A friendly cafe employee complimented my wobbly table tattoo the other day. I told her about my blog when she asked the inevitable question, “what does it signify?”. When hit with the follow up question of what I write about, my shaky response surprised me “it’s, uhh…a lifestyle blog – I write book reviews and monthly recommendations… pretty random stuff.” The innocent exchange shook up my insecurities. Distracted from the plate of food in front of me, I fell down the self-inflicted rabbit hole. What do I write about?
Truth is, after publishing 50 posts I still don’t know the answer. There’s not a succinct elevator pitch in my back pocket for moments like these. “Pick a lane” is as commonly thrown around as how important it is to “stay in it.” I’ve never felt great about the expressions limiting undertones. As if we should only stick to one thing and not change course. What if we find a highway exit that interests us? Every writer has a unique perspective, maybe that’s more important than the genre of stories we tell.
A little while back, I turned the question around using the pink bubble-lettered “NGL” app and asked Instagram friends to write in anonymously. My goal was to do as the app requires, “not gonna lie.” It doubled as a fun prompt idea and unknowingly got me closer to figuring out my “why?”
Where do you want to be in 5 years?
I’m unsure where I’ll even be next year. What I do hope is for my baseline to be at ease. At ease in my relationships, my lifestyle, my routines. An ease at trying new things. I don’t drink the hustle culture kool-aid. I don’t thrive off a full calendar. I hope wherever I am in five years, it’s a place of comfort and a willingness to start over. Sitting in a cushiony reading chair with Jordan and a couple dogs at my side unconcerned about what’s ahead sounds pretty wonderful to me.
Who’s your worst enemy?
I have a drama-free existence compared to my reckless twenties when I let anyone walk into my life like a revolving door. Thanks to the pandemic, my tolerance for luke-warm relationships let alone toxicity is pretty non-existent.
Only one person comes to mind when I read the question. Let’s call them, Karen. Every workplace has one, right?
A scene in Madmen will forever be etched in my mind. A colleague of Don Draper confronts him in an elevator after a heated meeting. Don’s response is probably the best comeback in tv history. You thought Game of Thrones or Succession were ruthless? What’s better than telling off an adversary? Hitting them with “I don’t think about you at all.” *walks away without looking back*
Introvert or extrovert?
Outwardly I may appear as an extrovert but I’m an introvert in my bones. When I’m not being a homebody, I much prefer intimate gatherings and one on one catch-ups. The idea of jumping around from conversation to conversation or having to be the loudest in the room to be heard is exhausting.
What’s your dream house?
Living in a treehouse is a dream. The cabin we’re currently in is full of character and checked off so many boxes I didn’t even know I had.
As far as the checklist of my future dream home: a yard for the dogs, a bay window with a bench seat, a fireplace, charming little nooks and crannies for storage. A close proximity to nature will always be a high priority. Every home carries an energy. It may sound woo-woo but I truly believe home is a feeling.
Did you have an imaginary friend?
I’m positive I did but there’s not a specific imaginary friend that sticks out. My stuffed animals were as alive and real to me as the kids in my class. Aside from a dog, I wished for a sister growing up. I daydreamed over what they would look and sound like and all the advice they’d bestow onto me. When I realized girlfriends can become sisters, I stopped needing to daydream. (Also worth noting, my brother is my best friend now and I couldn’t have asked for a better sibling).
What’s self-love look like to you?
Thank you to the person who asked. Self love looks like gassing myself up before a big task. Reaching for a book instead of my phone. Letting myself rest without the silly idea that it should be earned first. Self-love is going to that thing alone and enjoying my own company. And probably most relevant these days, not taking everything so damn personally.
Self-love looks a lot like being my own best friend.
What keeps you going?
Sometimes writing is therapeutic, sometimes it’s more like pulling teeth. What keeps me going is what got me started. The creative spark.
I’m a writer regardless of how often I publish posts or whether I have a certain amount of people reading my work. Taking that unnecessary pressure off makes keeping up with my blog a much more enjoyable and sustainable process.
Whenever I’m knee-deep in a creative slump, I remind myself that if I have nothing to write about, I’m not paying close enough attention.
Rick Ruben was brought up in a meeting recently. The prolific American music producer wrote a book called The Creative Act. The opening chapter gave me chills (and tears to match.)
“Those who do not engage in the traditional arts might be wary of calling themselves artists. They might perceive creativity as something extraordinary or beyond their capabilities. A calling for the special few who are born with these gifts.
Fortunately, this is not the case.
Creativity is not a rare ability. It is not difficult to access. Creativity is a fundamental aspect of being human. It’s our birthright. And it’s for all of us.”
The Creative Act: A Way of Being by Rick Rubin
Who you tryna get with?
Honestly, I expected more questions in this category. Maybe the next AMA will be more spicy. I welcome it.
I’ve had a crush on you for years and you still don’t know.
Guess I still got it.
Spill some tea:
I’m moving soon. Details TBD.
The Wobbly Table Blog 