Tag Archives: teenage blog

The Park Gathering and the Constant 90’s Vibes

Last night I just wanted to have fun. To go out with my friends. So, much like Simple Plan, I did something about it. I did not, however, steal a car and crash it. What I did do was message my friend Isley (the actual love of my life) and tell her we should make like 90’s kids and hang around in the park after dark.

Which is exactly what we did. The street lamps flickered over the old park equipment and water fountains. From the distance, someone could be heard strumming a guitar as dogs barked. A group of five people sat in the sand of the playground, thinking they were a really great punk rock band but really just being a group of people who were getting eaten by mosquitos.

Of course, everyone was cute. How can you be a 90’s TV Show Protagonist Group without being hella cute? We sat on the swings, we made music with a guitar, a ukulele, and a harmonica, and we talked about things that probably won’t be relevant at all by 2020. 

We stayed out until two in the morning and then walked home. Isley and I both got home safely on our block, but barely for Isley, who got to her house just in time to see someone get jumped right by her. I feel lucky she’s alright and that our hugs last for a long time, otherwise she wouldn’t be.

Overall, it was a beautiful night with a small group of lovely people that I feel so blessed to have as friends. And we all live in the 90’s despite it being 2014.

Today is a day of goodbyes. I am packing up my room and washing clothes in preparation for the official move-out on Sunday. I have two nights left here. How insane is that? This month has been so topsy-turvy up and down that I don’t even know what to think. In one month, I got to say hello and goodbye to my first house away from my parents, to the garden I planted, to the people on my block.

I kiss goodbye to my old blanket, which is finally seeing the end of its days after at least six years of keeping me warm. Covered in sharpie and holes, she doesn’t do her job anymore, and she smells like bum sweat, but I will miss her. I say goodbye to my books and my futon, to my fedora collection and most of my shoes. I say goodbye for now to my art, my letters of accomplishment, and my fish.

Yes, my friends, it will be a bittersweet weekend indeed, but I take solace in the fact that I tried my hardest and sometimes your hardest just isn’t good enough. Onward I move to dirtier and grungier things…but you’ll get the whole speech when its truly time.

For now, I must continue throwing the material objects of my life away. As always, I wish all of you the very best.


Not Strep and Medical Insurance

So I’ve been struggling with a nasty cough and other stuff for a week or so. After hearing that AniMinneapolis was struck down with the plague of strep, I decided to try to find a free clinic where I could get tested. My mom helped me get pointed in the right direction and I showed up, only to find out it wasn’t a free clinic.

Luckily enough for me, what it was was a place where underemployed or unemployed people could sign up for medical assistance. Being a broke, homeless street kid with not much but college going for me, I obviously qualified in just about five minutes. I am officially insured for the first time since September and damn does my ass feel safer.

I also tested negative for strep, so these icky feelings are probably just a viral infection that has gone on too long because of all of the stress in my life. I have a followup appointment just to make sure I’m not dying or something and then I get to schedule a health check up! Woo hospitals, and by that I mean…nnnnggghhhhhhhhh.

Now I’m sitting in a library utilizing my rights to the free internet so I don’t have to go ‘home’ just yet. It’s an up and down life, Charlie Brown.

My hair, for some stupid reason, now has purple and blue in it. Like I wasn’t already making enough dumb, spur of the moment decisions.

I guess I don’t really have much else to say. I still don’t have a backpack for bumming it and I’m working on deciding what belongings of mine actually have any value and throwing the rest away. It’s a hard knock life but I’ll make it through. Anyway, I just thought I should post some updates now that I’ve decided I’m still somehow a blogger. I don’t know, it seemed appropriate.

Tonight I might go dancing if I decide that’s actually a good idea, but I’ll probably just sleep a lot and cry a little over some weird thing. You know me; over-emotional about the stupidest of things. I’ll probably also try to regulate my diet again. I have been eating one meal a day maximum and that is just not good for the system, especially when you’re trying to recover from a virus.

Anyway, time to head out and find my way back to my current residence. Wishing the best to you all.


The Queer House

Queer House, in the middle of the street.

Since I last actually posted in February, I have moved a bit. When we last really had any sort of conversation, I was sitting in an airport and you had no idea what was going on with my life. Let’s do a very quick catch-up and then talk about today.

