Life in general

Hello 2017

/ Kim Nelson / Leave a comment

Oh 2016, you started with taking David Bowie and ended with us all feeling second-hand embarrassment for Mariah Carey. You ran our emotions through a meat grinder (I started reading The Princess Diarist by Carrie Fisher today and couldn’t get through the first 2 pages without tearing up). You gave us a sentient Cheeto who live-tweets every one of his temper tantrums and made him our President-elect. Looking ahead to this fresh new year, I may be crazy but I’m hopeful. Maybe it’s because 2017 still has that new car smell, or maybe it’s because I love making New Year resolutions as an opportunity to set goals that I’m excited about. I was successful in all of my 2016 resolutions except for one (to start a Twitter parody account, but that was a silly one anyways and I became too busy handling social media for Drinkers with Writing Problems). I also managed to hit a big goal that I hadn’t spelled out for myself, which was to pay off my credit card debt by the end of the year.

My resolutions for 2017:

  • do a sugar detox for the month of January. Diabetes runs rampant in my family and I have a weakness for pastries, chocolate, and ice cream. I’m taking a month off to break the habit and make better decisions about what I eat.
  • carve out at least 3 hours a week for writing. Don’t beat myself up when Life takes over, but don’t make easy excuses for myself either. I want to finish the first draft of the new novel I’m currently working on before next New Year’s Eve.
  • return to yoga and start a mindful meditation practice.
  • start putting more money into savings, which should be easier now that I paid off my credit cards.
  • seize opportunities at work to expand my role and branch out into new responsibilities.

It goes without saying that in 2017, I will appreciate all of the many things in my life that I’m super grateful for: my incredible family and friends, the many adventures I share with my husband and best friend, my home, my health, and every morning I get to wake up and seize another day.

 

 

Thoughts on November 10

/ Kim Nelson / Leave a comment

This is pretty much a brain dump, so bear with me.

It’s been a rollercoaster of a week. On Monday evening, I went to an early voting polling place near my house on the northwest side of Chicago. After the moment I touched the screen to pick Hillary’s name, I paused and let myself savor the small but historic moment. Tears gathered in my eyes.

It would be the first of many, many times I’ve cried this week, and the only time that the tears were happy.

Yesterday, we woke up to confirmation that many peoples’ worst nightmare came true. I cried for multitudes of reasons, among them being that the horrific racism and xenophobia we’ve witnessed over the course of the campaign season had won. I cried because it was a perfect example of why so few women report their sexual assaults: they get called liars while the men who perpetrate these crimes get away with it (or get elected president). I know that people had their reasons for voting who they voted for, but I cried because they were willing to overlook the fact that minorities, immigrants, the LGBTQ community, Muslim Americans, and all other marginalized groups would suffer because of how they marked their ballot. Everything felt broken on multiple levels.

I don’t want to write any further about the election itself because it’s all been said by people much more eloquent than me. But I do want to share what I did to get through the ugliness of yesterday and how I managed to find some catharsis and even joy. I connected with my people through texts, Facebook, Twitter, and secret discussion groups where we all felt like we could be safe to share our feelings without someone chiming in to pick an ugly fight while our feelings were so raw. You can rail on the concept of social media all you want, but yesterday, it was my salvation.

And through social media, we made a plan to go out and sing karaoke together. I arrived at the bar first, and as my friends walked in, we all began to cry again, but we were able to give each other much-needed hugs. Then we all began to sing. Lyrics took on whole new meanings under the circumstance of events, and we laughed-cried, shouted the words together, and danced.

“We are strong, no one can tell us we’re wrong, searching our hearts for so long, love is a battlefield”

“Soul, I hear you calling, oh baby please give a little respect to me”

“Oh I’m just a girl, all pretty and petite, so don’t let me have any rights. Oh, I’ve had it up to here”

It was emotional and loud and cathartic and exactly what we all needed. Shit may have just gotten very, very real, but I will always be able to turn to music to help me cope. When you’re several beers into the night and running the mic on a divey karaoke place with people you love, playing air guitar and drunk-wailing “Don’t Stop Believing,” you can remember that there is joy to be found in this world.

