*cue Adele* Hello, it’s me.

No, but for real… IT’S ME. I PROMISE. It’s been freaking long enough since my last published post. I’m so sorry to all of my faithful subscribers from all over the world. Whad up Argentina and Bolivia. How are you since December 2015? Good, I hope and wish.

I am obviously not dead. I’m alive, well and entered 2017 feeling hella refreshed and not hungover (yippppppie). It is hard to deny the past year that has been since my last published post.

I haven’t gone completely lost. I mean, hear me out… this place, this blog, was my play time. As I entered the corporate marketing world, my blog became less of a play and more of task. As for someone who is pretty shitty at finishing to-do lists, it goes to show why I have 67 unpublished posts in my drafts folder. Lots of embarrassing snippets, fantasies, unfinished thoughts, and mostly unconsidered lessons sit in that folder because they just  couldn’t be transformed into a story.

It was as if the writer in me died in 2016. I have to wonder, as I reflect on this last trip around the sun, why did I walk away from a love that never leaves me? Why did I walk away from writing?

And within that thinking, I found myself getting distracted with an open afternoon and an open opportunity to finally see the ever so spectacular La La Land, starring the delightful Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone. Hello, can we get any hotter?! Hubba hubba.

I wanted to see it with a friend, or desperately post an ad on Craig’s List titled “SINGLE WOMAN SEEKING GAY MAN TO ESCORT HER TO A MATINEE SHOWING OF LA LA LAND *Must be over 6’0″ and willing to drink IPA’s in the parking lot before the showing.*”

I knew that time was of the essence and time presented just one ticket to La La Land for me, myself and I.

I took my ticket stub and cheerfully said to the man at the box office, “Thank you so much, I appreciate it!”

I smiled as I walked through the doors while remembering all of the times that I spent in that theater during college as a financially broke, emotionally broke, spiritually broke and heartbroken version of myself.

I remembered who I was when I wrote everyday.

That memory felt like home to me.

(Side note: If you are a gay male with an intense love for IPA’s then email me so we can share beer flights, talk shit on which Kardashian went under the knife last and binge watch Sex and the City.)

Enchanted. By color. By rhythm. By editing. By Ryan Gosling’s SEXY dance moves. Holy Shit, La La Land took me for one hell of a ride. As I transformed myself into the film and whispered to myself under my breathe, is this film about my life? Holy shit, this is totally my life. I realized that there is something incredible about living in LA. There is this spirit that lives in this metropolis. But here is the thing… it either lives in you or it kills you.

IMG_0072.JPG.jpegHere I am. First mirror selfie of 2017. I took to the liberty for a restroom break once I realized that La La Land was breaking into the B Story of the screenplay, cause well, IPA’s baby. #broketheseal

My biggest accomplishment in 2016 was making the move to The City of Angels with my dearest of friends, Whitley Ngo. Our story is romantic. We met four years ago on a flight to Florence, Italy for a study abroad program. The rest was history after I offered her a sleeping pill on our flight and we promised each other that we would live together in LA after we graduate from college. Look at us now. Living, thriving, drinking and bitching in one of the finest cities of the world. Los Angeles.

I have realized a few things, since making the big Southern California leap of what now seems like a sleepy world of Orange County to non-stop insanity known as LA. Some of these things sit in my drafts, some of them sit heavy on my heart and some are just here building and molding me into the flawed and flawless version of myself.

Without further to do, here is what what should have been on my blog in 2016…

Pretending to not be hungover at work is one hell of an act.

Pretending like you didn’t fall asleep in the restroom at work cause you are hungover is an Oscar winning act.


My best friends are the ones that have a personal relationship with my parents and/or follow each other on Insta.


The best way to see the city is during an early morning run. The rest of your world is sleeping but you chose to have your body make steps turn into miles.

Uber drivers are my therapists.

How you view yourself is how your friends view you. IMG_8195.JPG

My ass is getting flatter and my thighs are getting wider.

I realized that I never want to go on a Bumble date ever, ever again while I was chugging my beer in the middle of my date trying to convert me to the Islamic faith.

Some are not comfortable saying “feminist” so they have to call themselves a “girlboss”.  With that in mind, I am a feminist; yet, I am seen as a girlboss.


My feminism is different from other’s feminism and that is a beautiful, beautiful thing.


It seems as if you are tall, blonde, have over 11k followers on Insta, are a size 24, have tits that defy gravity, sticks to the cocaine and green juice diet then you are like soooooo making it in LA.

If I can’t point and laugh at myself, then who else will?


Dating people in LA is literally a waste of cell phone data. And shit, I have unlimited data. So if data equates to time, then I don’t want to waste another minute.

Money comes and goes. But student loans are always there at the end of the fucking month. IMG_8420.JPG.jpeg

No one notices if you dance like an idiot, so, dance like an idiot. Everyone notices if you dance promiscuously, so, if the song brings out your inner hoe, then let yoooooo hoe move, baby.


If we are as sick as our secrets then the nicest people in LA have a terminal illness.

You don’t need to be in contact with someone every day to know that you are loved by them. 


I realized that I was “the other girl” through social media. 

