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  My name is Sara.

  There is NO superfluous H in my name.

  Please to get it right.


  I swear.

  A lot.

  Fair warning.



Born and raised in Suburban, Minnesota

I have been writing inane things on the internet since September 2001.

I have been writing inane things in general since I was twelve years old.

In a nutshell…

I am: super awkward, painfully shy and a staunch introvert with loud and obnoxious tendencies, an obsessive and passionate geek about many things, a writer, a wallflower, a hopeless romantic, skeptical and riddled with anxiety, long-winded, endlessly snarky, a walking contradiction, the Queen of Self-Deprecation, and one of the nicest people you will ever meet

I love: Bob, writing, music, books, movies, sleeping, my computer, my niece and nephews, Eeyore, caramel-filled chocolate, ginger ale, my cursed Jetta, critters, random blog stalking, inside jokes, architecture, the color blue, rambling, Train, Ingram Hill, O.A.R., Matt Nathanson, Andy Grammer, video games, Moogles, Rooster Teeth and Red vs Blue, office supplies, kitchen gadgets, snark, The Breakfast Club, Newsies, weekends, randomness

I hate thoroughly dislike: the phone, driving, writer’s block, headaches, sinusitis, ineffective medications, willfully stupid people, bad drivers, traffic, the distance between Anoka and Burnsville, rap music, attention whores, books written in first-person present-tense, and people who can’t spell my name right

I am married to Bob. He is my sanity and my saving grace and he makes me so ridiculously happy. We met on a [now defunct] free online dating site. He sent me a message with a really cheesy pickup line as the subject and I almost didn’t open it.

Our first date lasted for eight hours sitting in a Caribou.
Our second “date” lasted four days over Thanksgiving weekend.
Two months after we met, I moved in with him.
On our first anniversary he proposed in the car in the parking lot of a [different] Caribou.
We got married ten months later.

We are staunch homebodies. We are shamelessly inane. We play video games. We have entire conversations of nothing but inside jokes. We laugh constantly.

Geek love is the best love.

You should try it sometime.

I have a deep-rooted emotional attachment to music. My tastes, or lack thereof, are completely shameless. Don’t expect me to be embarrassed or ashamed of what I like. Chances are you like something I can’t stand.

Train, Ingram Hill, O.A.R., Matt Nathanson, Andy Grammer, Ryan Star, Nine Days, Sister Hazel, Better Than Ezra, Gavin DeGraw, Matt Hires, Eric Hutchinson, Toad the Wet Sprocket, Aijia, Matchbox Twenty, Rob Thomas, Tony Lucca, Darren Criss, Mat Kearney, Billy Joel, John Mayer, Semisonic, The Fray, Graham Colton, Carbon Leaf, Brandi Carlile, Tyrone Wells, Sara Bareilles, The Monkees, Barenaked Ladies, Rush, The Police, Def Leppard, Jon McLaughlin, some Canadian rock bands, various American Idol alumni, former Mouseketeers, a few Glee kids, a penchant for schmultzy pop music generally of the boyband variety…and that’s just to name a few…

I have clinical depression, severe generalized anxiety disorder, and inattentive-type ADHD. I have a trifecta from hell. I first saw a doctor in March of 2007 and have spent the years since searching for answers and effective treatments (pharmaceutical and otherwise). I have spent thousands of dollars on expensive drugs and even more expensive tests, and come up nil on just about all of it. I’m still searching for answers, but it is absolutely exhausting sometimes.

For years I kept my mouth tightly clamped about my struggles because people around me led me to believe I should feel a sense of personal shame for my problems that I “refused” to just “get over.”

One day (after some extensive therapy) I finally realized that it wasn’t my fault. I am not ashamed of the fact that I live with mental illness. It is a very real problem. It is a legitimate illness. There are people who staunchly believe otherwise. I no longer have a place for those people in my life. And I no longer keep my mouth shut about it. It needs to be discussed openly and frequently. Talking about it SAVES LIVES.

I was born and raised Catholic. I was baptized and made my first communion but I was never confirmed. I no longer claim Catholicism or Christianity. Growing up, going to church every Sunday I always thought was a complete waste of time. I stopped going once I turned eighteen and I never looked back. I don’t consider myself an atheist. I believe in something, I’m just not entirely sure what it is. I suppose that makes me agnostic. I believe whatever it is, it is beyond our capability of comprehension. Am I right? Probably not. I don’t believe any one group has it right.

Believe what is right for you. Don’t let anyone else dictate what that is.

I think politics is just legalized crime. I believe the death penalty should be enacted in every state across the nation, reserved for the particularly heinous offenders. I do not think the average idiot on the street should be able to carry a gun. I don’t think YOU should have any say in what any woman does with her own body. I believe in basic human rights for everyone.

If something as simple as two men or two women getting married to each other is going to destroy the very fabric of your fragile little world, then perhaps your rock solid belief structure is not as rock solid as you believed.

Love wins, Kids. Get used to it.

Anything else you want to know? Just ask. I’m generally not as ornery as I seem and I don’t bite. One of the most infuriating things for me with clinical depression mixed with ADHD is the never-ending struggle to control the ornery bitch. Contrary to outward appearances, I am one of the nicest damn people you will ever meet.

The OTHER Blog…

In September 2001, I started my first online blog/journal/whathaveyou on livejournal.com. In nine years I managed over 4,700 posts on that journal. Through all of my website/blog pipe dreams I kept going back to that journal. I often wondered why I would get so hung up on building a blog on another site (my own domain) when I had that journal.

I never really came up with an answer, but I finally reached a point where I had to move on to someplace else.

That journal saw me through a lot of years and a lot of emotions. I didn’t write about everything, but I wrote about A LOT. It carried me through some of my sickest and darkest days in my struggles with depression and anxiety. I struggle to go back and read old posts because it dredges up a lot of painful memories. There’s a lot of writing in there that people might not want to read. (I know I don’t.) There’s a lot of uncensored dialogue in there, but I’m not going to apologize for it.

I’ve always written for myself.

It’s my place.

My words.

And although I may have told you where to find it, nobody said you had to read it.


[Tweaked: June 13, 2017]