To My Family, Who Read This Blog

March 5, 2015 - 7:35pm - by Alyson Shane

Hello.

I know you're there.

I've been told by a few of you on a couple of occasions that you intermittently read what I post here. That it upsets you. That you don't understand why I do any of this.

That's okay. I don't expect you to.

Because I'm not like any of you. I'm a writer. I find solace in the curves of words, in their permanence, in what is left unsaid between the paragraphs. Some people find comfort in a bottle, or the arms of a lover, but I find it in words. 

I don't know how I turned out this way. How I grew up to be such a demonstrably different person than I was ever told, encouraged, expected to be. 

But I'm thankful for it.

I'm thankful that I am learning to handle my anxieties and issues in positive, healthy ways; I'm thankful that I have people around me who support me; I'm thankful that I have this blog, my little corner of the internet, where I can pour out my heart and soul and thoughts when they overwhelm me.

I want you to know that I'm working on learning to accept that you can't and won't be the people that I so desperately need you to be. It's hard, but it's something that I will need to work on coming to terms with. If I spend my whole life expecting you to change then I'll never be happy. 

The only person whose growth I can control is my own, and I'm doing my best.

Part of that includes writing here. Of being honest about my struggles and challenges, and the steps that I'm taking to overcome them. 

Lots of people go through similar situations, and if my words are able to help a single person feel like they're not alone, or encourages them to get the help that they need, then I have a responsibility as a writer to put myself out here. Even if it means upsetting you.

As I said: I don't expect you to understand.

I do expect you to continue to ignore me; to continue to pretend like nothing is wrong and I'm just delusional or making up the fact that I have anxiety or issues with trust, confidence and self-worth. I expect you to continue to deny your roles in causing these issues, to continue to keep me at arm's length because it's easier to ignore me than it is to face the things about yourselves that make you uncomfortable.

But I know you read this blog. So I'm telling you that it's okay.

I forgive you.

(At least, I'm working on it.)

Managing My Anxiety with Pacifica

February 23, 2015 - 9:59pm - by Alyson Shane

Many of you know that over the past while I've been trying to take positive steps to start tackling the stress and anxiety that I deal with in my day-to-day life. Part of that has been creating positive dialogues by sharing my experiences, and recently it's involved using an app called Pacifica.

I'd never really considered using an app to manage my anxiety, but after John mentioned it and sent me a link to their webpage, I figured "why not?" Since then I've been using it daily and have really been noticing a change in my mood and my anxiety levels.

Basically the app provides you with tools to work on mindfulness and to track your moods and activities over time, which attempts to paint a picture of the kinds of behaviours that can increase or decrease anxiety and stress.

There are five daily tasks: Mood, Relax, Thoughts, Experiments, and Health, though when you use the free version (like me, I'm cheap) you only get access to three a day. Honestly though this is more than enough. 

There are two things about this app that I liked enough to sit down and write a review, one of which is the little push notification. Usually I hate them, but there's something sort of soothing to look down at your phone and see a message that says "how are you feeling?" - even when I know it's coming from an app, it makes me stop and think. 

This also works well because once I see the push notification I go right into the app and input my Mood, which means that I don't just use it when I'm feeling good or bad, which would skew my ability to figure out if I'm making progress.

The other is the Thoughts feature. I used this for the first time the other day after a particularly stressful experience.

Basically the feature has you record your thoughts out loud, then it plays the recording back to you and asks you to identify positive and negative statements. 

When you identify a negative statement, it displays leading questions which force you to think about why you felt that way, and why you expressed it the way that you did. 

Once you've listened to it once (or more times if you need) the app has you re-record your thoughts on the issue: was it as bad as you thought? How could you change your thinking patterns moving forward? etc.

I really struggle to do this in the moment and while it was a bit weird to talk out loud when nobody else was around, hearing myself played back and thinking critically about the statements that I heard myself making really, really helped. 

The app does other stuff, too, like helping you track how much you sleep, how well you ate, how much exercise you got, etc, but this was the most influential tool that I've used so far.

I really find that managing my day-to-day stress and anxiety levels can be a challenge, and having an app has really helped me be more mindful of my choices and it's helpful to go back to a particular day and be able to say "yeah, I handled that really well" or "I could have done better, what can I improve on?" and see that progress over time. 

What about you - do you have any app recommendations for managing anxiety? I'd love to hear them! 

One look at a banana and you can tell it came from outer space.

