Jan

8

2015

New Year, New Shit

new years resolutions

So my boyfriend and I met up with some friends of mine, a married couple by the names of David and Anna. And David mentioned that I hadn’t updated my blog in a while.

And he’s damn correct.

Why is that? Why does my blog get the least attention? Well, I can answer that, Sherlock. Sir Benedict Cumberbatch. It’s because I write for so many other different blogs and outlets, that the blog gets pushed to the bottom of my list.

And that’s something I want to change.

Yes, that is a NEW YEARS RESOLUTION!!! (Or is it New Year’s, with an apostrophe? I could easily Google this, but I won’t, so someone tell me) post. And in classic Uncle Almie fashion, it’s late.

And thus, here are my New Year(‘?)s Resolutions. Certain ones, like “lose weight” and “get a flat tummy” are GONE, because they’re harmful. So is, “eat a taco with Kanye West”, because that’s also harmful.

My resolutions are:

  • blog more, on this very blog.
  • be less late.
  • be healthier.
  • be less lazy.
  • become a television writer (this is a big one.)
  • be more patient.
  • keep drinking wine (this is an easy one.)
  • overcome my fear of driving that I’ve developed, that I may blog about.
  • blog about my fear of driving.

Okay, so there we are. Easy enough when typed out, right? But the execution is harder, that’s the thing.

Every year I make an “end of the year video”, a video compiled of footage I took over the year. I think my favorite year is 2013, but here’s 2014:

 

2014 from almie rose on Vimeo.

If you want to see the others, click here. I’ve been doing them since 2011. You can have a mini film festival!

ANYWAY, those are my resolutions. How can I complete them? AND WHAT ARE YOURS? Let’s help each other!!

Oh PS HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAVID BOWIE!! IS THERE LIFE ON BARS??? (J/K I know it’s Mars, but I also know that there’s life on bars, too.)

Photo by LIFE Photo Archives for Google.

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Posted in: let's hug it out, no i'm not drunk

almie-rose-tipsy-elves

Word up: this post was inspired by Tipsy Elves, whose delightful Hanukkah sweater I am wearing above. Tipsy Elves make fantastic, comfy, and quintessential ugly/tacky (their words!) Holiday Sweaters. If you really want to make a blogger’s holiday a happy one, get thee to Tipsy Elves.

So anyway, the holidays are here. I am typing this from an airplane. The future is here! And so is Hanukkah, and soon, Christmas. If you’re reading this blog, then you likely have someone in your life who is a blogger or writer of sorts. And you may be stumped as to what to get them. I have some ideas. Most of these gifts are free to give. Just keep an open mind. Here are last minute gifts for bloggers.

Offer to do their social media for a week.

Sometimes, doing our own social media can be fun as all getout, but other times, it can be tedious. If you’re a good, trustworthy friend to this blogger, offer to do their social media for a week. Post their articles on their social media on their behalf. Run their media the way you would as if they were a legit company. The idea of someone doing my social media for me makes me want to swoon. They’ll love it. Cost: just your patience and wit.

Buy them a premium subscription to Spotify.

A lot of writers and bloggers listen to music while they work. Spotify is free and great, but with that freedom comes ads. And with those ads, you can break out of your writing groove. So get them a premium subscription to Spotify. Ad free, plus they can listen on their phone as well. Cost: 3 months for only $0.99, then $9.99 per month.

Introduce them to your connections – agents, managers, etc.

No one really just wants to blog forever — there’s usually some kind of end goal here. Maybe they want to write for television. Mybe they want to write novels. Maybe they want to be a staff writer for their favorite site. Do you have connections to make this happen? Do you know any talent agents, lit agents, or editors at major sites? Hook them up. It’s up to them to provide they glory; all you have to do is provide the contact. Cost: one quick email to your contact introducing everyone and that’s it.

Offer to be their mentor or set them up with one.

