Category Archives: let’s just talk from our hearts

I’m Trying To Be A Positive Person

grumpy cat positive person

It’s way easier for me to be a negative person than a positive one, and I think that’s true of most people, but I probably only think that because I’m used to being a negative person. I wrote an article for The Gaggle titled “How To Be A Positive Person Written By A Negative One“. I believe in every word I wrote; it’s just hard to follow it sometimes. It’s like a life habit that I’m trying to break.

Q: How many negative people does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
A: “Fuck it, we’re screwed.”

Kanye West once said, “I’m so gifted at finding what I don’t like the most” and I really resonated with that. I am incredibly gifted at finding what I don’t like the most in any situation. And if things are going poorly? I’m ready to flee the city and move back in with my mommy.

My negativity has affected my friendships and my relationship, so it’s definitely something I’m looking to change. I’m trying to change it by changing my habitual negative response. So when I feel like things are going poorly, instead of reflecting on that, I try to focus on what I have, even if it’s a small thing or total duh thing. For example, I have all my limbs. And this isn’t me being a sarcastic bitch, I am honestly grateful for my limbs. I’m a writer, so it’s pretty sweet that I have arms and hands, and I like my legs. Even if I have to start there, that’s where I’ll start.

I’m also ready to change my verbal response when I get questions like, “How have you been?” Instead of saying, “Just dealing with the crushing anxiety in the pit of my stomach every day” I say things like, “I’ve been doing well, how are you?”

Is it a lie to say you’re doing well when you’re not, or is it just positive thinking? I don’t think of it as a lie, I think of it as reinforcing the positive. If I say things are good, maybe I’ll believe that they’re good. And, again, I have all my limbs.

So, if you’re like me, you need to get your shit together. Your friends and loved ones are gonna get real tired of your complaining, if they haven’t already — and guess what, they have. From this moment onward, you need to focus on the good things you have in your life, even if it’s just “I like my hair” or “There’s a new episode of my favorite show on tonight.” It’s okay to start small. You just have to start.

Embrace the good. There’s a lot of it, if you stop being a whining jerk. Remember: life doesn’t owe you anything. It’s up to you to make the best out of life. This year is going to go by whether you do something positive or not. So do positive things, make positive changes, and be positively upbeat that it’s going to work out for you, even if you can’t see the path. Just grab a flashlight and keep walking.

 

Photo of my cat Billie Jean by me @apocalypstick.

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In Defense Of The How I Met Your Mother Finale

how i met your mother finale

Warning: spoilers abound!

How I Met Your Mother ended its legendary 9 year run last night, and the majority of people are reacting as though they just saw the Lost finale — or even worse, Dexter.

I liked the How I Met Your Mother finale. And here’s why.

The biggest complaint I’m seeing is that people are saying the whole show is “all for nothing” because although Ted found his true love (“The Mother”, whose name we learned was Tracy), she dies, and he winds up with Robin, who we met in the pilot.

First of all, it wasn’t “all for nothing” just because he winds up with Robin. Because the thing is, he let Robin go. Remember when we saw her float away like a horribly CGI’d balloon? It was only because he let her go that he could accept love, and from Tracy, who became the mother of his children.

That’s very important. He was happy with Tracy.

And then Tracy died.

And that’s life. People die sometimes. Is it fair? No. But it doesn’t diminish the time they had together. Those times were very real and very meaningful for Ted. He wasn’t secretly in love with Robin the entire time. He let her go and he started his life. And Tracy dying doesn’t mean that none of it happened. Death is not a reset button, and it’s insulting to someone’s memory to say that it is.

Six years later, he’s telling his kids the story of how he met their mother, which his kids cheekily point out seems more like the story of “how you have the hots for Aunt Robin.” But his kids aren’t mad, because 1. they want their dad to be happy and 2 they can obviously see how much love he had for their mom, which he did. And we shouldn’t be mad either, because we want Ted to be happy, too.

The whole show wasn’t about how Ted met the mother — we learn this at the end of the very first episode (“like I said, it’s a long story). And it is a long story. About how he learned to love, and move on. And just because, six years later, he has the hots for Aunt Robin doesn’t mean he’d trade her for Tracy. He begged for 45 more days with Tracy, remember?

But in life, to quote Tracy, “you have to move forward.” She would want him to move forward.

So he does, with someone who knows him so well — Aunt Robin.