In January, I was kicked out of my apartment in Brooklyn Center, MN, for being a bad room mate. You get what you give and I was giving shit. Sure, we both had our problems, and really the end lesson is that I can be an absolute shit-head and that I don’t work well with certain people. 

I went from living on the floor of a living room to not knowing where the hell I was going to go. Coffee with my friend Lex during this hard time turned into a month at her house, celebrating life with music, too many cigarettes, hookah, and all sorts of accents. I was staying in a house that, for the month, had turned into an accidental refuge for people with bad living situations. Marzy, Tailer and I were three women who were down on their luck and on good room mates. Corwyn, Seamus, and Lex were three compassionate roomies who took us in indefinitely. Though there was quite a bit of struggle – not enough food, the dishes weren’t being done, love triangle drama weird stuff – we managed to exist quite well together through the month.

Finally the time came when the bills were due, money was tight, and someone had to move out. I packed up my bag and searched on Facebook for a place to lay my head. My friend Angie took up the gauntlet, saying I could stay with her for a week or two. This is what coincided with my trip to New York and, after five days crashing on a couch, I took off.

Returning to Minnesota, I found I had overstayed my welcome by just a tidge and spent three hours in not enough clothing in negative weather waiting outside to get my stuff. It was dramatic. Tailer, who I mentioned earlier, had a solution. She told me there was a room I could live in and pay rent at where she lived, and I jumped on the offer. 

Two days, one sexual assault, an STD screening, and a lot of work later, I was officially moved into my new home. My room mates, Tailer, Ron, Ken, and Lee, were all pretty alright and it worked out well for a while, especially with the leniency they showed for my not being able to pay rent right on time.

Let’s just say too many twists of fate and not enough employment lead me to searching for a new place. Tailer informed me that she would be moving out and I, faced with increased rent and no way to pay it, also started searching for a place. I got the good news that week that I had been hired (after a failed interview at Barnes and Noble) as a server at a novelty restaurant.

The same week, after hours of Craigslisting, I found a new place to lay my head – a Queer House in a decent part of town, not far from where I had previously stayed with Lex, Corwyn, and Seamus. After a tour, an interview, and a lot of talking myself up to my future roomie, I had my room secured. Cheap rent, a nice basement bedroom, and a big back yard all suited my fancy.

I have now been here for nearly a month. It’s an old punk house that we are fixing up and it’s starting to look like home. As room mates, we get along but still have some things to sort out. Work is slow, life is fast, my room is a mess, and I have still managed to keep the kitchen somewhat clean, find bus money, and plant a garden.

Though I have returned to the life of washing my clothing in a bathtub, I finally have a yard to hang-dry said freshly-clean clothing in. 

This last week I have been very sick – coughing up blood – but I am finally recovering. Fighting through a lot of depression and monetary panic, I am struggling to stay on my feet. I have faith I can work through it all somehow. Life gets hella hard sometimes. Today I worked in my garden, washed some clothes, and cleaned my room. Tonight I go to an Anime Convention and also busking to get my mind off of the worrying things in life – bills, my fish, the prospect of living with five cats, my depression, and my job.

Tomorrow I hope I’ve made enough money to pay some bills, see my train-hopping grungy girlfriend, and take a well-deserved nap before maybe drinking a bit, maybe partying a bit, and then getting right back on the grind of life. We’ll all make it through somehow.

As always, I’m wishing all of you the best in all of your endeavors and must finally congratulate Marzy for landing a dream job. I’ll catch up someday, I can only hope this is true.

Love to all.

The Terminal

Wow, it sounds like I’m about to launch into a review about a really bad movie or explain that I have cancer or something. This, my dears, is not the case. Let me tell you the story of ‘the trip’.

As most of you know, when I started blogging on this site in October 2011, I met a girl who was also a blogger and also from Wisconsin. We bonded over a mutual love of zebras, being over-dramatic, and dumb tv shows. We long-distance helped each other make good and bad decisions and, at the end of the day, decided that it was time for us to see each other.

We plotted an intricate plan in which she would drive from where she lived to where I lived (about three hours) and we would hang out for a weekend and have cute picnics together. This, sadly, fell apart for numerous reasons, including the inevitable crushing end of our friendship/romance. It seemed, after she blocked me on every social networking site known to man, that it was simply not meant to be.