Now that I have an awesome mentor, I couldn’t imagine not having one. Are you in a place of wisdom? Do you have some idea of your path in life, and do you see your path and yourself in your blogging budy? Offer to be their mentor. Sure, it may sound awkward as hel (“Hello, Dave, it’s your older friend, Jack, and I would like to mentor you, child”) but it’s really rewarding for both parties. The mentee gets someone they can look to for advice and leadership; the mentor gets someone who delivers instant and loving ego boosts. No but really, it’s a great team to have. If you or your uncle or aunt or someone is a writer and can share and guide another writer, do it. It’s free, but it’s going to cost as much or as little of your time as youre willing to provide. Cost: your time, your patience, and your open mind and heart.

Offer them a work space.

Sometimes, writers have to write in the worst conditions; a cramped apartment, a house full of barking dogs, Jack White’s basement (hey, I don’t know your life) and it would be really nice if someone could offer their luxurious home for a work space for about a week. Oh, is that someone you? Groovy! Lay out the parameters with the writer/blogger; tell them what’s off-limits and what isn’t, and then, invite them in with open arms. Sometimes the hardest thing about writing is just sitting down and actually doing it. A clean, bright, quiet space can do wonders. Cost: nothing. Just your liquor, because upon finding it, the writer will lap it up.

 

Writers and bloggers: what gift would you most like to receive?

 

Photo: Instagram via @Apocalypstick.

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Posted in: Kiss On My List, lighten up it's just fashion, writing

ghosts

Has this ever happened to you? You’re lying in bed, trying to drift off on the ole Slumbertrain, when suddenly, out of freakin’ nowhere, a ghost pops in, rattling his chains, moaning, scaring the everloving shit out of you, ruining your evening? It has, right? Of course it has, because ghosts are fucking jerks. They’re like toddlers — immature and full of spite. Which means they’re also like drunk adults. (My dad always said that kids are like small drunk adults, and I believe it’s the same for ghosts. Don’t ghosts do everything drunk adults do, aside from vomit? They’re loud, obnoxious, and unwanted — just like drunk people. I rest my pants.) Don’t even get me started on ghosts. If I start on ghosts, I may never stop. Because, like Miley, I can’t stop. I won’t stop. Don’t get the ghost industry tell you otherwise. Don’t listen to Jacob Marley or those Haunted Mansion bitches — they’re full of propaganda from the ghost industry. Just freakin’ full of it. Oh, what’s that? You want me to get started on ghosts? Okay. Here we go. Here are ten reasons why ghosts are fucking dicks. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, because I totally did. I could go on about ghosts forever, those dicks.

10. They show up year round.

Ghosts should be decent and disappear after Halloween. Do they? No. Why? BECAUSE THEY’RE DICKS. Could you imagine if Santa just showed up all year round? Yeah, at first we would think, “Fucking sweet, Santa’s here!” And then it would be, “Oh, sweet, Santa’s here — again.” And then it would be, “Great, Santa’s breaking into my house again, get a fucking job, hippie!” When you’ve got a good thing going, you don’t keep pushing the good thing, because it ruins the good thing. Everyone likes a good scare on/or around Halloween, but after and/or before that? That’s ridiculous and/or annoying.

9. They’re unemployed and live rent-free.

Can you imagine if anyone else tried to do this? If your friend just randomly showed up and was like, “Hey, I’m gonna live in your house and not pay rent or have a job and scare the shit out of you, eternally”? Would you be like, “Oh okay, cool, bro, thanks!” No you would NOT. Why do we let ghosts get away with it?? Because they’re fucking DICKS. They don’t adhere to our rules, because they think they’re fucking awesome. It’s bullshit and it needs to stop.

