Ashten and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week

unnamedI’ve debated showing up here this week, mostly because things aren’t good and when things aren’t good I have a tendency to go inside myself and hide from everyone until I can figure things out. Ironically, I figure most of my shit out by writing about it, and I guess that’s why I’m here today. Hi. How are you? I’m doing shitty, thanks for asking. Say hello to ya motha for me.

Let me tell you a story about the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week that is currently causing me to desire a nice, quiet hole in the ground to move all my shit into and reside in until this godawful year of 2014 is over.

Is this post basically going to be me bitching? YES. Do I realize that things could be worse? Yes. But this is my week and I get to complain because this is my blog and I am the queen of everything the light touches. FREEDOM.

Last Monday, Warner and I went to the vet because Warner wasn’t eating. Tests were ran, big kisses were given and $300 later, we were told to come back again on Tuesday and have more tests done.

So, back on Tuesday we went where more tests were ran and $200 later, we were told to come back again next week for more tests.

And Warner still wasn’t eating. ARE WE OUT OF THE WOODS YET?

After the Tuesday appointment we were in limbo until the results came back, which means I spent my mornings and evenings hand-feeling Warner pieces of boiled chicken while making airplane sounds like he was my picky toddler and I was his overbearing mother. Slowly, Warner would eat a few bites but nothing worth writing a blog post about. So we waited.

My future children are #blessed.

Doctor Wonderful is a good man. Have I said that yet this week? Because he is. He’s a wizard when it comes to diagnostics and when he speaks he is patient and kind, which I appreciate because our last vet would start most appointments by telling me the sky was falling. Anyway, as we were leaving his office on Tuesday (after 4 awkward handshakes), I asked him if he was hopeful, because I’m not going to lie: I’m starting to lose hope. And sanity. And all my Christmas money.

“When it comes to Warner, I’m definitely hopeful,” he said. I’m going to forget about the fact that he’s not hopeful about me, which I interpret as “not hopeful about my sanity.”

I actually might be considering marrying him if it means I get free vet care for Warner because let me tell you: $500 at the vet in one week has to be some kind of record for an unmarried woman with the world’s cutest dog.

Then, Warner ran out of his medication, so I asked Doctor Wonderful’s assistant to please call in a refill, since the pharmacy wouldn’t accept a refill without Doctor Wonderful’s authorization.

“No problem,” she said. So, I gave her the prescription number, the pharmacy’s phone number, the time I could pick it up later that day and all my trust/confidence. Since Warner’s medication is “special” it’s hard to get, so the pharmacy needs ample time to prepare it….so normally I try to call it in early in the morning so it can be picked up by the time I’m off work.  Usually, the pharmacy calls to let me know when my prescription is ready to be picked up but when 6pm rolled around and I still hadn’t received a call, I got nervous, so I called them.

Doctor Wonderful’s assistant forgot to call in the prescription refill. SHE JUST FORGOT. WARNER NEEDS THAT MEDICATION AND IT WAS TOO LATE TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT.

Now, it’s too late for me to pick up an emergency supply and Warner will go an entire day without the medication he needs in order to regulate is condition.

I called Doctor Wonderful’s office the next morning and basically yelled “HI YOU FORGOT TO REFILL WARNER’S PRESCRIPTION YESTERDAY AND NOW HE’S GONE AN ENTIRE DAY WITHOUT IT. I’M NOT TRYING TO BE A BITCH BUT I REALLY NEED THIS DONE ASAP SO MY DOG DOESN’T DIE. HOW WOULD THIS WORK IF I FORGOT TO PAY MY BILL, HUH? Also, please don’t tell Doctor Wonderful that I’m speaking this way. I’m frustrated but I still love him.”

Maybe this is what he meant when he didn’t say he wasn’t hopeful about my sanity and I just read into it too much?

When I arrived at the pharmacy, I was told they couldn’t fill all of Warner’s prescription because “they didn’t have enough in stock”, and “was it ok if there was less?”

“Do I have a choice at this point?” I asked as I was charged the full amount for his meds, despite asking for a discount and getting huffy in the drive-thru line.

And we’re still waiting.

