coffeeplantsect

If music is the food of love, then play on

My easiest memories of music is waking up to to my mother stroking my frizzy morning hair while singing the song “Good Morning” in my ear from the musical Singing In The Rain . Or going to my grandparents house and sitting on the floor, mesmerized by my grandpa and the way he played the piano. Watching him and my sister duet together, to that one cliche song that everyone first plays on the piano. You know that one song. Leaning how to bake with my grandma, while La Vie en rose softly played from the turn table in the living room, flooding the house with Louis Armstrongs deep raspy voice. Going home and practicing my Louis impression, for hours in my bedroom so I had something to show my grandpa when I went so see him.

When my grandpa passed away, my sister got his trumpet, which she played from middle school all through high school. As irritated I may have seemed while she practiced in her room, deep down I loved hearing her play. It was like having my grandpa in the house again. I received all of my grandpas records, which I still listen to, to this day. Ella Fitzgerald, Marvin Gaye, Dean Martin, and of course Louis Armstrong are still very heavy in my rotation. I can thank my grandpa for my early love and appreciation for Jazz music. My mom introduced me to rock.

The first time I heard Queen play, I remember falling head over heals in love with Freddie Mercury. I didn’t know what he looked like and im sure as a child that I would be completely turned off by his mustache (because thats what they painted pedophiles to look like when I was young). Prancing around my bedroom jamming out to “Don’t Stop Me Now” and “Radio Gaga”. For show and tell in the 5th grade I stole my sister Queen Greatest Hits album to present to my class. My teacher must of had some sort or opinion about my mothers parenting, considering the song that I chose to play in my class was “Fat Bottom Girls”. I got into 30 seconds of the song before she made me turn it off. Kill. My. Vibe. Mrs. Worth.

6th grade was when my mom decided I was old enough to expose me to Pink Floyd. Their music should have scared anyone my age, but I loved it. Listening to “Another Brick in The Wall; Part 2” with my mom and sister in the car screaming (very out of key) the lyrics. Also, my mom would like me to add in that she is not, and I quote, “a hippie alcoholic”. My mother just has a really great taste in music that she wanted to pass down to her daughters, thanks Mom! My mom also bought me a Pink Floyd DarkSide of The Moon hoodie, but every hockey playing asshole in my class called me a lesbian because it had a rainbow on it. I wish I could say that I continued wearing it proudly, but this is middle school. So, instead I went home and cried and never wore it into that building ever again. I bet those boys feel really dumb now. Ha.

So, if you couldn’t tell music has been very impactful on my life. All of my fondest memories are revolved around music. Songs and albums that spark memories from the past, good and bad. Like the album by Bon Iver 22 A Million reminds me of fall 2016, sitting on my friends porch till ungodly hours of the night drinking cheap wine and talking about.. you guessed it, music. Thats how I met one of my very good friend Jessica. Sittin’, sippin’, listening’, yellow American Spirits, and good conversations brought us close together.

When I was in college, I was introduced to the local music scene, and my entire world changed. Listening to music through headphones or a speaker is nothing compared to being in-front of music, being one with all of the sounds whirling around my head. Being amazed how musicians can just give each other a single look and just know what the other is thinking. Or how each musician is doing their own thing, in their own world getting lost in the rhythm but still manage to make make a harmonious sound.

“Lydia, are you okay. You were zoning out”

-Something I hear every time I go see a live show.

Music is just sounds and tones all compiled together. Thats literally all it is. So why is it so infectious? why is music literally so addicting? When our ears hear a song that we like our bodies react by producing the neurotransmitter dopamine which engenders feelings of enjoyment; thus making music addictive and very much infectious. If music is the worse thing your addicted to, then play on brother! keep releasing those happy chemicals!

Now! To bring this story full circle. Recently my grandmother was admitted into the hospital, so my aunt that now lives in Washington state, was called to come back to Wisconsin. We were sitting in the hospital room talking about what I enjoy doing now, I told her how a couple times a week I go out and watch my friends play shows around town. Then she told me when she was in college she would read the local paper and look at the local bands that were playing and her and my grandpa would go out and watch jazz bands together. In that moment, I realized how much I am like my grandpa. My papa is not here for my adult life, but the fact that not even knowing it I enjoy doing the same things as him, carrying on a tradition he started with my aunt, I hope one day to do the same with my kids, and maybe grandkids.

Something tells me he’s with me at every show I go to.

