i will free myself from generational curses and my own self-sabotage

I’ve been having to do a lot of thinking this week which apparently is the antithesis of healing! But nonetheless, I’ve been having to use reason to silence my negative inner critic. I’ve also been feeling loss and grief as a consequence of my own actions (well well well.) It’s hard for me to not want to immediately self-abandon the moment I am externally abandoned (or perceived to be), which is no FUN because it’s like pouring salt on the wound.

Ultimately I have to be content with the past, and make decisions that I can be satisfied with. Isn’t that just called living? I pass by this billboard on the way home from work and I cannot tell if it is meant to be an all too self-aware direct marketing scheme or some sort of subversive art piece. Maybe affirmations are just a socially acceptable form of self-hypnosis. I think I will attempt this. 🔮

It’s exhausting constantly thinking about healing and the mental routes and the causes and the detours therein. It’s like my brain is the energizer bunny constantly. Psychology involves tapping into our intellectual side as a point of exploration, but we are not just intellectual beings. I have to remember to not remember. That sometimes the answer is not thinking, which is really difficult because worry and anxiety feels like a form of control (even if it isn’t.)

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you are canceled!

I think that in the same way we can beget our own misery, we can beget our own joy DUH. I’ve picked up my practice of Morning Pages, and had a realization that where I am now is exactly where I wanted to be a year ago. That is so satisfying, and yet I’ve only just realized that because my brain always more more and more. I think anyone who was a high-achieving student or literally just grew up with the messaging that their worth was defined by their esteem &/or accomplishments is well familiar with this sentiment. But where does it get us?? Nowhere, just in a constant state of uncertainty and keeping up with the Joneses depression.

Consciously I tell myself that I don’t want success or material gain or recognition for my work, but I think there is a part of my lizard brain that still believes this. Unpacking this: is this ladder towards success and upward mobility in a capitalist society something I even want or is it just an idea that has been planted? If we just define our self worth based on external cultural markers of success, not only are we setting ourselves up for a life meant to appease others, but also one of uncertainty/instability. It is unrealistic to think that can or always will be winning.

Of course I would love to travel and buy cool shit and see my work published with the big leagues. I seek to find fulfilling relationships, but as Satre says, love is not altruistic, and we use it to seek our own desires by objectifying the Other. So basicallyyyyy I have to find fulfillment within? What a concept.

Trying to laugh at myself more and find humor in it all, from a point of non-attachment. If bad things happen, so be IT! I can’t control the weather.

Retin-a has turned me into a scaly dragon that as I write this, my chin is extremely itchy from dryness. In other riveting skin news, I’m pretty sure I got a sunburn and yet I’m not red??? it just hurts to wash my hands 😦

too big for her boots HUH – side note, a soft spoken man in the target elevator thought they were sick 🤙

I still wear a mask at work, and I’m certain this is a contributing factor, but I’m not sure how advisable it is to maskless even with my double-jab. Watch me be the 2% milk that contracts Rona in spite of. Will def be making a return to trusty cloth ones, it’ll be good for the environment!

Did a lot of self-care oriented activities for which I am proud of myself ❤ There’s a factory sale going on next weekend that I am already anticipating going to next weekend. Just realized that it’s summer and I hate all my clothes. (Ah to be a better more responsible parker who did not just pay to have their car impounded TWICE.) I’d also like to see some art this week.

H8 that I haven’t been to Ballroom classes in a minute. I’ve just been broke and unmotivated (re: sad), that the commute seems to be a deterrent. But as I am now 1.5 weeks into my PF membership ~no judgment zone~, I’m still missing the lightheartedness of dance. As opposed to the clang clang sweat sweat 🏋️ plus it’s always crowded. But I will swallow my pride and make the journey. It’s an all levels class IDK why i’m even making such a big deal but it’s my brain we’re talking about!

Wishing you all a good week and that you may have the ultimate goth girl summer x

the vibes ICYMI

It’s Okay, You can Say It

i really fudged it 😦

Dear Reader,

It’s okay, you can call me a bitch 👈 In my characterization of events in last week’s blog, I was very much speaking from a place of reactivity rather than genuine critical thought, and I’m not even if I even fully buy what I was selling tbh. I offended someone I should not have in an effort to release some sort of pent up turmoil. But always be punching UP rather than on the people you love and who certainly do not deserve it.

I think a lot of my self-destructive tendencies are bleeding into my relationships, and I’m trying to hold myself accountable & not continue societal/generational violence of just poo pooing on unsuspecting/undeserving people. Need to do more shadow work and address these aspects of myself.

