Author: Megan Finley Horowitz Page 2 of 43

The Redwood Wedding’s last-minute wedding videography Hail Mary + my wedding vows

I woke up one morning, days before the wedding, and realized I hadn’t thought about videography. We had so many talented friends and family performing speeches and readings, and I knew that I would be so hyped up that day that I was sure to forget all the amazing things that were said and shared that day.

So I quickly googled a butt-ton of Northern California wedding videographers, but years of working in the wedding industry, and seeing one cheesy wedding video after another, has made me a hardened and picky bitch. No one was really fitting the bill (even the Desperate Megan version of the bill). Except for some guy named Tim from Share the Road Videography. His style was all about mood, vibe, and those beautiful details and minutiae that a couple can completely miss in the frantic energy of their wedding day, along with some crisp AF audio.

I wrote him an email entitled “last-minute wedding videography Hail Mary?” And, as surprising as it was fortunate, he was available that day, and totally down to party at The Redwood Wedding. And this is the 3 minute version of all his hard work…

As I watched it (over and over and over) tears were just streaming down my face, and I had a smile as big as the one you see on that video. He absolutely nailed it, and I’m so glad he highlighted the vows, as they were my favorite part of the day (and he even captured the AT-AT and the funky chicken on the side of the food truck that I love so much too!).

Anyway, if you’re interested, here were my vows in their entirety…

Read More

Thoughts I’ve had lately as a privileged WASP with a new Jewish last name

It’s a strange time to have just become a Horowitz. In fact, it didn’t take very long, nor did we have to go very far for me to realize that, by taking a Jewish last name, I had stepped outside of my privileged WASPy box…

Read More

New chapter, new author: On changing your name after divorce and re-marriage

Worse than the people who didn’t ask, and just assumed that I had changed my name when I got married (that’s a choice, not an imperative)… worse than the people who addressed things to “Mr and Mrs His Name” (as if I didn’t have my own name anymore)… are the people who assumed that I would go back to my maiden name.

Changing something as big and as personal as my own name was something I decided to do for me

Not for my partner. Not in the name of tradition. Not for the patriarchy. It was a decision made with much thought and personal pride. And it hurt to find out that so many people did not… what’s the right word… believe(?) that Megan Finley is my “real” name. It was like they were telling me that they never felt my name change was a well-thought-out choice. As if my name — MY OWN FUCKING NAME — was just on loan to me via that guy I married.

I never FOR ONE MOMENT considered going back to my maiden name. Because if I had, for any reason, actually wanted to use my maiden name, I would have never changed it in the first place.

I’ve written about the fact that my birth name, Megan Tharpe, never felt like me. I’d even go so far as to say that feeling mis-named gave me some kind of insight, in the tiniest ittiest-bittiest, most privileged of ways, into how a transgender kid must feel — knowing that you were assigned to this identity at birth, and yet, never really feeling like it fit who you are.

“Megan Finley,” however, fit this bitch like a pair of Black Milk dragon scale leggings. The moment I became Megan Finley, I felt like I finally became my true self. Aaron and I even had this exchange: “You know, even if we divorce I’m keeping the name Finley.” To which he responded, “It is my gift to you.” And it truly truly was, and still is a wonderful gift.

Although, now that I am getting re-married, and starting a new family, I get to consider my name options again…

Read More

Fuck gender roles: Sometimes I forget I’m “a girl” and that should be okay

Just one on the dudes.

In my comfort zone as just one of the dudes.

This last weekend, and a lot of in-depth conversations with my 0-on-the-kinsey-scale very-male-identified-but-not-in-an-obnoxious-bro-way) partner, got me thinking about gender roles, and my longtime struggle with them…

My gender identity is somewhere between male and female, and the pendulum can swing drastically at any point during any given day. As I put it to a friend of mine… Being treated and addressed like “one of the boys” is my happy place. But I’m also really excited to wear a big ‘ol poofy dress and makeup at my wedding. I like wearing both hats. I just want to be equally respected in both hats. And that’s just not a thing… yet.

