Deep Thoughts From a Wistful Donkey


Sometimes you just know what you know and must be courageous:

Steam rises off the lake this morning at my parents’ home before my mother drove me to O’Hare. No matter how many times I fly home – and there have been hundreds since I left at age 18 … I always feel the same way when I leave. An aching, a subtle sadness, a preemptive homesickness. “I wish you’d just get over the cold and move home,” my mom said as we hugged goodbye at the airport just minutes ago. But I won’t. This isn’t where I’m meant to be. And yet … Living with this knowledge – that (realistically) my family and I will always be separated – is like living with chronic heartbreak. It’s always there, even if it’s under the surface.

And yet, I’m so happy to head back to San Francisco, my new home, the place that I feel fits me better than any other I’ve lived. Such is life, this continual balancing of needs and desires, of reality and dreams, of what could be and what is.

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Julia Allison Is Channeling Norman Bates


Wearing my grandmother’s sweater (and her coat, not shown) for my nephew’s baptism this morning. I wish she had been able to see this day … It would have filled her with great joy. She was certainly there in my heart.

Uh, hasn’t she also worn Nutty Granny Moneybags’ nightie?  This is starting to get a little creepy.  If Julia starts inveighing against multiculturalism and demanding the help don white gloves when serving Thanksgiving dinner at the OMG! University Club, we’ll know which personality has won.


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Updated: Jacy Misses You, Darlings! / Julia Allison Misses Her Childhood, Discovers She’s Still A Teen


Just got an e-mail from our intrepid leader, who’s been halfway around the world on business and will be back soon. Unlike Julia Allison, that slothful Midwestern hick, Jacy, JP, and myself work full-time and then some. And unlike Julia, jetsetter Jacy engages other cultures and doesn’t play accidental tourist when working or visiting abroad. Feel free to post encomiums below!

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Update: Meanwhile, at the Lakeside Assisted Living Facility, Julia Allison has been waxing nostalgic and forcing others to do her bidding:

The First Annual Noah Way Family 5k was scheduled for 11:30 am, but the troops were demoralized, offering lots of excuses as to why we should just skip it, and instead “run to the bank for some cookies” (my dad), watch the baby (sister-in-law, who had – in her defense – already run 7 miles that morning), accomplish errands for the christening party (my mom), or just in general not be super into it (brother). But I had made teeshirts, so for pete’s sake, WE WERE RUNNING THIS 5K.

I held firm. We took photos. We waited for my mom to come back from her errands so she could watch the baby. And then, finally, bundled up against the Lake Michigan chill, we all galumphed down to the beach – my brother, sister-in-law, dad and me – a motley kelly green tee-shirted crew.

The actual running / bonding was even better than I thought it would be. I run alone every day, so I’m not used to being able to chat with others during the process. Who knew how fun it would be?? (um, a lot of people, apparently.)

We ran to the harbor and back, which is about 2.3 miles, but as we approached home, the lure of the warmth (and baby) inside was too much, and the crew peeled off, feeling that they had shown up and done their part.

But I had promised it would be a 5k, so I kept going.

I finished to the sound of silent victory, a little soul clap moment for me. I had done what I said I was going to do.

And sometimes, that’s enough.

Who literally knew how fun it would be forcing your family to get up and run a 5K on a cold Chicago morning?!  But enough about her, I mean them, Julia is realizing that little has changed since she was a 16-year-old spoiled burro receiving her first restraining order:

I’m sitting in my childhood bedroom, looking at my diary from when I was 16.

Wow … talk about “the more things change” … it’s remarkable the fractals that pop up in my writing; TWENTY years later I’m still focused on the same themes (although I’ve made a ton of progress … thank god)!

“WHAT DO I WANT?” I inquire rhetorically.

“The strangest feeling of ‘needing’ a boyfriend has come over me in the past few weeks/months. Where does this ‘need’ stem from?”

“Whenever I ‘need’ a boyfriend is the time when I don’t get one. I want the security, stability, etc. Homecoming looms … But I have to become more comfortable with my own situation first. I don’t really need a b-friend, I really need to become secure w/ myself.”

Wow. The wisdom of a teenager – still applicable!

My favorite part? “I guess I really need to determine what is important in my life. What do I really want? Who do I really want to be? I am constantly learning to be a better person. Perhaps that should be my life’s goal.”