After all, they say the best step towards healing is accountability. It’s easy to be reckless and hurt others when you’re in ego-state of self loathing. Feigning weakness on a subconscious level can be great for avoiding accountability, but it ultimately strips you of your own autonomy. And I want to reclaim my power, and in order to do so, I have to occasionally lie in the bed I’ve made. But just to reiterate: I’m sorry.

Writng this blog is very reminiscent of this angsty tweet I liked. Why am I writing this? Do i deserve the privilege to write or to be heard when there’s so many exasperated, begging to be heard; but writing this weekly blog sets a goal for me towards action and hopefully through action i will become less wallow-y and hence more compassionate towards myself and thus towards others 🙏🏼

I feel like maybe I’m a danger to others and my relationships. Sometimes I just feel like hiding, so as not to cause more hurt/disappointment to others. Or that I’m incapable of having a conversation anymore. Maybe I am just in the cocoon phase of my healing. I need to just be put on pause and work on myself until I’m no longer a menace to society :S But also I know that I know in order to heal, I need to be in the world AH

I actually wrote most of this blog on the bike at Planet Fitness where I am now a member bc after TWO impoundings in one week, misery of her own making, she is broke as a joke.

It was my first workout in a gym in over a year and it felt so ~surreal~ very crowded vibes, and my mask was trying to smother me. It’s also jarring that it’s RIGHT next to the Burbank. I wonder if I’ll be able to catch a plane taking off one of these days. And snap some photos 📸

I went to a wicked estate sale near my old neighborhood. It was so tranquil. It’s always a somber event because there’s either death or repossession involved which is never fun 😥 I try to walk and tread lightly.

Really wanna ditch the crap in my apartment that doesn’t serve me. 💆‍♀️I tried posting on facebook marketplace and craigslist, and haven’t had a genuine offer (besides the scammer w the “busy schedule” and “daughter getting married”.) Maybe I need to give it time before tweaking. Might also drop some stuff off at Buffalo Exchange, if they WANT it. Never forgetting that time the place on Melrose just said no 💅🏼 when I pulled out my bag.

There is something to be said that a messy space encourages a messy mind or that ¢ℓєαиℓιиєѕѕ ιѕ иєχт тσ gσ∂ℓιиєѕѕ👼🏼

Now that I have induction stovetop appropriate cookware (thanks to an important person who i am grateful for) I will now attempt to make the H-Mart take-home hot pot. I will report back on levels of tastiness.

Happy monday x

Bisou bisou adieu 💋

What if Cadet Kelly Was One of Us (In a Non Military-Industrial Way Bc F*ck War)

was anyone else threatened to be sent away to military school when they acted up as a child?? cadet kelly lowkey felt like a nightmare

If there is one thing I am grateful for with the women in my family is that they didn’t give into these subversive patriarchal assaults . My mother was always physically and mentally strong. I think during all of our moves growing up, she did most of the physical labor. Though I loathe some of the emotional stoicism inherited to me by the women of my family, I’m glad that I was never assumed to be nurturing or caretaking. In fact that was never really my calling, and I’m glad that was never something that was actively projected on me the way it was by society at large.

I don’t want to be a wife or a mother. Anytime I say this to people—dates, the odd friend or acquaintance—I am perpetually met with the ‘well you’ll never know, maybe you’ll change your mind’. Am I not allowed to have autonomy over my own life? Why do you care if I reproduce or introduce a legally binding contract into my relationship? Is that what’s supposed to give me value? Fuck offfffff.

I’ve been mulling over these thoughts today, and to cope I angrily broke down boxes in my alleyway. ❤

I had an ex once tell me that I was, quote: a-little-trashy. And so what if I am. Tired of being perceived in this narrow gender norm way.

Now that I’ve emptied the surface content of my brain, in other news, I had late lunch with a friend today that was really refreshing. We were able to talk authentically and communicate at a real level. It’s a friendship that has evolved to grow more vulnerable lately, and I’m grateful for it. I don’t think I even have the emotional capacity for toxic/inauthentic friends. It’s so draining and for what? I’m trying to grow towards greater levels of connectivity, and I’m glad I’m starting to find that.

I’m also contemplating my own authenticity. I know that in some ways I am a hypocrite, but I think my awareness of that still says something. Contradictions are inherent in human beings, and I’m okay with that. Exploring which parts of me belong to me and which parts I’ve absorbed from others. There’s something about the transition into adulthood wherein we are expected to form cognitive dissonance and learn to cope with things that initially bothered us by ignoring them or minimizing them. And I’m trying to reject that programming. I want to feel uncomfortable if it means growing greater authenticity.