Because of this I don’t always think about how my actions as someone who presents as female, and forgets to adhere traditional gender roles, can be misconstrued. Which can cause problems…

For example, In my 30+ years on this Earth, I’ve learned that male-identified humans seem to make better friends for me than people who identify as female. We have similar ways of attacking problems, similar ways of showing affection, and similar blind spots when it comes to sensitivity. So when I start friendships, or attempt to become closer to people, I don’t think twice about texting a guy friend late at night. If I’m thinking anything at all it’s “I want to connect with a friend.” But, because of my gender, it could be seen as being “sexually suggestive.” I talk a lot of shit, so when I tease the new guy I see it as me testing their boundaries as I figure out their comfort level. But, because of my vagina-having, others may see that as “flirting.” When I go out of my way to say or do nice things for a buddy, it’s an attempt to make someone feel good about themselves, because I like people to feel happy around me. But I have breasts, so it could also look like I’m “coming on to them.”

This kind of thing has been plaguing me, and women in general, forever.

Growing up I used to rage at gender assumptions made on my behalf. No I don’t want to play with the neighbor’s mean daughter, I want to play with the boy down the street who never makes me feel bad about myself. Why does my brother always get to go to the magical and fascinating hardware store with my dad, and I don’t. Why the fuck is the “girls” aisle in Toys R Us a wall of dizzying purples and pinks? I cursed the day I was born a girl, and wished constantly to be a boy. I pined over gender-neutral names like “Jo” and “Chris.” I dressed “like a boy.” And I even took up hobbies like basketball, which I didn’t even like, just so people could embrace my tomboyishness.

In high school it became worse and incredibly alienating to not see or want to adhere to gender rolls in the normalized fashion. There was the time one of the school counselors called me in for a meeting to tell me that they were “concerned about my behavior” (read: friendship) with boys at school. Mind you, there weren’t that many people who would even talk to an nerd like me, let alone be my friend. So my group of friends consisted of four boys in the grade below mine. They were the nicest, sweetest, most lovable dorks you’d ever meet — they still are. All I remember of that strange and inappropriate conversation is the lady telling me that my behavior with them “could be seen as flitty… flighty… slutty.” And I will never forget the shame I felt in that moment, just for being myself.

I also felt depressed and alienated when I couldn’t go over to my friends’ houses on the weekends, or attend their fun group snowboarding trips just because I was a girl.

If I were straight, cisgender male, all of my “concerning behaviors” would’ve been seen as normal. But since I was female, I was pushed away and slut shamed.

I know that playing around with gender identity is a new concept to most of the population. But gender lines have been fuzzy for as long as humans have been human-ing. Thankfully now terms like cisgender, genderqueer, and non-binary are hastily working their way into the every day lexicon. Hopefully one day we’ll get completely rid of the whole “boys do [this] and girls do [that]” mentality. And just be able to be “humans who do whatever they feel like doing the most.”

Recently, during my bachelor party, I was thinking about gender roles and gender identity — especially when I got looked at funny for calling my thing a “bachelor” party and not a “bachelorette” party. One descriptor felt right for myself, and the other one doesn’t fit at all. It got me thinking that if I had known some of those gender identity terms when I was kid, I may have identified as trans, since I couldn’t remember a time where I didn’t desperately want to be a boy and not a girl. But what I know now is that I don’t wish that I was an actual physical male, I’m glad I am female bodied. I like “being a girl”… but not all the time. So I guess I’d identify as genderqueer. But back when I desperately wanted to “be a boy” instead, what I really desperately wanted was the freedom to do the things I actually liked to do without being held back or shamed.

I saw from an early age, as my anger broiled in the Toys R Us aisle, how confining and unfair gender roles were. And guess what, they still are. But if we stop gendering things that don’t need to be gendered — bathrooms, schools, friendships, parties, topics of conversation — we could save a lot of little kids like me from feeling like they don’t really fit in anywhere. A lot of little genderfluid kids (even while inhabiting adult bodies) would shed a lot less tears.

#Stagpartyof1: I threw myself my own bachelor party alone

Whiskey tasting for one.

Whiskey tasting for one.

