Choose the Wolf.

The dialogue in New Moon when Bella tells Jacob, “I’m not like a car you can fix. I’m never going to run right.”

Every woman has felt that/thought that/said that.

Especially when presented with a choice in partner who is the antithesis to a former abusive partner. A partner who is kind, generous, unassuming. Who doesn’t raise his voice or play mind games. A partner who seems to genuinely listen. Who laughs at her jokes and remembers the name of her favorite movie and brings her flowers for no reason.

No reason. But there has to be a reason.

She searches his romantic gestures for explanation because she’s never had love without lies, without strings, without a catch.

Being face to face with a person who is solid, who is good, it’s startling. It is uncharted territory. It’s for someone else, because someone that great could not truly love someone like us. Suddenly we see with clarity just how dysfunctional our previous partnerships were.

In the movie, Bella chooses Edward. Edward, who crushed her spirit, who left her in pieces on the floor.

It was Jacob who healed her, who brought life back to her empty shell of a body, who pointed her towards the sun on the grayest of days. When she called to him, he came. Always. He was faithful and loyal and true.

She chose to spend her (eternal) life with a man who broke her.

Why am I writing about this? Because it’s on tv right now and I just watched Bella say those words to Jacob and it struck me how similar this is to real life. I’m annoyed by the romanticized abuse, the willful walk towards pain, narcissism, sadness.

So many women (men, too, I suppose) choose the love they think they deserve instead of the one the actually DO deserve – the one that will allow them to become their best selves alongside a partner who nurtures and encourages them.

I want to say to everyone reading this: You deserve a Jacob. Someone warm and understanding who treats you like the treasure you are. Do not settle for an Edward just because he’s pretty or it hurts to let him go. Better it hurt once, for now, than every day, for the rest of your life.

Given a choice between a vampire and a werewolf, always choose the wolf.


I hope that you are


By people you love

Who adore you in return


In pleasant conversation

Laughing so much

You forget the time.

I hope that you are


In food and merriment

Your belly full,

Your heart at bursting.

I want these things for you

All the time –

Not just now,

Not just today.

But today

I want to tell you

In case you need to know

You are so treasured

So cherished

Even when it seems

You are alone.


Miss Mulitiverse

My perfect date is

Dancing in the kitchen

To Børns

“…tell me what is Heaven if

our souls are split in two?”

Baking and making

Dishes no one’s

Ever heard of

Twirling around

Like we did when

We were kids

Consumed by joy

Falling but unafraid




Oh, and World Peace. ✌️


Little blue house by the big blue sea

You were just you and I was just me

A moment lifetimes in the making

Without fear or hesitating,

Merely… nearly…










timing [draft notes convo]

“Big facts.”

“Well I hate to break it to you, but opinions can’t be facts.”

Angie was standing with her arms crossed over her chest, staring out over the river. The sun was just beginning to set and the sky was a mix of colors.  She softened her gaze and let her eyes go out of focus and for a minute everything around her was a blur.  The sound of birds singing in the trees around her and squirrels rustling around in the grass made her feel a bit like Snow White, like if she threw her arms open, the whole of nature might respond to her call, affirming her suspicion that she was, in fact, a Disney princess. As the big orange orb slowly slid down the horizon, Angie kept her arms crossed tightly. “Life is not a fairy tale”, she mumbled to herself.

Her best friend Callie was sitting on a park bench a few feet away, using her middle finger to stir her Vanilla Chai Whatever-the-Hell from the uber pretentious coffee place around the corner.  To Angie, it smelled like marshmallows and burning leather.  She wondered why anyone would wait in line twenty minutes and then pay $15 for a marshmallow tire-tread flavored psuedo-coffee.  She smirked, but kept that thought to herself, and continued their conversation:

“Not him.  His opinions are facts.  They are not up for debate or discussion.  You don’t know him, Cal.  He gives his opinions freely and forcefully and it’s like, I don’t know, like he’s issuing an edict.  And he’s so worldly and he knows a lot about things I don’t know anything about… I just…”

Callie shook her head and held her coffee drink out at arms length, afraid to spill it on her new red mary jane shoes.  “Honey, you are the smartest person I know.  You talk about string theory and European history over hors d’oeuvres like someone else talks  about a Kardashian’s Instagram story.”

