Rolling Acres Mall

In November 2016 I went back to Ohio for the first time in about ten years. My brother and I spent some time roaming about the place we'd called home nearly 17 years prior and we made one stop there that was necessary: Rolling Acres Mall located in Akron, Ohio.

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Since we left in 2001, this mall has crumbled into a state of urban decay and disrepair. The mall started its decline in the mid-1990's and from then on anchor stores dropped from the mall like diseased limbs. No longer the buzzing retail center, the mall closed on October 31, 2008 after being open since 1975.

Throughout the 90's, my family spent so much time at Rolling Acres. It was the place to be on weekends, the parking lot was so crowded there was barely a spot left. I remember going there to pick out my new school clothes every year and going to get our pictures taken on Santa's lap every Christmas. It's where my brother thought Santa actually lived (which has become a 
family joke). 

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It was a beautiful mall complete with an amazing indoor fountain framed by light streaming in through the skylights. There were indoor plants and a glass elevator.

I remember roaming the halls with my Mom and brother just going to browse the stores, kill time and get out of the heat during Summer and arguing with my Mom I didn't need my coat to walk to to the door in Winter. (I never won.) 

My grandma would have me spend the night and then we'd do a 'girls day' and one time in particular she took me to the mall where I picked out a beautiful snowflake crystal pendant which I still have today. If we went anywhere during the 90's, it was usually this mall.

Rolling Acres Mall Santa Photo 1990, me age 4.

I'd heard and seen the pictures of the mall online for the last few years as it has since become a symbol of the post-consumerism apocalyptic wasteland.

It was the first episode titled "Ghost Mall" of a series on VICELAND called Abandoned. It was depressing to see the neglect and ruined state of a place we spent so much time. The mall has also been a subject for YouTube urban explorer, Dan Bell, and he did an interesting walkthrough of the mall you can see here. 

Besides my fond memories of this mall, it does have some darker moments in its history. A child was crushed to death by the elevator and two women were found murdered in the woods near the mall in 1986. The mall was also the spot where a victim of the Craigslist killer was buried in a shallow grave and a man was electrocuted while attempting to rob the mall of copper wire. I have heard there has been a body or two found hanging on trees in the woods by the mall as well.

Since our visit, the mall has been demolished and the land belongs to the city of Akron. As of this writing this morning, there are rumors that Amazon has plans to develop the land into a fulfillment center. As much as I feel like Amazon is taking over the world, it would be better economically for that area to develop the land into something usable.

I wasn't sure what to go with here so I went with sarcasm.

I'm glad we went when we did because, little did we know, we were seeing the mall in its last few moments. According to the Akron Beacon Journal, demolition officially began in October that year. We didn't see any signs of demolition as it was probably being deconstructed inside.

I guess I can start a list now of things from my past that have been demolished: 1) Elementary School 2) Favorite Mall. It's weird to think about those things no longer existing but that's what time does, it moves on. And even thought I left Ohio about 20 years ago, I expected things to be right where I left them but that's not what happens. The potholes in the road were right where I left them though, their roads are rough af.

So what ultimately caused this mall's demise? Crime, economic depression, the changing landscape of the retail space. This trend is not going away and I feel like in the next ten years we are going to see many more Rolling Acres Malls in America. 

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My Favorite Murder?

I'm not really one to delve into the whole podcast-thing but I've been listening to Sword & Scale on and off for the last year and I really liked it! 

But lately... I just haven't been feeling it. I've heard some things about the host of the show that makes me feel skeevy so I... might have to abandon it for a while. We'll see. I did like the show, it seemed well-researched and I loved the interviews and 911 calls (though it could feel a little gratuitous sometimes).

I've always loved all things true crime and have been gripped by murder for years. My husband, by default, turns on Forensic Files for me when he can't find anything else to watch. I've probably seen them all and usually by the first thirty seconds I'll go, "Oh yeah! This is the one where that guy stalked that girl and murdered her in her off-campus apartment and he was the handy man and creeped on her in the shower and yeah, I've seen this one." And then he'll roll his eyes and say, "You've seen them all!" 

I have so many true crime books that if anyone were to look at my bookshelves, they might begin to feel uneasy. I can't help it, that shit just fascinates me! I just have to explore the possible darkest, deepest evils of human nature. I have to know all the grisly details. It just makes me wonder why we are seemingly the only animals on Earth who murder for pleasure? We are definitely more complex than other animals and our motivations can be so much different but why, why, why?

Why are people hard-wired to want to kill people? Why do some people have horrific childhoods and want to kill people? Why do some people have horrific childhoods and don't? Do they understand why they do it? Do they want to change? Do they care? 