My fiancé had his bachelor party this weekend. It’s him and a dozen of his best friends going to Portland for the weekend. I knew I’d have major FOMO since that would be an absolute dream trip for me. But I also knew that my anxiety around forcing friends to spend money, and the fear that people will bail at the last-minute, means that I would never ask for my own big to-do. So my solution (which I thought was brilliant) was to ask my best friend to just babysit me this weekend — just hold my hand and help me work through the vicious FOMO, even if it means just the two of us drinking whiskey and watching Lord of the Rings. But he apparently forgot, and made lots of other plans this weekend. Which left me with an entire weekend wide open, with nothing to do and no one to do it with.

I’ll admit it, old “nerdy kid in high school with no social life” wounds have opened up, and I’m feeling shitty about myself. While Mike has tons of friends who have apparently orchestrated an epic weekend that involves vans being rented, outdoor adventures, surprises, hilarious hijinks, and some mysterious Game of Thrones-themed puzzles… I struggled to get anyone to hang out with me for the next couple of days.

At one point, while I was feeling sorry for myself, I thought FUCK IT, I’ll throw myself my own bachelor party alone. A stag party of one!

Yes, a bachelor party even though I’m a girl. That just feels more in line with my gender identity. Plus I’ve helped plan and execute two bachelor parties, so I knew a bit about what kind of things there were to do of that nature in LA, and I know exactly what I’d want to do for my own. So I kept a constant supply of anti-anxiety meds at my disposal, and planned my #stagpartyof1…

Read More

Pita the Chillhuahua: How we lost an election but gained a perfect dog

While on a walk the other morning — coffee in one hand, leash and a cranberry muffin in the other — I had this overwhelming feeling of contentment. It was early, and bit chilly, but the sky was cloudless so the sun was warm on my face. Our local cafe had my favorite muffins. And Pita the dog was walking perfectly along side of me.

What? Did I say “the dog”? Oh, I didn’t tell you about that yet? Sorry, it’s been a busy couple months…

we-got-a-dog

We got a dog!

Chespita (her full given name) came into our lives right as the world started falling apart. We fostered-to-adopt her days before the election. She fit in perfectly with our lifestyle — she walks like a dream, she burrows and naps like a champ, and she’s more quite and calm than I’ve ever seen a Chihuahua be. In fact, her nickname is Pita the “chillhuahua.” Things were looking up…

And then the election results started coming in. Ugh. You don’t need the nightmarish recap from me, you all lived (and continue to live) it. But as my anxiety took ahold of my brain, leaving me numb and frightened, she was such a calming presence.

The timing couldn’t have been better

Read More

Magical unicorn gifts to bring happiness, sunshine, and rainbows all year long…

"I don't believe in humans" unicorn shopping bag

“I don’t believe in humans” unicorn shopping bag

I’m going through a big unicorn phase. It’s a question of “Am I noticing unicorns more because I’m getting more into them? Or am I getting more into them because I’m noticing them more?” I think the obsession really started in Edinburgh — it’s Scotland’s national animal! — because I kept seeing them everywhere, and it made me happy. Which is basically the point of unicorns. Which is basically why unicorn gifts are so awesome. Unicorns = happy.

At a time when so many people are looking for white elephant gift ideas, I say, we can do better. Let’s look for white unicorn gift ideas. So here are my favorite unicorn gifts to give the gift of happiness, sunshine, and rainbows all year long…

giant-unicorn-lamp-unicorn-gifts
These adorable unicorn lamps come in size small (in lots of different colors) and freaking GIANT!

unicorn tears purse for white elephant gifts
Oh yes, that is a purse that says “unicorn tears” and here it is in three different colors! You’re welcome.

smoko-unicorn-light-up-slippers-unicorn-gifts
Not only are these unicorn slippers, these are light-up unicorn slippers.

unicorn-emoji-phone-charger-unicorn-gifts
Four words: Unicorn emoji phone charger. Yes, an emoji, that looks like a unicorn, that can charge a phone. (It also comes in other unicorn colors and emoji designs — gifts for ALL!)

unicorn-taxidermy-unicorn-gifts
Target has unicorn heads! I know that sounds a little dark, but they’re so freaking cute!!!

cardboard-unicorn-head
Or this cardboard unicorn head, that comes in three different sizes.