Time passed. We both got older. We both moved to different states. We missed each other and just didn’t know it yet. Then, one fateful day, we ran into each other on the internet once again. On a site just as obtuse and obscure as WordPress was back in 2011. Surprise, delight, and tears ensued. Topless Telea allowed tears to pour down her measly chest onto her curved stomach. Too many adjectives.

Reconnecting, we began Skyping every day, for hours on end. She told me about her life in New York and I did Skype topless cooking just because (are you seeing a theme here?). We talked and talked until we were both sure there was nothing more to talk about. We then found something to talk about and life resumed. 

Again, we found ourselves making fanciful plans. We both had decent jobs and thought that we could support a trip to see each other in New York City, six hours from the place she had come to call home. We tentatively planned it for the first week of February, even advance requesting a room on AirB&B. But it was not to be. I fell into a financial and living crisis while Lex…helped me out of said crisis. 

We abandoned our dreams. She began saving up money for a laptop again while I scraped together spare change to try to find a new place to live. I began couch-surfing; we stopped talking as much. I was busy and she was alone. Call it Heartbreak Hotel or whatever you’d like but what it came down to was not enough time or energy to keep up our friendship. We thought it might be the end…again.

Dun dun dun. 

Too bad we’re both too awesome to allow something beautiful to fall apart. I started getting my shit together and we began talking again. It was a challenge at first. We were both in places where we needed to butt heads with something, and me not making time for her was an ultimate betrayal of trust. Basically, we had some shit to work through.

Time passed. We continued to get older, cuter, and maybe wiser. Her boyfriend turned into the ultimate piece of shit. Mine didn’t ever really exist. He was back in Wisconsin and my ability to commit is…vapid. The situation took a turn for the worst when Lex realized she couldn’t live with her man anymore. Emotionally damaged and needing a friend, the two super-buddies reached out one more time into the recesses of the internet in the hopes that someone would fuel their jet (ha. hahaha.).

Somehow, it works. VS (Not Victoria’s Secret) hopped on board the Telex train and powered it all the way to the airport. A confirmation email arrived in my inbox with booked times to fly from Minneapolis to Philadelphia to Erie, where Lex and her friend would pick me up. The flight was scheduled for the very next day. Getting my best panties in a twist, I packed for my adventure. Early the next morning, you could see me walking down the snow-covered streets of Minneapolis with two small bags and my best summer dress. 

Don’t ask me why, after 19 years of living in the Midwest, I still feel it necessary to dress like an idiot during the cold months. I couldn’t explain it to you if I tried.

We take a short break in our story to inform you of some key information you might need to know for this next tidbit. Two months ago, I lost my ID somewhere. Being a couch-hopping, Minnesota resident now, I was incapable of finding a way to renew it or get a new one altogether. So I was left with an 8.5×11 sheet of printer paper with my photo ID photocopied onto it. 

This is something I advise against having when trying to fly somewhere. It is not considered an acceptable form of ID and you will be subjected to a TSA standardized validation process. Basically it’s a whole extra screening. When I read about it, it seemed pretty mild. They would look through my bags, pat me down, ask a few questions about my mom…

Sadly, that is not what happened. Kudos to TSA for still making it an expedited experience but comfortable and easy? I think not. They asked me the date of birth of my mother, my father, and one other close relative. They required maiden names, social security numbers, phone numbers, state of birth, etc. After the questioning was done, they screened my bags, testing the clothes and items with little strips tests that I think were meant to find chemical traces?

After this was all said and done, I was patted down and then strip searched. Yes, my dears, a nineteen year old cute while female was subjected to airport humiliation and crossed boundaries. It happens sometimes. 

Finally, I was cleared to fly. I excitedly walked to my gate, ready to take off into never-never land…only to find I was three hours early for my flight. Having come prepared with a book, I settled in to enjoy the fine company of Terry Pratchett. Finally, it was 1:48pm. FINALLY I was going to leave. Set off to see Lex’s face in person for the first time. I hurried to the bathroom to dispose of my nervous urine waste and then hurried back to the terminal.