I’m actually really happy about my new apartment 🙂 I am still in the unpacking-transitional phase in which there is much clutter lying about; and also I still have some furniture I might like to sell on Facebook Marketplace for a quick buck CHA CHING. I want this space to feel intentional and not cluttered. I very much like stuff but I want the things that are visible to feel like they were meant to be there, and not like I was just too lazy to put them away, oops.

When I can afford it, I’d like to add some estate-sale-flea-market-vintage pieces. But again, being mindful of my dwindling budget now that I am ~cut off~ and of my space in general. I think my favorite part is the bathroom. Don’t come for me but purchased a child’s bath mat in the shape of a unicorn. It was hell of a lot cheaper than the others, and it very much evoked the nostalgia of the 1982 classic hit children’s cartoon “The Last Unicorn” which will send me into tears every time.

the lastttt unicorn

I’ve been very slow in my unpacking as I’ve been distracted by my re-watching of King of the Hill. It takes me back to my roots in a very yikes way. But also I guess I am more yee haw than I admit even to myself. Come to think of it, my mother’s father’s family full on owns a RANCH. Where they literally raise cattle. Wow!

[The only time I remember going to the ranch, I double-dipped in the guacamole and had my hand slapped by mom. Lmk in the comments if u are a loud and proud double dipper.]

Sometimes I miss country folk, because at least you know where you stand with them. I don’t know if there’s even that much of a “bless your heart” culture in West Texas because it’s literally a town of people engaging in the most dangerous forms of labor that I don’t think that they have time. I think I miss some of the unpretentiousness of my mom’s hometown if it didn’t also go hand in hand with feeling alienated if you were any whiff of subculture or left leaning.

Maybe I will make a Frito® Pie. At once unbecoming and low brow, it is also the fuel of cozy camping vibes and the call of Summer. Some may love her, others may scorn her, I guess that’s a bit of me :’)

Gee, I hope i Get It

While watching the clip I recorded of myself participating in a virtual vogue class this past Sunday, I realized with some humor and slight dismay that my execution very much reminiscent of A Chorus Line. Somewhere I think in the muscle memory of my monkey brain I really wanted channel a can-can moment.

When I was about 8 years old I went to NYC with my family, and we saw the Radio City Rockettes, as any good tourist does. I was dazzled by the seemingly inhuman way they were able to divide their legs from their torsos to propel themselves in a way that resembled toy soldiers. I went home kick KICK kicking and would practice in my room.

As much as I was a dork growing up, by the grace of God I did not become a certified ‘theater kid’. Although my mother’s obsession with Broadway did lend itself to me in some ways. I grew up listening to the soundtrack of Rent, Annie, Les Miserables. This lil devil also brought the PHANTOM OF THE OPERA dvd to my daycare’s ~movie day~. I think I thought the Phantom was romantic in a dark twisted misunderstood kind of way; but as an adult I reflect back now and think “Jesus that guy was kinda creepy.”

I am on the verge of moving out of my room off of Melrose, and into my own studio in Echo Park. I can’t wait to be pants-less while cooking, this is my dream <3. The move has been stressful to manage in between all other //feelings// & stressors. But I’m proud of myself that some way in hell, I’ve managed to not be evicted or wind up living in a motel.

I’m actively trying to reduce my internal stress so I don’t have a heart attack, but MOSTLY so that my skin won’t look like shit anymore. The hormonal acne has been off the charts; appearing on my cheeks, lining my jaw/neck, and on my BACK?? ugh. But it’s okay, I managed to hit up a Beverly Hills dermatologist who hooked me up with a prescription for treatment. You’re a real one Dr. Stoll :’)

I encountered some not so great vibes from a toxic individual this weekend. I’d been trying to give them a chance and a chance and a chance, but it seems like the un-called-for digs that are so subtle that if I retaliate I see like the crazy one is starting to get worse. The comments this person said stayed with me all Saturday as I was mulling them over. I’m learning to see this dynamic for what it is, as toxic and abusive. This normalization of people being mean and getting away with it is gross. I’m not in high school anymore (at least I hope), and so I can’t tolerate shit like that anymore.

It seems like an exaggeration, but little comments like that can send me into full-blown self shame cycles. Why would I let some toxic person do this to me? Why do I want to still somehow make me like me? And that my friends is on people-pleaser childhood wounds that we recognize, and are having none of.