I see others using pop culture to cope: gifs of Harry Potter’s friends raising their wands in solidarity, or the people of District 12 raising their hands saluting the Mockingjay, or photos of Mal from Firefly with the caption “May have been the losing side. Still not convinced it was the wrong one.” I see people turning to literature and poetry: “Do not go gentle into that good night.” “Don’t let the bastards grind you down.” Art is our place of solace, or our battle cry, or a voice for the voice we need when we’ve lost our own. Art is important. Even Pat Benatar.

 

So tired.

/ Kim Nelson / 2 Comments

Sunday mornings are typically my favorite time of the week–I can sleep in as late as I want (or as late as I can, since at this point in my life since I’ve grown too old to sleep very late anymore; God remember those decadent college days of being able to sleep in until the early afternoon? I can’t even imagine), then get up to enjoy a cup of coffee while reading a book and eating fresh pastries. Today, however, my Sunday morning would not be easy and peaceful. Instead, I saw the news from Orlando and the horrific mass shooting that occurred in the early hours. At the time, 20 were confirmed dead, but the body count would grow to a staggering 50 deaths. 50 souls that would never again enjoy a quiet Sunday morning. And once again, just like after Newtown, Virginia Tech, Aurora, Paris, and so very many other incidents, my heart grew weary. I’m exhausted. I can’t process yet another one of these events. I don’t understand it. I feel helpless to do anything to make things better.

I emailed my senator, congressmen, and representatives urging them to do more to end gun violence. I turned to social media to share links about donating blood and talking to those in the LGBTQ community who need all the love and support they can get today. I ‘liked’ similar posts, leaving a trail of sad face and angry face emoji like breadcrumbs across the internet. I cried. I donated money to a GoFundMe account to help the surviving families. I went to my favorite workout class and sweated, smiled, and danced it out to songs by RuPaul, Lady Gaga, Madonna, Christina Aguilera–all icons vocally supportive of equality and each person’s right to love freely, openly, and happily. When the cooldown song came on, the Carpenters’  “Sing a Song,” I felt tears prick my eyes. The words were so simple and clear; we all have voices and the ability to put good into the world. Sometime I feel like mine gets lost, drowned out by all of the noise and arguments and rants. Every day I go on social media and feel my blood boil, especially during this heated election season, when all of these issues are so complicated and layered and people insist on oversimplifying into meme-on-meme warfare. I just can’t anymore. I’m so tired. I know most feel like me. And yet we keep circling the drain, doing nothing to make anything better. Oftentimes, I shut down to avoid more arguing. But maybe I am part of the problem. Maybe we all need to talk more, but I think what’s been missing the whole time is the other, crucial half: listening to each other, face to face.

Another Year

/ Kim Nelson / Leave a comment

I turn 37 today. Here’s some things I did in my 36th year:

  • went from being a non-coffee drinker to a coffee addict #blackasmidnightonamoonlessnight
  • saw Britney Spears perform (again!) the same weekend as Mariah Carey in a 36-hour Las Vegas diva-thon
  • got my tenth tattoo
  • saw a Star Wars movie in the theater that I actually enjoyed and cried when I saw the female lead take the light saber
  • had my first 2 pieces of short fiction published
  • was a cheerleader at a roller derby bout (it’s never too late to make your eighth grade dreams come true!)
  • saw Yosemite Valley for the first time
  • got my motorcycle permit
  • ran into a black bear while camping in the backcountry
  • rode a mechanical bull and a mechanical rooster in the same night
  • got addicted to Neko Atsume: Kitty Collector on my iPhone
  • shot at tin cans with a pellet gun at my sister’s wedding

I started this morning at 5:30 a.m. by working out to the fierceness that is Beyonce’s new album Lemonade. Hopefully this will set the trend for my 37th year to be pretty badass.