I lost 15 pounds in one year. Eating clean and listening to your body IS REAL PEOPLE.

People sincerely take notice when you do what you love. 


I became a part-time vegetarian, a full-time wino and an obsessor of living life as natural and homeopathic as I can.

24 years of all emotions hit me as I was preaching my Maid of Honor speech at Chelsea and Stephen’s wedding. I literally. Fucked. It. Up. IMG_8474.JPG I mean that is an ugly crying face that only a mother can love. Just kidding, Lene even thinks that I need to get my shit together. Kim Kardashian, teach me your ways on the ugly cry because I just look like a busted can of biscuits. Pls & Thx. Sincerely, an 8 pound heavier version of me.  

I asked questions to Siri that nurtured me as an adult with class and as a woman with value. I asked Siri questions like…

“Siri, what happened to Akon?”

“Siri, can I take Aleve while hungover?”

“Siri, wake me up when November 8th is finished.”


“Siri, dude. Is Donald Trump really going to be President of my country?”

“Siri, do moon phases have anything to do with my period?”


It doesn’t matter how drunk you get, Brazilian waxes are the most painful thing ever.

I would rather spend time with family then I would want to spend time resting. IMG_8013.JPG.jpeg

My family is everything.


Compliments from loved ones after a breakup are better than compliments from loved ones on your birthday.

Allowing myself to be vulnerable with someone was a bone that I never though that I had the capacity to throw at myself again.

Although I swore that I wasn’t falling… I was. As fast as I was falling… was about as fast as it was for him to end it.

Heartbreak doesn’t discriminate if it is love or almost love.

Heartbreak comes in different sizes.

Heartbreak is like bras.

You hate them.

You have to bare them.

You sure has hell have different ones.

And just like my favorite bra to wear, he was my favorite heartbreak to bare.IMG_9604.JPG.jpeg

And just like that, I understood why he had to do it. Because his career is what is MAJORLY important right now. Even though my intentions were to be a flickering light in his darkness, sometimes that light becomes too focused.

And sometimes those lights have to be blown out to truly shine on their own.

I get it and I respect it. Because lights (like me) don’t want to shine as a burden. We only want to shine as an outlet.


There are two sounds that I love. The sound of champagne being popped and the sound of wine being poured.


Wearing Lululemon’s to work means you are comfortable with life. Get uncomfortable.

I cried at my brother’s graduation ceremony as if my dog was getting murdered.

Speaking of murder, routine murder’s creativity.


My most psychotic, yet best decision in my life, was purchasing my ticket for the LA Marathon. March 19, 2017… take your time… I still don’t feel ready.

My favorite part of work is being, creating and laughing with others. IMG_7158.JPG.jpeg

Friends love you like crazy. They love you so hard that they let you fail without warning. Love without hurting and rightfully say, “Danika you look like a hot mess today” without pity.


Looking back, laughing hard and really truly being gracious towards myself for what 2016 offered me, I realized that I left this blog because I was busy being a goal digger, a hard worker, and the woman that my parents raised me to be.

I was this so much that I forgot to release myself in this space, this blog, and the interwebs that doesn’t give feedback but only gives love back.

In 2016, I let my freshness of the world be trampled by my slavery of the 9 to 6 job. I intentionally, because of money, let others opinions and desires take me away from my creativity and ultimate love of story telling.

I miss making stories out of my ugliness and beauty.

I miss coloring outside of the lines.

I miss entering a world of myself that I never knew existed.

I miss getting emails from strangers and texts from loved ones saying “Danika, you are so real. Thank you for making me cry today.”

Within everything that I miss… I have to nod and acknowledge everything that I have worked to build. I got muhhhhh fuggin health insurance. I got a promotion. I got my own place. I got a career in digital marketing. I am 100% on my own.

And within all of the things that I have… I know that I have so so so much more to give and earn.

So I dance.

With Whitley.

With Ryan Gosling.

With myself.

With whoever wants to dance with me.

I dance in understanding that I stepped away from this blog simply because I had to.

Living in LA makes me make money, but it doesn’t make me create things. 

The quicker that I understand that, is the quicker that I realize that making money and creating stories and things are two different industries. My goal digging was just to pay my bills and to survive. But as for 2017, I have a whole other groove.

I have a whole new purpose that is driven deeply, divinely and ridiculously needing-ly from my core.

If my intention was to get a foundation in LA during 2016, then 2017 is all about building on it.

Wholeheartedly. Unapologetically. Creatively, And well… purposefully.

Because angels don’t die. Dreams don’t die. Passions don’t die. But intentions do. And my intention during this year is to grab onto what keeps me feeling fulfilled and do that for at least 5 minutes a day. To write. To love. To pray. And by God, to appreciate where I have come from since December of 2015.

3 thoughts on “Hello 2017.

  1. Wait I just need to pick my jaw up off the floor one second.

    Girl you have a gift and you need to share this shit with the world. This was powerful, real, joyful, witty, funny, raw, relatable and fucking inspired me to be more – ME and to hang out w you 24/7.

    Die for you. We all need this – love you.

    Xo Krista

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

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

Google photo

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

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Connecting to %s