2015 the year of Yes.

I’m not going to lie, I am a person of the resounding No. No, I’m not coming to your birthday party (too many people!), no, I’m not eating in a crowded restaurant full of buzzing individuals high on life and wine, no, I won’t have coffee with you or go on a date, no, no, definitely not, I’ll think about it, maybe, yes (but later I changed my mind back to) No. I would much rather stay in my bedroom and watch Netflix than go out and meet someone new; it’s much too dizzying to go swing dancing (and the last time I went, I threw up from being jostled in seventeen different directions)…


…I don’t feel like going to the graduate after-party, I won’t be bringing an edible but oh-so-cheap side-dish, I don’t even want to be harangued into talking to anyone, nope, nope, no.

Buster the rabbit from Arthur puts it best.



Eventually, this leads to my life being perfectly peaceful: I’m comfortable. In my room, with my laptop, surrounded by books and floral dresses and stuffed animals and one million pillows and blankets, in a mess of disorder snuggling a Seahawks football plushie watching House of Cards until 3am, yes, this is the life.

I like my nest of creativity and solitude. I do not like your party.
I like my nest of creativity and solitude. I do not like your party.

But then it occurred to me, I have said yes to things. For the first time in a year and a half, I performed spoken word poetry on a stage in front of what felt like one million people, sweating bullets and simultaneously killin’ it.

dismantling the patriarchy with a microphone, yo
dismantling the patriarchy with a microphone, yo

I also, with an incredible amount of nervousness, read a story (that was published in a journal) at a local bookstore, in front of an audience. You may think this is easy, but I had to say the word “panties” out loud into a microphone and that was probably the most nervous thing of my life and I was one-hundred and eight degrees of hotter-than-hades and I still did it.

me with other champions of writing native american tales
me with other champions of writing native american tales

I deserve this award, probably.


So, I’ve decided that 2015 is going to be the year of Yes. The year of yes I will go to that new church and see how they worship, why not, yes (I’ve been doing this already!). And yes, I bought that ticket to go to Laos and I’m riding an elephant through a waterfall because I can, yes. And sure, I’ll buy the tickets I desperately want to see Lana Del Rey and brave a crowd of many thousands to see the Queen/Diva/Songstress perform live, because it’s what I really want, so okay, yes. And yes, maybe for once I’ll actually go on a date instead of blowing someone off until I finally block their number so as not to get occasional mournful texts (“I thought we had plans…”). Yes, maybe this is the year for actually falling in love and actually getting my heart broken, or maybe it’s the first year for the first time I fall in love and no one breaks my heart, at all. Yes, to all my friends in Seattle, I’m finally coming to visit, and yes, I’ll pose for my artistic friend’s painting, yes. Maybe I’ll let a(nother) stranger kiss me and maybe I’ll kiss them back. Yes to getting tattoos in visible places. Maybe I’ll go to a party without leaving early; in fact, what if I’m the last one to leave, why not, yes. There are a million adventures to be had by people who are willing to say yes. I’ve got about a hundred up my sleeve. Sure. Why not. Yes, I said, yes, I will, Yes.


disclaimer: in-between Yes-capades, mostly I will be in my room watching Netflix. People don’t really change, you know.

p.s. yes this was based in part on Molly Bloom’s soliloquy of course. 🙂

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