Hacker.Ninja.Hooker.Spy. - Some mistakes are too good not to share

What’s a “Strong Female Character” Anyway?

I get a little annoyed when someone refers to a “strong female character.” By going out of your way to point out that a female character happens to be strong, it’s almost like you’re saying that’s abnormal and unnatural, “women aren’t usually strong but look—this one is!”

I like convincing characters who feel real, regardless of whether they’re good or bad, admirable or deplorable. I like characters that are so true they almost hurt to read because they remind you of your own awkward diary entries but at the same time you want to keep reading because it’s like reading someone else’s diary and honestly is there anything more enticing than that?

One of the characters I’m writing is a teenage girl. She’s not a bow and arrow-wielding-badass and she doesn’t have any sort of special powers—but I still want her to be whatever we mean when we call fictional characters “strong.”

I assumed it would be easy to write from the perspective of a teenage girl, but no. I thought back to how my brain used to work and it was kind of terrifying. There was such a bizarre mix of treacherous DO NOT ENTER THIS IS A WASTELAND crossed with boundless belief in my ability to attain whatever life I happened to want on a particular day.

When it came down to it, there were four things that consumed the mind of Young Aussa: [Read more…]

Marriage Advice, Courtesy of My Unmarried Boss

66 Comments by Aussa Lorens

The most fervent advice-givers are those who have absolutely no idea what they’re talking about. My boss, the middle-aged bachelor, is an absolute expert on marriage— despite the fact he’s never been in one. But he’s heard of marriage and he’s seen other people’s marriages and that is all it takes for a man of such quality to be able to tell you how they work. As he likes to tell people he’s yelling at on the phone, “you know what, I’m going to go ahead and point out with what you’re doing wrong, and I won’t even charge you for it.”

So here’s some free marriage advice I’ve picked up along the way:

If you can date strippers, date strippers [Read more…]

You Know What? No One Asked You

45 Comments by Aussa Lorens

I think we could all do with a little less nosiness and a little less letting everyone know what we think of them. This horrid election, all the current events, it’s been really divisive. And then I log onto wordpress and start to labor over all my precious word babies, and I get this:

You know what, WordPress? No one asked you.

[Read more…]

My Husband is Going to Buy a New Wife When I Die

43 Comments by Aussa Lorens

Thanks to the onslaught of 30-something anxiety regarding the inevitability of death, Alex and I now have life insurance. I’m told this is an important part of every marriage, but it feels more like a really good way to ruin everything. I can’t imagine any other circumstance where we’d end up sitting on opposite ends of the couch at midnight on a Tuesday, with me yelling:

“And then I’m going to be a 42-year-old widow who can’t afford Spotify Premium and our children will never go to college.”

Let’s not forget, we don’t even have children. But even though they don’t exist yet, they are still very good points to make in an argument. Especially if you decide you’re probably going to have triplets.

When sheister-y insurance sales people talk to you about your life, you start thinking of all the what-ifs and future selves you might become. And there is lots of math involved:

“You will need your salary X however many years you want your spouse and children to not have to live in a box, eating out of trashcans.”

“You don’t want to saddle your loved ones with all your unpaid debt, do you?”

I tried to explain that my only debt is in the currency of sexual favors for all those times Alex lets me wait in the car because I can’t bear the weight of human interaction.

“Well, sure. But think of all the future debt you’ll incur. A house, newer cars, you’ll have to furnish that house, things happen, one of you might become ill, you might even become uninsurable, honestly THERE IS A VERY GOOD CHANCE YOU WILL DIE TOMORROW.” [Read more…]

I Think My Boss is in Love with My Husband

72 Comments by Aussa Lorens

Despite the fact I share all my private business with the internets, I really don’t like talking about my personal life while I’m at work. Prior to my current job, I was always a bit of a privacy snob. No one knew my real address, no one knew Alex’s name, and if I could keep my coworkers from knowing which car in the parking lot was mine, I would. Maybe I’m the tiniest bit paranoid.

But the right to privacy does not exist when it comes to my current boss. The job interview should have been my first red flag.

“Why’d you move to Denver?”

“My husband and I both love it here, we wanted to be near the mountains.”

“Oh. So what happens if your husband’s job relocates him outside of Denver? Would you get a divorce? I need someone committed to the long term.”

I thought he was making a joke. Ten months later, I realize he wasn’t. And his interest in all things Alex did not stop with the job interview. [Read more…]

Sorry I’ve Been Cheating on You

46 Comments by Aussa Lorens

Confession time: I’ve been cheating on you for the last month or so. You may have noticed the distance, or maybe you’re totally caught off guard and never saw this coming– regardless, it is what it is.

I’m writing a book.

I’ve been working on it since mid-June and am 28,092 words into my HORRIBLY rough first draft. I was feeling pretty legit impressed with that number until I went back and looked at my original outline and realized it was almost 40,000 words in and of itself so I haven’t even beat my own record of writing horrible slosh that I hope will eventually arrange itself into something people might actually want to read.

My goal is to finish the first draft by October 1st. This is totally doable– Except my #1 talent in life is procrastinating on things I know I should be doing. Here are some of my favorite ways to NOT write a book:

[Read more…]

Wake Up, Log On, Fear For Humanity

57 Comments by Aussa Lorens

I don’t feel like writing– especially on the internet. It’s not safe here. I would be better off writing my thoughts on the back of a takeout menu then using it to scrape the bird crap off my windshield. Or I would be better off activating a 30-Day trial on Netflix so I can watch the 4th season of Orange Is The New Black over a period of 48 hours while not thinking about anything else.

Anything would feel better than going online.

The internet has become a place where I go to feel discouraged and worried about the world. Wake up, log on, fear for humanity. I don’t know why I do it. It’s like I’m serving penance for something. I could go over here and be at peace with my soul OR I could type in my phone passcode and click on all the apps that have little red notifications hovering above them and keep clicking and scrolling until all the notifications have disappeared along with my sense of hope and wellbeing.

All people do online is argue and judge and willfully misunderstand each other. Even now, I’m doing it with myself:

Judgmental Me: “You aren’t even aware of your privilege, that you have the choice to just stay offline and not have to feel what’s going on around you.”

Judgable Me: “I’m just tired of feeling so heavy.”

Judgmental Me: “Well then you’re a coward.”

My news feed is telling me I must cleave myself in half and wait to see which side is successful in destroying the other. My brain is telling me to turn up the air conditioning and crawl under the covers and pretend like nothing is happening.

Neither of these seem like very good choices. And the low-hanging fruit makes it way too easy to get sucked into inane debate that does nothing to actually improve the situation.

I’ve stopped clicking on the articles. I just read the headlines:

“Guy Gets Shot To Death But That Makes Sense Or Else He Wouldn’t Have Been Shot To Death”

“More People Are Shot To Death Because Shooter Upset About People Getting Shot To Death”

“Child Dies in Tragic Accident, Entire Country of Perfect Parents Share Their Irrelevant Opinions on Who They Think is to Blame”

“Polls Show 97% of Americans Think Alaska is an Island Next To Hawaii, Off The Coast of Mexico and We’re Gonna Make ‘Em Build a Wall”

“Housewives in Your Area Use This One Clever Trick to Stop Aging and This Matters Because You Should Feel Terrible About Yourself”

“Pokemon Go a Big Thing Right About Now”

I wasn’t planning to write about this. I’m lacking whatever personality trait makes people think their opinion is 100% right and everyone should shut up and listen to it. If anything, I’m the opposite. I’m worried that my opinion is uninformed. Laced with bias. Too naive. Too cynical.

Even worse, I’m wishy washy.

Wishy Me: “How hard is it for people to take a moment to imagine life through someone else’s perspective, and understand that their experience isn’t the only valid one?”

Washy Me: “If someone killed one of my two brothers who happen to be cops I WOULD BURN THEIR FUCKING WORLD TO THE GROUND.”

I am part of the problem. I am part of all the problems. And I’m not sure what to do about it. Maybe that’s why I’m paying penance. Or maybe what I’m REALLY paying is the salary of all the media execs who embed Geico ads and subscription pop ups in between the quotes of whoever’s being interviewed about whatever horrible thing is the latest thing to grab our attention and get all the likes and all the shares and all the crazy-ass comments from the rednecks of Trumptopia.

Alex told me the other day that, statistically speaking, the entire world is actually trending less violent. This didn’t make me feel better. It made me feel like a cavern was opening up inside my chest.

“Wow,” I said. “If this is the new and improved humanity then I’m out. No thank you. Tell ’em Boy, Bye.”

How can the world supposedly be safer and people more accepting when every time I logon I read “the Dallas shooter is a martyr” or “those thugs got what they deserve?” Every where I turn, someone is telling me who does and doesn’t deserve to live. Who does and doesn’t deserve to die.

But here’s what really frightens me: When I read those headlines I feel completely alone. I feel frustrated and heartbroken and powerless because no one is willing to take the time to listen to each other. Then I realize that I’m so busy skimming articles in a fit of rage to bother listening to the other voices murmuring from the middle. Those voices sound a lot like my own– but for some reason they aren’t as loud as the others. Their tolerance and well-reasoned opinions don’t make for good headlines. The algorithm doesn’t honor the tempered nature of their responses.

The reasonable human is not welcome on the internet. But we are here. I’ve seen you.

And as much as I doubt the validity of my own voice and as much as I worry about not knowing enough to say the right thing, I’m going to go ahead and say something: There are no sides. The media and politicians have convinced you that there are only two sides and you must pick one. They’ve already decided how you’re supposed to feel and what you’re supposed to think.

“[Fill In The Blank] has happened and it’s a [Fill In The Blank Situation] that is sure to cause a divide between [Fill In The Blank] and [Fill In The Blank].”

I’m not going to listen to this anymore. It’s time for us to speak up and drown out the voices of those who are shouting that you must pick a side. This isn’t a war and it isn’t a game– it’s a conversation that is desperately overdue. And real conversations don’t have sides.

The reasonable human is not welcome on the internet. But we are here. I’ve seen you.