Big thanks for my Pals (check them out on spotify)

Mia Brown

Feed The Dog

Jack Greenwood

Substyle

Armchair Boogie

Billy Bronsted

This post is dedicated to my Papa, thanks for planting the love for music in me. I hope that you are able to watch it grow and make you proud. I love you and miss you.

Where I was for the past 3 years

-READER DIGRESSION IS ADVISED. CONTAINS GRAPHIC CONTENT-

“Lydia, where did you go? You like disappeared…”

The amount of times that I’ve heard that sentence come from people that were once close to me. People that were my firm foundation, while the world around crumbled. Cut out. With No explanation. I am so sorry. I wish I could give you an explanation but I can’t talk about it too much on here..for legal and confidentiality reasons. I will do my best to pour my heart out without getting my self in trouble.

This is not a happy story but it has a liberating ending, so please stay with me.

Let me begin by saying, never enter a relationship if you don’t want to. Never get into something because you were told it would be good for you. NEVER enter a relationship to save YOURSELF. In your gut if something isn’t right LEAVE.

3 years ago. September 26, 2016. Your gaze sent shivers down my back as I watched you on that stage. I was 20, innocent, oh so innocent. I didn’t know what I felt when our eyes locked for the first time. I almost felt violated, like you already had an idea about me. I was small, weak, sweet, and never fought back. And these were obvious attributes about me. You could just see I had only good intent. Wearing glasses too big for my small face, a mustard yellow sweater with a white collar underneath, black skinny jeans and black ankle rubber rain boots. My hair was up in a messy bun, with my straight across bangs lying flat against my forehead. I don’t own that sweater anymore, I didn’t like the way your eye grazed my body while wearing it.

“Lydia give him a chance, he likes you. Just go on a date with him. Whats it going to hurt” -My mothers famous last words.

One date, thats all it took. He had me, unwillingly but submissively, I was his. All his. The first few months were great, honestly. Month 5 is when his facade started to fade. I started fearing him. His out burst and irrationality. I wasn’t scared of him in those moments, I was scared of what he was capable of. I wouldn’t find out until 2 years later. When I thought it was bad, it only got worse. The out bursts happened more frequently without explanation, but it was always my fault. “How can I fix this”, I constantly thought to myself? “How can I make him happy so he can stop screaming in my face”.

I wanted to wait till marriage to loose my virginity. He knew this.

“We’re going to get married anyways, so just put out”

Blood.

Pain.

“Its going to hurt.” he said as I cried into my hands.

“Get on your stomach and bite the pillow, I can’t finish if I can hear you cry.”

“Spit on you hand, it hurts me when your dry.”

Slowly. quietly. painfully I learned how to take it.

Laying there, lifelessly putting myself in a different head space. I would think of two things. My Dog Boris, and The Great Smokey Mountains of Tennessee.

Finally I had enough and I left. No-one knew why I left. How could I explain to my family, my friends, anyone what this “man of God” has done to me. What he has taken away from me. My family couldn’t accept the truth. No one wanted to believe me. I lost everything. I was alone. Drinking. Numbing the thoughts in my head. Numbing the feelings of your hands on my body. Feelings I physically couldn’t shake. Waking up in the dead of night screaming and thrashing because I though he was next to me.

I wanted something familiar. I wanted my family back. I wanted him.

I didn’t want what he put me through. the abuse. I wanted the good he brought me. my family, my church, my community that turned on me when i left him. I was the Jezebel.

So, he accepted me back. Wasn’t long after that I caught him having an affair with a woman that was in our congregation that had a husband and two daughters. Sick to my stomach, I wanted out. But he was good at twisting my head. “you can’t leave me, you wanted ME back.” he said over and over and over and over again. Anytime I saw her name pop up on his phone, out of curiosity I would ask what she said. Out of guilt and rage he would throw hands.

My parents started seeing the truth when I would come home visibly shook, bruised, eyes puffy and swollen from crying. I wouldn’t talk to them, I just went up to my room and slept. I could of let for years during this time. I was so mentally, and physically exhausted and I just didn’t want to face the next day because I didn’t know what it would bring me. If I went a day without seeing him there were consequences, If I wanted to hang out with my friends, there were consequences. If I didn’t want to sleep with him… well it didn’t matter to be honest. We had a routine. I’d get done with work at 11am, I would go to his house, “take off your pants” every. damn. day. I remember very vividly one week I had strep throat, and I said something to set him off and he demanded I give him head. God, it hurt so bad. Like swallowing a thousand pieces of broken glass.