unicorn-faux-taxidermy-3d-wall-decor-by-zooguu-unicorn-gifts
But wait, there’s MORE unicorn taxidermy. This one from Wayfair a little more colorful.

jkuu_unicorn_poop_stuff_scarf_plush-unicorn-gifts
As Think Geek, the creator of this unicorn poop scarf said: Rainbow. Poop. Scarf. Magic.

iuou_magical_unicorn_cupcake_bath_bomb-unicorn-gifts
I love this gift idea! It’s a Magical Unicorn Cupcake Bath Bomb — the icing is an exfoliating sugar scrub, it’s cotton candy scented, and topped with a unicorn rubber duckie!

unicorn-gift-ideas Speaking of sprinkles… now you can literally sprinkle unicorn magic over your baking with this unicorn sprinkle shaker.

unicorn-key-covers-unicorn-gifts
These unicorn key covers are so awesome that they’re constantly out of stock. That’s okay, there’s also this version too!

unicorn-corkscrew-unicorn-gifts
Or use a unicorn to open more important things… like bottles of wine… with the Screwnicorn… or this less hilariously-named unicorn corkscrew.

unicorn-wine-holder-unicorn-gifts
Do you remember when I won the internet with this unicorn wine holder on Offbeat Home? You could get the same reaction from whomever you gift this drunken unicorn wine holder to.

raising-unicorns-book-unicorn-gifts
Welcome someone to the whimsical and very lucrative world of unicorn farming with the Raising Unicorns book.

unicorn-gold-bathroom-spray-unicorn-gifts
Did you know that Squatty Potty also makes a toilet spray air freshener called Unicorn Gold!? I didn’t until a friend alerted me to this fact, because, of course, I love all things unicorn.

unicorn-tears-lipstick
A friend also alerted me to the fact that there is a lipstick called Unicorn Tears, and I actually bought it and love it!

unicorn-tape-dispenser
Can a tape dispenser really make an awesome gift? It can be if it’s this unicorn tape dispenser with rainbow tape!

bag-of-unicorn-farts
This is the only fart-related gift that someone will actually really enjoy! 300+ Amazon reviewers can’t be wrong when they say they love this Bag of Unicorn Farts (aka. pink cotton candy)!

unicorn-cookie-cutter-unicorn-gifts
Or bake them all special unicorn cookies with this unicorn cookie cutter!

#EatDrinkDesire part 2: The Edinburgh Fringe Festival

We already filled you in on part one of our trip: My birthday experience in London. Now it’s time to tell you about Edinburgh — the trip you helped make possible. Here the Mike and Megan oral history of Carnal Desire at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival!

megan-and-mike-in-edinburgh

Mike: We arrived in the center of Edinburgh and walked to the Carnal Desire Team’s Scotland Street flat. One of two that we rented for our actors. It was a fairly nice place: big rooms, high ceilings, great location, and huge windows with views of gorgeous church steeples and green trees.

our-street-in-scotland

Only problem: there was a single bathroom for six people. And… ONE towel.

Megan: Here’s Mike: “I think we’re just going to nap and take showers.” Here’s Kinkaid: “I’ll see if the towel is dry.” THE TOWEL.

Mike: When Megan and I heard that, our eyes went wide. We decided to head out towel-shopping immediately. Which gave us an excuse to explore the neighborhood. The scavenger hunt ended at Primark (basically: Target), and we headed back to nap and shower.

After catching up on the various trials and tribulations of the show, we headed for dinner at the Printing Press Bar and Grill, where we enjoyed some gastropub fare that pleased Megan to no end. She may love all things UK, but she definitely prefers (quality) pub grub to the local gourmet fare.

Megan: I wouldn’t even say it has to be quality. Is it well-done meat in some kind of Guinness-related stew? Are there “chips” involved? I’m a happy girl.

Mike: Does the waiter have a British accent? Megan will not notice the fact that she’s been shivering for the last two hours, the trash outside, or the fact that we’ve been eating the same meal again and again.

Megan: Our daily routines were pretty much determined by rain. Summer weather in Scotland means that it was generally miserable out — raining off and on for the whole trip. So during the day, Mike and I would try to walk as much as possible — grabbing food, and finding cafes to grab wifi. But mostly we’d work inside the awesome flat we rented.