As you know if you read this blog, waiting is not my strong suit. Neither is leaving Warner when he’s sick. So naturally, I had to wait for test results and leave Warner over the weekend to house/dog sit, which is something I’ve started doing on the side to off-set some of the costs I’ve incurred with Warner’s healthcare this year. I spent the weekend making a financial plan and watching my new favorite show, “Living Alaska” on HGTV. While I have zero desire to move to Alaska, because hi below zero temps are not my jam, I have decided it’s my new life goal to live in a cabin. A cabin, which I have to save for, hence the financial planning. I was so set on the fact that when went back to the vet on Monday we would run one test, would make a game plan and I would get my cabin.

I left the house I was watching on Sunday afternoon and my car wouldn’t start. There it sat, dead in the driveway and I didn’t know if it was my starter or my battery. I finally got it started, only to realize that most auto-repair shops are closed on Sundays, so I frantically called 10 places before finding one that was open only to find out my battery was dead and I needed a new one. Another unexpected cost.

Goodbye cabin.

Yesterday my waiting game was over. Warner and I rolled up into Doctor Wonderful’s office where we were told Warner likely has a kidney infection and needs to be hospitalized. As in, I had to leave him. And pay for hospital bills. It’s now Tuesday and Warner is still in the hospital, still on meds and hooked up to an IV so he gets fluids and I’m told he’s been given a special comforter to help him sleep soundly.

They think he will be there until tomorrow. The cost for him to be in the hospital is outrageous. Bye cabin, bye Christmas money, bye sanity.

Pity party of one. Name on the reservation? Ashten. IS 2014 OVER YET????

So yeah, I’m doing shitty. But please, say hello to ya motha for me.

Are We Out of the Woods Yet?

Processed with VSCOcam with m5 presetNo, YOU’VE listened to Taylor Swift’s new song so many times you decided to name your blog post after it.

Princess Taylor released a pretty basic song yesterday and I cannot get over it. For some reason her songs always get released when I’m dealing with some sort of personal crisis that can only be summed up by her lyrics about the tumultuous relationships she has with celebrities I can only dream of dating. In the past, I’ve used Taylor’s songs to get over ex boyfriends, unrequited loves and to get ready for a night of partying with my friends like we were 22. I thought I outgrew her music, and then she released “Out of the Woods” and I’m over here losing my shit.

This song is different. This song reminds me of Warner and the epic battle we’ve been fighting for most of 2014.

It’s been eight months since Warner’s diagnosis with Protein Losing Nephropathy and I cannot begin to count the number of times I’ve asked myself “are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet? Are we in the clear yet? Are we in the clear yet?” We’ve fallen apart, we’ve come back together, we’ve ridden a roller coaster of emotions, all the while asking “are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet? Are we in the clear yet? Are we in the clear yet?”

With the help of Doctor Wonderful, we’ve begun to see the forest for the trees: small moments of success when we are two paper airplanes flying high as Warner’s weight went up, his protein levels slowly got better and he became the dog I used to know. We celebrated, we ate rawhide bones and we kept choosing joy as life seemed to be getting better each month.

Then, two days ago, Warner wasn’t hungry. He didn’t even want the chicken I use to give him his pills. I stayed up most of the night, watching him breathe: hoping we weren’t backsliding as we’ve done so many times before.

And I remember thinking: “are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet? Are we in the clear yet? Are we in the clear yet?”

On Monday, we went to see Doctor Wonderful for our monthly check-up and blood tests. Warner hugged and kissed him like he was seeing a dear old friend. I swear, he’s the only dog who likes going to the vet, and they treat him like a VIP which I find to be enabling but who am I to fight someone spoiling him? I’ve basically made it my job in life. Despite not eating for 2 days, we were thrilled to hear Warner is up another 5 pounds since our last visit: a total of 20 pounds since we started seeing Doctor Wonderful.

And I remember thinking “are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet? Are we in the clear yet? Are we in the clear yet?”

Yesterday, the blood work came back and wouldn’t you know my sweet, spoiled pup has a kidney infection, caused by some bacteria that has likely been hiding out since he left the boarding facility in July. Today, we are back in Doctor Wonderful’s office for a urine culture, more hugs, kisses and VIP treatment. We will also probably get some fluids, antibiotics and spend the next few days monitoring progress through food intake and energy levels.

He did eat some boiled chicken last night, and I slept.

And I remember thinking “are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet? Are we in the clear yet? Are we in the clear yet?”