Broken down, defeated, tired, with no way out. I stood in-front of him with a rock the size of a pumpkin over my head, he stood there and watched as I was seconds from taking my life. My dad ran outside and pried the rock from my hands and held me so tight as I wept in his light blue button-down shirt. He demanded Tyler left immediately. What happened leading up this was, I saw that his mistress texted him and I asked what she said, which resulted in his yelling at me for hours and me slowing loosing consciousness and collapsing down the flight of stairs. I woke up to him standing over me, yelling, “Get the fuck up dumb bitch, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” The bruises from that incident were so deep, you could still see them nearly a month later.

I had it. enough. There was more for me. I didn’t know what at that moment, but I knew this wasn’t my purpose. I left. For good. It wasn’t easy. He tried ruining my life even after that. I knew things were going to get worse before they got better. They did take a long time to get better. I’m still dealing with a lot of the trauma that he has caused me, but for first time in over 3 years I am completely content with my life.

I have 3 best friends in the world Keely, Haylee, and Jessica. A sisterhood that came out of nowhere but happened at the right time and the right place. We all need each other and help each other. Love and support, grace and wisdom. Words cannot begin to express my gratitude for my girls. They kind of just appeared right when I needed them the most. They’re my soulmates.

My family has also been an actual life saver. Inviting me back in their home after being the wayward daughter, giving me endless love and compassion. Helping me mentally, emotionally, and financially. I am so grateful for everyone in my life that has helped me through this tough season. Its only on the up and up from here.

I have my zest for life back. Im excited for tomorrow. Im scared to sleep because I don’t want to miss a single thing.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, it’s not an easy thing to talk about but with the support of my friends and family my story is now for the world to see as a testimony that there is always a light at the end of the tunnel.

Either It’s Trying Too Hard Or Not Hard enough

This post is going to be a complete shit storm, and I apologize in advance. But VEGAN CHEESE. Im going to try to keep this post short and sweet, because The Good Lord knows that I can (and have) rant forever about my thoughts on vegan cheese.

Now, let me start by saying that I love being vegan. I love this lifestyle, it works for me, Ive never felt better. In my time of being vegan I’ve tried some really incredible vegan food and vegan alternatives. Like, vegan mayo, or vegan ranch. Both of those dairy free alternatives are 11/10. Highly recommended. But vegan cheese…not just any vegan cheese, Daiya cheese. It’s the worst. Im sorry Daiya, but your “cheese” is inedible.

Where do I even begin. The package says “melts and stretches”, but let me tell you, audience, it doesn’t do either of those things. Its a garbage product, my dog wont even eat it and he eats his own sh**. Lets not exclude the other products by Daiya, because I honestly did give them a fighting chance to redeem themselves after ruining my margarita pizza with their shredded rubber. I tried their cream cheese. Now, it is very possible to be GOOD vegan cream cheese, I know because Ive made my own in the past and it tasted great (if I do say so myself), but somehow they managed to ruin that too! The taste is so indescribable.. it taste fake… like I shouldn’t be eating it. My mouth just completely rejects it. So I was like “okay, well maybe (just maybe) their mac and cheese isn’t so bad. This was their last shot to redeem themselves, after this I was done. If they could prove to me that they can do at least one thing right, then I wouldn’t write this post. Incredible….incredible how they managed to f**k that up too.

I just want to know, who’s working in that factory, sitting in a conference room, trying all these vegan alternatives and going “yup, taste good! Send ‘er out!” Because I personally want to go up to that person and smack them. How dare they. How dare they sell that over priced rubber bullshit in stores. Seriously who “OK’s” this crap.

With all that being said, im going to link some recipes or my favorite homemade vegan cheese to save everyone from eating something thats one molecule away from being a rubber band…

Mindfulness

I think now more than ever Ive been super mindful of what Im doing and how it affects the things around me or within me. I do this with almost anything I do, I like to weigh out my options and how each choice might affect me in the future. And of course, the right option might always be the most fun, but in the long run it will benefit you in a positive way. This could be as simple as what you eat to as drastic as selling your house and moving in with your parents to save money.

A constant debate I have with myself is always should I bike or should I drive. The correct answer should (always) be bike. BUT sometimes thats not always the case….unfortunately. As much as I would love to bike EVERYWHERE there are things I need to consider.