Mike: Average number of miles we walk a day: 11. Average number of floors: 95. Which slightly mitigates the unhealthy Scottish meals and endless pints of beer. We explored all corners of the city, from the chaos of the Royal Mile to quiet Stockbridge.

Megan: My favorite of which was hiking up Arthur’s Seat, but I also enjoyed touring the castle, and buying my very first proper rain jacket. (There’s not much need for them in LA.)

And then, perfectly timed with my new rain jacket, we had an awesome experience of getting caught in a very heavy rainstorm and running into a bar where we had “no choice” but to sip yummy Old Fashioneds, as we watch the rain ABSOLUTELY POUR outside.

drinks-in-a-storm

Mike: Our nightly routine was grabbing dinner at some fun restaurant. Then grabbing drinks while the cast went flyering in courtyard. Which may or may not have helped attendance.

Us in the Pleasance Courtyard

Us in the Pleasance Courtyard

Megan: Then we’d head into the Pleasance Above, to our theater space, which was WAY too big for the most common nightly attendance of our show. (It seated 100+ and we would generally pull in 30 or so on a good night.)

Which bring us too…

Read More

5 things I learned from my first Fall on the East Coast

I just got back from a trip to the East Coast during a time that is called “Fall.” I’ve always heard good things about Fall — it’s beautiful, the leaves of trees change colors, the air is crisp, it’s cold-but-not-too-cold. Sounded lovely. I enjoy a typical Fall color palate of burnt oranges, mahogany reds, and mustard yellows. I have partaken of an apple cider or two during the Fall months. And I even knew that acorns were somehow associated with it. But OMG I was not prepared for how fucking Fall Fall can be.

Here are the five things that New York, Boston, and Maine taught me about Fall…

Read More

#EatDrinkDesire Part 1: The birthday trip to London

Hey hey! I’m here! I’m sorry I’ve abandoned personal writing in public since I took off to Edinburgh — for the trip you helped make possible. I’ll have a full report. But here’s what Mike and I managed to write down about the first part of that trip. This is our oral history of my 35th birthday trip to London!

trip-to-london

Megan: Somewhere between LA and London, hovering between 34 and 35-years-old, as most of the plane slept, a flight attendant noticed that I was awake and excited told me to run up past first class (“tell ’em Selina sent you”) and look out the window to see the Northern Lights.

With my heart pounding, I raced past the un-aware passengers, blew through curtains, avoided the feet of the lay-flat first class, and pressed my face up against the tiny window in an emergency exit door. Sure enough, there they were: Pale and bright green lights, shimmering in the sky.

Northern Lights

Kind of like this, but imagine the trees and water as clouds. (Photo by CC BY 2.0

I debated not waking up Mike for a second — boy needs his sleep — but then I was like, “I’d murder him if he kept this from me.” So I rushed back and shook him awake, “You need to get up right now and come with me to see the Northern Lights.” He was up in a flash and rushing back to the tiny window with me.

It was the first (and maybe only) time we’ve seen them. And I cried from happiness, and relief, and full-body-tingling awe, as we watched the towering green lights dancing above the clouds.

I thanked Selina, the flight attendant, for the incredible birthday present, and she poured us two glasses of champagne (I drank them both of course). I believe the moment I turned 35, I was standing above the northern hemisphere, glass of champagne in one hand, Mike’s hand in my other, the aurora borealis shining behind me, and the rest of my life, looking just as bright and wondrous, in front of me.

After that excitement, and a few more glasses of champagne, I slept surprisingly soundly. I can’t say the same for Mike.

I was still riding the Northern Lights high as we deplaned and zoomed through customs (as much as you can zoom while standing in a long queue). I got a “happy birthday” from the customs agent, we snagged our bags, and were off to Mike’s college friend Pete’s flat in Richmond, with a cab driver that managed to annoy us with his personality as well as the fact that he took speed bumps like he was trying to launch his black cab to the moon.

Pete and his place. You can see some of the cool sky lights in the kitchen from the angle!

Pete and his place. You can see some of the cool sky lights in the kitchen from this angle!