February 23, 2015 - 3:13am - by Alyson Shane

That line is from The Blind Assassin, by Margaret Atwood. John and I are reading it together right now - it's his first time but I've read it about four times since I first read it in my first year of university. 

It's one of my favourites and it's neat sharing it with him.

We read together most evenings, and sometimes during the day on the weekends, too. Once in a while I read out loud but usually he reads to me while I curl up in our down comforter, or lie in his arms, or sometimes paint my toenails or clean the bathroom.

So far the list of books that we've read together looks like this:

The Tao of Pooh 
Reunion
James and the Giant Peach
The Neverending Story
Station Eleven
The Blind Assassin

which I believe is missing a few but I can't really remember at the moment. 

It's weird dating another avid reader, but wonderful. Our very first "date night" after we started dating was on a Friday night. We made rosemary chicken and salad and drank red wine and sat on John's shag rug and talked made out and he read Oscar Wilde poems to me. 

How could I not be completely charmed, really?

Even now we read to each other constantly; yesterday while running errands John asked me to read something to him in the car and so I did. 

He drove and I read and we talked and it was lovely.

Most of what I've done this weekend involved potting plants, shopping, cooking or reading. I spent very little time online and what time I did spend was largely spent reading articles in the car yesterday.

It was nice to unwind and recharge. 

Don't get me wrong, it's nice to catch up on Twitter and write a bit here and whatnot. 

But honestly I can't wait to peel back the blankets, get into bed, and lose myself in that book again.

Woke up early for Raw:Almond yesterday

February 9, 2015 - 7:03pm - by Alyson Shane

For you non-Winnipeggers Raw:Almond is the annual pop-up style restaurant built on the ice of the frozen Assiniboine River. They do incredible 5-course dinners, cocktail & snack sessions, and an informal weekend breakfast which is divine.

I went with Adam and Brittany and John and also waved at Kevin and Laura K, who were also there but with different groups of people.

Because eating breakfast off of paper plates in your winter coat is all the rage.

All of the food is served at these huge, long public tables which encourages people to share the experience with each other. 

It's bigger than it's been in years before, with three separate tables to host all of the people that line up in the cold waiting to get inside.

It's heated but still so cold you have to wear your jackets and toques.

The food is divine, as evidenced by the photo above, and worth every penny.

We sat next to Bart Simpson, a filmmaker who was involved with writing a documentary called The Corporation you might have seen (if not, it's on Netflix!) who chatted about all sorts of things with us and took the photo at the beginning of this post. Hi Bart!

It's almost time for the restaurant to close for the season but if you want to know more check out this documentary that my friend Colin put together.

Stay warm, lovelies!

xox yr girl Shaner

An Ode to the Playground of my Youth

February 4, 2015 - 3:21am - by Alyson Shane

The Red River Community Centre
down the street from my house, a few short blocks away
on the corner of Murray Avenue and Donan Street
surrounded by ditches, a baseball field
hockey arenas lay empty and stinking of piss and sex in the summer.

Made with wooden beams and pillars
rough to the touch, watch out for splinters
picking them out of hands, feet, knees,
until there were too many and ignoring them became easier
than pausing a game to squeeze them out.

The slide that was removed before I can clearly remember
the empty wooden tower where it used to be
where I vaguely recall hot, silver metal glinting in the sunlight
the burn of it on my bare legs
sliding down towards welcoming, outstretched arms.

Sand instead of little pebbles
which got in your eyes when you fell down
or got kicked up during a game of Grounders
while scrambling to get from one surface to another.

The big, fat tire swing that was the beacon of summer
suspended by three thick chains in a plastic coating
sticky and black from hands and sweat by mid-June.

Under-ducks and spinning until we were nearly sick
almost hitting our heads on the overhead beams
grabbing on and spinning, suspended in the air
that time my brother kicked someone in the mouth.
Thank goodness they were all baby teeth. 

Monkey bars, hot to the touch in the afternoon light
seeing who could jump the farthest
past the first, second, third bar
each summer we got farther until we were too tall to jump
and could walk from one side to the other.

Riding our bikes in circles around the parking lot with no lines
just gravel and broken glass and prickly weeds
the occasional car with frisky teenagers in the back parked at the far end
tucked away from us and our raucous noise
exploring new landscapes with the windows half rolled down.