The next biggest complaint I see is people bemoaning Robin and Ted together because they haven’t worked in the past, so why would they work now? How about because they’re in different places now? They’re in their 40’s now. When they met, they were in their 20’s. Do you have any idea what a different person you’ll be when you’re 40 compared to when you’re 27? I’m not saying you’re going to change completely. I’m saying that people grow up. What didn’t work then could easily work now. Robin’s career is in a different place. She’s settled down (we can see that because she has approximately a thousand dogs again). She’s ready.

And Ted is ready. And they’re not crashing in the same car, they’re getting in a new car on a new road. I hope to God I’m a different person at 40 than I am in my 20’s. I hope I’m more secure, more confident, more embracing of the world and all it has to offer. I hope that there will be someone for me outside my window with a blue french horn.

And why is it such a surprise that they wind up together? The show ended how it began, with Ted holding up the stolen blue french horn (must be a great restaurant, it’s been open forever). The difference is that now it can work.

I liked Barney and Robin together until it became pretty clear that Barney didn’t want to get married; he kept making his same stupid sexist jokes throughout their entire engagement. At their wedding, he promised he would never lie to Robin, then immediately lied to her about having a gorilla flower girl. There were signs it wasn’t going to work.

And that’s why I’m not mad about their divorce. Divorce is real, and it happens. Sometimes you don’t even see it coming. That’s life.

In the end, everybody got what they wanted, and what they needed. I’m happy that Robin and Ted are together. He made it rain for her, you guys. He made it rain.

My only problem with the finale? The pacing. By the time Barney found out he was going to be a dad, I couldn’t help but say, “This is weird” out loud. But how good a payoff was that scene when he was saying hello to his baby daughter for the first time? And it changed him in ways marrying Robin couldn’t. Instead of hitting on 2 young women at the bar, he tells them to go home, change their outfits, and call their parents.

There were a lot of years crammed into that 1 hour (technically 40 something minutes, minus commercials) and it made my head spin but then I realized — that’s kind of how life is. And I liked seeing the flash forwards. I liked knowing where they wound up, and technically, they’re not really flashforwards but flashbacks, as Ted has been telling this story to his kids since day 1 and everything that happened on the show was a flashback.

The finale gave me hope that life will always provide for us in ways we may not expect. I wish the show hadn’t spent an entire season on one wedding and that the finale didn’t spend years in an hour, but other than that, I wouldn’t change a thing.

“I really hope you get her someday,” Victoria, Ted’s ex, told him, of Robin.

Ted did it, you guys. He’s happy. Let’s be happy for him.

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In Which “How I Met Your Mother” Nails Friendship

friendship

How I Met Your Mother is so good at being “real life” sometimes. They’re wrapping up the series and in this particular episode, they show what happens to all of the minor and secondary characters, while The Kinks sing “Where Are They Now?” over an uninterrupted 3 minute shot of each character in their little setting with narration over it. Very Wes Anderson. And then the narrator finishes with this:

You will be shocked, kids, when you discover how easy it is in life to part ways with people forever.

And I went, “Oof.” Not out loud, but who knows, maybe it was out loud. I’m getting to that age where I’m less aware of what I say out loud. Which makes it sound like I’m getting to the age of 84. I am not.

But I am getting older, and I’m discovering some things about getting older that really suck. Things beyond having to use extra cash to buy boring shit like toothpaste. Things beyond worrying about paying bills, like some stupid country song you’d hear on the radio for 4 seconds because you changed the station too fast because it’s such a cliché. No, I mean things like that above quote from How I Met Your Mother.

It really is shockingly easy to part ways with people forever.

And I’m not sure how to feel about that.

Part of getting older is realizing that every relationship — even, if not especially, those you have with your friends — take work. You take your friendships for granted. You think they’ll always be there. Then somebody moves. Or goes to grad school. Or gets married. Or changes careers. And suddenly, no one has time for anyone anymore. And you become one of those thousands of people who say things like, “I’m sorry, I’m just swamped.” (Hint: do not EVER tell anyone you are “booked”. You are not a dentist’s office. You are a person. People cannot be booked. Got it? Good.)

You have no time for seeing your friends anymore, and they don’t have time to see you. You’ll go back and forth with calls and texts and emails and then one day you’ll finally catch up and it will be wonderful and you’ll say you have to do it again…and then you don’t. Ever. And then they move to New York or get married and maybe you’ll be invited and maybe you won’t, and that will be the end of it.