The truth is: we aren’t out of the woods. We aren’t in the clear. We never will be. We have to live with it, all the time.

Yesterday, I complained to a lot of people about how emotionally draining 2014 has been and how tired I am of complaining about it all. Someone people gave me fake sympathy, some people tried to fix it and some people barely acknowledged my feelings which really pissed me off. But Tessa gave me the best advice a best friend could: “yes your year has been shitty, and yes your situation sucks. But think: you’re so blessed to have the ability to provide for Warner and his medical care by any means necessary. You’ve been given time, resources and a doctor who is fighting for you. You never asked for this and neither did Warner but the two of you are bravely going through it together and you’re lucky to have each other.”

Sometimes the trees look like monsters. They’re tall and they cast a menacing shadow over my good intentions. Sometimes I feel like I have to slam on the breaks to avoid another head-on collision with another bad situation, another set-back, another expensive medical bill. I have to remind myself: the monsters are just trees. We’re not out of the woods, we’re not in the clear, but we get better at navigating where we’re going next and hopefully that means no more kidney infections and eating more than boiled chicken.

I may not have dated Harry Styles, but I’m picking up what you’re throwing down, Taylor. High five.

Sidenote: it took me listening to “Out of the Woods” 50 times to get this post right. 50 TIMES ON REPEAT. THIS GOT TO BE A RECORD FOR A TAYLOR SWIFT FAN OVER 25.

Use Protection

just a photoIt was just a photo of my friend Jess, our friend Riannon’s grandmother and me at Riannon’s wedding.  Jess and I were in our bridesmaids dresses, which were completely tasteful, and even though they were strapless and the photo was a selfie, you could see that we were wearing clothes. When I got home from the wedding, I threw it up on Facebook, along with the fifty-something photos I took that day. I tagged everyone and thought nothing of it. That’s what you do after a fun weekend with friends, right? Throw some photos up, tag the participants and let the “likes” roll in?

This isn’t where the story ends, and you all know it.

My photo was shared by someone I didn’t know, on a (very public) Facebook page. This someone was making remarks about how Jess and I looked. A friend of someone tagged in the photo, they decided to brag about how Jess and I would be their wives. Us: two women they don’t know, who were not dressed scandalously, who were not looking for that kind of attention.

This is not to say I don’t have a sense of humor. I am the first to admit that LEO is my future husband (beard or no beard) and I am the first to laugh at awkward moments of flattery but as I looked more at this particular Facebook page, I realized this was less flattery and more freaky: we were not the only girls this had happened to. In fact, the page was full of odd photos or girls and other things. Because, when weird things happen to me THEY ARE REALLY, REALLY WEIRD.

That “uh oh” feeling started in my stomach.

I could very easily be blowing this out of proportion; I’ve been known to do that a time or two. But, that feeling in my stomach told me this wasn’t some innocent moment of flattery I was misunderstanding. There was something a little more creepy, perhaps a little more sinister at work here, and I didn’t know if I could let it go.

I asked myself: “was it the fact that the photo was shared? Or was it the comments made about the photo that bothered me?”

My answer? BOTH. I am a blogger. I have made it my hobby to share my life online. I realize that with the title of “blogger” comes sharing my life with an entire Internet I can’t always see. I’ve talked about my depression, anxiety and grief quite openly, and I know that comes with a price. It’s true that when I blog I ask for public scrutiny, for other people’s opinions and even to be looked at by eyes I don’t necessarily want on me because that’s all part of the job description. But, I am also a person: a person who still values a little bit of privacy and who, believe it or not, doesn’t share everything on the Internet.

I went through all the necessary Facebook channels. I wrote asking for this photo to be taken down. I was polite, professional and even a little understanding because the last thing anyone wants to do is make a scary Facebook person mad. I mean, they do have the ability to wipe your existence off the face of the Internet. I even emailed the person who had taken my photo; politely asking them to take it down and respect my privacy.

The response? “It’s important to me that this photo stays up.”

Chills down the back of my neck. I mean, what kind of world am I in that allows some person to TAKE my photo and then REFUSE to take it down after I’ve asked nicely?!

Side note: Kyle FREAKED THE EFF OUT, grabbed my phone, searched the profile and yelled “NO ONE TALKS ABOUT MY GIRLFRIEND AND HER FRIENDS LIKE THIS!”