I’ve been through so much turmoil and emotional uncertainty within the past few weeks, that I can’t be an emotional punching bag for someone who doesn’t even LIKE me.

This weekend we also got back into the Postmate grind out of necessity, but hopefully it is short-lived. I also (stealthily) watched all of season 2 of Special on Netflix. The humor feels very cringe in like an out-of-touch Millenial-way, sometimes I wonder what’s wrong with me that I’m not laughing. The jokes feel unfamiliar, like they are speaking in a different langauge. It borders on this sort of realism and campiness that it can decide on that feels really jarring. But alas, now that I’ve finished ALL of Degrassi, I am in need of a new show. (To whoever may be reading this, send me recs, I beg of you.)

Excited to share pics of my digs when I can 🙂 But anyway ta-ta for now. X

Becoming a Broad with Perspective

my favorite moment from the 1967 “Bonnie & Clyde”

This week’s edition of The Shedonist is going to be rather somber and pensive as it seems like I’m in a phase this week, where everything is either falling apart or finally coalescing. The contradiction of infinite joy and sorrow. That I am celebrating inasmuch that I am mourning.

Last Saturday, I was fortunate to participate in an in-person graduation ceremony honoring my time at USC. The coliseum was three-quarters empty, a bleak reminder of the events of this past year. Transitions are always a reminder of where we came and where we are going.

My high school graduation seemed to be hollow. I felt no ties to family or home, and was longing for space were I could seek solace as my authentic self. Here I was leaving home and family, determined to forget all about who I was. That these childhood wounds would not follow me to sunny California. That I could reinvent myself and no one would know me.

And to a certain extent, I did. Even if some of my lofty expectations were perhaps unrealistic (but I think it is only natural to aim high.)

I soon realized through dating and my platonic relationships, that I still had a gaping sense of emptiness. That in some ways I felt premature, that maybe I should go back to the womb because I was not fully formed. How to be, how to exist without a persistent feeling of lack?

I don’t think at first I was all that self aware. I just knew that in some ways I felt like a mime, that by trying to fake out the feelings and experiences of others, that I would finally come to find out who I am. That I needed someone to tell me who I am.

But setting others up to complete you is a recipe for deep agony, and there were certainly battles and injuries along the way. I think my quest to self-discover is what lead me back to my birthplace in 2019.

I feel like I grew up with secrets and vagueness. I never felt like I truly knew anything. That by prying into certain topics which had been swept under the rug, I was whining and perhaps ungrateful, rather than curious.

I grew up basically knowing nothing about my father (aside from the few summer visits) or his family. The maternal side that I knew and was raised alongside, was there but still unattainable. Distant, almost as if behind a glass.

I have been kicking and screaming with my mother all this time, and as it stands now, it appears that we are entering estrangement.

I never wanted to be like my grandmother’s family, who moved away and denounced origins, yet here I am doing the same. It is the last thing that I would have ever wished, but I’m tired of the kicking and screaming to be noticed.

This same week that my mother announced that she was “done”, I also reconnected with my paternal grandmother over dinner for the first time in over ten years. Though she was always painted as the black sheep, or that kind of woman, I always secretly admired her from afar (even if at times, I too was a bit wary.)

She has always been beautiful and boisterous. Whenever I was told I resembled her, I wore this with a hidden sense of pride because her looks have always been a gem.

She came from a place I knew nothing about and rode Harley motorcycles with her devoted slew of sugar daddies who couldn’t help being intensely infatuated with her. And in the tropics of Hawaii, at that.

Her brother lives in Redondo, so I made a dinner reservation in Manhattan Beach. It was my first time being there, and I had the impression of it being eerily republican, a suspicion I felt validated by some peach faced slob.

He saw a few slices of pizza remaining on our table and made the remark “man I’d like a piece”. In a gross tone that I could only infer meant a ‘piece of ass’. Because those kind of men never mean to be friendly. Their passing comments are always infused with a hint of malice.

During conversation with my grandmother, I was continually amazed that she could be so blasé while recounting the most horrific traumas. She would describe them with a laugh because if I didn’t forgive them, I’d want to destroy the whole world and that would kill me. The kind of words someone only imparts if they’ve been to hell and back and lived to tell the tale. I learned about my paternal grandfather, whose name I carry but have never met. Apparently when I was born they tried to contact his father, but he said he hadn’t heard from him in ages. “Dead probably,” Vicky says.

