Skip to content

Melanie Hamlett

not asleep at the wheel

Books/Essays
Podcasts
Public Speaking
My Favorite Posts
Who’s this Hamlett chick?
Deep Thoughts
Smashing Stories
Other Stuff I Do

I was going to title this card “Happy birthday you sick fuck” but I already used that on the greeting card photo from the morgue

Posted by melaniehamlett on January 27, 2013January 27, 2013

card-curiosity

(photo taken in the basement of a hospital in Coney Island. I swear those are clean.)

p.s. if you’re a guy and don’t know what this is, it’s the super uncomfortable thing that holds your vagina open while getting a papsmear

Like this:

Like Loading...

Related

Post navigation

Previous Post Previous Post

Next Post The Bars in NYC Give Terrible Advice

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Enter your comment here...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

Email (required) (Address never made public)

Name (required)

Website

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Google+ account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )

w

Connecting to %s

Notify me of new comments via email.

The face you make when the bike you literally just got fixed at the bike shops gets ANOTHER flat tire an hour later. Only this time you’re an a couple miles from home and have to walk back. What is with you, bike gods?! Why do you want me to not have the one thing that makes me so happy right now?! Oooooooh, I see. To force me to cry a lot since I’m too busy and overwhelmed from moving and being in a new country and traveling to grieve? Okay, if that’s the case, well played, Bike Gods. You have made me cry more and harder over these goddamn bikes than anything else in my life I think. The flat only cost $12. I know I’m not crying this hard over waking through a beautiful area or spending an extra twelve goddamn dollars. Grief is a bitch, y’all! It finds it way into your life through whatever cracks it can slither into. Come at me, grief. I’m here. I ain’t scared of you anymore. Just leave the fucking bikes out of it please.

I like the graffiti here (this is 2 blocks from my house)

Finally cracking open this sucker . I haven’t written a new essay for anyone since my dad died. I just didn’t care and I was exhausted by everything and I felt too vulnerable to put myself out there for the kind of cruel criticism from bored garbage people that usually comes along with getting pieces published. On top of that, the last two months straight of my life have been totally chaotic and exhausting and exhilarating with all the moving and uprooting and reunions. And then again with showing up in a country where I don’t know the language or anyone but my ex (who I’m not seeing). But after 3 weeks here, I feel like I have my feet on the ground for the first time since April. Today was the first day (with the exception of that one in Greece I just posted about) where I didn’t talk to anyone I knew (except one phone call) and I took care of shit I’ve been putting off for months (still need to do those taxes though!). Luckily, selling my truck gave me this financial cushion I needed to be okay with not working and instead focusing on taking care of myself emotionally, uprooting from LA indefinitely, spending precious time with friends and family, moving across the world (indefinitely ), and finding community and a support system here. I still don’t know the language but now I at least have friends, a home for awhile, familiarity with my neighborhood, some routines in place, a pool membership, and an adorable bike (with a goddamn flat already!). But like a restless dog circling its bed (I’m borrowing that metaphor form Julia Cameron), I am desperate to have a sense of purpose again. I’m tired of floating and grieving and settling. Now it’s time to write. And I’m scared shitless I have forgotten how or that I’m no good at it anymore. But I know I took an even longer break last summer and it was fine. When I finally got settled in Spain by November, there was no stopping me and my career took off. I think some breaks are necessary, especially the ones forced. So cheers to the terrifying blank page all writers must face and the self doubt that comes along with it. Let’s hope my internalized internet trolls don’t get in the way too much.

I saw these in Holland too. I need a DOG cafe though

Social

Facebook
Twitter
Instagram
YouTube

Search for:

Click here to find my stuff

Click here to find my stuff

Pages

Books/Essays
My Favorites
Other Stuff I Do
Podcasts
Public Speaking
Smashing Stories
Videos
Who’s this Hamlett chick?

Top Clicks

itunes.apple.com/us/podca…

Upcoming Events

No upcoming events

Say hello or submit to ask hamlett

askhamlett@gmail.com

Post to

Cancel

Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy

%d bloggers like this: