Seven Year Itch

Hello, Sunshine



I celebrated my seventh wedding anniversary yesterday and "Grow Old With You" was our first dance song. Right after our bridal party entered to the theme song from Golden Girls, and we hopped in to the theme from The Love Boat. Clearly, we're the coolest couple you know.

I did some thinking yesterday. About love and marriage and romance and writing. And here's what I've come up with.

First: Marriage is really all about math. It's 30% talking about bodily functions, 30% discussing what you want for dinner, 30% arguing over how to load the dishwasher properly, and 10% agreeing you like each other enough NOT to follow through on those murder plans. You know, like when you say, "OH MY GOD. If I find your towel on the floor one more time I'm gonna smother you with it in your sleep!"

...or maybe that's just us.

Kasey and I have been together since we were kids. I was eighteen, he was twenty when we met. He likes to say he first noticed my red hair then my big boobs. I'll give you one guess as to what he likes more. He doesn't call me Boobs McGee for nothing. A true romantic, this one.

Yes, that one. The one with the tongue. He's mine.

My second thought: Romance writers are actually pragmatists. If we weren't realistic about love, we wouldn't be able to tell a truthful story. Love isn't full of hearts and unicorns. Sometimes it's difficult or ugly, misunderstood and impatient. It can happen at the most inopportune times or shatter like glass with the slightest pressure. It's what everyone wants but can seem like the pot at the end of a leprechaun's rainbow.

It could be argued I fell in love with Kasey at first sight. After our first date, I went home and told my mom I wanted to marry him. True story. But I also had a terrible bout of cold feet a few months before we were married and ran-rather, flew-to LA for a week to decide whether I wanted to marry him or not. See? Pragmatic. I don't believe in soulmates. I don't believe in destiny either.

I know. I said it. 

But I do think we carve our own future with the choices we make. Humans could fall in love with a lot of people, many times over. Hell, Hozier falls in love with someone new every day, according to his song. I just happen to really adore Kasey and think Darwinism created a close to perfect specimen in him. And I want to keep him. And call him my squishy. Hopefully, if we keep working at it, we'll stay married forever and ever. Maybe meet each other again in the next life. Although, I'd really like to come back as something else. Maybe a gazelle. Or cheetah. Something that can run really fast.

Which brings me to my third point: Romance, as we know it, is bullshit. It's pretty, good for making money on Valentine's Day, and completely false advertising. Romance, while nice, is not Heath Ledger singing to Julia Stiles. It's not meeting at the top of the Empire State Building. It's not holding a boombox outside of a window or clumsily falling into a bagazillionaire who has a penchant for BDSM. And it's certainly not any goddamn Nicholas Sparks books/movies, but let's not pull out my feminist soap box right now.

Yet after seven years of marriage, I think I've finally figured out what romance is. It's waking up every day next to the same person and keeping your commitment to him or her. It's deciding that the grass doesn't look all that much greener from this side. It's learning to fall asleep with the television on because I like light and noise to go to bed. It's making him his favorite dinner even though I'm off meat again. (It happens every so often) It's looking each other in the eye when we say, "I love you." It's the little moments in between all the big stuff. Because it's those little moments when we fall in love all over again. Anyone can buy a big teddy bear and hire a skywriter, but no one can smile his slightly gap-toothed smile, pet my hair, and say, "You're so beautiful," in the middle of a commercial break while we watch Once Upon A Time quite like he can.

Plus, I mean...he's just so handsome. I write romance because what the world needs now is love, sweet love. And in times likes these, who wants to read about aliens attacking the planet or boring business memoirs? I'd much rather fall in love. Over and over and over. So, while I enjoy living out my happily ever after, I hope everyone out there is too! (Cue John Legend)

Can you even with that face? Me either.

#AllOfMeLovesAllOfYou

Suz

Now This is a Story...

Hello, Sunshine

I'd like to take a minute so sit right there, and I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel-Air.

Or, I can tell you how I failed first grade.

