Writing inspiration from Tim Ferriss and Neil Strauss

In my writing adventures I’ve had many ups and downs and drop offs (obviously). But one day I hope to be like these guys–living the dream by writing and thinking everyday and making money off of it. It’s a long video (over an hour), but it’s totally worth it and super interesting.

Gotta thank my buddy iamalexbirkett for forwarding this video to me.

 

10 Songs That Will Fuel Your Inner Vengeful Goddess

So you’ve just been through a shitty break-up, and it’s time to brew those tears into a potion to curse your enemies. What better than a couple voodoo enhancing songs to help your poison along?

1. This Is Gospel—Panic! At The Disco

Because truth be told, I never was yours. Time to rock your way out of that relationship and to the nearest bar to show off that hot ass bod where someone will appreciate it.

2. 365 Days—ZZ Ward

Who doesn’t want to break all their exes shit?? Plus, dude she fuckin’ told ya not to fuck with her MONTHS AGO.

3. Cheated—Mike Posner

You always suspected you could do better, now you know for a fact you coulda done better. Bonus points if your ex is named Caroline Stevens.

4. Cannibal—Ke$ha

There’s nothing more satisfying than the liver of a douchey ex on a platter. Eat your heart out, honey.

5. Cold Hard Bitch—JET

Hell no, I ain’t gonna be your girl, I’m a boss ass bitch and you’re a nobody.

6. Dark Horse—Katy Perry Feat. Juice J

Because the last dude who fucked with Aphrodite ended up permanently disabled for the rest of his life.

7. My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light ‘Em Up)—Fall Out Boy

Burn everything he loves. Then burn the ashes. Need I say more?

8. Men Are All The Same—The Used

He’ll never make it alone, which is exactly what you want.

9. I Love It—Icona Pop

Kill that switch and kick his shit down the stairs. Don’t forget to fist bump-jump a little while doing it.

10. Roar—Katy Perry (Again I know)

Sweetheart, it’s time to get up and Roar. Do you, and remember that you’re fucking awesome.

Don’t Yuck My Yum is a good start—but we need to turn it up to 11!

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In the spirit of going back to work after a month of winter break, I decided to write a post about something that is very near and dear to my heart: Sex Positivity.

Since beginning at Sex Out Loud a year and a half ago, the meaning of sex positivity has evolved quite a bit for me. It began when I first heard the term “Don’t Yuck My Yum,” (or DYMY for short) which essentially means that we should be respectful of all types of expression because shaming people is generally a shitty thing to do. DYMY is an ideology that promotes safe spaces and conversations—if we don’t feel like we’re going to be attacked or put down for sharing intimate desires, or posing questions about them, then we’re more likely to listen, engage, and learn. And I think that’s fantastic.

For me, DYMY was more of a starting point. It was when I started to think about personal expression (from gender to sexuality and beyond) as personal life choices that should be accepted and treated equally. But now, having worked as a sexual health peer facilitator, simply keeping our mouth shut when we are confronted with a type of expression that we don’t personally enjoy is not enough.

Truly, sex positivity is about celebrating people’s consensual, healthy choices and just generally being life-affirming. It’s not being “politically correct,” it’s providing people with information so they can make risk-aware choices that are right for them, and being supportive of whatever choices they make.

It’s not simply holding back judgement, it’s letting go of the idea that there is a right and a wrong way for people to express their gender or sexuality.

It’s recognizing that everyone deserves pleasure and happiness, and celebrating that people have found things that make them happy! Even if an activity is not for us, we remember the things that make us warm and fuzzy (or hot and bothered) might not be for everyone and to just be happy that they found something that they really enjoy.

It’s shutting down shamers, even in their subtlest form. It’s recognizing when we’re skimming over topics when we’re teaching because we don’t enjoy them. It’s recognizing when we unintentionally wince when discussing a sexual act we’re not in to. It’s about knowing our own boundaries and triggers, and when its best to exit conversations or spaces so that we don’t unintentionally distress ourselves or others. It’s learning how to get super excited over a sex toy we’ve never used, or a barrier method that’s made for bodies that we or our partners don’t have.

Sex Positivity is about celebrating the things that make people happy and empowering them to engage and explore them in risk-aware and consensual situations. It’s kinda summed up in my favorite cheers:

To finding the things we fucking love and vice versa!

If you’re looking for more sex positivity check out Laci Green who is simply amazing, or just stay tuned! I’ll be posting lots more of Sex + stuff.

A Day Without Inspiration

Well, hello there everyone. I’m having a little bit of writer’s block today. There isn’t really one topic that I’d like to write about. But since I’m doing a 30 day challenge, I’m going to sit here and write at least 500 words and you’re all going to have to suffer through it.