After deleting the photo from my page, reconfiguring my privacy settings (again) and making sure this person could never contact me again, I stood back (read: watched my boyfriend fight for my honor) and thought about protection.

Which has nothing to do with how good this guy looks when he’s defending my honor.

kyle on the compIn today’s society it’s normal to put your entire life on the internet. Hell, some bloggers make SIX FIGURES (read this article and lets cry together)!

People post shit on Facebook that I wouldn’t even tell my parents.

People live tweet things I just don’t want to know about. (like your feelings on the VMAs. Sorry, I’m too old for that now.)

I follow a girl on Instagram who often posts photos of herself in her underwear and bra with “pregnancy updates”. I want to cover her with a blanket.

It’s so normal do share our lives on the Internet, that when we find out someone doesn’t have a Facebook WE ARE SHOCKED. It’s strange when someone doesn’t post a lot on Facebook or Instagram and if you want to be a successful blogger you are encouraged to tweet your little heart out.

But what about protection? What happens when one of our photos gets stolen or our words copied without permission? What happens when someone steals your password or leaves a mean comment or steals your identity? We don’t often think of that when we hit “publish” on a post filled with personal thoughts and photos. The Internet is a scary place, mostly because it moves SO FAST and scary because it’s so big that it’s nearly impossible to control what happens to your shit after you put it out there.

And I never thought about this, until it happened to me.

It’s a feeling of violation, of transparency and instant worry. As I combed through my Facebook, I realized how much of my life is online, even after I took a lot down in order to start my blog. There are photos of my friends, my dog, photos that could easily be taken and used without my permission. I have a Facebook page for my blog that has my photos and links to my blog. If a person really wanted to do some damage to my life, they could.

As I scrambled to cover my internet footprint to protect myself after my little photo incident, and Kyle contacted a high school friend who happens to work at Facebook, I realized that while blogging and social media are fun, in a society that’s dependent on our phones, our social lifelines, anyone can intrude and make those memories we thought were innocent and fun and turn them into something malicious. I’m learning that even though I share a majority of my life with you, I still need to use protection because there are a lot of internet transmitted diseases out there, and they’re very contagious. I’m learning that delicate balance of sharing my life and protecting some of the details while still being able to share on social media. I’ve been able to form some great connections and relationships because of the internet, but I suppose I’m realizing that all comes with a price. And now? I will be protecting myself.

But LEO, if you’re reading this: I like piña coladas, long walks on the beach and yes I will marry you.

Ain’t No Party Like a Lederhosen Party

helen festhalle sign

Hey, guess what? I got off my ass this weekend and actually did something worth writing about/taking pictures of! If you make it through this post, you get a cookie!

I didn’t have my first real drink of alcohol until I was a senior in high school. One of my friends bought a handle of Smirnoff vodka and I took four shots in the backseat of her car, and I was hammered. I walked into a high school dance, a little sideways, avoiding anyone who looked like an authority figure, but telling all my friends I was drunk.

I never said I was an intelligent high school student.

When I turned 21, I stopped taking shots in the backs of cars and started taking shots with attractive boys in bars. Through my “experiments” in partying I learned what kind of booze I liked and didn’t like, and somehow I got really good at curing hangovers. I have never really been a beer fan, even though I will partake every once in awhile, I will definitely choose champagne, white wine or a mojito over beer any day. It’s taken me years to come to this conclusion, and many years of enduring mocking when I nurse a beer like a baby/refill someone else’s glass with my beer because I’m bored with it.

I also make my partner drink all the beer when I play beer pong, which is why I am the reigning champ of beer pong: I never get drunk, therefore always make clutch shots.

Naturally, the most logical thing for me to do was to attend Oktoberfest: the largest celebration of beer known to man.

Turns out, a mere 90 minutes from Atlanta is the longest running Oktoberfest celebration in the United States. You’d think a short 90 minute drive wouldn’t be such a drastic difference from the city, but you’d be wrong. As soon as Tessa and I drove out of Atlanta it was like driving into a whole other world: a world where Target and Starbucks don’t exist on every corner and boiled peanuts are sold on the side of the road.