And I don't always think about the murderer, I think about the victims too. I think about their families. I think about when they bought that striped shirt that was later used as evidence splattered in their blood. I think about how they felt driving home, not knowing someone was waiting for them in their closet. I think about what they ate that day without knowing it was going to be their last meal. I think about how their day at work went. I feel for them. 

That leads me to the newest podcast, which I always thought had a strange name (UNTIL TODAY), My Favorite Murder.

For the first time, I really felt a kinship with some fellow murder-fans! (I don't love murder, you know, whatever.) The hosts opened the first episode talking about which murder story fascinated them the most and then I realized... I have a favorite murder too. 

What makes a murder your favorite? I guess it's a combination of fucked up-ness, weirdness, craziness, grotesqueness, and complete and utter shock, disbelief and horror. Well, that's what it means to me at least. 

My favorite murder is the story of Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka. They're Canadian, they're a couple, and they murdered together. That's a whole other level of fucked up, right? They started their career (?) by drugging, raping and murdering Karla's young teen sister. Their relationship was just completely sick and Karla was a willing participant in his desires and activities. She helped lure other victims and she liked doing it. 

And one of the most heinous details is that Karla struck a plea deal saying she was coerced into participating and was abused by her husband- and then they found the tapes of her gleefully helping Paul in his crimes. But after the deal it was too late. She's out now. She has kids and is a regular PTA mom. Just sick and twisted. 

So that's my favorite murder. It's twisted and crazy and weird. I've heard them called the Barbie and Ken murderers which just creeps me out because of how their blonde and innocent good looks hid such a devious and depraved nature. You just never know what's hiding beneath that winning smile, do you? 

Random Review: Danielle's Golden Face Mask

If I could stop just one person from purchasing this mask, my life would be absolutely complete. 


I found this at Kohl's today in the beauty section and was intrigued by the product. It's 24k gold and I obviously felt that I am worthy of such a luxurious experience. So, I bought it for $10 which I thought was a value because I would be able to use it many more times to reap the benefits of "cell renewal stimulation and anti-aging."


This evening after relaxing and watching TV I thought I would try my purchase. The gelatin texture felt cooling as I spread it over my unsuspecting skin. It felt refreshing and I poured myself a cup of coffee while waiting the 15-20 minutes for my ultimate rejuvenating experience. It took a while to dry but I was determined to wait to get the best results.  


I strongly suspect that John Travolta and Nicolas Cage, stars of the 1997 film, Face/Off, would strongly approve of this product. I feel like nothing short of the force of a jet engine would remove this mask from my epidermis. In the process of peeling it from my skin, I did not feel like my skin was renewed, well, not in the classic sense anyway. I feel like the only reason my facial cells will be motivated to renew would be because they have to replace all the skin on my face as I have now removed it. 


"Removes dead skin and dirt," the package ways. That's quite accurate though I would like to include, "Removes alive and dead skin, dirt, demonic possessions, curses, hopes and dreams, and hair." Yes, hair. I do not consider myself a hairy woman but with the force that this mask removed any shred of peach-fuzz, I might as well have been The Bearded Lady. 
My eyes watered involuntarily nearly halfway through and I had to give myself a pep talk to remove the rest. I remembered the words of Rocky Balboa, "Life's not about how hard of a hit you can give... it's about how many you can take, and still keep moving forward." I just had to get this mask of my face, I couldn't let it beat me! 


So now I sit in the afterglow of my successful mask removal, cheeks flushed red not in the thrill of victory but of the immense irritation my skin has suffered. 


Yeah, don't buy this thing.

One of Danielle's satisfied customers! Just look at how rejuvenated his skin looks!

I wonder.

Things I wonder about:

1.) When there is cat hair in my cat's water dish, do they care? I mean, they lick themselves so...?

2.) Why do people ignore me when I inquire about their items on Offer Up, do you want to sell this shit or not?

3.) Why do people wish "Happy Mother's Day" to people with pets? No, it's not in the same league at all.

4.) Who thought it was a good idea to cast Reba McIntire as Colonel Sanders?

5.) How did the Southern culture of guns and Jesus begin? Do you think Jesus would be a member of the NRA?

6.) Why do people buy milk and bread in bulk when there's a snow storm coming? Do they spend the next few days eating/drinking nothing else? 

The Grass Could Be Greener

Right now I'm feeling stuck in a rut. After years of working hard toward a goal, reaching it, and then moving on, I'm at a standstill. I'm looking for a new mountain to conquer, a new horizon to work toward and so far I'm still not sure which direction to take.

I have come to the conclusion that I have 3 choices: 

1) Continue on being a pharmacy tech, working hard toward gaining experience and seeing where I could go with this job (from retail to hospital?).

2) Start school again and work toward my Masters or PhD in Psychology to ultimately become a Psychologist (minuses- school debt + time). 