8. They can’t/won’t let go and move on.

Ghosts are like a bad ex — they can’t (or won’t) just let go and move the fuck on. Like, HELLO, YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD. MOVE ON TO THE NEXT STATION, BUDDY. YOU CAN’T PARK YOUR CAR HERE. You know? But they just don’t get it!!! They stick around like post-it notes. And you’re just like, “What are you not understanding?” But instead of telling you why they can’t move on, they just point at shit and moan. Which brings me to this next point:

7. They’re bad communicators.

Have you ever heard of a ghost who explained, in plain English, why he’s haunting you? NO YOU HAVEN’T, BECAUSE GHOSTS ARE DICKS. They NEVER explain why they’re haunting you. Sometimes they’ll drop clues, like they’ll point to something all ghostlike and moan and you’re supposed to figure out what the hell that means. I would love to meet a ghost who told me straight-up why they were haunting me. “Hey, I’m here haunting the shit out of you because this is where I died and I’m unable to move on” is what I’d like to hear. At least that’s a FOUNDATION we can BUILD ON. Jesus.

6. They never apologize for being dicks.

Speaking of poor communication, not only are ghosts bad at explaining why they’re haunting you, but they never even fucking apologize, even if you help them move on to the next world. Have you ever busted out a Ouija board and asked a ghost what’s up and ever gotten an apology? Has the planchette ever spelled out “I-M-S-O-R-R-Y”? No, of course not, because they’re dicks. Sure, we’ve got “Casper the Friendly Ghost” but aside from him, has anyone actually ever had a friendly ghost? Nice try, Ghost Industry!

5. They’re elitist.

Why is it that ghosts only haunt rich people? It’s called Disney’s Haunted Mansion, not Disney’s Haunted 700ft² Studio Apartment. Why is that? Ghosts have the time to terrorize Nicole Kidman and her kids in a freakin’ English manor but not the time to terrorize us normal folk? I see what you’re doing, Ghost Industry. You’re saying you don’t have the time to deal with us unless we’ve got rooms and rooms to haunt, and that is beyond elitist. Some of us can’t afford sprawling estates for you to roam and moan in. It’s like we don’t even matter to you. And frankly, I’m offended.

4. They break shit and don’t pay for it.

Ghosts just love to break shit. Lamps, dishes, creepy porcelain dolls — doesn’t matter, if it’s breakable, they’ll break it. And they never offer to pay for the stuff they wreck either. I mean, they’re already taking up rent-free space and now they’re breaking shit? What’s up with that?? Not cool.

3. They’re insomniacs.

Why don’t ghosts ever haunt during the day? Why is it always when we’re trying to sleep? Why can’t a ghost realize that it’s a beautiful day and do a little haunting then? Why do they wait until it’s dark and creepy and past midnight? Why? You guessed it, because they’re dicks. I guess they’re jealous that we can sleep and they can’t, for whatever reason, which I think is bullshit. If they can break shit and make noise, why can’t they sleep? It’s just another lie perpetuated by the Ghost Industry.

2. They’re stupid.

Yeah, I’m being real here — REAL CONTROVERSIAL — but I don’t care, I’m just gonna say it: ghosts are stupid. They’re not a very evolved species. In this technology fueled times of email and texting and everything else, have you ever had a ghost try to communicate properly, via one of those channels? Nope, they always go the old fashioned way — by moaning in chains, or breaking shit (see above). Is it because they’re dicks? YES. Is it also because they’re stupid? YES. Name one intelligent ghost. Name one ghost who wowed you with their intellectual prowess. You can’t, can you?

1. They’re just not that scary anymore.

If you’re going to do something, you should do it right and be the best at it, and I think at this point, ghosts just aren’t scary enough. You know what the scariest thing is that I can think of? HBOGo not working. That‘s fucking chilling. And because no ghost is as scary as my Internet not working, I’m calling them dicks because of it. You have ONE JOB, ghosts, ONE JOB! And you’re still not as scary as an “Internet timed out” notice. For SHAME.

 

Anyway, it’s all these reasons and probably more that  are total dicks, and if you’re not brainwashed by the fucking Ghost Industry, you’ll go right along with me, because if there’s one thing no one likes, it’s a goddamn ghost. And I feel no regret or remorse saying that.

 

 

Photo by Nina Leen via LIFE archive photos for Google.

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Posted in: i don't even know, no i'm not drunk, no seriously I'm not drunk, yeah I might be drunk

Facebook sucks

I’ve said before and I’ll say it again: Facebook sucks. Once again, I have embarrassed myself on Facebook, and I only had the best of intentions.