The community centre, barely a shadow of a building
made of white brick and smelling like used sports equipment
the crowded area where I would lace up my skates
and drink cheap, watery hot chocolate with my dad for .50 cents.

One year my parents signed me up for daytime summer camp
where we played sports and did arts and crafts
went on weekly trips to Kildonan Park or Fun Mountain or Oak Hammock Marsh
and I spent a furious afternoon trying to cut through a recycled paper plate
carving it into a snake which I decorated with markers and sequins
and lost while chasing frogs on the way home.

The park, like most of my childhood haunts, is gone
replaced by a monstrosity of steel and glass
which encompasses almost all of the green space where I roamed,
a skate park where the soccer fields and their empty metal nets used to be
fake palm trees where I laced up my first pair of cleats. 

I mourn for these places, now.
I wish that I had understood the humble, fleeting magnificence
of the happy, blissful, sun-drench days I spent there
eating gummy candies acquired from the gas station up the road
shaped like blue feet, kissing lips, fuzzy peaches
worrying about nothing except how late it was getting
and when I would be able to make my way back tomorrow. 

Making the Case Against Multitasking

February 3, 2015 - 6:18pm - by Alyson Shane

My 9-5 is a great example of how to get nothing done. I'm the Marketing Manager for two RE/MAX agents and I can't count the amount of times that I've sat down with every intention of getting a ton of work done... only to find that four hours have passed, I've answered the phone fifteen times, and I'm nowhere on my project.

This is magnified when I sit down to do any of my freelance work, because having all of those other tabs is sooooo tempting and I'm not only managing my own creative projects, networking, planning and administrative, but someone else's, too! It's so tempting and easy to get sucked in to doing something, anything other than what I'm doing. But, every time I switch to a new task my brain has to engage, disengage and reengage somewhere else and I lose precious work time that I could be spending 

As such, I've had it with trying to multitask.

Sure, we might feel productive while simultaneously checking our email, social media feeds, taking phone calls, writing, etc, but what we're actually doing is diving up our attention and energy and actually half-assing all of it instead of being really, really good at one of those things, and studies show that a person who is interrupted takes 50 percent longer to accomplish a task. Not only that, we can make up to 50 percent more errors.

Here's what I do to stay focused and fight the urge to multitask:

Work uninterrupted for designated periods of time. I plug in headphones so there are no external distractions and put my head down and just get through it. Hours will pass in the blink of an eye and my productivity skyrockets.

Set alarms for checking emails & alerts. Especially when I'm waiting to hear back from a client, or working on a social media project. I can't ignore them.

Put my phone face-down. Usually I put it to my side, or underneath something, as the little alerts drive me batty and fill me with that "must respond now!" urge. Some people recommend putting your phone in another room, but honestly I'm way too attached to mine to ever do that. Plus I like it's pretty Dalek case.

Stretch. I find my attention starts slipping if I start getting uncomfortable; it's kind of like my mind is trying to convince me to continue to sit still by going "oh hey, check out what's happening on Twitter!" If I find myself slipping into this mindset I'll get up (without checking my phone!) and do a standing torso twist stretch (this also cracks my back, which feels amazing. Don't judge!). 

Get some damn sleep. I'm terrible for this. I'll work until well into the night without realizing it; or, I'll realize that it's 11:45pm and think "just a little more work" and then it's almost 1am. It doesn't help that I happen to date a workaholic who is just as bad as I am, but we're both slowly trying to form habits that make us more productive overall, not just when it's crunch-time.

Cut back on caffeine when I'm working. This is the hardest of all. I love coffee and my 9-5 is conveniently located near Little Sister and Thom Bargen (my favourite haunt) is a short walk from my house. Not only does caffeine consumption mess up your sleep patterns (see above, we already know this is an issue for me) but that little kick-start to my heart that a cup of strong coffee frequently is counter-productive because my mind starts racing too much to focus on a single project. 

The moral of the story is this: we didn't evolve to live our lives this way, looking at a million things a minute. We walked long ways and focused on singular activities, so it's important to be mindful of the ways that our contemporary lifestyles go against what's natural, and how we can curb those behaviours to actually be productive and happy.

Do you have any tips for staying focused? I'd love to hear them!

How to Be Positive (or Give It a Damn Good Shot)

January 30, 2015 - 6:41pm - by Alyson Shane

Since I wrote my #BellLetsTalk post the other day I've had tons of people reach out and share their experiences with me - largely stating that they, too, struggle with feelings of negativity and often have a hard time not getting overwhelmed with negativity. 

I really, really struggle with negativity. I'm was raised to be a pessimist and to always look on the bad side of a situation. My first reaction to pretty much anything that stresses me out is to get my back up and start spiraling mentally into a black hole of what if's and this is terrible's.

So as a bit of a follow-up to that post I wanted to share a few of the steps that I've taken (and currently practice) to try and cope with my negativity and be more positive. 

Smile

I remember dating a guy who, years ago, went on a huge rant about how a friend-of-a-friend changed his whole outlook on life because he made himself smile all the time. I thought he was a total whacko, and while his story might be a slight exaggeration, there's science behind the fact that smiling makes you feel happier and I can personally attest to the fact that smiling, even when I'm sitting around and typing something makes you feel happier.

Focus on positive speech

I wrote a post a few months back about my efforts to remove negative words from my vocabulary and I'm happy to report that not only have I been successful, but that I've been able to encourage other people in my life to start curbing their use of hurtful words as well.

However, because of my anxiety I still routinely refer to myself as being "stupid" - as in "I can't believe I forgot that, I'm so stupid!" which has got to stop. I know it, I'm working on it, and if you find yourself doing the same thing, try and catch yourself when you think it or say it aloud. 

There are enough people in the world who are going to put you down, there's no need for you to help them out.

Additionally, try to focus on talking about positive topics and ideas. Venting about your tough day or that thing that your partner did that pissed you off might feel good in the moment, but vocalizing it adds more value than it probably deserves, and only serves to reinforce the negative things that you feel. 

Focus on the good around you

A lot of advice of this nature will tell you to keep a journal of things that you're thankful for, but if you're like me and feel a bit silly doing it, just make a point to try and find things that make you smile, or small positives throughout your day.

For me, a big part of being able to maintain this kind of thinking is my partner, John. We both vocalize the good things in our lives often, and probably say things like "I'm so lucky for XYZ" a few times a day. Personally, my Instagram #Project365 is also making me take a more critical look at the world around me - instead of going to and from places, I'm actively looking for things to photograph and admire and share. It's been a lot of fun, and it keeps me mindful of my surroundings.

Ditch the cynics

Do you have friends that just love to sit around making super-snarky comments about how awful the world is, how much their life sucks, and how nobody "gets them, man"? Yeah, we all have at one point or another, but in order to start leading happier, more productive lives we need to rid ourselves of those bad influences.

This can be incredibly hard to do, especially if you've got a super-tight circle of friends. I was fortunate in that I lost almost all of the negative people I knew as the result of a breakup, which forced me to take a long, hard look at the attitude and lifestyle habits that I had developed as a result of those influences. 

Not everyone is as lucky as I am, and it can be hard to start putting distance between yourself and those negative people, but once you start spending your time with more positive, energetic, driven individuals you'll find that your attitude changes naturally over time. It can seem intimidating at first, but actively making an effort to hang out with more positive people will result in a more positive you.

Sweat it out

I'm not saying start drinking protein powder for every meal and putting on massive gainz at the gym, but exercising releases feel-good chemicals and makes you happier, it helps relieve stress and your body will look smokin' hot if you keep at it long enough.

If you're like me it can be hard to find exercise that doesn't feel like a drag after the first 30 seconds (I lift weights, mostly, because cardio gets boring fast). Most people just default to cardio because it seems like the go-to exercise, but there are so many other ways to get your heart racing - check out your local gym for classes, cycle around outside, go swimming, whatever! 

Pay it forward

Being nice to other people makes you feel good. I'm not saying that you have to volunteer at a soup kitchen every night of the week (though if you want to that's cool, too) but doing small things like smiling at people on the street or holding doors open for strangers really make a difference in someone else's life and make you feel fabulous as well.

One thing I always make a point to do it thank my bus drivers. I commute via transit during the winter months and always make a point to thank the drivers if I'm exiting the bus at the front door. Think about it: these people basically drive in giant circles all day so that you can go to and from where you need to be. It's a pretty important job when you think about it, so I always let them know I appreciate it. 

Remember, it takes time

These tips won't always work. There will be days when you feel blue, get the Mean Reds, or just need to bitch it out over a cocktail with friends. That's totally okay. Becoming a more positive person isn't going to happen overnight, and the effort and things you learn as you grow will help contribute to long-term happiness. Give yourself a break and smile. 

 What about you? Do you have any tricks for staying positive? Let me know!