3) Work toward starting and opening a bakery again and figuring out where I would start my business (here or wait until the next duty station?).

Choices. I don't think I've ever been content to just go to work and come home and live my life around a manager's schedule. Actually, my schedule right now at work prohibits me from having any sort of life with my husband as he is off every weekend and I work every. single. weekend. I understand that I am the new person, the low-end of the totem pole but I think working about 3-4 months of weekends has reached peak ridiculousness. The weekend workload and night shift workload is not evenly distributed and I'm getting fed up. I've even already started to explore other avenues of work just because the grass could be greener and their schedule is most likely better too. 

I'm also taking a look at my day-to-day life and figuring out if I'm getting in all I want to get in. I have become lazy with my life. Staying home, doing nothing, wondering why I don't feel content in it when I could be going out in the world, organizing my life, reading, writing, creating and exercising. I focus too much on social media noise and not as much on the life in front of me. There is so much time I'm wasting and I want to try and change that. Time to get to work. 

Hold The Phone

Okay.

Okay, I just need to take a moment here out of my busy day to just genuinely react to something I came across on Pinterest.
  

                     

I will not link to these images where they originated because I will be talking absolute shit about them.

Shotgun shells and Christianity. Shotgun shells AND JESUS. WHAT THE WHAT? I have never before seen such two contradictory images in my life and it just highlights the sheer utter fucking obliviousness that is modern day USA red-white-and fucking blue Christianity that we see in this country. I'm not Christian but what I do know of Christianity is that real Christianity should not use these tools of death and pain to exemplify their savior unless He met his end at the end of a shotgun barrel. These things have NOTHING in common. This project is stupid and if you happen to like this project I will not apologize because clearly you have some things to work out in your head. Yes, clearly Jesus would have been a member of the NRA according to American, gun-toting Christians.

No.
Just no. Stop it.  

Random Review: Applebee's

It has been nearly five years since I have chosen to darken the door of an Applebee's. After living in a small town in which fine dining was limited to Applebee's or the fancier alternative, Olive Garden, I was sick of the restaurant. 

The final straw came four years ago when my husband and I decided to try Applebee's once since we'd moved and got a sampler appetizer that seemed like a safe choice. How could one possibly fuck up boneless wings, mozzarella sticks, and a quesadilla? Well, someone surely discovered a way because it came to our cold and soaked in grease that had time to collect while the appetizer sat waiting to be delivered to our table.

"Never again, Applebee's" became our mantra for the next few years. 

Fast forward to now and I've been aptly fooled by various Applebee's commercials promising delicious meals at great prices. I was duped by the commercial steak that sizzled seductively on a grill as seasonings fell onto it like tasty confetti. Like an old boyfriend I thought, maybe he's changed? Maybe it won't be grotesque, cold slop delivered to me on a greasy plate? What if they've rebranded and their food is actually edible now?... I won't know unless I give it another chance. 

We arrived at Applebee's almost reluctantly and we fought the urge to yell at some customers returning to their car, "HEY! Was your food good?!" We all had hope that maybe Applebee's had finally grown up. After all, they're still in business they have to be doing something right? 

The new interior design gave us some hope as we arrived at our table to glance over the new menu. After deciding on an appetizer that didn't include the stomach-churning idea of cheeseburger egg rolls (*HORK*), the wonton chicken tacos arrived at our table on a weathered metal serving tray. Okay, okay it's not old... they're going for a rustic look. 

The tacos were passable, a little too sweet for my taste but edible even though they were very crumbly due to being made from wonton wrapping. 

Russ ordered a brunch burger that looked promising and I stuck with a chicken fiesta salad. You can't fuck up salad, right?

My salad arrived with hardly any chicken and covered in so much dressing that the salad was more like a slaw. Terrible. I kept comparing the price to Red Robin which is a far superior salad for the same $10.99. Russ complained that his burger was so salty, his tongue was nearly hurting. Despite being such a burger lover, he didn't even finish it. 

With tip this meal came to $44 and it will be the last dollar amount I ever spend at one of the worst chain restaurants in the country. I would probably lick the floor of a Chili's before I would touch another Applebee's entree. 

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#NoMakeup #WhoGivesAShit

Recently in the news the No Makeup Campaign has gained footing with Alicia Keys stepping forward to proclaim loudly to the world that she's going to stop wearing makeup.

#sobrave

I started wearing makeup shortly after my thirteenth birthday after years of watching my mom put on her makeup daily. Whether she was staying home all day or going out she'd always put on her "fake face," as she called it. I'm not sure if she felt pressure to appear put together or if it made her feel more put together but I cannot recall many days where she didn't have at least a little makeup on.

"Everyone needs a little makeup," she says. However, she never made me feel like I needed it. 

