I love things that make you think twice,Independent Coffee Shops, and being a piece of the global community. I have a strange affinity for Latin American culture, Nicaragua in particular. My day feels oddly unbalanced if it does not start with a downward facing dog. I have developed a newly found appreciation for punk shows and deeply enjoy the hidden sense of community among what I have experienced to be an amazing group of down-to-earth individuals. I enjoy the stride and sound of an authoritative click originating from 3+ inch heels. I think insight can be gained by thinking about any discipline philosophically. I am overwhelmed by the vast array of knowledge and wisdom I am engulfed in and disappointed I humanly cannot obtain it all. Though I remain enlightened and empowered by the realization of my own personal limitations. At any point I am up for a conversation entering the wee hours of the morning talking about the trials and tribulations of the globe or anything else under the sun. I tell people how it is because the world is already full of illusions. I still however remain baffled at my inability to remember the longitude and latitude of my keys, phone, or wallet at any point in time. Graciously open to new instruments including the most sacred sounds echoing from the human body, to the violin, or the Djembe despite my atrocious lack of rhythm. I do a hauntingly accurate impression of my 75-year-old off the boat Italian grandmother and enjoy authentic Italian cooking to raw fish wrapped in seaweed. The list goes on as I'm sure it does for most, but lastly I truly appreciate the uniqueness of each individual while seeing no matter how seemingly different we all are, we are all connected.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013


To My Clueless Male Counterparts,

 Since my last letter proved to be so successful in terms of decreasing the amount of bullshit I have to deal with at work I thought I'd write another letter but not be so discriminatory with my audience. My frustration with the opposite sex has grown exponentially in the past month and I see it only fair to express my sentiments electronically. This letter is directed to men in general.

To the men who text message late enough to disrupt my beauty rest, I know what you want. I'd like to speak for all women when I say this but unfortunately I just don't have that much faith in the conventional emotionally-starved female. Inviting me out to a bar a half an hour before it closes is hardly a panty-dropper nor do I lack the brain cells to be able to read between your not-so-cryptic lines. If we've been on a date and I coincidentally only hear from you late night, I've caught on. Don't waste my time. For the men who take it one step further and have the audacity to give me fashion advice, Really? I am not your Barbie.You have just essentially cock-blocked yourself.  It may be hard for your ego to fathom but you are not Neil Patrick Harris and those schemes on How I Met Your Mother are not nearly as clever as they seem on CBS.

To the guy that talks himself up--I would imagine the only explanation is that you must actually think your penis will enlarge from incessant banter. If your lucky to even get that far (which I am guessing you are not) the truth will reveal itself sooner or later. Your best bet is to at least make an attempt at being a decent human being, a woman is more likely to look past an ill-equipped man if she believes him to at least have a soul.

To the guy on the dance floor that thinks a slight smile is an invitation to stick your tongue down my throat-- its not. Try saying "Hi" first, if all of a sudden I become engulfed in a conversation with my friend or I abruptly end the conversation to find a bathroom, chances are your tongue is not invited. Those that know me know I do not hesitate to use force when necessary, unless you want my hand imprinted on your cheek, back off.

To the relentless texter- If a girl likes you she is going to answer you, period. If you are scrolling through multiple pages of text to read the conversation you have been having with yourself, it is time to move on. If and when we want to contact you, we will. We know your number it is viciously resonating through our memory, trust me.

For those of you reading the above and noticing it sounds all too familiar, I suggest coming up with something more clever or finding a woman dumb enough to fall for your bullshit.

With Love,

Your Not So Impressed  Female