Living With the Mean Reds

January 27, 2015 - 8:34pm - by Alyson Shane

I remember the first time I heard Audrey Hepburn utter those words. I was sitting with a friend, watching Breakfast at Tiffany's for the first time, and I started to cry.

I felt relief. Relief that I finally had a way to describe what the stressful, overwhelming, terrifying emotional state that frequently overtook me.

That's what anxiety is like. It's like getting the mean reds.

Let me tell you a little more about what living with anxiety is like:

It's trying to write this post. Over and over and over again and deleting it all because as I see the words forming on the screen and my head starts to swim and my heart starts to pound and I think

You're so stupid. Nobody wants to hear what you have to say.   

Or being so ashamed of my story, of how I found myself fighting this almost-daily battle against myself that I I spend more time trying to breathe deeply and fight back my tears than actually typing anything at all.

I wrote a huge post, earlier. About how my anxiety led me to my suicide attempt at 16, about the ways in which my relationship with my mother has left cracks the size of the Grand Canyon in my self-esteem, about how I've struggled with feelings of guilt, fear and, most importantly, of worthlessness for as long as I can remember, and you know what I kept thinking while I was pouring my heart out?

Nobody wants to hear your stupid thoughts. They're going to think you're an idiot for even thinking that they're worth sharing. You're not good enough to talk about your anxiety when there are other people out there who have it so much worse.

That's what living with anxiety is like. I spend my days second-guessing everything I've said, everything everyone has said to me, and worrying that somehow, some way, I'm going to ruin everything for myself and everyone. It will all be my fault.

I spend hours analyzing and re-analyzing the smallest of conversations. I re-read text messages and try to figure out the ways in which that person must be angry, or irritated, or disappointed with me, because I am always expecting someone to be angry, irritated or disappointed with me.

I've been this way for as long as I can remember. Due to a seriously abusive relationship with my mother and being a member of a family unit that operates on guilt and negativity I've developed this tendency to always assume that I'm not good enough.

Every single memory, every interaction, every milestone, is peppered with moments where my chest clenches up and I feel tears welling up behind my eyelids. 

Did I just say something stupid? Oh my god they must think that I'm such an idiot.

Do I even deserve to be here? I'm such a fraud, I'm a sad excuse for a person and once they figure it out I'll lose everything I've worked so hard for.

Does he really love me? Because I certainly don't deserve to be loved. I'm too stupid and worthless and too much of a burden for anyone to want to love me.

People tell me I'm strong. They tell me that I'm smart, that I'm motivated, that I'm able to do anything that I put my mind to. I have a list of accomplishments as long as my arm that I'm so fiercely proud of, yet there's a voice screaming in my ear that I'm a fraud. 

That I'm a stupid, worthless fraud.

Believe me, I realize how irrational this sounds, but anxiety isn't rational.

Some days I feel like I can't manage. The vice grip on my chest becomes too strong and I can't hold back the tears and I hide in a bathroom, or behind my sunglasses, or best of all under my blankets where I can just disappear until the feelings fade enough that I can try to put on a brave face and pretend like I'm okay again.

Most of the time I'm just pretending. Pretending that I feel at ease, that there isn't a perpetual knot in my chest, that I'm not worried that someone will wake up and go "aha! You never deserved any of this, you awful, terrible, worthless person!"

But pretending only goes so far.

Talking helps. Talking, crying, screaming it out helps. I'm slowly learning to accept that I don't have to be ashamed of having a mental illness, or that it's only a very small part of what makes me "me" but there are hard times, and I never know when it will strike.

But I'm getting better. I wrote this post, even though it took me several hours, a lot of tears, frantic text-messages to get reassurance that yes it is okay to talk about this on the internet of all places and no, nobody is going to think I'm stupid for feeling this way.

Let me repeat (both for me and for you): nobody thinks you are stupid for feeling the way that you do. Your feelings are always valid, no matter how irrational they may seem or how often that voice in your head tells you they aren't. You have value.

I have a long way to go before I'm able to rid myself of the Mean Reds, and maybe I'll never get to a point where they're 100% gone, but I'm going to get better.

Please, if you're feeling any of the same things that I described in my post, talk to someone. Call your mom, your boyfriend, your best friend, or, if you're feeling too overwhelmed, the Manitoba Suicide Line at 1-877-435-7170 or call any of the other 24-hour crisis hotlines to get help. 