...No joke.

When I was a kid, I was super shy. Hard to believe now because I may be, arguably, one of the loudest people will you ever meet. But back then, I was painfully shy. I talked to a grand total of six people and that was on a good day. I was afraid of my own shadow and didn't know how to make friends. I even remember hanging out by the swings with the adults in my preschool instead of with the other kids. Real cool.

My brother was practically a genius by first grade even though he was a year younger than his peers so my parents figured they could put me in school early too. Turns out, it wasn't a great decision. 

Kindergarten started, and I spent most of my days in the corner coloring. I had trouble tying my shoes, couldn't remember my address, and still had no friends.

First grade came around when I was five, and I was struggling big time. With everything. Including math. The teacher told us to turn our rulers over so we wouldn't cheat. PSH! Yeah, right. And phonics? I wasn't hooked on anything. To make matters worse, I didn't have the regular colored markers like red, blue, and green. I had the pastel colors. When the teacher said, "Take out your red marker to color in Pontius Pilate's cape." (That's what you do in Catholic school, draw pictures of people from the bible.) I raised my hand and said, "I don't have red. I have coral." That got me a stern look from the teacher and a couple of snickers from the bullies in the back row. Womp womp. 

I was going out to the trailer- you know those, the ones you go to for extra help- every day. I needed more time to learn everything, from spelling to handwriting, and had a slight speech impediment. (Now though I talk like Six from Blossom) The other kids in class ignored me for the most part, some picked on me, but a select few invited me by parental force to their birthday parties where I hung out in the corner because, of course, that's what shy kids at parties do. 

So, June finally rolled around and my mom showed up to the last day of school which was super unusual because my mom never came to school. I was really excited to see her until my teacher sat us both down with this weird expression on her face. I was obviously not the brightest bulb in the pack, but I knew KNEW this was bad.

I don't remember any of the conversation between the teacher, principle, and my mother besides the words "socially inept." I had no idea what those two words meant then, but I sure as hell do now. I was THAT kid. I was the super awkward kid. With big red curls and freckles! They could’ve made a cartoon about me. 

I went home crying after I was told I had to repeat first grade. I was upset, mad, and terribly embarrassed. I was already afraid of everyone in my class, what would they think of me now? I spent all summer fretting over it, working my six-year-old self-esteem even lower. 

By the time the first day of my second year of first grade finally showed up, I was a mess. New classroom, new teacher, new round of "friends" to make. I wearily found my seat and took out my pastel colored markers. That's when Brooke turned to me. She said, "I really like your markers." 

“I like your scrunchie,” I said.

And that's how I made my first friend in first grade. The rest of the day went swimmingly. The rest of my year even better. I crushed my second time in first grade! Turns out I just needed a little time to grow. I was a late bloomer.

Walking into the second round of 1st grade like a boss

Moral of the story: sometimes you don't understand 3 + 4 on your first try. Sometimes not even on your second, third, or fifteenth try. And it will hurt. Bad. It'll be upsetting, maddening, embarrassing, and will most definitely hurt your self-esteem. BUT there will come a time when you do get it. And it will be awesome. 

I've spent my life trying to prove I'm not a "failure," working doubly hard at everything I do to show the world and myself I'm not that self-conscious, backwards kid. And after years of trying to outrun my fear of failing, I've come to realize failure doesn't define who you are. Failure is just the bottom of the valley before you begin your ascension up the mountain. It may take a few times and a lot of wrong turns, but if you try hard enough, you'll make it to the top. Let failure push you to be better. 

I say to my writer friends, don't stop trying. Believe me, the late bloomer who was literally picked last for everything and legit couldn't read, I get it. Failure sucks, but eventually you’ll pass. Even with your pastel colored markers.

Hell, look at me, I got me an agent now. Still working on my grammer skillz tho. 