I guess that's the attitude I always grew up with- it just seemed like fun to wear makeup and experiment with it and I liked the way my face or eyelashes popped while wearing makeup. Wearing makeup always made me feel more put together and ready to face the day. I never felt pressure from the patriarchy or anyone else to wear makeup. Perhaps that's why it's difficult for me to get onboard with the #NoMakeup Campaign. I don't understand why it's such an important movement because from where I stand, no one really cares if someone wears makeup or not. I've never witnessed another person criticizing someone in real life for having a bare face.

Is it men pressuring women to wear makeup? Or, is it women pressuring other women to wear makeup?

Even if you have experienced this pressure, why do you give a shit what someone thinks about your face anyway? 

There are some women out there that have completely hijacked Feminism to become a whiny group of women who want to protest against micro aggressions and things that, in the grand scheme of things, do not matter. These women would criticize me because I choose to wear makeup even though doing whatever-the-fuck I want to with my face is the very basis of the true Feminist movement. These women would rather participate in #NoMakeup than worry about what the fuck has happened to abortion access and where the fuck paid maternity leave is. 

In that respect, I ascribe to the true Feminist tenant of "I'll do whatever I want, piss off!" That message has become perverted with the new wave of Feminism and annoying social media campaigns. In order to be a proper woman, according to new Feminism I have to 1) wear no makeup 2) breastfeed in public despite my feelings on the matter because if I don't, I'm a slave to the patriarchy and betraying the cause. These people do not care about equality but they only want to tell others, including other women, what to do. 

Wear makeup! Or don't! Why does anyone give a shit?! Why does everything need to be some social media movement where we all post #nomakeup selfies for mass approval on Instagram to have someone pat us on the back for supposedly feeling good about ourselves (the very existence of selfies proves we are craving approval from others). 

You can pry my Benefit They're Real! mascara out of my cold, dead hands. 

Where We Belong?

I didn't realize how much I'd miss Washington until now. During our final months in Washington, I was anxious to leave. Once your spouse receives orders somewhere else and that clock is ticking, you just want to go and get the move over with because it's so unsettling and stressful. Also, we were living in a tiny temporary apartment in Tacoma and both of those things are awful. We also had a storage unit broken into while we were living in the stinky armpit that is Tacoma so the memories tied to that place taint the entire last five months we were in the region. 

Add that to having to close my business and my mom relocating, our chapter in Washington was closing. We seemed to be done there and onto (I won't say bigger and better because how do you top a food truck in Seattle?) other things. 

Now we are in Virginia with normal, non-exciting lives just trying to work and find time to relax and do fun things. I no longer make my own schedule, answer emails to clients, or roll up in my beautiful truck with tasty things for people. I no longer bake amazing things or crawl underneath food trucks on the 405 to tie up exhaust pipes after catering for Google. Yes, that happened and I miss it. I had so much, we worked so hard, and now it's gone. 

The move has been good in some ways though. Russ has a less stressful job being off of a ship that was in the yards with terrible, terrible hours. We can afford a larger place on this side of the country (we pay about $200 more for an extra bedroom, bathroom, backyard, storage shed, and roughly 600 more square feet). I have a job and will be getting trained soon to move up and get paid more, hopefully. 

The reason all these feelings came flooding back recently is because I was on my way to work a few days ago and I popped in a CD and listened to a song that I played on our last drive out of Seattle (on that very freeway pictured) to Tacoma. I wanted to play something that would remind me of driving through the city and to remember that exact feeling. I felt some relief, relief that I could finally let go of my feelings of the food truck business and relief that we could move onto a new place and life. I felt sadness that we were leaving such an amazing place that has so many great things to do, see, and experience. I knew I'd miss the ferries, mountains and beautiful city but I didn't anticipate how much until I got here and things aren't as, for lack of a better word, cool.

Sure, the vegans, hipsters and potheads could be super annoying but Washington was such an exciting and progressive place. I remember being shocked when I first got there at the number of marijuana dispensaries and what is a bikini barista?!

And now we are here. I'm going to try and enjoy our lives here and see where the wind can take us next. I've been longing for the feeling of being somewhat settled because I've lived a nomadic existence for the last six years (we are now in our fifth house). But is the place we are supposed to settle here?