Forty-five minutes later and no airplane in sight, I begin freaking out. Full-blown panic-attack mode. I’m brow-furrowed studying my ticket for inconsistencies. Maybe I went to the wrong gate. Maybe I’m in the wrong terminal. Maybe the flight is tomorrow. Instead of being a logical person and, you know, asking someone, I make the executive decision to just wait at my gate and see if the plane decides to suddenly show up two hours late.

Tee-lee Dodge, will you please come check in at Gate E-4 to discuss your flight information?”

Uh-oh. Maybe I’ve been denied passage into Narnia. Maybe Armageddon has arrived. My mind must be diseased and I’m probably just in a dream where all of my worst fears are coming true when it comes to air travel. I’m going to look down and realize I’m not wearing pants and my luggage is in India and my ticket has been canceled and I’m stuck in Iowa.

 Nay, none of this happens to be true. I walk up to E-4 and address the flight attendant and she informs me that the flight was so delayed that I would miss my connecting flight in Philly and so they – US Airways – switched my flight over to United Airways and I was on a plane out at 6pm. At this point, I think this is the worst news I’ve ever heard in my life.

I have a panic attack. I cry in front of hundreds of people. I call my mom…twice. I am full-blown raging with fear and lunacy. Finally, I calm down. I reason with myself. The flight is going to be only two hours later. Don’t panic, man. Life is good. I am sent to Gate E-8 to pick up my new boarding passes. I stand in line for one hour only to be told that since my flight is at six and it’s only four…I’m going to have to come back.

Again, I snap into panic mode. To a girl who has never flown solo or had to deal with any airport situations on her own at all, two hours is NOT enough time to get boarding passes, get to the gate, and successfully board a flight. My solution is to go get some food to pass the time.

Here comes another side-story filled with wretched anger and indignation. If you’re going to put a Burger King…in an Airport…you should do it with the same prices you charge not in an airport. This will get you booming business and everyone else will suffer except you. It’s beautiful. What you should not do is charge seven dollars for a chicken sandwich and then serve me a poor excuse for a chicken nugget on a soggy bun. That is highway robbery and I will not stand for it. Except for six hours ago when I totally stood for it.

I finish my food and return to E-8 for my boarding passes where I am told by an older woman who calls everyone ‘babe’ that “That flight has also been delayed due to weather and so you will miss your connecting flight if you board it.”

Oh. Fucking. Joy.

“Here, I’m going to turn you over to Wendolynn who will work on a new flight with you.”

Thanks, Patrice. You’ve been a real help to me in my hour of need. At this point, there are tears silently streaming down my face as Wendolynn searches for new flights and comes up with nothing. After 20 minutes, I’m ready to call it quits and kudos to her for looking for so long for a flight that probably isn’t there…just because a cute, desperate, crying girl is being cute and desperate and also, well, crying.

I ask her if there’s any way she can issue a refund and she says yes, but tells me to hold on a minute.

“I might have found something.” My hear soars into the air the way I should have been hours previously and then sinks again. I am not prepared for the false prophet even one more time. Please do not do this to me. Please let this be real.

“I can get you on a flight to Chicago at 7 pm. From there, you’ll catch a flight to Cleveland, Ohio tomorrow morning at 6:30. After a layover in Cleveland, I can get you on this flight to Erie. You’ll be there by 2. I can book it right now.”

Now let me hear you say AMEN. 


We book the flight and I call Lex to make sure it’s okay. She informs me that, hell or high water, there will be someone at the airport to pick me up. I cry again. I find a place to plug in my laptop. I get my boarding passes. I charge my phone. I make continuous strange eye contact with an older gentleman that bears a haunting resemblance to Mr. Bean. I sit next to a cute guy who keeps almost talking to me. I act like a fifteen year old girl and chicken out on talking to him. We’re both going to Chicago. He gets on the other plane. I pout.

Finally, I am boarding my plane. Finally, I am sitting in an airplane with all of my stuff. Finally, after 10 hours of sitting at MSP, I am going somewhere.

The flight takes off, as flights do, and in just over an hour, I am stepping off an AA Airplane onto Illinois land, blessing the very ‘O’hare Airport’ terminal grounds that I walk on. I have arrived at my first destination. I’m actually on the way. It’s not a pipe dream, I’m really going to Narnia…or Jamestown, New York.