Things I did this weekend

/ Kim Nelson / Leave a comment
  • performed a karaoke rendition of “Eternal Flame” in front of a church that was literally on fire
  • sang a karaoke rendition of “Cool Rider” from Grease 2 on an actual motorcycle
  • karaoked a rendition of “Wrecking Ball” while swinging from a ladder
  • duetted on “A Whole New World” but accidentally kept switching between the Aladdin/Jasmine version and Peabo Bryson/Regina Belle’s riffs and stylings
  • danced with pom poms to *NSync’s “Bye Bye Bye”
  • shook my pom poms to the Spice Girls’ “Spice Up Your Life”
  • ponied and pranced with poms to Katy Perry’s “California Gurls”
  • felt grateful that I am friends with people who are more than happy to join me in singing and dancing, to the extent that we:
    • created a Karaoke Club that, one year after its inception, is going stronger than ever
    • throw karaoke parties in garages
    • spend Sunday mornings dancing and sweating to the music of esteemed artists including Katy Perry, Spice Girls, Ariana Grande, and *NSync

Singing and dancing truly make my happy. It’s my free therapy. Now, time for me to sign off and feed my fake iPhone cats. #blessed

The Year So Far

/ Kim Nelson / Leave a comment

In my previous post, I shared my New Year’s resolutions for 2016. Items 1-3 on my list are all underway and progress is moving along nicely.

I’ve gotten past the point of coffee tasting like burnt garbage and even kinda crave it in the mornings. It feeds into my love of a good morning routine. Also, I have so many favorite mugs which I love to put to good use. This bullet point can be marked off as a success.

The sonicare toothbrush makes my teeth feel shiny and clean. I got past the rookie mistakes of 1). accidentally gagging myself, or 2). removing the brush from my mouth while still it was still on, causing a flurry of toothpaste to hit the bathroom mirror like slush flying from a semi on the interstate. I can safely chalk this item off the list.

My hip hop dance classes are super fun. I’ve also been trying to regularly attend Cheerobix, a dance fitness class (with pom poms!). Both are good workouts, and I leave class feeling invigorated and happy. I’ve always loved dancing though I never formally trained besides a handful of ballet lessons in early grade school. I’m not especially talented at it; I’ve been told I dance like a white sorority girl, and I am Asian. But I don’t care as long as I’m enjoying myself. My love of dancing began during my childhood of watching old MGM musicals with my mom and sisters. I was probably the only 5th grader in my class who’d seen every edition of That’s Entertainment. Today, I get excited for new Step Up movies. I once found out that my co-worker was dating a ballerina and it took all of my strength to refrain from bombarding her with questions at the office holiday party and tell her how many times I’ve watched Center Stage.

I’m so glad that my 2016 so far is filled with choreography. I may never become a professional ballerina, but I’m pretty sure I can hold my own in a drunk dance-off.

 

 

Happy New Year

/ Kim Nelson / Leave a comment

2015 was a weird year. After the ridiculous spree of happiness and excitement that was 2014 (got married, honeymooned, bought a house), this year was a bumpier road. Loved ones had some hard times. I went through some job changes. The world often felt like it was falling apart. On social media, everyone seemed to be in a fight with each other, slinging angry memes and sparring with links.

But there were great moments too. My sister got married and her wedding weekend was incredibly fun. I saw Half Dome and El Capitan for the first time. We camped in a blizzard and it was the greatest. Scrolling through my pictures from the last year, there’s tons of shots of fun times with people I love.  In other words, it was a Year, full of highs and lows just like any other, with good times and hardships ebbing and flowing like the tide.

So far, 2016 is off to a good start. We spent New Years Eve at home with a few of our closest friends, playing board games, drinking champagne, and keeping things relaxed. It was nice, and I especially enjoyed waking up on the first day of a new year not feeling like I was run over by a semi. Last New Years Day, I barely crawled out of bed and spent all day on the couch, trying to keep down an omelet and letting Netflix run through an entire season of a Canadian travel show. Today, I watched some football, took a nap, did some writing, and got in a cardio workout.

My resolutions for 2016:

  • take hip hop dance lessons (they start Monday!), prepare myself for random dance-off challenges, start a crew (or krew).
  • purchase a Sonicare toothbrush. I did this today, using my Christmas gift cards for something I actually need (instead of, say, Star Wars t-shirts) like a responsible adult. My journey towards healthier teeth and gums begins.
  • train myself to like coffee. This is mostly an attempt to break my terrible Diet Coke habit, which is my current method of caffeinating.  So far, I can tolerate coffee with  flavored cream, but I’d like to acquire the taste to order it Agent Dale Cooper-style, black as midnight on a moonless night.
  • In 2014, I had my big writing goal of finishing a novel. This year, I’m taking it easier and giving myself to challenge of creating a Twitter parody account. Sadly, tweeting as Laura Ingalls Wilder has already been taken.