Need to get out of limbo? Head to the mountains. Trust me on this.

outside farm standThe trees were starting to turn fall shades of orange and yellow, and we only paused once to buy a quart of boiled peanuts and some homemade jam from a man I couldn’t understand very well, but who was so welcoming and friendly that I couldn’t help but want to stay and chat with him for awhile. Turns out, his stand was one of the oldest in North Georgia and all the jam was made by his daughter. He lived in an apartment upstairs and spent his days waiting for tourists heading up the highway to stop and try his goods.

jams Processed with VSCOcam with f2 preset I found myself wrapped up in the simplicity of it all: just a small, cash-run jam and boiled peanut, an owner who seemed so content to sit and chat with tourists, no rush to be anywhere, no cell phone to answer, just taking life day by day and enjoying it as it came.

small cash business sign

We made our way up to Helen, Georgia, which is a small German town that reminds me of this small town called Solvang, California that I used to go to every year. We made our way through the streets of Helen to the main Festhalle, which I was sure was going to be filled with cute, drunk and available men for me to throw in Tessa’s general direction. Because that’s what Oktoberfest is, right? Cute, available men drinking beer with their frat brothers, dancing along to the sounds of yodeling, am I right?!


ashten and tessaTurns out, everyone in the main Festhalle was 50 and older, cared about how the beer tasted and was dancing to “Cotton Eyed Joe” like it was 1999. $10 to get in, and not an available, attractive man for Tessa in sight. And the lederhosen, my god the lederhosen. I saw more older man white thigh than I ever wanted to see in one room.


Time to start drinking. And eating.

brats and beetI tried to be adventurous and try the “Oktoberfest” beer because that’s what you do at Oktoberfest: drink beer, wear flannel and throw your best friend at any available man that crosses your path.

tessa with beer

She’s single.

Note: do not drink the festival’s signature beer, which is a dark beer, when you don’t drink beer or dark beer. It will taste like a butt. Not that I would know what a butt tastes like.

The festhalle was along the Chattahoochee River, and we snuck outside to enjoy the fall colors and the river, which wasn’t as full the last time we visited Helen. Being from Southern California, I’ve learned that being near any body of water relaxes me. I’m not sure what it is about the water, but I suddenly felt more at ease, and my crazy week started to slowly slip away.

These are random thoughts: we’re leaving cohesive blog post-ville and entering the realm of my crazy brain, which is never good. I’m not even making sense anymore.

fall leaves chatahoochie riverAnd look more photos of me drinking gross beer!

ashten and beer 2

Things I learned from Oktoberfest:

1. Bring a big group of people and get a hotel room. That’s the plan for next year.

2. Save your $10 entry fee at the festhalle and drink at the bars along the river with all the young, attractive people.

3. I still don’t like beer.

4. Pina coladas are German for “beer is gross” and are also served at Oktoberfest.

5. People still make out on street corners and have sex in cars at beer festivals, even when they’re…ahem…significantly over the age of 22. ( I know, because I saw both at Oktoberfest)

pina coladaI suck at these types of blog posts.

You don’t get a cookie for making it to the end. Sorry I lied.

ashten and tessa 2

Cure for the Common Limbo

Yesterday, I lamented about being in traffic and in limbo; two things I hate almost as much as I hate tomatoes on my hamburgers. Thanks for baring with me as I bitched about that: turns out nothing annoys me more than a non-existent left-hand turn lane and other people being in charge of my life. And tomatoes.

On my way home this week, while sitting in traffic (again), I’ve tried to muddle my way through the fog in my brain and find some inspiration. I’ve realized there was none to be found, simply because my routine is basically the same everyday: wake up at 5am, go to the gym, go to the office, sit in traffic on my way home, talk to Kyle, walk Warner, watch Parks and Recreation and go to bed. (At 9:30 but who’s really keeping track of that?)

You try being creative with a bland, boring, adult routine like that.

I’ve decided I can’t just wait for inspiration to find me: I have to seek it out, like I’m Harry Potter and it’s the golden snitch and we’re playing Quiddich.

God, I’m such a nerd.

How can I expect to be a lifestyle blogger when my lifestyle blows? How can I be relatable if I don’t give myself any stimulation?

Sidebar: if you want to talk about Parks and Recreation I’m your girl: obsessed doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel about that show.