So how has my day been? Great, thanks. I returned a christmas present that didn’t fit my boyfriend, and was rewarded with $20. Instead of putting that money towards my past due impending bills, I went out and bought myself this totally freaking awesome Doctor Who poster:

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I was debating as to whether I should get the Day of the Doctor one (which was an episode that I didn’t really like, because personally I’m not a fan of direction the series is headed, or the almost entire lack of character development of Clara) or one with 1st-11th Doctors on it (I’ve only watched the current series, and know almost nothing about doctors 1-8), but then the dude working at the poster shop showed me this one and I shit my ass (not literally, I’m potty trained) and I just had to have it.

Also I stopped by the pizza place that I used to work at, because I hadn’t had a slice of mac n’ cheese pizza in over a month (for shame!), which if you haven’t had a slice I recommend you seek out the closest Ian’s Pizza and buy a whole pie. My old boss was working and because he loves me he gave me a free slice (what whaaaaaat). I also took the opportunity to use their wifi because I still know the employee password. Neener-neener.

Now I’m sitting at one of my favorite coffee shops in Madison, ERC. I have to say that I feel a little bad because while I was in LA with my family for the past three weeks I drank Starfucks Starbucks almost every day. Also I’ve found another little coffee shop that is a little closer to my apartment, and has bottomless cups of coffee for $3.

*Exhales loudly* Ok, almost there!

Oh! Oh! I know, I found THE BEST vine. It combines three of my favorite things: Macklemore, Jennifer Lawrence and PIZZA:

Speaking of Macklemore, and Thrift Shop which always plays at one of the bars I used to frequent, IT’S FACKING BACON NIGHT. That’s right, friends, $1 PBRs and FREE FUCKING BACON. I’m definitely going to be doing that tonight—well, if I can find some homies to join me. I’ve got a bad habit of hiberdating,* which I am working very hard on not doing anymore. If I can’t find anyone to indulge with me, I suppose I’m going to be rearrange my living room and then probably watch House of Cards.

*hiberdating: verb—when someone ignores all of their friends because they are in a relationship.

Well, I’m approaching my 500 words, and running out of interesting things to blab about. If you found anything in this word vomit post actually interesting,  let me know in the comments! I can always write more on hotspots in Madison, or silly slang.

And as always, thanks for reading!

This totally counts as a post

Hey, sorry friends—I had a busy day. I’m going to write a longer piece and post it, but I just wanted to make sure that I actually had one blog timestamped for 1/12/14, so when I look back at my 30 day challenge I won’t have to make any excuses!

To make up for my lack of valuable content here is a gif of a dancing sea creature

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hopefully that works, I’m still getting the hang of things around here

My Grandma Made Me Do It

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This is my grandma, but I call her Nanny. Wine drinker, iPad user, and founder of our local Knitter’s Guide (no, really), Nanny is quite talented. But one talent that she doesn’t often share with people outside the family is the fact that she believes that she’s a witch. Not like a wiccan, or an evil old wench, but sort of a good, sorta psychic, sorta I don’t even really know. It’s just something she’s told me all my life, and when she cured my tummyaches with a magical mixture of sprite and orange juice, you bet your butt I believed her. To prove to the family, or maybe just to spite them, when each of her grandchildren were born she had everyone in our immediate family write down a profession on a piece of paper and sealed them up and took bets.

I just found out about this practice recently when my oldest cousin graduated from college and my aunt and grandpa reminded my Nanny that it was time to bust out the predictions. With my cousin having picked a career path that none of us would have guessed  (interior design, not to be confused with interior decoration), Nanny claims to have “misplaced” my cousin’s envelope.

Of course, all of the grandkids wanted to know what our family had predicted for us, and especially what Nanny thought. While she doesn’t seem to remember what she thought my cousin was meant to be, she looked me in the eye and told me what she had been telling me since I can remember:

“Hailey, you’re a writer.”

So when I told her that I was doing a 30 day blogging challenge, she chided me for not already being an internationally published author. After showering me with her crippling grandmotherly overestimation of my talent, she asked me what it was called. I kind of balked.

“I don’t know, Nanny. It’s just my blog.”

“You should call it My Grandma Made Me Do It.

While I doubt that the little 21 year old piece of paper really holds any valuable information about what my profession will be (I’m actually excited about pursuing a career as a sexual health educator), I know that my Nanny, like many other wonderful people around me, for some reason find my writing enjoyable. And you know what? I really fucking love writing. Maybe Nanny can’t really tell the future, but she sure as hell can hone in on what makes her grandkids happy.

And here I am, three glasses of red wine, a mug of tea and many, many spritz cookies later writing, well, because my grandma made me do it.