That’s just how it gets when you get older. And no one told me that. No one told me that when you get older, you have to work harder on your friendships. I don’t even know if I have a best friend anymore. I think those went the way of Lisa Frank stickers and Happy Meals — they faded into my youth. I’m just a boring adult who is struggling with work and money and being an adult.

So if I tell you I want to hang out with you, please, hold me to it. I’ll do my best, and I have anxiety about driving, but I’ll try real hard. Because the problem with forever is that it’s pretty damn permanent.

I miss you, Simone.

Photo by Nina Leen, 1950, via LIFE Photo Archives for Google.

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HOW TO NOT FEEL LIKE A TOTAL FAILURE

Uncommon Goods

I don’t doubt for a second that women are harder on ourselves than men. We’ll stare at our thighs and let out a stream of curse words that would make Joe Pesci say, “Whoa, chill out.” We’d stay stuff to ourselves guys would never even dream of saying to us. When men fail, they tend not to take it as personally as we do.

Let’s change that.

As someone going through what we call a “transitional period” (read: “I feel like a total fuck-up” period), I have some tips how how to not feel like a total failure, even though you may really, really want to.

 

So, you gained some weight.

This one sucks because no one can tell you “oh it’s all on your head” if the dress that fit you 2 years ago now seems like it was made for a doll. “WHO IS PUTTING DOLL CLOTHES IN MY CLOSET?” you want to scream. If it doesn’t zip, it doesn’t fit, and that’s just how it is. Firstly, as with all “failures” don’t feel bad about feeling bad — you’re allowed to take a moment to wallow even if it’s over not being able to fit into a skirt that’s honestly kind of ugly to begin with. So take your moment to feel bad.

NOW you have to change your current thoughts, feelings, and behaviors so that you set yourself up for a better future. That goes with any “failure.” You wallow, then you pull yourself together. Make a plan to exercise every day or every other day — or just start with once a week. Just plan it. Then do it. Then for every day you work out, put a sticker in your planner or write a big fat X. Then watch your progress grow into a sea of stickers or X’s. Go out and buy healthy foods. Start cooking for yourself at least once a week. Just start.

Sometimes, even if our clothes don’t fit, the weight gain is only visible to us. No one else can tell. We are really our own harshest critics and only we know how our clothes really fit. They might feel tighter but people don’t have X-Ray vision — they can’t tell the way you can.

And maybe it’s enough for people to notice. Okay, so what? It’s not like you drowned a bag of kittens. You decided to eat indulgently and not work out. That’s actually not a crime. That’s actually totally okay. But if you’re unhappy with it, change it. Don’t whine about it and then not change it. That’s the worst.

 

So, you lost your job.

This one sucks because losing your job can mean huge life changes, like having to move. Some of us are okay with big changes. Some of us resist it and hate it with everything we’ve got, like a cat in a costume.

In most cases, your job loss was not personal. It’s not like you were let go because no one liked you. And let’s say you got fired because in fact, it waspersonal. Guess what? That was a terrible work environment and you’re going to be a better person for not being there. The only way to handle a job loss is to spin it until you find the bright side. For example, now you can focus on what you really want to do. Maybe it’s time to make big career changes. Maybe now you can follow your dream. But really, do more than follow it — hunt that motherfucker down. Turn this loss into a gain.

And maybe you’re going to have to make sacrifices, like selling a major item, moving, or taking on a crappy part-time job until you find something. And it’s okay to be upset by that. But you can’t be upset about it every day for the rest of your life. You just can’t. You can, but you’ll have no friends left and you’ll be completely miserable. Is that something you actively want to choose?

You’re not a failure because you lost your job. Lots of people lose jobs. You’re only a failure if you let it define you as a person. You are not your job.

 

So, you got dumped.

This one sucks because it is personal. It’s the most personal thing in the world. Even if someone says, “It’s not you, it’s me” they’re still talking about you. How can you not feel hurt?

Once again, take time to mourn the loss of the relationship. Cry, shout, do what you have to do to keep yourself from holding onto any anger or sadness inside. Don’t keep it all inside. It will explode later at the company picnic when Deborah takes the last corn on the cob. That bitch. Let it out now.