1.What is my time window?

2.Do I need to dress nice?

3. What is the weather going to be like?

Number 2 is usually what keeps me off my bike the most. (Business stuff you know?)

Music can affect you in a positive and negative way. Put good in, get good out, amiright? I try to listen to music that I know will affect my mood in a positive way. That sounds stupid and slightly narcissistic. But I can tell how my mood can shift if I listen to DMX or if I listen to The Lumineers. Two completely different Lydia’s. I like The Lumineers Lydia better.

Everyone has free will and everyone is given a choice. sometimes they’re given 3 choices and which ever you choose can effect you in the moment or in the long run. For instance, we can choose to ask “no straw” or ask for a straw. Neither one of these options will impact you in the moment but rather maybe 10 years down the road when our oceans are pumped with over 14 billion pounds of garbage (most of it being plastic). So, be mindful and ask no straw…or bring your own reusable straw if your that adamant about using a fricken straw. Just think about who your hurting when you ask for one. BE MINDFUL.

I can go on forever about this topic, but Im working on keeping my blog post short and sweet, knowing we live in a fast pace world and not everyone has 20 mins to sit down and read… which I hate, but that a topic for a whole different post. So we’ll finish this with one more mindful topic. Think about your life. Think about your “extracurricular” (as my mom would call it). How do these things benefit you? If something doesn’t benefit you in a positive way, then why continue doing it? If that group of people make you feel like shit, then why hang around them? If you hate getting hangovers, then don’t drink. Easy as that! Like I said the right choice might always be the most fun BUT its the choice that will be more beneficial in the future.

I’d like to dedicate this post to:

Jan Alvey (@jmalvey)

Larry Waldburger (@larryjaywaldburger)

Developing, Living, Healing; Eating Disorder

I think my poor body image started back in middle school..thats when I really started to compare myself to other girls. Thats when groups started breaking apart and started becoming “cliques”. I so desperately wanted to be in the in crowed. You know, the pretty skinny girls, that played softball, and had long hair. This continued into high school, but I didn’t care in high school..well not AS MUCH. I still wanted to be cool, but I cut my losses because I knew that it would never happen. Then I graduated.. and I was sent out into the real world and I saw all these things on how a woman should look and act, I was a victim to society. Looking at woman in hollywood and wondering at what cost would it take to look like that. Looking at girls on Pinterst and wondering how can I achieve a thigh gap like that. So, I started woking out, that worked to extent. Then I started changing my diet, again that wasn’t enough. So, I went to two extremes. I started working out for 2 hours a day, running 3 miles, biking 4, burning more calories than I was taking in. I monitored my calorie intake very very closely, I would never go over 550 cal, that was my max.

Then next thing I knew, I went from wearing a medium shirt to a small and from a size 4 jean to a 0-00 jean. But my weight wasn’t the only thing that changed. My nails were brittle and yellow, my skin was depleted, my hair was thin, and I was constantly cold and tired. When people started noticing and commenting on my drastic weight loss I took it as a complement even if they weren’t necessarily compliments. Like, one friend of mine, said that I looked like a baby squirrel that hasn’t eaten all winter. I know. But comments like that are what kept me going. I thought I was being healthy, micromanaging my life. But is that any way to live? Being a prisoner in your own body, Being a prisoner to your mind. As much as I so strongly believed that I did have a good handle on my life, It was out of control. I wasn’t happier that I was skinny, I was miserable. News flash; Happy does NOT equal skinny.

Thus beginning the healing process. Let me tell you, it was a long road ahead of me. I just want to say If you are struggling with body image, or depression, or PTSD, getting a counselor is not a bad thing! They are there to help you, and not judge. Giving you tools that you need to be a better person. Just talking to someone about what your going through can even help. Over coming an eating disorder is not by any means easy. I don’t care what anyone says having an eating disorder is a mental illness and we need to treat is as such. Over coming this mental illness, was a lot of me telling myself its “okay”. Its okay to have seconds if your still hungry. Its okay to have a snack if your hungry mid day. Its okay to grab dinner with your friends. ITS OKAY. It was also a lot of me standing in my mirror telling myself that I am worthy, and I am stronger than my depression. I am beautiful.

If you are going through the same thing as me or if no one has told you this yet today; you are beautiful. You are worthy. YOU ARE DAMN STRONG. You are better than what your mind is telling you. You were made perfect. You are PERFECT.