Random Review: Holiday Inn Boston

I normally really love Holiday Inn and have stayed in many of them over the course of my travels. I recently went to Boston and wanted to stay a little bit out of the city both for price and convenience (I wanted to visit Salem while I was there) so I thought Peabody would be a good fit. Upon arrival I was given a room number and checked in but the front desk clerks offered no other standard information that all hotel people give upon check-in. You know, "Check out is at 11, breakfast at 6-10, elevators over there." I just stood there awkwardly and asked where the elevator was. Whatever, that's fine. We reached our room, many bags in hand and ready to be unloaded. We unlock our door to walk-in and find someone else's belongings in the room already! We had been given someone else's room and the key that allowed us entrance! I left my travel mate in the room to head downstairs and hoped that the occupant didn't return to find him in his room! That would have been a very awkward scene. "Oh, I thought I locked you out already," the front desk clerk said. So we were finally given our real room. The next day we returned from our full day out in Boston and to a concert to find our room key didn't work. So I trudged back to the front desk once again and was informed that they hadn't activated the key long enough. Fine, whatever, just an annoying hassle especially since we were exhausted from such a long day. I give this hotel a 3 because it's not horrible, the room was pretty clean but the beds were extremely hard. I have never stayed in any Holiday Inn without a free breakfast either! What the hell is with that? I'm sorry but for $146 a night I should at least get some standard hotel-fare scrambled eggs, preservative-packed muffin, stale danish or at least a coffee! One of the elevators nearest our room was extremely slow to the point that we just gave up waiting for it and walked to the next one. Unfortunately we waited at the elevator long enough to hear someone loudly having sex in the room next to it. When we returned later the hallway reeked of pot from one of the rooms but that's no fault of Holiday Inn Peabody. The Carrabbas next to the hotel was pretty subpar. It was my first visit to the chain but will probably be the last. This whole visit can just be summed up in two letters: O-K. I've stayed in worse, definitely, but if you're looking for a regular Holiday Inn experience... this one is a little different.

Vegged Out

This year I will be 30 so I, of course, made an elaborate list of all the things I want to do before I exit my 20's. So far, nearly halfway into my last year I have pretty much failed at crossing anything off. Maybe that's my rebellious lazy way of saying, "My thirties won't change me!" Never mind, my procrastination and laziness isn't that planned. 


I always think that maybe one day I'll wake up and be an actual adult. The adult that goes to bed early and wakes up to exercise before starting the day. An adult that eats right, gets enough sleep, exercises and does all the things responsible adults do. An adult that meal plans, drinks smoothies for breakfast and doesn't eat like absolute shit. 

I'm the kind of adult that eats pretty much whatever, whenever because I'm busy. I also have odd hours and sometimes don't go to bed until 1-2 am. I try to get at least 7 hours of sleep a night, if I'm lucky, and I go to purposefully exercise at least once a month. I buy what I call "good intention fruit and vegetables" which are basically healthy foods I pick up at the store with the good intention of eating them and being healthier but I forget about them until they either start to smell and/or get slimy in my refrigerator. I throw them away and the cycle continues.  

I just wonder when the day will be that being a good adult will just click for me and I'll just be good at it. I love staying up and loathe the mornings because the majority of people are awake and one of my prime objectives in life is to avoid the majority of people. Eating right takes planning and time and I'd rather spend my time doing pretty much anything else in the world. 

Maybe one day my priorities will change, right? I'm still waiting to wake up that one morning and feel like a grown up. 

Pissing Me Off Currently: Facebook Memes

Everyone's got a poignant Facebook meme to back up their political, cultural, and religious opinion, don't they? If you have a relative on Facebook, especially an older relative that doesn't quite understand the phrase that we all learned growing up in the internet age, "Don't believe everything on the internet," you know what I'm talking about. The majority of us youngsters learned this lesson when our teachers in school would scold us for using Wikipedia as a valid source for anything- any asshole can make and change a Wikipedia page and that privilege extends all over the web.

With the rise of Facebook there has also been a rise of misinformation that spreads like wildfire over the pages of everyone's scared older relatives who think that the bottom of a cup at In-N-Out says "Hail Satan" and that gun statistics can be boiled down to a simple, easily digestible infographic with questionable sources that can be completely obliterated with a simple search on the Google machine. 

Call me an asshole but I don't let people get away with such things. Here's my order of thinking once I see one of these scaredy-cat memes:

1.) My initial reaction, "What? No- that's ridiculous, how can this be true?"
2.) Open another tab and enter a quick search on Google.
3.) Snopes, my old friend, there you are.
4.) No surprise, this meme is fucking false.
5.) Post link to the Snopes article without any other commentary. 
6.) Roll my eyes. 

Why does everyone take these statistics as truth when they come from a source as unreliable as the other dicks on Facebook?!

There is already much debate on the effects of Facebook and other social media and how these mediums are shaping our culture. In the past, if you wanted to find out if your neighbor was a racist or misogynist, you had to wait until you heard something mumbled under his breath or put your ear against his wall to see what you could overhear. Today, all you have to do is take a look at ones history on Facebook to see that he shared or liked something from the "White Pride" page.

