I’m Moving, Maybe

moving out of denver

On Finding My Place

Moving Out of Denver

Come this July I will have lived in Colorado for an entire decade. There are plenty of reasons why I love this state, if I didn’t love it I wouldn’t have been here for the last ten years.

Along with the spectacular mountain views and the ridiculous amount of craft beer, Colorado has come to symbolize freedom for many people who live and move here. Sure, a lot of that has to do with us being one of the first states to legalize recreational marijuana, but it’s more than that. There’s something in the arid air. There’s a DIY mentality here, or better than that, a do-what-you-want mentality.

Yet, as of late I’ve found myself antsy.

I’m not sure if this is where I belong any longer yet I have no idea where I’d want to go.

I know that I seek nature and community and most of all, water. It’s like my soul needs to be cleansed. I need to soak in mother nature’s womb and become reborn. Because I have no idea what I’m doing, what I want to do, or really who I am in anymore.

Will submerging myself in the ocean actually help me? It’s hard to tell but it’s clear I’m not growing by staying in the same place I’ve been.

When I quit my 9 to 5 job to venture out into the world freelance, I knew it would be hard but I didn’t realize the toll it would take on my overall identity. I was amazed to find how much of my own worth I aligned with work. And when I didn’t have as much work coming in, my self-worth hit an all-time low and I made some decisions that severely impacted my will to live.

I overcame that death-wish though. But now I’m left in the process of trying to create a new me. One who knows what she wants and gets it. They say you can manifest whatever you want into being, but they don’t ever tell you how to figure out what that ‘want’ is.

Moving? Here’s some fancy label tape.

I’ve always known that I wanted to be a writer. And so I have always written. Yet, as a writer you are also a collector–of stories, ideas, details. I have more often than not, tried to see the world through other people’s perspectives. I have almost always chosen the story over my own sanity or safety or even a basic good night’s sleep. It’s become clear to me that just like people choose their battles, I need to start choosing my stories. I need to start saying, ‘no thanks’ to certain shenanigans, certain people, and start choosing new ways of being instead.

That’s one of the reasons why I feel compelled to move. Patterns are much easier to repeat in a place that you have repeated them for so long. Stagnation sets in much quicker in a bedroom where you’ve spent years depressed.

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Even though I have a wild imagination regarding our world and the people who live in it, sometimes I have a difficult time turning that imagination inward. So, I’m going to try it out, see how it goes, it will surely go somewhere, which is better than nowhere at all.

If you live by a large body of water and want a house guest for a few days let me know! I’m down to try new places and see if they’re a good fit.

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Tits Out Truth Bombs Tuesday: Falling Out of Love with Denver + Giving Up the Booze

alcohol abuse and living in denver

Is Denver Becoming Too High Maintenance?

or

When You Change One Thing You May Need to Change Them All

My favorite running path in Denver takes me through City Park, where I always stop at Duck Lake to look at the black birds (double-crested cormorants) that perch in huge nests which sit atop these twisted goth trees. These are migrating birds. They leave in the fall and return in the spring. When they returned this year I told everyone that I too was going to take off when they took off in the fall. I only half-meant it when I said it back then.

Now it’s almost fall and the birds are half gone already.

Before I even got to Duck Lake today I could feel the shift. It was way too quiet. The leave of absence hit me harder than I expected it to. I couldn’t believe it was already happening.

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I recently decided I needed to take a break from drinking. Luckily I haven’t hit rock bottom yet and I hope I can keep it together enough that I never do. I do know that I abuse alcohol. Or it abuses me. Perhaps we have this weird BDSM switch-like relationship going on, I don’t know. I’m not typically even an over-indulger. I can say no to cake. I can say no thanks to cookies. But when it comes to beer I’m like “Give Me! Give Me! Give Me ALL of the BEER!!”

Damn, I love beer.

It’s only been three days. I know three days is nothing to almost all human beings who are not alcoholics, but it’s a lot for people who are alcoholics and plenty for those (like me) who are alcohol abusers. Yet, during these this three-day break from alcohol I’ve been thinking about how I might actually have to leave Denver.