Fast Fashion

Fast fashion is everywhere. It’s in your facebook ads, instagram, twitter, pinterest, even that person next to you with the Adidas crewneck on. We live in a society where all we want is to belong, We need to wear the latest trends, what’s going to get us noticed, what’s going to make people think “that person is cool”. Fashion companies want you to buy their stuff, then want you to think that the next day you’re already out of trend. Doing think by creating 50+ seasons of clothes a year. Have you ever went into a store and thought “they dont have the shirt I want…I’ll come back next week, they’ll probably have it then”. FAST FASHION. When my grandma was my age, even my mom, they bought clothes for 2 season, maybe when just when it’s cold and when it’s warm. Nowadays, consumers will spend on average $75-$85 a month. That’s $900-$1,020 a year!

Instead of investing our money into 1 good jacket, we go out and buy 5 low quality jackets. That goes for everything we buy, shirts, yoga pants, jeans. When you buy something you get what you paid for. If you buy a jacket that was European or American made and you spend close to $200 for it you know it’s going to be made with quality fabric, the stitching is going to be durable, and it will keep you warm. If you were to buy a $30 jacket that was made in Indonesia, China, or Japan you’re most like likely going to have to replace it in a year or less because the fabric will be thin, the stitching will be loose, and there will be less insulation in it so it will not keep you warm.

One of the biggest problems with fast fashion is where the clothes are coming from. Im not talking about the counties, i’m talking about the factories producing the clothes. There are girls and girls sitting over a sewing machine making $.13/h for 16 hours a for a shirt you bought for $20. You can pay for their freedom by not paying for a shirt.

Now what? How can we help/stop?

Start by detoxing your self from fashion retailers for 3 months.

Find a selection of retailers with “slower” fashion (list below).

Know who is making your clothes and where they are coming from.

Become better at budgeting, because chances are you don’t need four of the same sweaters.

Donate. https://www.facebook.com/fashionrevolution.org/?hc_ref=ARSDcRCWD8-vxYpolI9-rpaBRFNs9gDSKntEqy-_QVBDZIvlvPKWlOh4v_uklRpv9zo&pnref=story

Slow fashion retailers

Patagonia

Eileen Fisher

Kowtow

United By Blue

Blue Canoe

Alternative Apparel

Brook There

Synergy

DAZEY L.A.

Emptiness

Growing up we I don’t really remember my parents being hoarders. I think thats because it was cool to have “things”. I do remember going to school and bragging about how many cars “we” (my parents) have, or how many clothes we have. As I go older i started noticing the accumulation of stuff we had. There was a walk in closet in our basement, you used to be able to actually walk into it, before we moved it was at the point where you couldn’t even shut the door. Whenever I tried to throw things away or get rid of the clutter inside of my room, my dad would go through my trash and tell me what I can and can not get rid of.

In the summer of 2018 we lost or house. That was a huge wake up call for all of us. What was an even bigger wake up call was when we had to move from a 6 bedroom, 4 bedroom to a 4 bedroom, 1 bathroom house. We have accumulated so much shit over the past years, where were we going to put it all?! That’s when something sparked in me. Ive had enough of living in a constant chaos. The constant stress, and anxiety those “things” gave me. I made well over 10 trips to Goodwill, stuffing my car to the brim with clothes and knick-knacks. I got rid of things that I thought were important to me, but now looking back I couldn’t even tell you what those things were because they are not important anymore.

Earlier this week I was talking to my friends over a cup of hot coffee and we were talking about Netflix. Aaron turned to me and asked if I liked documentaries. Well, of course I do, what film student doesn’t like documentaries? He told me that I should watch “Minimalism”. The documentary is about these two lifelong friends who climbed their way up the corporate ladder, they had everything they could ever want but they still weren’t happy. They realized that buying stuff wasn’t going to make them happy. That sounds familiar… “money can’t buy you happiness”. BUT IT’S TRUE! They were trying to fill the void with in them with stuff. We’ve all done it. Ever gone ‘sad shopping’? Im guilty.

“If I get this shirt I’ll be happy.”

“If I got a new car I’ll be happy.”

“If I buy this new phone, ill be happy.”

Unfortunately, That’s not true. There is such beauty in simplicity. It’s so freeing to have nothing.