Then start to heal. Think about what you learned from the relationship. We always learn something. Maybe it’s as simple as, “I’ll never date guys under 24 again.” Fine. Go with that. Just take something, anything and learn from it. Grow from it. Don’t let it make you bitter. If you let it make you bitter, you’re turning your future self into an asshole. No one likes the asshole who is caustic about relationships and uses every opportunity to bash their ex. Write about it. Make funny videos. Turn it into something positive. Even if it’s just a funny tweet. That one tweet is something good and positive, and that’s exactly what you need.

 

You’re only a total failure if you allow yourself to stop growing. And how do you grow? By learning from mistakes, facing change, and doing things that scare you. (At least, those are some ways.) Accept your loss, mourn it, then move on. Because you owe it to your future self. You owe your future self success, even if present self feels nothing but failure. Ignore present self. Think about future self. What do you want to do for her?

 

Photo credit: Uncommon Goods. Originally posted on The Gaggle, by me.

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The Inconvenient Truth About Woody Allen

Indeed. Photo by me.

Indeed. Photo by me.

Dylan Farrow, Woody Allen’s adopted — I hate to even make the distinction, but I know if I don’t include the word “adopted” people will jump on me, as if the word “adopted” makes everything better — daughter, recently came out with an open letter detailing the sexual abuse she suffered under Woody Allen when she was 7 years old. Before I get to that, I think it’s important to provide some historical context. Though Woody Allen was accused of molesting his daughter, Dylan, in 1992, it went largely ignored compared to say, Roman Polanski’s crime — people heard about it, and knew about it, but didn’t really react like they did with Polanski. At the time it happened, Vanity Fair did a long story, detailing accounts by Maureen O’Sullivan, Mia Farrow’s mother, who says she saw inappropriate activity like Allen rubbing sunscreen where he shouldn’t:

One summer day in Connecticut, when Dylan was four and Woody was applying suntan lotion to her nude body, he alarmed Mia’s mother, actress Maureen O’Sullivan, and sister Tisa Farrow when he began rubbing his finger in the crack between her buttocks. Mia grabbed the lotion out of his hand, and O’Sullivan asked, “How do you want to be remembered by your children?” “As a good father,” Woody answered. “Well, that’s interesting,” O’Sullivan replied. “It only lasted a few seconds, but it was definitely weird,” says Tisa Farrow.

A baby-sitter also had her own strange account:

Dylan was on the sofa, wearing a dress, and Woody was kneeling on the floor holding her, with his face in her lap. The baby-sitter did not consider it “a fatherly pose,” but more like something you’d say “Oops, excuse me” to if both had been adults. She told police later that she was shocked. “It just seemed very intimate. He seemed very comfortable.”

Dylan told her mother that her (adopted) father, Woody Allen, had sexually abused her. Although the whole thing turned into a horrific media circus, it would have been so much worse had the internet exploded around that time. What most people remember about Woody Allen from the 1990’s is that he had an affair with, and went on to marry, girlfriend Mia Farrow’s (adopted) teenage daughter Soon-Yi. He seemed completely bewildered that people were so upset about his actions. Here are some excerpts from an interview with Time magazine, in which he famously said, “The heart wants what it wants”,

Q. Your movies always explore these types of emotions and motives. You must have sat up one night and thought about the problems you might cause dating the daughter of a previous lover, a mother she doesn’t like?

A. I didn’t think about her not liking Mia. I did think that, well, she is the adoptive daughter of my previous girlfriend, but that didn’t mean anything to me. It didn’t manifest itself in any significant way. She was a grown, sophisticated person. She was raised in New York.

Q. You’re a guy who can find moral dilemmas in a broken DON’T WALK sign. Didn’t you see some here?

A. I didn’t find any moral dilemmas whatsoever. I didn’t feel that just because she was Mia’s daughter, there was any great moral dilemma. It was a fact, but not one with any great import. It wasn’t like she was my daughter.

Q. Did you ever discuss with her, “What is Mom going to think of this?”

A. Mom would have thought more or less the same thing if it had been my secretary or an actress.

Q. Come on!

A. There is a different psychodynamic here, without any question, but the difference is one of small degree. If I had said to “Mom” — it was actually “Mia” that she called her — I’m in love with my secretary, there would have been some version of the same thing.