#EverythingIsBetterTheSecondTimeAround

Suz

P.S. Brooke is still one of my best friends. <3

It's Gonna Be Me

Hello, Sunshine

Are you tired of the *NSYNC memes about May? I am. But I can't resist this song.



I had a dream last night that I was hired as *NSYNC's personal assistant. I was working for a bunch of old boybanders, who lived in a big mansion together and still acted like young boybanders. And it was everything. EVERYTHING. Joey was snarky, Chris was ridiculous, Justin was kind of a twat, Lance was obsessed with social media, and JC was beautifully tortured. I'd like to imagine that's what they're like in real life. I've heard JT really is a twat. I might have dreamed about these gorgeous hunks of singing/dancing puppets because of all the memes and gifs floating around yesterday, or it could have been my obsession seeping into my unconscious.

I think it's the latter.

This happened. And I LOVE it.

I was in eighth grade at the height of the pop craze in 1999-2000 and was a hardcore *NSYNC fan. Suck it, BSB! My formative years were shaped by Chris Kirkpatrick's hair, Britney and Justin's relationship, and my undying love for JC, who is still at the top of my Freebie Five. It was a great time to be alive.

So, what is a girl with a boyband obsession and a lot of free time to do? Write fanfiction, obviously. I was into fandom before it was nerdy cool. Back then, it was just nerdy. AND I was coding my own website. Somewhere along the road, I lost my computer skills, but for real...a thirteen-year-old girl, who taught herself HTML code? I was crunk.

If you've got a few hours to spend reading the daydreams of an adolescent Suzanne, I highly suggest you check out the angelfire website I created. I also suggest you read it with alcohol. Goes down easier that way. It's probably the best *NSYNC fanfiction you'll ever read. Maybe the only *NSYNC fiction you'll ever read. Either way, you'll love it. This I promise you. 

#Crunkbaby

Suz

Captain Planet, he's our hero!

Hello, Sunshine

I think we can all agree yesterday was a sad day in our lives. Let's take a moment to enjoy the pure eargasm of Prince. 

It's safe to say, after catching Purple Rain on HBO when I was twelve, I had my sexual awakening.

In other news, it's Earth Day today. And since I'm a hippie dippie kind of chick, let's talk about it, kids.

Earth Day began in 1970 and is celebrated in 193 countries, coordinated by the Earth Day Network. This year, the Paris Agreement is scheduled to be signed by U.S. and China, the two worst perpetrators of carbon emissions at a combined 40%, and over 120 other countries to help cut on greenhouse gases. 

What are greenhouse gases you ask? Great question. 

Greenhouse gases are carbon dioxide, methane, nitrous oxide, and a couple other ones I can't pronounce. They are results from everyday activities, such as: using electricity, manufacturing, driving cars, and farting cows. Once these gases are released into the atmosphere, they basically wrap around Earth like aluminum foil on a freshly made burrito and trap the sun's radiation in, which causes our planet's temperature to rise.

See?

Bad news is global warming can't be stopped. Good news is we can slow it down. It's pretty simple really. Just stop doing things that emit greenhouse gases. 

1. Walk or ride a bike when you can. Get a bus pass or grab a ride with your buddy. The less cars on the roads, the better. 
2. Convert to energies that make Earth happy like solar, wind, or water. Or, do something as simple as changing your light bulbs to compact fluorescents. That will save about 300 lbs of carbon per year. 
3. Eat less meat. The meat industry creates 20% of the global gas emissions (that's a lot!) and uses 2,500 gallons of water per pound of beef. Plus, our country's agriculture is getting out of control with the GMOs. If you aren't growing it, raising it yourself, or buying it from a local market, be suspicious. 

If you want more ideas on how to be part of Captain Planet's gang, buy Zero Waste Home. I highlighted it on my book page. It's written by a French women, so obviously so knows what she's talking about, and tells you how to Reduce, Reuse, and Recycle. And just generally be a better, kinder person. But don't buy the paper version. Save the trees and get a Kindle.

#SoFreshSoCleanGoGreen

Suz