traditional method that most people are accustomed to, but there are guidelines that I adhere to in order to be successful. So next time you want to ask your friend, neighbor, cousin, or whomever about their freelance endeavors, it’s ok to be inquisitive, just don’t be a douche. 🙂

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Man! I Feel Like a Woman! (No I don’t)

I hope the Shania Twain reference wasn’t lost on anyone. If it is, shame on you, it’s quite a catchy song. Anyway, I digress. As a member of the XX chromosome club, I can attest that women do/wear some of the most uncomfortable/painful things for the sake of fashion. Being the self proclaimed tomboy that I am, even I have fallen prey to the use of non-sensible shoes. Flats, to be specific. I bought some super adorable (super evil) flats the other day and I wanted to be “cute” and wear them to work. Since moving back into my sister’s house, I can’t seem to find anything.

This morning, I was trolling for the little footie socks I wear with flats. I couldn’t find anything so I thought screw it, I’ll go without them (don’t get disgusted, you know you’ve done it before too). BIG MISTAKE!!! For anyone who’s had to endure the hardship of breaking in flats (or any other uncomfortable shoe for that matter) my toes are the casualty in the war against looking plain.

By the end of the day I was limping like I was attacked and beaten in the woods and left for dead. Unfortunately, I had to run to Target to grab some new socks and some Band AidsÂŽ for my poor battered feet. So, at the risk of looking like a group attack victim, I held my head high and pretended to walk as best I could while maintaining what little dignity I could muster. Maybe it was the searing pain from the torn blister on my right foot or divine intervention, but I managed to leave Target with only the items I had on my list.

Finally I made my way home and applied this miracle contraption that is Band AidÂŽ. I ponied up and got the blister relief ones and boy am I glad I did. Anyone who has a blister I recommend you do the same, you will not be disappointed! I swear this isn’t a plug for the brand, I just happened to really appreciate their existence more today than usual. So anyway, I’m sitting here in my moccasins giving my feet reprieve from the hell that I put them through today. I think next time I want to break in new shoes while working, I’m gonna have an extra pair on deck, and some extra socks….

The video is what I imagined I looked like at Target… Enjoy 😀

R.I.P. Chipped Tooth

When I was about 4 or 5, my older sister and I were playing in the backyard on our swingset. Back then my sister loved coaxing me into doing stupid crap, like I’m sure most older siblings do. So this particular afternoon she told me if I jumped off the swing, I would be in the army. Now, I have no clue why I wanted to be in the army, but this was an offer I could not pass up. I kept swinging, getting higher and higher until finally I was ready for lift off. Til this day I don’t really know how to explain the following events accurately. In some crazy way I managed to fly backwards under the swing and hit my mouth. I have no idea how, it had seemed as though I defied gravity or something.  It hurt at lot, but hey, I made it into the army. Anyway, I digress. That was the day I chipped my front tooth.

Fast forward 18ish years, I had recently started going to the dentist a few months ago. They pretty much told me that my mouth was a hot mess and I needed a lot of work done. I should preface this by saying I’m not the hugest fan of the dentist. Not because of the pain or procedures being done. That’s the easy part. It was the constant judgement by the dentist and dental assistants that scared me shitless. But I knew I should probably take care of my dental drama and I had insurance! So, why not?

During the course of a few months and several grand later (ouch, the most painful part) I went to my final appointment yesterday. I was still a bit confused by the last procedure because I could have sworn I did not have a cavity in my front tooth. I mean, my oral hygiene isn’t that bad. Then I remembered my lovely chipped tooth. Honestly, it was so minuscule that I had to point it out every time I told my “army story”. Plus it had become a part of me (both literally and figuratively). So I asked the dental assistant for a bit more information on what they were going to do. She said quite condescendingly that I had a cavity in the corner that needed to be fixed (And people wonder why I’m not a fan of the dentist). And I was told my chip would remain.

So, I was sent back into the office and they got me prepped and ready for the filling. I had also asked would it be noticeable. Despite the fact that they are a hot mess, I have a great looking set and I didn’t want to ruin the merchandise. I was again reassured that I was in great hands. The dentist came in, very friendly told me that this wouldn’t take long and I would be good as new. I actually liked him because he had been very nice and nonjudgemental throughout the whole process. So I relaxed and they started.

After about 30 minutes of having multiple hands in my mouth, I was done. The dentist told me to bite down on some blue paper to see if my teeth line up. And then added that I needed to be careful with chewing my front teeth otherwise I could chip my tooth again. “What?” was what I stuttered after he told me this piece of information. Then he added, yeah we fixed that little chip in your tooth. He then gave me a mirror to check out the procedure. And then walked out of the room like he had cure an innoperable disease. I sat there looking at my teeth for a few moments.

It was gone. My quirky little chip that had been there since I was a child had been covered up without my consent. I was so dismayed, I had grown to like it. I remember being in my teens thinking I should get it filled but it was really not even noticeable so I just let it remain.  I was really upset that I had asked for them not to touch it. But what really pissed me off was that they had tried to pass it off like it was a cavity and it was only a cosmetic procedure. I felt like I lost a bit of my childhood history that day. So now I sit here with pearly white teeth mourning the loss of my chipped tooth. But on the bright side, I think this gets me out of being in the “army”. 😉

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The Importance of a Grocery List

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I’ve freely embraced that I am incredibly disorganized. I tend to go about life in a “stream of consciousness” way (unless I have a crush on you, but that’s a different story for a different day). As much as i hate to admit it, I have my head in the clouds quite a bit so it’s important that I write things down; otherwise to my whimsical little brain, it does not exist.  So you’d think by now I’ve known myself to be forgetful, I’d master the task of making lists, in this particular instance a grocery list.