Everything nowadays is a soundbite or a shared meme. They're all huge ideas boiled down into small, easily digestible and sharable parts. That's dangerous because it leaves no room for any nuance. It makes everything in our world a black or white issue. You're either Republican or Democrat, pro-choice or anti-choice, or Christian or Atheist. I think social media and the quick spread of ideas has caused our country and our world to become more divided. Our national discourse is at a third grade level and if you need any proof all you have to do is look toward the presumed Republican presidential nominee, Donald Trump. I think that's the most terrifying sentence I've ever typed in my life. And with that as our possible leader, a man with such thin skin that when offended he hurls insults like he's on the playground, it's only going to get worse. 

I.C.U.P. in Target

The Target bathroom scandal, have you heard of it? Of course you have! Don't you love times like these where it can properly show you the asshole divide on your Facebook friends list? Opportunities to clean out your friends list are presenting themselves quite frequently these days (gay marriage, pot legalization, the 2016 election), so hover your mouse over 'unfriend' and feel the sweet release. 

According to USA Today, more than 700,000 people have decided to boycott Target now and to that I say fuck them because I'd rather go into Target with less cluttered aisles, especially now that they will be minus all the douchebags. More better-than-Walmart cheap shit for me, thanks! The reasons for the boycott stem from the pearl-clutching fear mongers who think that this bathroom anarchy is finally the moment predators around the nation have been waiting for, the free-for-all in the porcelain palace!

Prior to this, these signs were the ultimate barriers that protected children from these pedophile monsters:

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These two signs created a forcefield preventing predators from entering- well, uh unless they were male predators preying on male children/men but that never happens or so I've heard.*

"A danger to wives and daughters!" the petition calls it. What a bullshit response. 

For one, wives, daughters, and any other women can be assaulted and molested regardless of time and place like...

The subway...**

School...

Home...

Two, if someone is hellbent on assaulting someone in a bathroom that little sign with a lady in a skirt isn't going to do shit to stop them.

Three, male children are sharing bathrooms with men everyday who could be potential predators but there is never a mention of that scenario because apparently only women can be victims (this stereotype is damaging to both sexes as it paints women as only victims and discredits men from ever being victims even when there is ample evidence to the contrary). 

The percentage of America that is transgender is 0.3 percent and yet we are in such an uproar over this issue. It's a public bathroom- the best scenario is that you spend less than two minutes in there and then you are gone. I try to think about the person in the stall next to me as least as possible.

It must be exhausting to be one of these petition people who are constantly living in fear- fear of having their guns taken, fear of gay people, fear of transgender people going to the bathroom, fear of black people, fear of Mexicans, fear of atheists, fear of abortion, and fear of anything different than them. As for me, I mind my own business shit and keep my thoughts on myself not only while in a public bathroom but in my daily life. I think that's a good call.

*That never happens, really it doesn't.

** I literally just Googled "man exposes himself on subway" and got 32,000 results. 

Getting Older Is...

I'm going to the 30 this year! I remember my mom telling me many times that time goes fast and before you know it, you blink and you're old. "Yeah, yeah, Mom," I'd think because clearly time goes sssslowwww because that's how I and everyone else all experience it as children.

"High School is like five seconds of your life," she'd also say whenever I complained about my friends, my classes, or having to go through something as debasing as high school. 

Getting older is... figuring out things your mom said is actually true. It's also realizing that saying that very sentence is not a bad thing, it's good that I had her to give me advice and perspective on things when my youth and ignorance was the only thing I was ruled by during adolescence. 

Getting older is... 

... walking into Hot Topic and the only t-shirts with bands you recognize is in one corner where all the "classic" shirts are. 
... realizing that teenagers are mostly assholes.
... realizing you have a biological clock which was something you thought only old people talked about.
... when all your Facebook friends link to nostalgic articles about the 90's and post about their babies.
... when your feet hurt when you wear unsupportive shoes like Converse All Stars that you've worn forever.
... when staying up late isn't as fun as it used to be.
... that random strand of white hair that didn't used to be there. 

I used to think that I wouldn't necessarily mind getting older but, that was before I started getting older. I know that 30 isn't really old but it's certainly the next phase of my life. My 20's are over and it's time to really grow up, improve, and plan more for our future. 

10 Things

Some are silly, some are serious but here are 10 Things I Believe:

Don't Quote Me On That

This is one of my favorite quotes and I'm not a "quotes" person. I don't subscribe to the power of positive thinking or that I need to feel inspired or cheered on 24/7. I never share any quotes on my Facebook or "Like" pages that are aimed at those needing hope or to be inspired. That being said, I really like this quote and it makes me feel grounded when I start to doubt myself.

We are living at a time where social media is a constant window into someone else's life- and a very small glimpse of their lives we get to see. If we know everyone is watching, we only put on our best selves to be seen. Because of that, it is so simple to compare ourselves with that small sliver of other's lives. I have fallen victim to this cycle many times and I always have to remind myself that we're not seeing the whole picture but the most cleaned up, prettiest version of our friend's experiences. 