Pete’s flat was charming and not without its quirks — steep staircases, tiny hallways, and… creative access points to let light in (aka. a terrifying grate in the bedroom floor!?). Since his sister, Soph, was in town, and his son, Leo, was staying with him the next day, we were given a blow up mattress in his office, and was told that it may have a slow leak. Although, to our delight, he assured us that he ran his moist face over every inch of the mattress and couldn’t find/feel a leak. But, at 4am the next morning — when we found ourselves practically sleeping on the hardwood floor with air mattress all around us — we had, indeed, confirmed a leak.

Mike: The taco bed!!

Megan: Anyway… around noon, after a quick pub lunch in the garden (they have gardens and children’s playgrounds in the bars in England!), and a birthday Guinness for me, that blowup mattress in a cramped space looked and felt like absolute heaven as we napped.

tactical-nap

Then it was up and time to rapidly get dressed all fancy-like for my Special Michelin-Starred Birthday Dinner in London. But first… busses, and trains, and subway rides galore, as we wound our way from Richmond into my favorite city in the world.

Mike: Two Michelin stars!

Harrod's in the background!

Harrod’s in the background!

Megan: Once properly ensconced in the city — Harrod’s to the left of us, “the most expensive condo in the world” to our right, and crowds, double-decker busses, and useless red phone booths all around us — we blindly followed Pete around, wildly guessing at which direction the restaurant was.

We eventually found it, but not before Mike and I squabbled about whether or not I was going to be hit by that bus. (I think I was totally safe.)

Mike: Megan is still alive, thanks to me.

Mike, Megan, and Pete looking all fancy and shit.

Mike, Megan, and Pete looking all fancy and shit.

Megan: Dinner was such a freaking treat! First of all, it was in a super-nice hotel. Our table had a gorgeous view of the trees in the park next door. And everyone was so very posh and British. I was in proper English heaven. Adolescent Megan, who dreamed of eating fancy meals in London, was just squirming with delight. Okay, Adult Megan was doing the same thing. Although as good as the food was, it wasn’t my favorite…

dinner-by-heston-menu

Everything was a bit challenging for me, and I still feel bad that I ate and hated that frog leg, knowing now that Pete would have loved it… as he loved ALL the things.

dinner-by-heston-blumenthal

Our starters of “meat fruit,” “rice and flesh,” and savory porridge with frog legs.

Pete’s pure enjoyment of the food was one of my favorite parts of the meal. Well, that and the meat fruit (chicken liver paté that looked EXACTLY like a tangerine from the outside. Except, surprise! It’s meat inside. Apparently it’s an OLD British practical joke, and now an inside joke, as it supplied endless conversations, between the three of us, about our German metal band called “Meat Früt.”). I also loved the little portable liquid nitrogen ice cream cart they push around the restaurant.

After dinner we walked to the original Soho House, in fucking Soho! It was awesome — very different from LA’s. It was an old sprawling brownstone-type building, with tons of tiny little drawing rooms filled with tables, or couches and cozy chairs, or small bars. But, due to all the quaint tiny spaces, it was crowded beyond comfortable. So we sweated profusely as we waited for our drinks (once again Pete reminded me of the joys of the espresso martini when you’re starting to really feel the late hours and previous cocktails catch up to you) and then journeyed downstairs to sit at their lovely (but small) outdoor patio. So small that we were forced to share a table for a while with Tobias Menzies (of Outlander and Game of Thrones fame!!!). Of course, I didn’t realize it was him, until we were happily seated at our own table a couple of steps away. But another unexpected birthday sighting to close the night? I’ll take it!

Mike and Pete on the bridge.

Mike and Pete on the bridge.

We ended the evening with a late-night stroll around London. We checked out statues and took selfies on bridges… until Pete remembered that he’d left his cell phone back at Soho House. So we Black Cab-ed back to Soho House and then all the way back to Pete’s, where we crashed on our Leaking Air Mattress Taco Bed.

img_1249

The next day we ate a breakfast of avocado toast and tea in Pete’s sunny shared garden space, and worked out our plans which included drinks, walks, and the thing that I think I loved the most on this trip…

Read More

Page 2 of 43

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén