Quick History (because some of this is in my memoir, duh.)
My formative 5 years of life were in remote Canadian logging camps in Western Canada where my parents worked as a logger (Dad) and a first aid attendant (My Little Mom: MLM). (Note: Genes passed down by Danish loggers and Mexican first aid attendants must not be underestimated.)
With only lumberjacks, grizzly bears and trees for company, I was a shy child. The sheltered childhood is in itself enough to justify the nuttiness in my noggin, but then I grew up and went into (insert scary music): real estate sales.
After 20 successful years in real estate and one
failed practice marriage, I exited on the next off ramp and changed directions, which really means I had a not-quite-mid life crisis and ran away to Seattle to be a writer.
I started living a secret life there as a blogger (alias Elaine Kaufman). Naturally! (See memoir.)
I Know You Are But Who Am I?
Me, myself and I: A cross between Jim Carrey (animated, goofy, clumsy), Jenny McCarthy (silly, potty-mouth, funny AF), Brigitte Bardot (activist, tortured soul, woman-child, 70s hair–plus I just love her).
My Purpose (efficiently compacted): Be happy. Entertain. Inspire.
My Purpose (read-on-iPad-in-bathroom-constipated-day-after-eating-block-of-cheese version):
- Inspire connection, communication and courage with oh-my-God-I-thought-I-was-the-only-one-who-thought-that-thank-you-I’m-not-crazy relatable prose.
- Stir women to embrace their authentic selves, to go for their soul’s goals, and laugh when we stumble in our chic, high-heeled shoes along the way.
- Rouse men to contemplate the female mind (mine) in an effort to understand us better—or chuckle when we topple in our fancy shoes, but then help us up! (Notice how I used the word ‘rouse’? And you thought that was on accident. Oh, ye of little faith.)
- Encourage acceptance of ourselves and others’ differences and what is. We all struggle along the way. We have thoughts we are certain are right and maybe they are right for us, but maybe they’re not right for someone else—and sometimes, maybe they’re not even best for us! We all have our own movies playing in our minds that no one else is experiencing. If we learn to lead with love and grow into our own highest potential while remaining (or becoming) open-minded, it becomes easier to see the best in others. And this actually makes us feel better. (No, really.) End rant.
- Allow loving intentions in unconventional ways. What if we were allowed to laugh at ourselves—and others!—when we end up with ketchup on our white shirt? What if we believe everything we do is motivated by and diffused down to love? It could happen.
- Relate my A-ha! moments that have led me to joy (or at least less bitterness) and that others may learn from, or be reminded of if they already knew, those smarty pants!
- Promote politically incorrect okayness, because society is ridiculous and if our intention is love and if we can laugh at it all then we might just survive this journey. (Plus, laughing feels good and releases oxytocin, which is the same chemical that our bodies release when we hug someone or have an orgasm and since I. Am. Still. Single. then laughing is my consolation prize.) Lighten up, people! (<– Meant with love.)
- Endorse honesty. Not the brutal I-have-no-delicacy-in-the-delivery kind, but the kind when it’s okay to have a discussion about a testy hot topic even if in the end we respectfully agree to disagree. (Disagreement doesn’t = rejection!)
- Motivate with the motto: Life begins outside our comfort zones! Facing fears leads to our most champagne bubbly empowered selves. (Or if you’re a boy dragon: beer frothy self.) (Or if you’re an other dragon, I don’t know, please inform!)
Most people (yes, even the poorest) in Western Society have it pretty damn good. We need to wake up and smell the hyacinth and change the way we think if we want to be happy, or at least less miserable.
Perception is everything!
If I can stop, think and retrain my brain (working on it) to find better feel-good thoughts which lead to better feel-good decisions, then maybe others can, too. Yeah, baby! (Insert touchdown dance here.)
So I want to make the world a better place even if it is just one laugh, cry or hug at a time. But!
I interrupt this bio to bring you… Trigger Alert! Stop reading right now if you’re a childhood sexual survivor and are still all fuck-you-abuser angry because this will piss you off …
(Okay, but I warned you.)
Despite the highly, holy altruistic list of loving things I’d like to dispense, I also have a few pet peeves that pop up like a pedophile in a playground and that you will find in my written ramblings. (That’s about as bad as it gets. So far. I think. Too much? Sometimes, I do that.)
(Oh, and by the way, I’m a survivor, ne, I am a thriver(!) so yes, it is okay to laugh about it. For me. And you. If you want to. If it feels good.)
Jevus, these are my pet peevus:
- I’m-better-than-you attitudes, even though I know hurt people hurt people, as in when we suffer we cause others suffering, or try to. (Often unconsciously.) Any time we judge someone else negatively, we are essentially claiming superiority. Trust me, I’m guilty of this myself. Awareness! Awareness is the first step.
- Ignorant disdain and unapologetic disrespect for: the environment, the elderly, children, animals, invalids and anyone with such vulnerability and inability to protect themselves. (Insert: Sad face.) (Yes, I can make pedophile jokes while wanting to protect children. Yes, we can laugh while doing right. Yes, I can love all people, including the pervs, while putting the fucker [bad pun] in treatment, which is currently not even available for them, or jail.)
- Greed also kind of makes me cranky, or maybe stinginess does, but shitballs, I used to be there, too, so do whatever the hell makes you happy–(Cough Scrooge.)
Where in the World Do These Words Come From?
My personal blog pretty much fits the bill for Voice #1.
The Voice in My Head #2: The side that’s all lovey-dovey-gag-on-the-sweetness-way-too-Zen-to-be-real-where-does-this-voice-come-from-I-want-to-punch-myself-in-the-throat [insert: puking mime] spiritual. (<–Um, that was written by The Voice in My Head #1. Obvi.)
My essays in elephant journal are where the Zen happens. (Mostly because they won’t post the potty thoughts of rambling drivel I get to post here. Ha! Now, who’s the winner?)
Note 1: There are no winners or losers, it’s not a contest. Hug it out. (Voice #2.)
Note 2: Sometimes the Voices in My Head argue with each other and my face gets twisted up in a weird, ugly expression. Then people in my office (read: coffee shop) look at me all funny and think I’m writing a nasty email to some ho who stole my boyfriend, but guess what, people? Friendly reminder: I don’t have a boyfriend!
I have a laptop and a future with cats and allergy medication. Sideways glance. I’m a little eccentric but can totally and appropriately keep it together in public (most of the time) so now who’s the loser? I am. (Damn it.)
I see myself as a tender, loving, funny, quirky, provacative, brave, real, unfiltered, perfectly flawed, mildly redneck woman-child. I write funny stories about life, love, and relationships. I hope you’ll join me.
P.S. Half my clients, associates and friends think I’ve jumped off the deep end into an empty swimming pool. I can only hope the rest discover my writing, too.
P.P.S. My ej articles are a bit more tame but are still Wonderbar! Find them here!