I got back together with my ex boyfriend. Not because I hate being single but because it feels right. At this point, our not being together only seems like a pause in the relationship; we’ve been together longer than we haven’t.

So I wanted to make it official, by changing my status on Facebook to “in a relationship”, which is something I’ve never done before, ever. I thought it would be a simple process. I thought it would go over with little fanfare.

How very wrong I was.

You see, Facebook took it upon itself to EMAIL MY FRIENDS PERSONALLY, to let them know I’m in a relationship. If I had known it was going to do that, I wouldn’t have changed my status. Here’s how it went down. I blurred the last names and faces of those involved:

Facebook

Facebook

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Posted in: dating, facebook, No I will never stop complaining about Facebook so get off my plane, relationships

almie rose necessary clothing

It’s been a long time since I did a fashion post, so here we go! This post is brought to you by Necessary Clothing. I picked one of their dresses (the leather fringe dress) and made two looks out of it. I want to thank Bradley Meinz for his photography skills and Eddie Funkhouser for the makeup!

I’m not a fashion blogger, and I don’t have a typical fashion blogger figure, which is why I’m excited and nervous to share this with you. But I think it’s important that we see bodies of all shapes and sizes in sexy little black dresses, AM I RITE??

[click to continue…]

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Posted in: lighten up it's just fashion

weighing

So I went to the doctor today, and I was dreading it for so many reasons. The first is, everyone knows doctors are scary. They’re like society’s acceptable bogeymen. They take your blood and judge your lifestyle. And this was my first time seeing this new doctor (thanks, Obamacare, for screwing with my insurance), and I was especially nervous. Thankfully, she was a doll.

But another secret reason that I was apprehensive about going to the doctor is that I know I’ve gained some weight, and I was afraid of being weighed. Yup, that’s something I’m ashamed to admit, but there you go. I told the nurse I didn’t want to know my weight, and she complied.

BUT THEN, I found out anyway, by mistake. I saw the number. And my heart sunk into my fat chest. This is the most I’ve ever weighed. It’s the highest that number has ever been. If it was a Donkey Kong score, I could be proud of that number. But it wasn’t. It was my weight.

How many times am I going to write about my body before I’m over it? I mean, really?

I don’t see men do this. In my entire life I have only once heard a dude say that he had to lose weight (and he totally didn’t, he looked great, honestly. I don’t mean “great” as in, “I don’t want to hurt this person’s feelings, so I’m going to use the word ‘great’” — I mean actually great.) Why am I so bothered by my weight?

I think a big reason is because I don’t understand why I gained weight. I exercise and I barely eat, because I take adderall, and it suppresses my appetite. (I want to go off the adderall, I hate it. I’m talking to my psychiatrist about how to do that, safely.) But it’s like, how is it just my luck to be the only person who GAINS weight while taking adderall?

I’m getting old, you guys. I think that’s the only thing that can explain it. When you get old, the weight is harder to come off than when you were a goddamn teenager. And it’s crazy, because when I was a teenager, I was also complaining about my weight. I was trying to remember when I first started to hate my body. It started in elementary school. I hated my body because I thought I wasn’t tall enough. Then in middle school, I hated my body because I thought my breasts weren’t big enough. Then in high school I hated my body because I didn’t think my stomach was flat enough.

Am I ever going to be done hating myself? How much more can I put myself through before I’m really, truly, done?

So I don’t know where to proceed from here. I can continue to hate my body or I can try loving it. I’m really good at helping others love themselves; I just can’t get myself to give in. I just did a photo shoot and I’m trying not to judge every single photo of me with unhelpful thoughts like, “Double chin here”, “Fat stomach here”, “Large thighs here.” I should instead be looking at the photos and thinking, “How cool that I did this photo shoot, I look awesome.” But it’s like Tom Petty said, “The weighing is the hardest part.” (Okay, fine, he actually says “waiting.” But I needed a pun, I need puns so badly.)