I’m not sure this city is a healthy place for me to be. I think it would be really easy for me to fall back into old habits.; to go out and repeat the same sort of stories over and over. I’m tired of those stories. I’m tired of going to bars, having one-night stands, waking up feeling like shit, eating fried foods just to make it through the day, popping pills that will help me focus, gain energy, and get work done, repeating the same stupid shit all over again.

Also, I may be falling out of love with Denver.

Just like people change and grow so to do cities. Perhaps I’ve learned enough from this place; perhaps it’s time for the basic bitches to take my place as they are making their way here in droves (and honestly I’m over interacting with them).

I don’t know where I’d go. I don’t even know who I am or what I want to be anymore.

I don’t feel lost. I feel misplaced. I know exactly where I am I just don’t know why I’m here.

I’m also a bit burnt out on always writing about sex. I know it’s what you all want, but it’s not what I want. I want more. I want to explore the depths of humanity–body and soul, not just how far you can fit something up a vagina.

So I will be doing that. Of course, I’ll still write about sex stuff. But summer is over. The birds are headed south. It’s time to get shit together. Perhaps even fly somewhere new.

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Are You Cool Enough to Live in Denver?

city growth and coolness

Time to Move On Or Fight for Improved Cool?

or

Maybe I Just Need Another Vacation…

The other night my friends and I went to a dance party happening at a bar on South Broadway. There we bumped into a group of people that sort of circle around our circle (and when I say “bumped” I mean they were literally trying to dancepush us off the floor so their crew could all fit, but my ass is way bigger than all of there’s so it worked the other way, thanks ass). Speaking of ass, here’s what I’ve really been struggling with.

Am I jealous of these people because they’re way cooler than me or do I just dislike these people because they’re a bunch of whiny assholes who try way too hard to be cool when really what they’re doing is masking their deep-seated insecurities and daddy/mommy-issues?

Before you get all butt-hurt and think I’m being super judgy, let me state this, when I say that my friend circle circles around their friend circle, what I’m saying is that we all like a lot of the same things and go to the same places. We’ve partied together. We’ve gotten drunk and fucked up and had actual conversations.

I can’t figure out if I want to do those things with them more of the time, less, or never again.

When I see them out they sure look cool. I’m talking specifically style here. Yet, when I watch them interact with each other it seems like they’re not really friends but people using each other to make each other look “cooler.”

Now, one of the editors from the Atlantic (who was my editor when I wrote the women in beer brewing piece here) wrote a book on Popular v. Cool called Hit Makers: The Science of Popularity in an Age of Distraction; I haven’t read it (feel free to buy it for me from my wishlist) but I listened to a convo he had discussing the topic. To sum it up, I believe what he’s saying is that you can’t be popular and cool at the same time. Once something becomes too popular it crosses an invisible “not cool” line. Perhaps that’s why so many of these people struggle to become actually successful at being musicians and artists.

I’m not saying they’re not talented, I’m saying they’re afraid to become popular because then they could lose the only thing they understand: how to look cool.

I love that there are so many amazing creative people in this city. I even love and like a lot of these cool peoples’ music and art and photography. Yet, I still don’t really like them.

I wonder if it’s better to experience them only through their creations, only by their exterior facade than by actually trying to get to know them. Or maybe I should quit being an asshole to them and try a little harder to understand their motivations and inspirations and life choices.

Nah. That sounds tiring.

After careful consideration I have concluded that I am neither popular or cool, but If I had to choose between the two I’d choose popular. I’d choose popular only because there’s a much better chance I’d be rich. In all fairness, I’d rather just be rich and be able to sit out alone by a fancy fucking pool with a tropical drink and a good book.

Cheers to all the non-cool geeks, and freaks, and weirdos.

P.S.
Perhaps a cool person can explain some of this to me sometime. . .? Or would that be breaking the cool-code?

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