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Julia Allison Is Starring in “A Baugher Family Weekend”


Facebook journalith Julia Allison is so happy and “SO. SO. SO. EXCITED.” to be visiting her brethren at the Lakeside Assisted Living Facility that she:

1. Is feeling “totally defeated.”

2. Is fantasizing about having been born in a mythical “South” rather than in Chicago.

3. Wrote a lie filled, cuntastically passive-aggressive birthday greeting to her brother in which she got higher billing.

4. Crowdsourced for an “Active Release Therapy” practitioner – is this a woo word for masseuse? Too much stress? Need a happy ending?

5. Posted what she wanted for Christmas, like one of those porn star Amazon wishlists.

6. Felt no hesitation in broadcasting her cheapness –

If I wanted to hire a photographer in Chicago but I didn’t need it to be a big full on production – literally just an hour of shooting my family in our matching outfits for the Family 5k – where would I go to find such a person? Craigslist? Taskrabbit? Or just asking a pro if they’ll do a quickie?

I really don’t want to spend any more than $100 for something like this ..

What?! No money in doing happiness experiments for a living? Not to worry – the Coobie/Kigurumi spokesmodel is weathering the storm:

“YOU are who you need most.”
– a very wise woman I love

That wise woman could only be … Julia’s mentor, Pocket Raunch!

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Updated: She Coulda Been A Contender Instead Of Being a Woo Bum From Chicago Whose Brother Finds Her “Ridiculous”


Ah, the halcyon days Julia Allison spent with Jack “Pancakes” McCain, where they once briefly discussed marriage before she came to visit “the home they shared in Coronado” and wouldn’t leave, forcing Mama Cindy to escort her to the San Diego airport. “You take care, dear heart!”

Maybe Julia’s having second thoughts about her dusty circle of friends post Pancakes: scammy slut Ali Shanti, tattoo-faced lunatic Saharima Roenisch, dominatrix without mercy Michael Ellsberg, pocket Stanford dropout Max Marmer and on and on and on:

It occurs to me that perhaps I was meant to have been born in the South – Georgia or North Carolina or Texas – a place with manners and family dinners and big hair, a place where courtship and church never went out of style, a nice Southern girl – but something got mixed up with the Stork’s GPS … and I was sent to Chicago instead.

You’re a long way from elegance, refined manners, a boyfriend whose father was one erratic heartbeat away from from the presidency, and a Southern or British accent, Jackles! Exhibit A: Airport personnel and travelers holding their noses when Ali Shanti, her hair in turkey feathers and bewbs hanging out, wafts past.  Channel away, Rainbow!


UPDATE: Julia decided to jump on her “little brother” and publicly bray about their relationship “in honor” of his 31st birthday:

Throwback Thursday in honor of my brother’s 31st birthday. This shot was taken in 2001 or 2002, I believe, when I was 20 or 21 and Britt was graduating from high school, in our parents’ backyard.

It’s always been hard for me to have the kind of relationship with Britt I wanted … we’re very different people, with very different lives. I’m super verbally communicative, he’s … well, he’s not. He‘s married (to a lovely girl he met in HIGH SCHOOL) with a baby. I’m … well, I’m not. I travel constantly, he barely gets on a plane (for work and family reasons – not because he’s lame – he’s super adventurous, studied abroad in Hong Kong, he traveled before he settled down).

He is a senior engineer at Motorola, I do wild happiness experiments for a living. He’s in Chicago, and likely will be for life … and me? I don’t foresee ever going back there for anything other than the occasional visit and a few weeks in the summer. I go to Burning Man, he thinks that’s sort of “ridiculous.” I have lived in seven different cities in my life … he’s lived in two, three if you include college.

Sometimes it just seems like the space is too vast between us. Perhaps we’ll never be the close, loving bff siblings I always wanted. But I refuse to accept that means we can’t connect as human beings who have loving hearts.

So how do we forge a relationship in spite of this crevasse of difference? How do we go beyond small talk? How do we keep the love going?

These are the questions many of us will be asking ourselves as the holidays approach and we’re sitting at Thanksgiving or Christmas dinners next to relatives with whom, frankly, we don’t have much “in common.”

How can we connect on a heart level with our families?

The jackass is using her brother’s birthday and a gazillion snaps of the poor bastard when a kid (which I refuse to post here) to start a Shantiesque FB conversation, but no one gives enough of a shit to respond.  THIS IS SOCIAL MEDIA 3.0 SUCCESS!

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