More often than not, when I’m at any store, I usually remember to write down what I need otherwise that leaves me at the mercy of my “wants”. Meaning, I am vulnerable to purchase whatever looks good at the moment I see it (Check out http://wp.me/p3BPLc-4l to get more understanding to the method rather lack thereof to my madness). That, and I forget what I went to the store for in the first place.

Today was a day that I did not bring such list. I remember distinctly thinking “Crap! I don’t have a shopping list. Eh, I can wing it”. With said false hope I proceeded to get the items that I needed. As I went to the checkout line, I remembered feeling proud that I got everything I needed. I thought to myself, “See, I don’t need a stinkin’ list after all”. So I went home, unloaded my groceries, and carried them to my apartment.

As I was putting my items away (proudly I might add), I prepared to make myself a steak. As I got my seasonings out, I realized that I’d forgotten the foil. Face palm, “ugh”, I thought to myself I forgot something. Being the eternal optimist that I am, I decided to forego the steak and opt for a sandwich. I got those items out, then realized that I forgot the mayo. Was I batting a thousand or what? So moral of the story A: I am not above needing a list, for literally everything, B: I am a forgetful putz, and C: I am now very hungry with a fridge full of ingredients that are missing their counterparts. Time to order delivery.

Victim of a Good Sale

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I absolutely love a good sale. All rational thoughts cease to exist from my mind once I come across a good deal. I will sometimes (almost always) even buy things I don’t really need just because they are priced right. Fortunately, my mother knows me very well and she usually talks me off the ledge.

One moment in particular was about 2 years ago when I was in Arizona for college. I was at home in Cali with my family and decided to make a trip to Target, one of my greatest weaknesses. Target has this college line that encompasses, furniture, linens, and just stuff for collegiate needs. Since my hometown does not really have a university nearby a lot of the items were drastically reduced in price because of lack of demand.

So, hoping to get a bargain, I stumbled across the bed sheets section and to my delight there was treasure to be had. There were several really cute bed spreads priced to sell! I seriously was like a kid in a candy store. So many amazing things all at once. My brain could barely process what was going on. Gluttony was starting to set in. Should I buy one set? Two? Three? Four?! I just could not get over my good fortune of finding such a phenomenal sale! To even sweeten the pot, this sale was going on for another 5 days.

In a very brief moment of clarity, I decided to walk away, think about it, and return tomorrow once I’ve had a chance to calm down. That night I told my mom and dad about how crazy amazing the bed sheet sale at Target was. Like I said, this lady knows me all too well and tried to reason with me. She was quick to remind me that I already had 4 sets of sheets back at my house in AZ and that I really didn’t need anymore. But, I thought to myself, “It’s such a good deal!”.

The next day, after my eye appointment, I found myself meandering the aisles of Target back at the very same spot I was at yesterday; looking at the sheets. I had my cart ready. Screw logic, it was a good deal! Just as I was about to load my cart with an obscene amount of sheets, my phone rang. For a second my depraved ravenous need to take advantage of the sale momentarily subsided as I picked up my phone to answer it. It was my mother.

She casually called to ask about my eye appointment. I quickly bragged about how my optometrist was baffled by my dramatic improvement in eyesight (My astigmatism of 8 years suddenly vanished as well as my prescription cut in half). She was thrilled for me as was I. She then asked me when I was coming home and if she should save lunch for me. I casually mentioned that I stopped by a store (clever, right?) and quickly attempted to change the subject. For a moment, there was silence. I will never forget the next sentence my mother told me as long as I’ll live.

“Taryn, step away from the sheets, get in your car, and drive home.” She knew! I was caught in the act. I’m sure if anyone could see my face, I looked like a 5 year old kid caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. So, being the good daughter (for the most part) that I am, I walked out of the store, got in my car, and drove home. I still laugh at that memory to this day as I really did not need those sheets. Like I said, I am a sucker for a good sale. I am just glad I have a mother who seemingly has a sixth sense of my habits to ensure that I stay on the straight and narrow; and I will forever love her for that.

I Now Pronounce You, Adult

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I often wonder, how does a person know when they’re an “adult”? Is there a feeling and you just know? Or do you go through an experience where you face trials and tribulations and you come out on the other side a full blown adult? Wouldn’t it be nice to have a ceremony that officially makes you an adult? There would be a specific time and place where you stand before God and all your peers in front of some qualified individual (possibly Morgan Freeman) who anoints you into adulthood.

Currently I find myself in limbo. It’s like that awful Britney Spears song “Not a girl not yet a woman”. Ok, terrible analogy but there is some truth behind it. From a tangible aspect, I am an adult. I pay taxes, pay bills, go to work, etc. Emotionally on the other hand is a different story. Whenever I am talking to an older adult, I always feel like a kid. Now this has nothing to do with the other person and how they are talking to me. It’s just a feeling that someone older and with more “authority” is talking to me.

Recently I had to assert my “adultness” to get a point across. There was a dispute with one of my findings at work which was being called into question. I then had to use my authority and my knowledge on the subject at hand to prove a point. Now as I was in the midst of the situation, I remember thinking to myself, “oh jeez, there’s no way they’re going to listen to some kid just out of college”. To my shock and chagrin, my point came across loud and clear and was respected. Why, because at that moment I realized that I am an adult and my peers see me that way as well.

Don’t get me wrong, I still don’t feel like the “real deal” by any means. There are still moments (quite a few) that I lean on my parents for emotional support. I know I’m spoiled to have 2 people in this world who give me the assurance that I don’t need to have all the answers at this stage in my life. They definitely bring me back to earth when I go on my “I’m not on the right path” tangents. I suppose that in then end, it is a process that everyone goes through at their own rate. It is most certainly not a “one size fits all” endeavor.