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“I Love You, But I Quit” — My Assistant

63 Comments by Aussa Lorens

I felt like a pretty big deal there for a few months. Because I was making a lot of money? Because I had a nice office? Because my title sounded impressive even though I basically made it up? No, no, no. Because I had an assistant.

*cue the harp music of the employment gods*

I’m not gonna lie– having someone who’s job is to do all the shite stuff is AHMAZING. For the last 7 months I haven’t had to fill out a rebate form, run to the post office, or answer my own phone. It was the culmination of all my career aspirations in life: Not doing what I don’t want to do. [Read more…]

Job Interview Tips From Someone Who Hates Her Job

45 Comments by Aussa Lorens

I’ve been interviewing for a new job because mine is terrible and my boss is terrible and don’t make me explain this (except you know how much I love explaining it). I’m pretty sure he thinks I have some sort of disease because I keep having to miss work for a couple hours in the middle of the day for last minute “doctor appointments.” Normally I’d blame it on my uterus but he already told me how angry that makes him:

“Men don’t have those problems so it’s hard for us to see it as a legitimate excuse.”

It’s hard for me to see his existence as having a legitimate excuse, but it is what it is.

In the last six months we’ve hired five people, all of whom have quit for the exact same reason– our boss is an asshole. So I’m telling them to put me as a job reference and compiling all my best tips and tricks for acing a job interview: [Read more…]

BlogU & The Tossing of My Lady Garden

40 Comments by Aussa Lorens

I went to BlogU last weekend which means I had to get on an airplane. I’m totally fine with that claustrophobic terror that your last moments will be spent screaming through recycled air, but I’m less okay with the horrors of airport security. My routine anxiety was amplified by the presence of a bomb/drug sniffing dog. While I didn’t have either of these, I did have an overly crafted dress that I’m pretty sure could get you high and/or be a weapon of mass destruction. [Read more…]

Nothing Good Happens When I Leave My House

62 Comments by Aussa Lorens

You know how scientists can tell when a volcano is about to erupt? Well I can do the same thing for my sense of wellbeing– meaning I can usually tell when I’m about to take a death spiral into agoraphobic mania. Here are the latest warning signs:

I tried to leave my house yesterday.

2. Then I tried to find a particular book and it took half an hour for me to summon the energy to ask for help and it was all. for. nothing.

If I were a mythical creature I would be a cave troll. I don’t want to go out in the light, I just want to hunker down in a pile of familiarity and grunt at anyone who tries to ask me questions. My house has everything I need: an internet connection, an Amazon prime delivery address, and a bathroom where I can plug in a space heater, fill the bath with epsom salt and cocoon myself in darkness like I’m trying to reenter the womb.

The only problem with using a space heater year round is that I frequently flip the breaker. The other morning I didn’t realize I’d knocked out the power until I tried to turn my curling iron on.

“Why is electricity not happening,” I yelled.

I tried the plug next to the Keurig but it didn’t work either. Clearly the Keurig also needed a rescue, so I cradled it against my body and continued my quest for a working outlet. I hadn’t put my contacts in yet so I was squinting at everything while bumping into doorways and tripping over shoes. I realized the fan on Alex’s side of the bed was still working so I stooped down to plug the curling iron next to it. I was rewarded with a blinking power light, letting me know I had 90 seconds until it was hot enough to leave a Greenland-shaped burn mark on my forehead.

My triumph was short-lived as I tried to figure out where to set the soon-to-be-scalding curling iron. I hesitated over the antique cedar chest, my panicked brain still functioning well enough to know this was a bad idea, but not well enough to keep me from trying to balance it on top of the oscillating fan. I perched it atop the stainless steel caging and watched as it immediately slipped, became tangled, and swung dangerously close to my face.

Alex waited in the doorway, unmoving.

“I’m just going to stand here and watch this,” he said.

I continued to struggle with the curling iron as it swung in suspension. I reached for it but kept having to pull my hand back to avoid the hot end.

“I can’t see anything,” I yelled. “This is why I’m going to die in the apocalypse.”

Alex narrowed his eyes.

“Is this what it’s going to be like on Tuesday and Wednesday while I’m out of town?”

I forgot he was going on a business trip for the days leading up to my own trip to BlogU in DC. Suddenly all the impending doom and fear of human contact became even more dire. I looked up at him/maybe a chair piled with dirty clothes.

“Yes,” I whispered.

He nodded as if he already knew what was going to happen.

“Nothing here works,” he said, doing his best Aussa impression. “We have to move. I found a new place to go where stuff works except I can’t leave the house.”

My reclusiveness is at war with my feminism. On the one hand I want to be a warrior who handles her own shit and doesn’t need anyone’s help. On the other hand, I needed Alex to drive half an hour to come ask a second bookstore employee to help me find a book. He always asks how I managed to backpack all over the world by myself and I’m not really sure. The only thing I can figure is that I’ve always been this insane, I just didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. So, if you really think about it, all of this is his fault.

Now I feel better.

Nothing good ever happens when you leave your house

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What makes YOU feel panicky? Do you hate going out in public? Can you fix me?