After buying another book, walking forever to find terminal one, and confirming my flight details, here I am. Sitting at a Wifi port that I paid too much money to connect to and typing out this glorious story. I am 408 miles closer to Lexi. I haven’t cried in at least four hours. 

As I sit in this mostly-empty terminal, I reflect on the day. Mostly by writing about it and posting it on the internet. Despite all of the stress, the panic, the bad tickets. Despite my literal airport shop of horrors coming true, I am here. I am on my way. I am, again, a traveling, wayward soul in search of something possibly greater than me, possibly just kisses and pizza.

I am ready for whatever challenge I have next. I am ready for the next fourteen hours in and out of airports, the two hour drive back to Lex’s, whatever comes next. I forgot that my fear of bad things happening is my defense mechanism against my flight mechanism. I am reminded that, at the end of the day, I can get my head together. I can make it. And I will. Today Chicago. Tomorrow Ohio, Philadelphia, New York. Later, the world. Bring it on.

With many hugs and kisses from wherever in the world I happen to be next, I love you all…and safe travels.

The Nonprofit Sector

I have a new job. That job is no longer a job in which I stand out on the streets begging for money like a prostitute sans sexual favors. Nothing against the old job; it just wasn’t my condom brand. Anyway, I still wanted to work with a nonprofit organization, so I applied at the local Goodwill-like shopping center in my new hometown.

After a week and a half without a reply, I was worried I wasn’t going to get the callback. I had, in fact, applied at numerous places and not received word from any, except for a no-reply email from HR telling me I ‘didn’t fit the particular needs of the company; we will consider you for future positions’.

Put out and afraid I wasn’t going to be able to pay rent anymore, I ate a whole pizza and fell asleep with almost-tears in my eyes. The next thing you know, I’m being awoken by my phone, harshly ringing back ‘The Gravity For Now’ to inform me that I was receiving a call from an unknown phone number. Groggily, I answered the call. It was the General Manager for the nonprofit, calling for a phone interview. After being pleased by all of my answers, she arranged an interview with two of her supervisors the following day.

Skipping the part where I got all nervous and excited and didn’t know what to wear, we’re now approaching the part where I, dressed impeccably, showed up for my interview. They asked a lot of questions about my experiences in volunteering, which was my sign that I was going to bag this job no problem.

As you may or may not know, I have literally thousands of hours of volunteer work under my belt from a long line of service to the Girl Scouts, the local 4-H club, the Boy Scouts, and my mother. Needless to say, they really enjoyed my bubbly personality along with my ‘I can do it’ attitude. They also didn’t mind the aforementioned pro-level volunteer stats.

The following Monday, I was hired. Tuesday, I passed my background check. And yesterday I worked my very first part-time shift with them, which was very enjoyable and not too tedious at all. I get to punch in my clock number, which is weird and exciting and something I’ve never done before.

I’m now scheduled to work Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays for the rest of the month. After that, they might discuss a raise in earnings (from minimum wage to something more suitable for a human being) or hours, which I would actually adore. Working four hours a day is nice because hey, you only have to work twelve hours a week and you have a lot of time to party rock, but working four hours a day isn’t nice because hey, you have rent to pay, food to buy, and no money left over for party rocking.

Again, anonymous thousand-dollar contributions to the blog…wink.

Anyway, I have to go cash the paycheck from my old job and buy some milk and butter and other household necessities. I also feel the need to take a long, hot shower in celebration of me being all ‘grown up and responsible’.

Love ya!

The New Place

Wow, it has been a long time since I came here. The weather is a little overcast on this blog so I thought I would cheer it up with some really good news in a few different directions.

The first order of business is probably to state that I moved. I am no longer a resident of the State of Wisconsin, much less that tiny little town that I sarcastically called ‘home’ for so long. Yes, my dear friends, I am now a resident of the land of ten thousand lakes; Minnesota. Currently located in a cute little apartment eight miles outside of downtown Minneapolis, I am content with the way this city rubs me. It’s semi-orgasmic.