(“Come on!” indeed.) On Saturday, February 1st, Dylan Farrow posted an open letter to The New York Times, asking the reader,

What’s your favorite Woody Allen movie? Before you answer, you should know: when I was seven years old, Woody Allen took me by the hand and led me into a dim, closet-like attic on the second floor of our house. He told me to lay on my stomach and play with my brother’s electric train set. Then he sexually assaulted me. He talked to me while he did it, whispering that I was a good girl, that this was our secret, promising that we’d go to Paris and I’d be a star in his movies. I remember staring at that toy train, focusing on it as it traveled in its circle around the attic. To this day, I find it difficult to look at toy trains.

[…] What if it had been your child, Cate Blanchett? Louis CK? Alec Baldwin? What if it had been you, Emma Stone? Or you, Scarlett Johansson? You knew me when I was a little girl, Diane Keaton. Have you forgotten me? Woody Allen is a living testament to the way our society fails the survivors of sexual assault and abuse.

Everyone caught up? Now, to get to my point. I am, or rather, was, an enormous Woody Allen fan. I found relief and solace in someone who was so talented and so much more neurotic than I am. That poster I posted at the top has been with me through 3 different houses and apartments. I have a vintage Annie Hall poster that I’ve had since I was a teenager. I loved Woody Allen. I loved his films, his writing, his whole persona. I heard about the abuse claims, but I thought they were just that — claims, made even more exaggerated by media hype and a resentful ex.

After reading Dylan’s letter, I can’t even look at his face. I understand how some people could. Some people can separate the artist from their work. I thought I could, but I’m starting to think that is impossible. The same person who came up with the witty dialogue in Annie Hall is the same person who molested a 7-year-old girl. He is the same person who still makes her feel like that scared little girl in an attic, unable to even glance at a toy train without feeling horror.

Let’s be honest here: this is a very inconvenient truth about Woody Allen for Woody Allen fans. It’s like when he first preyed on Soon-Yi; It was easy for me to reason, “Well, he didn’t actually adopt Soon-Yi and she wasn’t technically his stepdaughter either; he didn’t even live with Mia and it wasn’t illegal.” That was a very easy thing to do, and I did it. I didn’t even bother to read up on the story. I didn’t even know he took nude photos of a teenage Soon-Yi and hid them in his room. Being ignorant is easy.

It would be far easier to ignore Dylan’s letter, or to believe the piece written by a Daily Beast editor who supports Allen and claims he is not biased, despite the fact that he directed Woody Allen’s documentary and makes every appearance of being in his inner circle. It would be easier, though far more awful, to blame the victim or not believe her, though she has absolutely nothing to gain by showing her face and telling her story. It would be easier for Woody Allen fans to click the little “x” on Dylan Farrow’s piece and click the play button on a DVD player and enjoy their hundredth viewing of Manhattan (a film in which Allen’s character has a relationship with a teenage girl).

It’s easy to say, “it’s unfair of her to call out other actors, they had nothing to do with this.” It’s easy because we view actors as people who are above us. Who have rules that do not apply to them. Because, were Woody Allen the boss of a shoe store in a mall, everyone would be horrified and would congratulate Dylan Farrow for coming forward. If Cate Blanchett was someone who sold shoes in his store, we would say, “Come on now, you don’t need a job that badlyShame on you.” But we don’t, because Cate Blanchett is a famous actress, and Woody Allen is a famous director.

So while it’s far easier to ignore what Allen has done, I cannot. I believe Dylan Farrow. I believe that taking nude photos of his girlfriend’s daughter and then seducing her was wrong. I believe in the judge’s decision to take custody of Dylan away from Woody Allen and to deny him any sort of contact. I believe that something truly awful happened, and I believe that it is easier for Hollywood to celebrate Woody Allen and put Diane Keaton on a stage to accept an award on his behalf.

By ignoring this, we are turning our backs on that 7-year-old. We are telling her that we prefer her abuser’s entertainment for our enjoyment over her inconvenient truth. Is that really something we want to do?

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Open Letter To Myself

Almie Rose

Dear Almie,

GET IT TOGETHER. This is the second day in a row you’ve worn sweatpants and I’m guessing tomorrow will be the third. Okay, so you gained some weight, and sweat pants are maybe the only thing that fit you comfortably right now. But you can’t keep doing this. It’s unseemly. You’re not a college student. You can’t roll out of bed in sweatpants and then wear the sweatpants with a hoodie up top. You just CAN’T.