There's no shame in reaching out. Together we can beat the Mean Reds.

(I wrote this post for #BellLetsTalk, a hugely important campaign which encourages open discussion to end the stigma surrounding mental illness. If you know someone that you think might be suffering from mental illness, please reach out the them and let them know that they are loved & supported.)  

The Suburbs

January 26, 2015 - 5:15pm - by Alyson Shane

The place where I lived my childhood is gone.

The street is still there, but the deep ditches where I used to watch tadpoles and, later in the season, scoop frogs into my tiny hands, are gone.

The bridges that extended over them where I spent hours on my tummy, watching the water rush through the long grass with my friends, have been dismantled and taken away.

The fields on either side of my street, which connects Main Street to McPhillips Avenue, have been swallowed up by cheap particleboard, concrete driveways, and houses in pale, inoffensive shades of beige and grey stucco.

In the spring we would put on our too-big rubber boots and wade through the flooded plain, chasing each other through the tall green and orange plants. We used to pull bulrushes, fat and bulbous, apart above our heads, showering everything in their soft wool and watching it drift away in the wind.

We spent our summer afternoons climbing around an old, small hill covered in trees at the end of a dirt road that ran parallel to a ditch which ran parallel to the train tracks. There were old, large pieces of concrete that we, using all of our collective strength, pushed into "couches" and "chairs" to sit on in place of the long grass, which had spiders hiding in it.

There were small burned-out areas where older kids tried to start fires every summer, and the black, charred remains of the trees fascinated us. Especially when, against all odds, they would begin to bloom again in the following year.

The city would come and re-tar our back lane in the middle of the summer and our naked feet would get sticky-black as we chased each other on bikes or on foot over the newly-filled potholes.

One summer we had mice in our attic. I remember my dad pulling one, stiff with rigor mortis, out of a trap that he had set and saying to my mother, who was delirious with anxiety "we live next to train tracks and have fields on both sides of the street. What did you expect?"

In the winter more City workers came in huge plows to clear the back lane, pushing aside the snow to form a jagged, uneven wall along the lane that we would climb over in our thick snow pants. At night we would toboggan in the glow of the streetlights.

I would to fall asleep to the sound of the trains going by. The sound still soothes me.

I used to look out from my parents' bedroom window, over the lane and over the field behind our house. Before I was born you could see right to the Perimeter Highway, but slowly newer developments began popping up and creeping ever-closer.

We moved when I was ten, before the suburbs crept nearer and took over. There had been talk of a wall to divide the new subdivision with my old back lane; now there is a tastefully-high fence that runs along the outer edge of the yards. 

My old street runs like a vein between two new subdivisions, which flattened the hill and cast big, imposing shadows over the little houses on Murray Avenue. It once felt worlds apart from the suburbs, but in recent years has become consumed by it.

I've heard people talk about having to drive up my old street to get to their identical, perfectly-paved streets which lead to their identical stucco houses with their identical yards with a single tree in front.

They talk about the old, dated duplexes with brown wood features and chain-link yards; the useless, weird, vacant space in front of their property where the ditches used to be; the back lanes that spoil their view.

They can't see it for the beautiful place that it was because the suburbs have consumed what made it so magical. 

On the surface it feels like I've lost that place forever. That it was surrendered to the inevitable march of progress, to urban sprawl,  to hastily-constructed homes with no soul. 

But Murray Avenue still has a heart. You just have to know where to look.

Come with me, sometime. I'll show you.

Taking It Easy

January 26, 2015 - 1:24am - by Alyson Shane

Stayed out way past my bedtime yesterday to catch Attica Riot's amazing set at The Cavern, where I danced my face off with John, Adam and new Twitter-to-IRL-friend Doug McArthur!

Also kinda obsessed with this dude from Sc Mira's style. It's so Mark Ronson, don't you think?

They also played this AMAZING cover of Life at Last from Phantom of the Paradise. Unbelievable!

My #Project365 photo was of this super young couple seated in the whiskey bar where John and I were hanging out before the show. They were so cute, they didn't even look 18! When the dude poured the beer they were sharing (aww) he didn't tilt the glass and basically poured a bunch of foam. So charming to watch.

Was feeling super lazy today so I spent the day hanging from the couch, answering some emails, updating my LinkedIn, posting to Tumblr and watching Twin Peaks. What a weird show.

Hope you had a lovely weekend!

xox yr girl Shaner