I have been on a long road of self-doubt and self-discovery since I got married six years ago. It was 2010 and I graduated with my Bachelor's in Psychology, we got married the next month, and we were set up our brand new lives together in Virginia. In my perfect life dream I would of course start looking for work in my field, I'd end up working for Fleet & Family doing some sort of counseling, we'd have two incomes, everything would be perfect, and we'd be SO AWESOME at being adults!

Illusions were shattered after months of no responses from any jobs and we had one car which made my search even more difficult. I had a terrible resume and I was embarrassed to go anywhere and ask for help with it. I figured I'd get a whatever job for the time being and found myself cashiering at Walmart for the 2010 holiday season. It was miserable. Not only was the clientele at Walmart terrible, but I found myself feeling bitter every day that I clocked into work. "So glad I got my degree," I'd think everyday (which, is still my mantra every day coincidentally). 

On my breaks from being bombarded with a non-stop wave of abusive customers, I'd look at my Facebook feed and see snapshots of my friend's elaborate vacations, new houses, new cars, and their updated "grown up" workplaces- office jobs, seemingly important jobs. It was debilitating and made me feel pathetic and like a failure. I quit Walmart after four months of misery and remained jobless until we moved to Washington sixteen months later. I became a cake decorator and started my own business. I finally felt a sense of industry and pride in what I was doing. 

After moving back to Virginia, I'm nearly in the same boat that I was six years ago in this sad full circle. The only difference is I don't really look to my friends anymore as a gauge of how successful I am as an adult. I only compare myself to my own standards of where and what my life should be. Of course I fall short of that expectation usually but the difference is that I'm in charge of it. I've taken a hard look at my friend's lives and they are all in different places too- some are single in a big city, some are in a small city and are stay at home moms, some are depressed at their impressive grown up jobs, some love their simple jobs, some rent homes, and some own homes. 

Whenever I find myself distracted by my friends or fellow blogger's seemingly perfect, sparkling lives I think of this quote. Things aren't always what they seem and I am not them, they are not me. Our lives and aspirations are different so it does nothing to help me to compare myself to someone else. As lame as it sounds, we are all on our own path and it's not a race. 

They're Your Family

Is blood-family really important? It's a question my brother and I have been wondering about for a while now. While there are some successful and happy families out there, are dysfunctional families who spend time together while hating each other so common that we all just grin and bear it?

For my entire life my family experience has been rather limited. It's been Mom, Dad, me, and my brother for my entire life with the first thirteen years seeing my paternal grandparents on birthdays, holidays and occasionally. I've seen my maternal grandparents a handful of times during those years and then we moved away from everyone to Arizona, more than 2,000 miles away. 

When you get older, you become privy to all the things about your family that you were too young to know- the problems, the scandals, the skeletons. Maybe your family doesn't have that- count yourself among the lucky ones while the rest of us deal with all this crazy bullshit. 

This is just leading to my question: is this important? Why do we have to associate with people who we may completely detest because of some arbitrary belief that shared genetics makes us important one another?

Personally, my grandparents are the only part of my extended family I really care about, save one uncle. My other aunts, uncles, and cousins (one, I haven't even met that has been around for already 10 years) are so removed from me that I can barely count them among my close acquaintances and they don't seem bothered by this and rarely, if ever, reach out to me anyway. We have never gotten gifts for one another and on what handful of holidays we've spent together it feels awkward. I could probably walk into some random dining hall and feel the same amount of connection to anyone sitting there. 

Are we all just looking for permission that we don't have to do this? 

Dear Everyone Reading,

Here's your permission to not give a shit about members of your family. If you've tried to get along and they hate you or are abusive, annoying, and all around
terrible people- you don't have to fake it, move on and 
find people, friends you do love and care about who feel the same way about you. If you love most of your family and there's a select couple that unfortunately come around the people you do love, you don't have to like them. Don't bother trying anymore. Ignore their existence, move on, and that is perfectly okay. This is about self preservation and if you are allowed to cut toxic people out of your life. 

I always thought that "friends are chosen family" was sappy and trite but as I get older, I'm seeing the phrase's truthfulness. These are people you choose to love and choose to spend your time and shared experiences. Isn't that a stronger bond than just shared genetics? 

The Purge

When we moved from Washington back to Virginia last month, it gave me an opportunity to purge a lot of childhood things I thought I would keep forever. I had a big box full of old journals, bad teenage poems full of angst, every note I've ever received from middle through high school, and odd trinkets from my past that I kept for some reason. 