In addition to selling heroin and being in and out of jail; in the early 80s he tried to steal a diamond from the La Brea Tar Pits. Apparently he ended up in the newspaper for it. I’ve been searching online and have yet to find it.

My dad also tried to confront his mother and psychoanalyze her when he grew up, so I guess we are all living the same cyclical reality. As I try to increase my own awareness and levels of compassion, people become more morally ambiguous. And that in relational conflict, everyone feels wronged. But that people feel like they can’t move on until their wounds have been acknowledged, but sometimes we don’t always get that.

I’m hopeful that as we heal from the past year’s collective trauma, that other individual wounds make their way into the healing journey too. And that we won’t need to explain. I’m trying to extend forgiveness to my mother, but right now I am still hurting, but one day I will get there. There’s this adage I keep hearing/reading about in healing circles that goes “if you ever think you’ve found peace, go and spend a week with your family”. It’s funny how cliche but also resonant that statement is.

I’ve been on a kick lately to remove things from my life lately that increase my feelings of anxiety. I was feeling stressed while driving yesterday, so I drove in silence and focused on my breathing. The more and more I try to align myself with a state of calm, it’s like becoming more awake. I wasn’t even aware that I was operating with tunnel vision until as I was driving, I had the conscious realization that I was starting to notice more things in my periphery than I normally did. Building details, signage, the odd peak of the horizon in the distance.

I realized that I often operate in a metaphorical version of tunnel vision, in which I can only hold space for one feeling at a time. But I’m trying to expand my field of vision, hold space for competing truths and contradictions.

Side note: I feel pretty gross today, but I know it’s just a feeling, and it too will pass. ❤

So u Think u Can Cope

i used to think i was a lisa, but i let out an audible marge hmmmm while writing this post

So much so much. Where to even start! I have been engaged with a mommy dearest level of conflict which was made even more prominent by yesterday’s holiday 😎 I’ve been trying to just focus on my own inner peace, because when i try to go down the route of being seen by someone who will never ever see me for me, it’s like getting slapped in the face on repeat.

The conflict was so bad I full on had chest pains for days that I went to the Hollywood Walk-In clinic for an ekg!!!! Side note, my skin is so silky smooth that the nurse could not attach the little sticky thingies. I full on had to get naked and put on a medical robe, fun times on a Thursday 🙂

I can’t choose the path for others in my life. I can only focus on my own healing. Starting reading the book Will I Ever Be Good Enough? that was hitting me in my f*cking core.


To anyone else well-versed in family conflict, know that you didn’t ask for it, it’s not your fault. And you have the power to not be like them ✨

I choose dance, I choose music, I don’t choose mommy and daddy issues.

and when dancing I gotta choose the disco version“Sunny” if not for the drunk Germans I once saw on a party boat jamming out, then for how uplifting it is ·͜·♡

I think about how 67% of people have had at least one adverse childhood experience. And with the lack of attention brought to neglect and emotional abuse where we constantly self gaslight, it makes me sad how many people have been trained to not even “go there.”

At this point if you want to say something, say it with your chest and to my face 😡 i’d rather know my enemies than lay in bed with false friends

In less emotional drama news, I viewed an apartment in a prime walkable location. It’s a lil baby studio which suits me, and has both modern interior and original furnishings. The parking situation also seems to be less of a pain in the ass.

I was thinking a lot about Colombia this weekend, like damn, yet another dictatorial South American power trying to squash the will of the people. I don’t think the U.S. cares or in the very least thinks something like that can happen here, when it clearly did just last January.

It feels like we are being gaslit by media and our government to think that everything is hunky dory now that Biden is president when just months ago we were on the verge of civil war (´._.`)

The whiplash of American democracy means having to quietly ignore all the historical moments where true will of the people was ignored for the sake of our own political interest. I don’t know how we can take ourselves seriously after what we did to Chile in the 1970s 🥴 “𝓲𝓷𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝔂𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮”

In order to cope you almost have to forget, but I’m like an elephant, I never forget (even when sometimes I wish I could.)

I’m worried that when we re-gain a sense of “normal”, people will forget all the lessons from the past year. How masses were exploited for their labor despite the health risks implicated in a P.A.N.D.E.M.I.C. ✨Or how if we want real tangible change, we have to be the arbiters of it, that sadly no one is coming to save us.

Don’t let anyone make you forget or attempt to deny your truth. Because unflattering truths are the most difficult to swallow because they uproot our entire understanding of the world as we know it. But they are perhaps the most vital.

