Eleanor Shellstrop is my new life coach.

Via Ms. Andry’s Bath House on Facebook, my new #goals for the evening

Get you a man who digs Muppets.

#goals

C’mon, Cosmo! Dare greatly!

Only one?

Your goals make me sad, Cosmo.

Maybe I can just rock his socks?

New life goal: Rock someone’s chain.

Sub-goal: Learn what that means.

#Emmys2016

(Please don’t actually explain it. I know how Google works.)

What I Know for Sure: I Don’t.

Things I knew FOR SURE yesterday:
“I am taking a break from this blog and from OkCupid to focus on work and getting my life/health/goals in order. I will write about this break tomorrow night and that’ll be that.”

Things I know for sure today:
“I have a new blog follower (hi!), and received a free book I requested from a publisher so I can review it here. Also, I just saw a man on OkCupid who’s cute, tall, literate, and likes to play naughty in bed but was somehow both forthright and gentlemanly about it.”

Right, then. “Strike that. Reverse it.”

#LifeGoals

“Hello, Katarina. Make anyone cry today?”
“Sadly, no. But it’s only 4:30.”

Putting the “act” in “disappearing act”

Snag in one of my new life goals: Turns out you can’t block an email address unless you have an existing email from the person you’re blocking.

It’s been maybe 6 months since I apparently VERY thoroughly deleted all that in an attempt at mental feng shui.

It’s also been about 6 months since this was even an issue, so I probably don’t NEED to do it. I was just going for a Rachel-Green-style “And THAT, my friend, is what they call CLOSURE.” (I realize that’s a bad metaphor; that turned out a lot differently than this is likely going to.)

And there was comfort in the idea, because there wouldn’t be anymore worrying about letting my guard down when checking email — let’s be honest, stupidly half-hoping I’d ever be worth more than a drunk-texted apology at 3 a.m.

I’d have disappeared, so my brain could be all, “WHAT?! Come at me, bro!” [/Jersey]

Alternately: “Nyah, nyah, you can’t get me!” [/inner child]

Cheers to a year.

I know it’s Wednesday, but I’ll have more pressing things to think about tomorrow. So here’s a little pseudo-#TBT to celebrate me accomplishing a goal I set LAST New Year’s. It’s one I never thought I’d be strong enough to accomplish: taking the space I needed, identifying unhealthy (read: masochistic) behavior, and realizing that even in a friendship, I’m worthy of effort, especially in a friendship that would’ve required effort to survive.

Since I’ve been forced to think about my “accomplishments” over this past year, let’s hear it for progress. And in the new year, let it continue, along with my other accomplishments/goals.

Let’s do this, Year.

In which my squad won’t give me goals.

Email to Friend: “The therapist asked me to write about my accomplishments this year, and goals for the upcoming year and beyond. I’ve been struggling with it because I genuinely can’t think of much. (I assume ‘Keep breathing’ and ‘Stay employed’ are implied. Maybe ‘Don’t sleep with anyone dumber than me?’)

“But I’m finishing Judy Greer’s book, and coincidentally she’s talking about how she has an always-evolving list of goals, what’s important to her, etc., that she reads and revises as needed.

“And then Kelly Sue DeConnick sent this text yesterday to the Bitches Get Shit Done list, so it’s pretty much law now, right? List ahoy, Little Shark!”  

Friend: “I can think of at least three things you should be proud of yourself for, but I’m not telling you because you have to look back and be proud of yourself. You have to look in the mirror and see the good.”

Me: “THREE?! Shit. I’m pretty rad. (I think I had two. Will continue considering.)”

The Urban Legend of Squad Goals

I’ve been debating joining a local blogging group, but I’m hesitant, mostly because I really do want this page to stay… I guess SEMI-private? I don’t mind if close friends see it, because they know I’m a sailor-mouth nutcase, but I’d prefer that my dad not, because…ew.

Also, I have some issues with the content, like… I don’t know if I’m ashamed of this stuff or not. This page is basically my id’s blog — it’s what comes out when I let go of my filter, which is admittedly faulty sometimes. I was in mixed company the other night and made some jokes I’d make here, but I was thinking about it afterward, like, “Why did you say that? They’re going to think you’re slutty and you’ve never even DONE that.”

I alternate between a blustery, “Pfft, whatEVER, I give ZERO fucks what these people think. I am awesome and hilarious and my tribe gets me” and “I am a Carrie-Bradshaw-wannabe hack who’s not funny OR sexy, and they’re going to think I’m trashy and find my grandpa and tell him I say ‘fuck’ on the Internet.'”

Much like the rest of my life, I guess it’s time to give some thought to what I want this blog to be — if I want to continue the id of it all, or maybe write something else under my real name. Or both. Or neither.

UGH. THOUGHTS. We’ll add this to career and personal goal development, because you know what I found out, you guys? There are some people who don’t just obtain a job and then pray they don’t lose it. They, like, DO shit to advance their careers and their lives, and they have these, um… “aspirations,” I think was the word? Freaky, right? Next you’re gonna tell me people really floss.