This should keep me busy until 2017. Happy New Years, all!

Winter Adventurers

/ Kim Nelson / Leave a comment

“You know what’s happening this weekend, right? You’ve seen the weather forecast?” the park ranger asked the first of our friends to arrive at the campgrounds early on Friday afternoon.

“We know,” they replied.

“Are you here for the start of hunting season?”

“No, just here to camp.”

The ranger shook his head in disbelief. A winter storm was rolling into the area, expected to drop up to 10 inches on much of the Midwest. And we were driving up north, headed the opposite direction of the geese flying south for the winter overhead, to spend the weekend outdoors.
IMG_6684Winter camping is one of my favorites. Though the days are short and our beer freezes overnight, there’s something about the quiet stillness that makes the forest otherworldly. The world hibernates around us, but in our small circle around the campfire, we stay warm and pass the whiskey. Overhead, stark branches criss-cross against the silver sky. The snow falls steadily, piling up on our tents, our boxes of beer (no need for a cooler), our fur-trimmed hoods pulled up over our heads. Beyond the circle, whiteness obliterates the landscape; we could be in Wisconsin or Westeros. Coyotes yip in the night. Or direwolves.

We’ve camped in snow before. We’ve camped in 1-degree temperatures before. But this was our first time camping in a legitimate winter storm, one big enough to get a name: Bella. We were undaunted by this news; we are not the type to be scared off, especially by a storm named after a damn Twilight character. We may be crazy, but we’re tough, and this wasn’t our first rodeo. There’s a Norwegian saying that goes “There’s no bad weather, only bad clothes.” We were prepared with insulated sleeping pads, bags rated for 15 degrees, waterproof layers, a coat and Musher’s Secret for our dog.

IMG_6714We arrived, car by car, at our large group site. As Friday slipped into Saturday, the snow fell. It melted onto our coats, warmed by the fire. It piled onto our tents, causing rainflies to droop under its wintry weight. It buried bottles left out on picnic tables, turning them into ambiguous white blobs. It blanketed us from the rest of the world, silencing the sounds of civilization, leaving only our laughter, our breath as we blew into our mittens, the crackle of the fire.

On Saturday morning, the snow still fell. We stayed in our warm sleeping bags, our tents transformed into igloos. Finally lured out by the promises of coffee, campfire, and Bloody Marys, we emerged from our brief hibernation. Before we could eat or drink, we had to shovel inches of snow off the tables. The dogs frolicked in the fresh powder, losing tennis balls and frisbees. We posted photos to social media with Winter Storm Bella hashtags, declaring ourselves Team Jacob. Our friends back home called us crazy.

The snow eventually stopped; blue sky peeked out through the bare tree branches. We began to cook our Thanksgiving meal. Potatoes boiled over the campfire. Vegetarian curry stewed on a camp stove. A turducken dripped savory juices in the smoker. Just before sunset, we set up our spread over the picnic table, salivating before our feast.

“I wish the ranger would come by and see this,” my friend said. We ate our meal together, friends bonded by our breaking of bread under the most snowy extreme circumstances. Call us crazy; we don’t mind. We’re adventurers.

IMG_6723

Summertime

/ Kim Nelson / 1 Comment

I blinked and June  and July were gone. How is August almost over too?? I swear that summer just started. In a midwestern city where summer flies by so fast, we feel the need to be outside every single moment so as not to miss a precious drop of sunshine.

Remember when you were a kid and summer was the greatest time ever? Long days at the swimming pool, cruising town on bikes with friends, sprawling out in the backyard to look up at the moon while cicadas chirped a soundtrack to your most secret sleepover conversations–summer meant pure freedom. No school. No responsibilities. Even when I eventually had summer jobs as a teen, they were easy, carefree times. I’d scoop ice cream for a 4-hour shift before my friends came to pick me up from work so we could drive around, playing Alanis Morisette’s “Jagged Little Pill” on repeat and riding past boys’ houses.