I got a place with a friend of mine from Wisconsin, who is just wonderful. She gave me the whole living room as a bedroom, which gives me the incentive to keep everything clean for company. Speaking of company, I can now just invite people over because I don’t have to ask my parents. I just have to let my roomie know and BOOM, they’re on the next bus in my direction.

This has resulted in a significant increase in the number of snuggles I get. It also betters my relationship with my family, as they don’t have to deal with me as often. 

I did spend a month being homeless in the streets of Minneapolis. Sleeping in parks, sometimes crashing on couches, and being generally smelly, I got free food from the local pizza joint every night at bar-close and made my bus fare/emergency money by playing my guitar on street corners.

It was an interesting and semi-exciting experience, to say the least, and it opened my eyes to just how little a person actually needs to exist happily. This makes my living arrangements so much simpler because I have not much stuff at all anymore. It also makes me just generally appreciate everything I have. I did meet some pretty excellent people while I was homeless, and am still in touch with them today.

Upon the luckiness of finding a place to live, I was even more delighted to find that my rent was only two hundred and fifty a month, and that we had granite counter-tops. Wow, it was like I was living the high life. I got a job working for a Grassroots Campaign raising money for gay rights and civil liberties. 

I loved the cause but I wasn’t too big on standing on street corners for eight hours reciting a script to whoever I could trick into stopping. Canvassing is a hard and monotonous job with very little excitement but a lot of moral rewards. However, I found it necessary to leave the canvassing industry and seek a more steady line of work (canvassing, being a commission-based job, pays very little and you can get fired if you don’t make quota every day). 

I rushed to apply at every fast food place, grocery store, organization, etc in the nearby area. Another downside of my canvassing job was a one and a half hour commute to and from work every day, which left me with no time six days a week. I got a callback on an application today and have an interview for well-paid part-time work at a place very similar to Goodwill.

I really hope I get the job because the hours don’t interfere with my life and it’s enough money to pay rent and buy food and pay my little sister back for paying my first month’s rent in the new place.

Overall, I’m a pretty happy camper. I did experience some pretty deep and numbing depression over pretty much nothing last night and took the heart-crushing insomnia-inducing emotions out on messaging an old friend and telling them how much I missed them and how much less I was without them. Not expecting a reply, I was stunned and moved to tears when they replied in kind. We’re speaking again now for the first time in over a year and it’s really magnificent.

I have been practicing guitar a lot and working on my fingerpicking, which leads to better tips on nights when I go back out to those same street corners and strut my stuff for money, which is to say that I’m a musical prostitute, receiving tips for cooing sweet nothings to the general passing public. I really enjoy it.

Anyway, I must be off. There are showers to be had and life to be lived. I will hopefully be posting more often now that the apartment has been officially hooked up with it’s own wifi network and I am in possession of my very own laptop. 

Love ya!

Sing the Glorious Tales of My Last Morning With a Computer

Great news! I leave this morning for a weekend long adventure that I have already spent far too long talking about. We’re first headed to Menomonie for some casual food, shopping, coffee, and other cliche hipster girl things. There is a reason for this.

Alexa and I have become too accustomed to being ‘those typical’ girls who go to town all of the time and get coffee, pizza, or ice cream and then wander around looking way too attractive to be approachable. It’s a thing we do and it’s a serious problem.

Now, Alice is sometimes in on it as well, so today is a weekend farewell to that kind of business. Because when you’re at a Ren Faire, you don’t need to be that asshole that goes to the same town four times a week to do the exact same thing and then call it an adventure.

Mostly because you’re busy being the most attractive you have ever been in your life (I’m a huge fan of Renaissance gear, it turns me on a bit) and hanging out with a ton of other really attractive people who have varying scales of talent in faking old European accents and gallivanting.

So yeah. Alexa will be here in the next thirty minutes and I am not packed or anything and not sure if I’m supposed to be showering or not. The only reason that I am on the computer at this time is to ask her these pressing questions, but she isn’t replying.

Also, I’m bidding farewell to all of my various social networking apps while I’m gone for a whole two and a half days. By the way, in other good news, next week I work every day doing morning shifts at a local CSA.

So I am again making money which, in turn, funds my douchey adventures which, in turn leaves me wanting of money making. Vicious cycle.

Anyway, I hope all of your weekends are as good as mine is projected to be.

Love ya!