I've been wondering lately why I am keeping these things because I just watched one of my friends purge her life- her home, her belongings and move into a really nice RV to live a simpler and more pared down life. It's very inspiring and has prompted me into thinking about the things that I really need in life. While I'm not prepared to do anything quite so drastic, it motivated me to get rid of some things that I had been feeling tied down to. 

My younger self had put these items in a box because I thought that these puzzle pieces of my old life would be interesting to me as an adult. "When I'm thirty, it's going to be so fun to read this!"

As I sorted through the box I easily threw out a gallon ziplock bag full of notes- I no longer cared. I found a notebook my (then) best friend in high school had passed back and forth for months and tossed it out. We are no longer friends and thinking of her is more painful than happily nostalgic. It was a more difficult choice to get rid of my old journals because they had been prized possessions for a while like completed novels that I lined up on my bookshelf. I flipped through them and they were just full of childhood crushes and other embarrassing things that I'd be mortified for anyone to read and that I'd like to forget. 

The only journals I've bothered to keep are the ones I've written as an adult as they offer more introspection and soul-searching than the schoolgirl musings of the past. I also had to keep my very first journal from fourth grade that was a purple spiral-bound notebook with Winnie the Pooh smiling on the cover in which I wrote about who offended me in class and the dead bird my brother and I found. Very sensational stuff. 

I kept three small shoeboxes full of mementos from Sophomore through Senior year because I decorated them and they had some interesting stuff in it like my Prom corsage and my learner's permit.

It felt good to be free of so many things that tied me down and that embarrassed me to know they existed (those poems...man, so angsty and emo). I mostly kept the things that I would be happy to reflect on and show someone else. 

But why did I keep so many things? I can only guess that it was because I was afraid of growing up and of forgetting everything. It was hard for me then to imagine what 30 year old Ashley would be doing, what kind of person she would be, and what she would care about. My younger self thought that these memories were worth holding onto when they were such a minute snapshot of life. 

I guess that's a part of growing up though, right? Knowing what's important to hold onto and what you can let go. 

Poignant.

llustration by Pawel Kuczynski

Review: La Quinta OK City

Today, I'd like to share a review that I recently left on Google reviews for the La Quinta in Oklahoma City that we stayed at on one leg of our cross country trip this past month. It was an experience. An experience that I'd like to forget:

My family and I were relocating from Washington state to Virginia last month and has the misfortune of finding one of our trip stops in Oklahoma City. Because we had our two cats with us, finding a pet friendly hotel was a priority and we'd been staying in La Quintas the entire way to our destination. But on this night, we discovered that not all La Quintas are created equally.

Upon arrival we were met with an empty parking lot which was our first clue that this was going to be an odd stay. While my husband and I were checking in, my brother said he witnessed a man pushing a cart of empty cans through the parking lot. Lovely. Our room was on the complete opposite side of the hotel from the lobby despite being empty. Once we found our room, the issues with the hotel becoming glaringly apparent.

Firstly, all of the other patrons of the hotel for the night were huddled in rooms together as if we all could find safety in numbers. Three quarters of the hotel is hauntingly empty with tattered curtains hanging in the window and pitch dark inside. Secondly, the railings and condition of the building were so rusted and dilapidated, that it reminded me of the current condition of the Titanic which rests at the bottom of the ocean. The grounds were littered with sandbags, bags of concrete and dead and dying grass. Our room was the only bright spot of the experience if by bright spot you mean the slight sheen off a fresh, wet turd. It appeared to be recently remodeled but the clothing rack was barely hanging onto the wall and the bathroom floor must have been polished with corn syrup. There was a used towel on the back of the bathroom door. The air vents emitted what reeked of stale urine and the sheets smelled of smoke. 

The three of us had a serious conversation about leaving and even my cats wouldn't get out of the carrier (and at this point, they'd been in there for hours but though that was a better alternative than to walk on the carpet). "It's only one night," my husband said and I gave in. I called my Mom to let her know where we were in case we were murdered during the night. We all slept with one eye open just waiting to hear the sound of glass breaking as one of our cars was broken into. It didn't feel safe, at all. There were some loud people and our room butted up against a party/mini golf place which played loud Top 40 hits for hours.

I set my alarm early so we could leave the next morning as soon as possible. You know you're in a crap hole place if you are pleasantly surprised to awaken to your car windows intact. After this stay I read the other reviews and were happy to report we didn't see any cockroaches, though that probably would have convinced my husband we should have left so I don't know if that's a blessing or not. 

Please, go somewhere else. (And I mean this to Nick, the nice guy who checked us in- you're too nice to work in such a septic pit!). There's another La Quinta down the freeway a bit that looks so much nicer. We passed it five minutes down the road the next morning. And shout out to the photographer who took the online photos of this hotel- you must be quite a talent to polish a turd like this place.

Update: This place has since closed! Unbelievable, right?