Has anyone on the planet successfully given up their body hate and welcomed the body love? I want you to tell me how you did it. Let’s just talk from our hearts.

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Posted in: body image, let's hug it out, let's just talk from our hearts

depression elevator

I want to talk to you about depression. At first, I resisted writing this post, for a few reasons. After the sad and shocking death of Robin Williams, it seemed like everything about depression that could be said was said, and also, it’s scary and uncomfortable for me to come out and talk about my own struggles with depression. But then I realized, maybe that’s why it needs to be written. Because it’s scary, and because it takes a sad and shocking celebrity death for people to talk openly about depression, when the conversation should be ongoing. So here’s my contribution.

I’ve said that depression is like being stuck in an elevator in an empty building. You basically feel like you’re powerless, and that no one can save you, least of all yourself. I’ve also talked about struggling with anxiety. I’ve joked that anxiety is like forcing a cat to wear a costume. But really, having anxiety is awful, as is having depression.

The worst thing about struggling with mental afflictions like these, is the feeling of being trapped. You feel like you have no one to talk to about it, because if you tell someone, you’re afraid they’re going to say the worst possible thing they could say: “Oh stop, you’re being over dramatic.” Hearing the phrase “over dramatic” makes me flinch. I hate being accused of being “over dramatic” so I push all of my negative thoughts deep down, hoping that I’m doing my best at pretending to be a real, functioning person.

And yet, you know that if you have depression, you should talk to someone. (In the wake of Robin Williams’s death people have said over and over, “If you have depression, talk to someone”, as though it were that easy. I understand it isn’t that easy.) That’s why therapy is helpful, but I can’t call and text my therapist 24/7, even though she’s the only person who understands why I freak out at the idea of parking my car. Everyone else thinks I’m insane and ridiculous for freaking out over something so stupid, so why would I tell anyone?

I’m here to tell you that you can tell me. I understand. I understand that it’s the little things that build up inside that make us feel like we’re in that elevator. And I’m also here to tell you that it’s okay. It’s okay to have those scary, depressing, anxiety-ridden thoughts. It’s not okay to always give into them, but it’s okay if that happens, because you’re human, and sometimes, the thoughts win. Sometimes they don’t, and when they don’t, I give you the highest of fives. I want you to know, that you’re not over dramatic. You’re allowed to feel depressed even if you have what others consider an enviable life. They’re not “first world problems” — they’re real problems because they hinder your life, even if no one else thinks so. They don’t have to agree with you. They don’t have to understand. I’d like them to, but people won’t always understand.

Sometimes, the thoughts that win are the thoughts that make people choose suicide. “Why would anyone commit suicide?” people say. “That’s so selfish.” And that’s another word that makes me flinch, because there’s nothing selfish about depression. It’s a disease, like any other, but unlike any other, you get accused of being over dramatic. And these are negative words, and when negative words accompany negative thoughts, bad things happen. I want to tell anyone thinking of suicide that I don’t think you’re selfish, or a bad person.

What I’d like you to do though is think of the story about a man who jumped off the Golden Gate bridge. On his way down, his only thought was, and I’m paraphrasing, “There’s nothing in my life that can’t be fixed other than the fact that I just jumped off a bridge.” In that one moment, he would take it all back. He survived. There’s nothing sadder to me than the idea of someone having that moment and being unable to take it back; of realizing that they made a decision that they can’t change, and wishing they could. Of having the fleeting thought of survival and watching it get sucked away. Please think about that.

I’m not a doctor, and I can’t fix all your problems, but I can let you know that I’m here, if you want to use this post to vent. This is a safe space. I won’t think you’re over dramatic. I won’t think you’re selfish. I won’t think anything other than I’m glad you’re here to add your thoughts to this world. Let’s be good to each other. Let’s break in the building and bust open the elevator door.

 

CC Image, “Help is on the way, elevator, Chicago Tribune, Chicago, IL”, courtesy of Cory Doctorow via Flickr.

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Posted in: let's just talk from our hearts