As an adult with a full-time job and a mortgage, it’s hard to capture that delicious taste of summer freedom again. How do you fit in long, lazy weeks of bicycle-riding, dock jumping, keg beer drinking, and s’mores burning amidst the work week, the paying of bills, the doing of laundry, the running of errands that never go away? I used to have a co-worker who, every time I’d run into her and ask how it’s going, would reply “Same shit, different day.” That phrase perfectly describes the grind that is adulthood.

How do you make summer magical again? It’s all about catching the little moments when you can, as often as you can. You head out after work to the local street fest near your house to listen to a band and eat meat on a stick. You drive up to Wisconsin to spend 36 hours at a cabin to ride on a pontoon boat while drinking New Glarus before jumping out into the deep dark water in the middle of the lake, floating on a pool noodle and letting the sunshine beam down on your face. You go to a  giant music festival and sweat through the summer heat until the sun goes down, the night air soothing your sunburnt skin, and you share a spontaneous moment with tens of thousands of people when the headliner plays their biggest, most classic song, and you all sing along and feel the communal thrill of happiness over being present for this moment of time. You go canoeing with a few dozen friends, lazily floating down the river while drinking light summer beers and laughing at what everyone says, because everyone is hysterical when you have known each other for so many years and have a rich history of shared, hilarious stories. You let yourself float along the edge of the bank of the river, feeling the current tugging at your feet while a sun shower breaks out overhead, dappling the water all around you while warm raindrops bounce back up onto your face. You stand on the back porch of the house you bought and listen to the cicadas, the soundtrack to every summer of your Midwestern life, and remember the times you heard their chirps while riding around in your best friends’ Geo Metro listening to “Jagged Little Pill” so many years ago.

 

 

 

City Kid with an Outdoor Heart

/ Kim Nelson / 2 Comments

I constantly feel conflicted about living in a big city.  Throughout every downtown office cubicle job I’ve had, I would find moments to slip away and gaze out a window. I needed to see the outside for whatever brief little moments I could find. My husband and I have traveled to the Badlands, Black Hills, Yellowstone, and Glacier. We’ve kayaked and camped along the Wisconsin River nearly every summer we’ve been together. We used every last frequent flier mile we had to travel to Alaska, where we drove an RV around for 10 days of exploring . When I’m outdoors, it feels like my soul can finally breathe. I love it.

But I also love living in the city–the third largest U.S. city, to be precise (stand down, Houston). In Chicago, I have regular access to art, culture, and whatever kind of food I’m craving, be it Indian, Mexican, Ethiopian, Filipino, or Korean. In the city, I meet people from all walks of life, who grew up in other countries or have interesting backgrounds, who spent a year backpacking across Australia or studying the circus arts. On any given evening, I can go attend a live literary reading or open mic, see a band I’ve never heard of or one I grew up listening to, or go to a bar to cheer on one of our many local professional sports teams and high-five strangers.

In the outdoors, I’ve seen a mountain lion cross the road in front of us, its eyes fixed upon us, long tail slowly swishing, looking like something majestic and wild and otherworldly, before it leapt up the hillside in three fluid strides.

In the city, I’ve seen both obscure arthouse films and major movie premieres on the big screen with the director present for a live Q&A.

In the outdoors, I’ve had a bison huff angrily at the tent where my husband and I slept, threatening to charge us for being on his home turf.

In the city, I’ve participated in a flash mob during the halftime of a roller derby bout while dressed as a ninja.

In the outdoors, I’ve heard the howls of coyotes, the hoots of owls, and the soft patter of rain on the roof of my tent as I drifted to sleep.

In the city, I’ve seen priceless works of art at our local, internationally renowned museums.

In the outdoors, I’ve waited out a rainstorm with my husband in a 3-man tent on a narrow sandbar in the middle of a river, drinking boxed wine from our camping cups and reading the third Game of Thrones book by the light of my headlamp as rain pelted our fly and lightning crackled over our heads.

In the city, I’ve danced in the rain during a street festival with a beer in one hand and a taco in the other, surrounded by friends and live music.

I love my hometown while simultaneously feeling frustrated by it. I get disheartened by crime and the disrespect people can have for their surroundings, others’ property, and human life. This city will always inspire me, excite me, act as a muse, and break my heart over and over. And when things become to stressful, bleak, or maddening, the mountains start calling my name.