Angie smiled.  She knew her friend was being generous, and she loved her for it.

“It isn’t that he makes me feel stupid.  It’s more like when he speaks, he speaks with the authority of the gods or something.  Like, Clint has spoken!” She gestured with her arms and furrowed her brow to emphasize her point.  “He hides things that way, under that authority.  He says something is best for me, or for him, or for the book, or for the neighbor’s llama, and I just nod in agreement because the way he says it is so… convincing.  He gives the last word and people just follow his orders.”

Angie walked a few feet to the left and sat on the bench.  She sighed, still giving most of her attention to the cotton candy clouds that lingered in front of them.  “What would be worse: Waiting for the film to come out to watch and see if your big scenes were cut, or never seeing the film because you couldn’t stand the thought of some other actress taking your part?”

“Yeah, I’ll take Option Z – they all sound terrible.”

“Thanks, that’s helpful, Cal” Angie laughed. “I’m serious, though. My heart is so fragile.”

“YOU? Puh-leese!  Your heart is made of steel!  Not stone, because you are so kind and sweet, but definitely steel.  You are unbreakable.  I know Navy SEALS who wish they had the bold, brave, lion heart that sits inside your chest!”  Callie let out an enormous laugh.  She laughed with such force and for so long that it made Angie feel a little self-conscious.  She blushed but remained silent.  It wasn’t worth explaining.

Normally she’d agree with Callie. Angie had been through a lot in her life and for better or worse, she had always pulled through.  Her grandfather had called it “gumption”, and she had it in spades, it was true.

When it came to Clint, though, it hadn’t been as easy to just keep on surviving.  He mattered to her.  She wanted to matter to him, too.  She loved and hated him simultaneously, this weak spot in her otherwise impenetrable armor.

“Maybe it’s best if I just leave it alone,” she said, looking down at her shoes and the gravel beneath them, her cheeks hot and flushed.

Angie lingered on the bench a few moments more, her thoughts on Clint and the complexities of their friendship.  It had never been easy, that’s for sure.  She hoped that meant it was worth it.  She kicked herself for hoping at all.

“So what are you going to do?”  The distance of Callie’s voice startled Angie and she looked up, realizing her friend was some twenty paces away, throwing her burnt tread treat into a green metal trash bin.

“I guess I’m going to call him and ask,” Angie called back, rising to follow her down the park path and back to the parking lot – back to the constant buzz of the big city and all it’s complexities and designer coffee drinks.

“That’s what you do when you want the answer to something, right?  You ask the question.”





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Bitch, I’m Madonna

Some kid says I can’t be Captain America because I’m a girl.

Fuck that noise.

Captain is a rank, not a gender.

Steve Rogers is my favorite, my all-time number one guy, and I’m going to dress as Captain America for Halloween next year, lack of penis be damned.

There’s no Wonder – Guy.  There’s no Scarlet Wanker. I hate names like She – Hulk.  Why can’t we just say Hulk? The size of her boobs alone would make gender pretty obvious, no?

So we talked about Thor and Lady Thor, how that’s kind-of a Mr. and Mrs. thing and he’s a one – name guy like Madonna or Sting so she’s Mrs. Sting and that’s different.  Because Captain is a rank and I’m not going to have anyone devalue that rank by adding a Mrs. or Lady or -ette to it.  “Yeah, she’s a Captain, wink wink.”  Captain Marvel is a chick.  She just has a reputation for being an asshole in real life and I don’t want to emulate that.  (No judgement, I just don’t like her.)

So… Next Halloween I’m Captain America.  Stick that in your flurkin and smoke it.