I leave you with the absurdity of the Drake candle Postmates offer, and hope you enter the rest of your day in peace 🙏🏼

Sore Butt and I’m in a Rut

et voilà the pan pacific erewhon haul

I am writing to you once again from my cellular!! Not by choice, I assure you. My laptop was ready for pick up last Wednesday, but I was not made aware of this fact as the email alerting me immediately went to my junk inbox—oops. However, I was able to pick up on Sunday. I would be using now, if my wicked witch ex roommate were not now polluting the space, picking up all her frat boy decor. And rather than go home I got gas and drove around aimlessly, until I decided to write to YOU dear reader, from pan pacific park. Something about being forced to hang out in the park because you can’t go home very much has the energy of being at after school care, you know after-school, & waiting with the counselors for your mom to pick you up, bc you’re one of the last ones standing. The counselors eagerly wanting to go home, while you’re just vibing on the monkey bars 😎

But we’re here to trust the journey, not the destination! A pug just ran up to me, and stared me down; I know not what this omen means. But I distinctly recall my dad owning a pug named Gigi, whom he was not the nicest to (is he nice to anyone), who would do these odd little snorts.


The housing sitch has been v tough as I may well be evicted within the next two months if I do not leave :;))))))))) My only solace in all of this, is that the witch has decided to sign a lease at a new place, so we kindaaaaa won, but not really bc my landlord h8s my guts 😇

My mental has been a rollerrrrrrrcoaster this past week, esp. after engaging in a dialogue with a person from my past which I most definitely should not have done bc it left me in tears *literally*. If you have a thing for Billy Idol, these are my eyes without a face 😔.

lately i’ve been trying to document whenever i cry, so i can laugh about whatever it was when i’m feeling better

My equilibrium has been really out of wack, that the odd stare down from a dude in a truck, or the guy on a motorcycle that saw me fiddling with my phone at a RED LIGHT, said “hey cutie why don’t you get off your phone” sends me automatically into fight mode 👊👊

But in the spirit of protecting my energy and trying to add light to my life, I took the plunge and went to my first ballroom (voguing) class in Van Nuys. I for sureeee felt like an ugly duckling and a fish out of water. But the instructor reassured me/the group “you guys seem really stressed trying to get it down, calm down.”

This is the second learning how to dance experience after my affair with belly dancing, which proves quite useless unless you are in a dance troupe. I asked my grandparents when would i ever even use belly dancing to which D*n*a, replied “the bedroom 🤨.” Ballroom seems so much more accessible and free form, and I think a good way to connect the mind-body-spirit in a way I can actually use that is really fucking fun.

My knees feel the burn, my thighs feel the burn, my a$$ feels the burn. I haven’t felt this level of sore since my HS cross fit level gym class. But it’s like a good burn. Although I definitely had to make an awkward schlep up the stairs at my work today. I’m going to try to practice my hand movements bc I’m still very much at a novice level and not the rave-boy-wearing-led-gloves-i-saw-once-level.

Hope you enjoyed my rambling, here are more shoes I’d like to buy once the check I cashed after 9pm on Friday clears



Kisses to whoever is reading xx Cheers!

Object Cathexis & the Nuclear Awakening

As I write this, I am once again laptop-less, and am coming to you live from mein Handy 📱 I almost considered not posting this week bc I was so down in the dumps yesterday. I had a charming lunch visit with my grandparents in Griffith Park, near the ‘Old Zoo’, during which I learned much disturbing information about—even in the 40’s visitors and the public alike were urging that it get shut down bc it was too depressing with its mistreatment of the animals :/ I may or may not have seen a former hookup from afar (or it could have been the paranoia which accompanies unresolved feelings of resentment which cause you to see that person seemingly at random like a ghost.) Either way, cheers xx not here to re-live those cringe times 🤒 (& yet here I am talking about it!!)

re: the zoo; a full on noir film scandal!

I went shopping for work clothes after, and maybe the combination of feeling grimy from outdoors time, or seeing the blast from the past triggered something, but I felt absolutely disgusting. Something about shopping when I feel ugly brings me back to high school me. I would dread leaving the house and/or being seen, constantly comparing my features to everyone I saw, feeling the weight of being seen. Feeling the compulsive urge to examine my appearance in any remotely reflective surface. That feeling of wanting to fall into a hole and disappear 🕳 When I’m feeling like this, everyone seems menacing. I hear a laugh in the distance and assume it’s about me. Made the most, and went into a few stores. I don’t know if it’s a blessing or curse, but every single time I enter a store, without fail, I’m never greeted, yet almost always the person behind me is, and then comes the moment where I think it’s for me, but no 😍 I get it, my body language and demeanor is very much give me space, but it’s like when there’s a party you don’t want to go to, but you don’t even get the opportunity to say no to the invite. It hits the gut! I went into Kooples, and wanted to ask about the sales rack, try on in my size, etc. but my frantic efforts to be noticed failed. And then I felt like a disgusting ugly poor freak that they wouldn’t even dare to acknowledge. Mom would say that I look so self-assured & on a mission that I clearly don’t need their help (but I’m not so sure.)