I’ve made it my mission this week to change up my routine, for the sake of my boring ass blog and my boring ass life. Here are some of the things I’ve added to make life a little more interesting. If you’re in limbo, maybe these will help you, too.



An hour before my “bedtime”, I go upstairs to my room, put both my phones on silent and open a book. HOLY SHIT, A BOOK YOU GUYS. Honestly, I’m amazed I can still read because it’s been FOR.EV.ER since I’ve picked up a book for leisure reading. Right now I’m really enjoying Blog, Inc.: Blogging for Passion, Profit, and to Create Community and without a phone to bug me or a TV to distract me, I find I’m getting a lot more out of it. I’m also engaging in the content by highlighting parts I like and taking notes in the margins. It helps break up the monotony of all the screens I stare at during the day.


I used to do this every night and then….I stopped. And now I’m adding it back because I need a little more gratitude in my life. I bought a notebook (similar: Studio Oh! Compact Deconstructed Journal, Hope Anchors the Soul) and every night after I read my book, I take a few minutes to write down a few things I’m thankful for and a few thoughts from my day. I’ve found that this helps me see more of the good in each day, and keeps me accountable for adding more joy to my day.


I’ve been combing my closet to really pick out cute outfits to wear each day. I take my time to make myself FEEL good before I walk out of the door to the office. When I look good, I feel good and putting an outfit together helps me feel a little more creative. Also? I am OBSESSED with GroopDealz lately. Seriously. It’s so inexpensive and it’s great quality. I’m going to review some of the stuff I’ve bought on their site. #allthefallthings


Fun fact: I’ve been on a plane EVERY SINGLE MONTH this year so far. This makes me very tired on weekends and therefore makes me want to do nothing other than sit on my couch in my sweats all weekend. But I’m breaking myself out of that habit and going back to church. Sometimes, inspiration comes from listening to a sermon that I can apply to my life. I’ve always felt inspired when I leave church, and I’ve always felt more at peace when I start my week with a good sermon so I’m giving it another go.


I recently discovered the wonderful world of Podcasts, and yes I know “welcome to 2014, Ashten.” I downloaded a Podcast app on my phone and I try to listen to either one Podcast or one TED Talk while I’m on the stairmaster at the gym. Hearing someone else speak on a topic I’m interested in usually inspires me to write. EXCISING MY BODY AND MY MIND, YO.


That’s right, the girl who is one with her couch actually went outside to enjoy the weather now that it’s not effing sweltering. Last weekend, Warner and I took a walk around one of our favorite parks and this weekend, Tessa and I will be venturing up to North Georgia for Oktoberfest. I mean, if I have nothing to blog about after attending Oktoberfest I should quit blogging forever.

How do you get out of limbo? Any more tips would be greatly appreciated.

Oh, and?

Chris Pratt’s abs. Now I’m done.

Limbo: Not Just for Theme Parties

Processed with VSCOcam with f2 presetI was fighting the evening Atlanta traffic, just like I always do on weeknights. My commute has been cut in half thanks to our move, but there are still spots on my trek homeward that still make me cringe and beat my fists against my steering wheel like an angry little troll. Now that Kyle’s been to Atlanta and seen me at my “commuting worst” he can accurately pinpoint where I am on my drive, simply from the tone in my voice.

“Oh, so you’re at the light on Chattahoochee, eh? No left hand turn lane so everyone is holding you up because they all want to turn left and you just want to go straight?”

“Whatever, shut up. You don’t know my life!”

“Yup, definitely at the Chattahoochee light.”

Sitting in traffic like this always makes me feel like I’m in limbo. I hurry up, just to sit and wait: even though I know where I want to go, I have to wait for other people to let me through.

Traffic, if you couldn’t tell, is the bane of my existence.

Limbo makes me feel nervous and unsettled; like I don’t have a plan (and I always have a plan). Alright, I’ll just come right out and say it: limbo terrifies me. I’m the kind of girl who needs answers right away, I’m the kind of girl who needs a plan. I’m the kind of girl who likes to be in charge.

As I wait in traffic amongst these idiot drivers who don’t understand that a left hand turn requires a turn signal, I realize I’ve been sitting in limbo a lot lately. It’s a limbo that has left me without a lot to say on the blog because, well, it’s one of those things you can’t really write about until thoughts become decisions and decisions get made. It’s a limbo that has kept me from being in control of a lot of these decisions, but decisions that my fate rests upon. As someone who isn’t good at giving other people control (especially when that control affects my life), I’ve been struggling with the balance of wanting answers but “letting whatever happens, happen”. I feel like my brain is being taken over by this weird fog that isn’t allowing me to get past all the thoughts I have about my current situation and just write the shit outta some blog posts.

The reality is, this “limbo” is feeling very permanent. It feels menacing: less like “waiting” and more like “stuck”. I guess I’ve been feeling “stuck” for awhile now. I have to sit here and wait, just like I sit and wait in traffic every night, for the decisions to get made and the answers to come. I’ve been struggling to formulate a plan from what little I know over here in limbo and that’s like trying to plan your outfits for 5 days of uncertain weather in a carry-on bag.

There have been days where I have to remind myself that this is just a place. It’s like other places. There are lots of other places in the world I can go. I have a job: there are others like it. I would be good at those jobs, too. These are feelings. They happen. And they usually pass. 90% of the time everything is ok, and most of the time traffic clears up and good things come to those who wait. This limbo is giving me a chance to step back and reevaluate what I’m doing, where I’m going and how I’m going to keep growing towards the future.

Although right now it kinda sucks a fat one.

5 Things I’ve Realized in My 30s


Most of the time when I peruse the Internet I’m either reading blogs or taking those stupid BuzzFeed quizzes that tell me what Laguna Beach cast member I would be (LC, and no I didn’t rig it) or I’m stalking my friend’s photos on Facebook. You know, educational, worthwhile stuff that MUST be done in order for the universe to properly function.

But, last week I came across this gem on Thought Catalog titled “10 Things Every Woman Should Stop Waiting Around For By The Time She Turns 30″. Reading it was the equivalent of being slapped in the face with a wet towel of truth. Right before I turned 30, I was told “your 20s are for learning lessons, your 30s are for living” and that could NOT have been more accurate. Honestly, most of the shit I worried about prior to turning 30 flat out doesn’t exist. In fact, after turning 30 I realized a lot of shit I worry about in general doesn’t exist.

Like these 5 things I’m about to share with you:

Five Things I Have Realized Since Turning 30


At some points during my twenties I felt like I was living in this weird limbo, waiting for my life to begin. I hoped that by landing THAT job or THAT guy, or by living in THAT house everything would magically fall into place and my life would finally “begin”. Turns out, my life wasn’t waiting to begin, it was already happening. After turning 30, I realized I need to look at the life I had already created, and start appreciating it. I already had THAT job, soon after turning 30 I landed THAT guy and things were already in place. We usually have everything we want, if we change our mindset.


Don’t get me wrong; there’s nothing I love more than an Instagram with perfectly styled desks, amazing outfits and babies that seem to never cry. I spend countless hours looking at these photos, wondering why I can’t find amazing gold accent pillows or accessorize my desk with Kate Spade everything. Life isn’t always perfectly styled or accessorized: life is messy and it’s not always easy. I spill coffee on myself, I look like a horse when I eat and my hair looks like shit sometimes. I had to give up the idea of “perfect” because I’ve realized the only place it exists is Instagram. Where we can style it. And filter it.


My twenties often felt like a race: who would get married first, who would have babies first, who would buy a house first? As my friends checked these milestones off their list I found myself feeling left behind, but I’ve realized: it’s ok. It’s ok not to be married at 30. It’s ok to not have kids. It’s ok if owning a home may take a few more years. That race was only in my head, and after I realized that I was so much happier with my life.

I spent a lot of my twenties trying to hide my “crazy”. I was so worried what other people thought, and was sure I would lose a lot of friends if I showed even a HINT of the crazy I developed over the years. I even hid my social anxiety and depression for a year, because I was worried my friends would judge me. After I turned 30, I realized that “crazy” is part of who I am. The people who love me, love me regardless of my quirks. We’re all crazy. Hiding it is pointless.

No one can read my mind. I spent most of my twenties convinced they could, so I when someone didn’t give me what I needed/wanted/thought I deserved I would get pissed. I realize now that if I want something I need to ask for it: from taking vacation to wanting something from my boyfriend, no one knows what I want until I open my mouth and ask. I’m always surprised by how easy asking ends up being, and how easily my needs get met when I talk about them.

I definitely don’t have things figured out, but I think my thirties have made me realize that’s ok. I don’t have to spend my time trying to impress people or get ahead or even be the most successful person in the room. I’ve realized that taking charge of my own life, accepting my flaws and being vocal about my needs bring more happiness than trying to win some invisible race I made up in my head.

Have you learned any lessons lately? Leave a comment and tell me!

What Kind of Football Fan Are You?

HAPPY FRIDAY LADIES AND GERMS! Today, Kali from Kaliwood is straight guest postin’ us into our weekend! Now, if you know me (and most of you do), you know I love nothing more than a good weekend filled with football (specifically, the USC Trojans and Seattle Seahawks kind), so when Kali sent me this post I swooned a little. Enjoy her take on the different types of football fans out there!

Do you want to be straight guest postin’? Secure your spot by clicking here.


Hey ladies! Kali here from KALIWOOD! I just had to guest post for this girl here because in the short time I’ve “known” her (aka stalked her blog) I’ve become a huge fan. Ashten is the real deal, peeps. From our love of dogs and rap music to our lack of skills in the kitchen, we just so happen to have tons in common! Basically, shes’s the bomb dot com. Which you already know because you are here!

SO.. speaking of fans, today I’m here to share with you the different types of sports fans out there. And since it’s NFL season (yay!), we’ll use football fans to do it! So be honest and share… which one are you??

The Crier

This fan is emotional and just really cares about her team! She feels so bad for them when they lose that she can’t help but shed a tear (or ten) for them. She’ll be sad and post emotional Facebook statuses for the next two days. And if her team wins, she’ll cry because she feels bad for the losing team.

The “I’m Just Here for a Good Time” Fan

“What? A party where there’s lots of people, themed attire, alcohol, and screaming? I’m down! Wait.. what’s football?” This is the one you hear cheering when the OTHER team scores.

The Loner

This fan is so stressed out about watching the games, that he ostracizes himself. He can’t be concerned with trivial conversation, he must focus! At a house party for the game, you’ll find him on another floor watching a 10 inch TV, or just listening to the radio broadcast.
The Nervous Wreck
These are the very serious fans who are downright worriers. They believe that their seating position, how they cross their legs, if they only watch with one eye will somehow determine if that pass is going to be completed or not. They are constantly squirming and covering their face during intense moments. You will also see a lot of nail biting.
The Superstitious Fan

This Fan has on the exact same underwear and socks, is sitting in the exact same seat, at the exact same bar, ordering the exact same food as the last time his team won. And he won’t move for a million dollars.

The Legit Fan

These fans probably played the sport they’re watching. They know the rules and the strategies. They also follow this sport year round, not just when it’s popular to the masses. So they converse about stats, lineups, and history. You’ll find them yelling at the scream when a player makes an error or if the coach makes a bad substitution. This fan doesn’t get along with the Good Time fan.

The Bandwagon Fan

This fan is more invested than the “Good Time” fan, but they don’t follow the sport on the regular. They know just as much as they heard on Sports Center the night before and find a team or sport to grab hold of and make the next few months fun! These fans go all out with team apparel just to make their “loyalty” clear!

The Hype Fan

These fans are the ones who have to constantly be doing something during the game. Whether it be belting out their team’s song or leading the crowd in chants, this fan is all about the atmosphere and getting everyone else involved. These fans can be seen as very annoying to others.

The Loyal Pessimist

This fan always expects the worst from his team so he won’t ever be disappointed. He’s obsessed with the team, but is constantly ragging on them at the same time. He never gets his hopes up so he can’t be let down. But he drives others crazy with the negativity! He’s the one saying “I knew it/I told you so” when his team loses. And he always wants the coach fired.

The Eternal Optimist

No matter how much her team is losing by and how much those around her have given up, this girl always is telling you, “there is still time!” She refuses to accept defeat until that final buzzer sounds. And even after a loss, she’s saying “we’ll get them next time!” Clearly, her and the Loyal Pessimist aren’t fond of each other.


So how bout it? Which fan are you?

Thanks for reading this little slice of KALIWOOD up in Ashten’s hood! Would love it if you stopped by for a little visit! Or get yourself a visa a stay a while. :)

Want to stalk Kali? Of course you do!

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