And STOP DRINKING WINE AT 3-4 IN THE AFTERNOON. Yeah, you’re a freelance writer, you can do it, but can doesn’t mean should. And yeah, maybe it makes you a better writer, because you feel freer. And yeah, maybe it’s cheaper than going out. And yeah, okay, you know what, go ahead and keep drinking.

Look, it’s okay that you hate pants. We all hate pants. It’s okay. Pants are the enemy. If they don’t have an elastic waistband, they’re not worth wearing. But don’t use that as an excuse to wear sweatpants every day. You gained the weight, you can take it off. You’re being lazy.

AND YOU HATE LAZINESS. “Don’t be afraid to try again. Everyone goes south, every now and then.” Who said that, Almie? Who said that? That’s right, Billy Fucking Joel said that. What does that have to do with anything? Well, it’s playing right now. So…so there’s that. What was the point? Oh yeah, laziness. DON’T BE THAT WAY. Laziness is an abhorrent trait. You work really hard but you relax just as hard. I know that at the end of the day, the last thing you feel like doing is the dishes, but who’s going to them if you don’t? Yeah you could wait around for your boyfriend to do them for you, but do you really want to do that? I mean, yeah you kind of do. BUT DON’T DO THAT. HE AIN’T YO MAID, GIRL. Is he Robin Williams in a wig? No? Then are we to understand he’s not Mrs. Doubtfire? Correct. He is NOT Mrs. Doubtfire. You’ve been over this theory and it’s been debunked, as he looks NOTHING LIKE Mrs. Doubtfire.

Almie, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT.

Okay, let’s just sum this up: get it together, lose weight, wear less sweatpants, do the dishes.

Good talk.

Love,

Almie

If you could write an open letter to yourself, what would it say? Write your own in the comments.

Photo credit: Patrick Gookin.

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Shopping Local In Los Angeles

Apocalypstick

I try to shop local, I really do. This is mostly because I used to work at a local, independent store in Los Angeles a few years ago that despite being around since the 1990’s, had to sadly close.

Working in retail comes with its own set of challenges, some of which I wrote about here. I think anyone in retail will tell you that sometimes, the customers are the worst part of the job (sorry, customers! I understand, I am one sometimes!). But I loved the store. The idea behind the store was like a real-life Etsy. It was divided into different sections/booths. Each section had its own vendor/artist. Each vendor/artist rented their own section and sold their work. Work like jewelry, clothing, housewares, art — that kind of thing. All artists/vendors were LA local. Sometimes they would come into the store. We would have street fairs.

When I bought something from that store (and most of my paycheck went right into the store), I knew EXACTLY where it was going. I knew it was going to the artist, and that made me happy. One of my all-time favorite purchases was a heavy sterling silver skull ring I named Keanu. It SO was NOT my style AT ALL, but for whatever reason, I had to have it. And I was happy to buy it knowing where exactly my money was going.

LA is freaking huge, and it’s getting harder and harder to find those supercool Portlandia-type independent stores and restaurants. Unless you live in the supercool area of Silver Lake/Los Feliz that I do. Before I moved here, I would make so much fun of this neighborhood. But now, living here, I love it. I can walk almost everywhere. That’s a crazy talent in LA. To be able to WALK to get to places. And I’ve discovered so many wonderful essential stores, all owned independently, all part of the local community (the essentials being clothing, records, and liquor. But I’m sure you figured that out).

So I urge you to shop local. Sometimes I shop at the farmer’s markets — I’m lucky enough to have 2 within walking distance. I realize not everyone is as fortune, but if you are, dude. You probably see them every week and think, “Oh next week, yeah, I’m totally gonna go. I’m gonna wear my cutest outfit and go to the mother effin’ FARMER’S MARKET and Instagram the HELL out of EVERYTHING!!!” and then the day comes and you don’t go because you’re “busy.” I do that too. But one day, they may not be there.

Do YOU shop local/independent? Why or why not?

mymm_post_009_personal

How do you make your money matter? You can find out more at MakeYourMoneyMatter.org, which is one of the cooler websites I’ve seen, in terms of many things but especially animation and graphic design. Start local. Join your local credit union. Keep your money in your community. Make your money matter.

This post is sponsored by Make Your Money Matter, in association with PSCU, though all views expressed are my own.
Photo credit: me, @apocalypstick.

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