I know how whiny this sounds, and I berate myself for how whiny and self-pitying my thoughts are. Sometimes I feel like my ego is split in two, like I have a false self. Either this grating overbearing presence or the one who wants to slip away forever. Who is the real me? ~I think this is why I can’t smoke weed at parties~

I started reading “The Drama of the Gifted Child” per Heidi’s suggestion and ooof it’s hitting some points—especially the split between depression and grandiosity. It very much reads like a psych textbook, and it’s a bit old old school, but there are some definite gems like this one:

the ugly is also beautiful :’)

If ur a lost sap like me and wanna do some ego work, I highly recommend. U can read online for free hehe


But the real drama of the week is my roommate who has decided to go totally nuclear. Since I moved into this house, I have been gently insistent that we maintain regular house meetings, to stay on the same page, make sure everyone gets heard, and just bond a lil more. Nothing major, just like roomie records-and-cocktail-hour.

I would communicate this several times in the group chat, and Karen-in-training, Kit would put it off and off and off with BS excuses. It was evident that she was unwilling to engage in conversation that mattered. And what do you know! Conflict is inevitable and a healthy part of any dynamic. Her growing passive aggression over petty chores, was palpable. She would send these obnoxious saccharine texts, reminding us of “house rules” that she has unilaterally declared, as though me and my comrade lived in a student dorm.

I think when living with anyone there is give and take. You are bound to annoy them as much as they annoy you, and so you TALK. I expelled so much labor, creating a bb chore chart (which was promptly rejected), even suggested a google doc where we could share our concerns if Karen was so adamant about not talking to us IRL. Because she was the only one on the lease, she liked to wield arbitrary power over us. Very much if you asked this person would you rather be feared or loved, you know which one she would choose.

Gotta be real and say that bc of it all, I have had trouble sleeping and have dreaded coming home, even lingering on the steps or in my car before walking in. Now Karen, after several weeks of avoidant behavior, has decided to drop an email announcing that she will be kicking us out bc we are affecting her mental health, like i’m right there with you 🙂 If she would literally just TALK to us, a resolution could be reached. I don’t know how else you expect tension to go away. Let it marinate until it’s gets coagulated and moldy, THEN WHAT. Gotta just trust karma, that she will reap what she sows 🤢 𝐀𝐋𝐒𝐎! 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐝𝐝𝐝𝐝𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐋𝐀 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬’ 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. 👊 I am tempted to create a hoodie with “tenants’ rights” emblazoned à la the iconic I❤️NY.

speaking offfffff; these are currently sitting in my Depop likes/plaguing my dreams. My german teacher at USC used to say I had a “shoe fetish” bc I loved shoes so much. I think the sexual undertones of that phrase were lost on her. Miss You Frau Lee!

Anyway off to make dinner. Stay safe, stay sexy! Bisou bisou 💋

Oily Scalp, and I Need Help

Greetings friends and foes!

a potential work shoe? hmmmmm

I come to you with another edition of The Shedonist. This time written on my iphone while my laptop is finally being serviced by a third party apple repair affiliate store. I finally thought to myself “yeah okay the constant fan whirring and crunchy sound is too much.” 😌 I’ve just completed my first week of work and honestly everyday I keep waiting to receive the “can you come meet me in my office at the end or the day” text :/ Keep trying to make myself seem important even though the load is light some days. I always feel like such an imposter in office spaces, like i’m just a ape baby learning how to send emails and seem ~normal~ in my work clothes that i definitely don’t agonize over. I definitely don’t agonize over my weird digestion sounds which I worry is IBS. I remember a former work study boss of mine (who i loathed for not only being canadian but also loving The Office, so much so she took a road trip to Scranton, PA) commented on it one time, saying “boy you must be hungry”. I wanted to scream NO ALLISON IT’S AFTER LUNCH, i just drink too much coffee and feel the constant weight of anxiety and that trips up my large intenstine.