A year and a half later , Ive gotten rid of about 90% of my belongings. Sleeping is easier, morning are more efficient, not to mention all the money I’ve saved. When I say that Ive gotten rid of 90% of my things people ask how. The way I do it is I ask myself a few questions.

Does it make me happy?

Did I know I had it?

When was the last time I used it?

Is it serving an essential purpose?

Answering those question usually helps me decide whether to huck it or keep it. The most important question out of all of those is “Does it make me happy?”. Why keep it if it doesn’t make me happy. I kept all my mugs because they make me happy, and that’s okay. It’s okay to have stuff, its when we idolize materialistic things is when It becomes dangerous.

Donald Trump is not killing us, we are killing ourselves

1/20/17

What a day… now I not here to shove any beliefs down anyone throat, trust me, I don’t want that. I just want to make sense in a world that makes zero sense. Now, the chances that anyone is going to read this blog in 1 in a million, but for the q that may read this I hope that I can change your heart.

Donald J Trump is now our 45th President of the United States. Exciting. No? you don’t think so? Why, because he’s going to ruin America? While I was in Chicago, 4 people were shot and killed during the inauguration. Down in DC a limo was set on fire, and 217 people were arrested. Rioters were smashing windows at business. The anarchy symbol was spray painted around the city. One man, named Dave Lawler, was ordered to get underneath his table at Starbucks because protesters were taking bats to smash windows, and throwing bricks into the coffee shop. But yet, Donald Trump going to ruin America. I just want to know the logic behind America’s temper tantrum. I love seeing stand up for what they believe in, I think it’s great that we are granted the power of freedom of speech, but completely ruining a city because you don’t like our elected president is completely abusing this gift that we have been given.

Donald Trump is not killing us, we are killing ourselves.

It breaks my heart seeing how easily we turned on each other.This is not the time to turn our backs on one another, we need to unite and stand. We can’t the the “idea” of Donald Trump bring us down. He literally has done nothing while he came into office and we are already losing our shit. HE IS our new president and he can do a lot of things, but he will NOT take our freedom away.

1960

All these young people think they’re being so different and starting a cultural revolution, questioning authority, questioning whats going on in our country, and they feel like their parents just don’t understand. I feel like they forget that their parents grew up in the 60’s and they were the one who originally started the revolution.

You become a vegan and an atheist, and you just discover the world while everyone else is blind.

8 Day Week

About a year ago I came across a video called ‘Everyday’ ( I’ll add the link at the end). The video is about, if you had an extra day in the week what would you do with it? It a very thought provoking question in my opinion and I stumble upon it quite often. Would you tell someone you love them? Visit someone you haven’t seen in awhile? Try a new hobby? Well sadly we don’t have an extra day in the week…what we do have is everyday. Whats stoping you from doing some spontaneous or picking up something you haven’t done in a while?

Recently, Ive been feeling really down, and just not happy. I needed to do something. So, a friend and I packed up and took a mini (1 day) vacation to Milwaukee. Yesterday was one of the best days of my life. For both of us it was a spiritual and physical journey and we didn’t even plan it that way. It was just supposed to be a small trip to the city, and go sight seeing. We went and took a detour to a place my mom took me when I was young but haven’t gone since, Holy Hill. For those who don’t know, Holy Hill is a BEAUTIFUL church on top of this huge hill. When you get to the top of the church you can see for miles. That was just the start of our trip. We then arrived to the city and the first thing we did was go to the Milwaukee Public Market, and that was an adventure on its own. After walking around for a bit we decided to go to a coffee shop called “Roast coffee Co.” (amazing lattes btw 10/10). As were sitting there I look up out the window and see my friend Tiffany. What are the odds. I run outside and she was just as surprised as I was. She came inside and were talked for a bit as we watch these boys across the street doing a Slack Line. The entire time in my head I just kept thing on how cool it was. Sooner than later I conjured up the courage to go ask them. “What mine is yours” the man in the pug shirt with the unicycle responded. It was beyond fun, i’m actually going to set one up in my yard tonight.

You never really know what you are capable of until you step outside and see. Just after one day in Milwaukee with one of my closest friends I feel I came back new. I have a new perspective. Everyone talks about how people suck, but I think were just interacting with the wrong people. I literally had a man offer to parallel park my car yesterday because he could see I was struggling. There are some really amazing people out there if you just got out and stepped out of your comfort zone. We don’t have a an 8 day week, but what we do have is everyday to make a difference in our’s or someone else’s life.