I heard that exercise or movement cool the gurgly noises so I walked to the park for lunch that day (and today! okay, ngl today i drove bc last time i got sweaty and today was very much summer in southern california weather.)

love the wholesome lunch vibes
creepy dragontales burbank vibes that greet you when u enter the park

I’m not even a granola person, but I have to get out and stretch my legs at least *once* a day, before going back to being an indoors recluse… But oddly enough routine is good for me. It gives me a reason to do things. Otherwise I will stay in bed until 1pm. It is ironic though, my anxiety means that I never get more than 6, maybeeeee 6.5 hours of sleep. And then here I am day in and day out writing about the importance of sleep. In some ways it feels cruel 😥 If anyone has any sleep tips, please share.

Been sad and in a contemplative mood after a talking stage fling ended a couple weeks ago. It’s making me want to change my whole personality into being more accommodating. Sometimes I subconsciously think if I hate myself enough and self flagellate enough, I can become a version of myself that is more loved and widely adored. But then I remember that even if I did make myself a slug, no one would want that slug. Need to prosper and metamorphosize into a beautiful butterfly. 🦋 Also the fact that people will always hate you no matter what; and that’s okay bc I probably hate a lot of those people. We have the option of flattening ourselves into the greatest common denominator at the risk of being boring and unmemorable, or being our true authentic self, and pissing off people sometimes. And that’s okay! Sometimes I annoy myself. Sometimes I have a running stream of consciousness, and my higher self goes that’s enough ❤️. I think it’s okay that we annoy ourselves and others from time to time. But the full truth sometimes needs to be censored. Not out of shame or embarrassment but just on a need-to-know-basis. For example, a few weeks ago, I remember sitting on the porcelain thrown of my apartment, naked, and witnessing my reflection created by the shower door. I thought, even if a guy had seen me from angle, I don’t think he could see this one. Not even for the sake of stomach rolls, but that I looked like an actual heathen.

I miss people. I miss parties. I miss happy hour and dates. My energy is very much the tweet below. I’m fully vaccinated and yet, who will have my deranged self. 😳 You can meet people on apps, but I get so bored, and everyone looks ugly. Which I know is bc men actually incapable of taking decent photos. Wish they could just sexualize themselves a smidge more… I can the same three people, but forgetting that my vax status is a privileged and other people are still being really cautious. Also they are on the hustle grind making money, so I cannot fault them.

c’est moi

I also realized today that my hair is extremely greasy 2day. I think while I was doing my hours long meal-prepping on Sunday, I just figured that my hair was still wet from the bath I took (yes, fight me 😤), and I was so busy that I didn’t investigate further. (Side note: I also did a candle DIY wherein i utilized the leftover wax from my candles to create a new candle. Felt very Martha Stewart.)

supplies courtesy of the Michael’s that I had no idea was so close to me until Saturday

Anyway, probably gonna do a scalp scrub tonight, in between cleaning the bathroom and laundry and watching Degrassi (¡¡important!!) ~whatever it takes, i know i can make it through~ I got gas tonight and a gas can so that I will not be stranded with AAA again in the imminent future, hehe. Hope is on the horizon, maybe???

A gross tourist dude with a 45 t-shirt asked why I left texas (bc of my plates—also what is the trend of driving with your windows or hood down, and men wanting to kidnap you when you’re at a red light yelling HEY hey HEY HEY. like what do you want me to do?? leave my car at a red light and get into yours??) and I wish I had channeled the gift of the gab, and retorted back “to get away from people like you.” Roomie situation is sus, and I don’t know what’s happening. Things have been very tense and awkward, with one roommate pushing off all conversations until the end of the month 🥵 But you know, gotta remember the tik tok trend “ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ, ɪ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ…ʙᴄ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇsᴛɪɴʏ ɪs ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ”. Signing off! ₱Ɇ₳₵Ɇ ₳₦Đ ⱠØVɆ ₮Ø ₳ⱠⱠ. 🕊🧿

I Don’t Know Her

the inspiration

Last night I stayed up with my finger hovering on the “BUY” button on Depop. Will this grape Mariah Carey inspired butterfly top and coordinating thong bring me inner peace? The jury is still out. I have thought of styling the thong à la whale-tail, but in all my years of thrifting and online shopping I have yet to find a genuine pair of ultra low rise jeans. I’ve never been particularly attracted to my midsection, but sometimes if I have reservations around something I force myself to do it anyway, as a lil bit of informal exposure therapy. If we base our self worth on the opinions of others, then we end up listening to narc bros who made us feel like shit for eating pizza :/ The line between body neutrality and positivity. I like clothes and I like wearing them, and sometimes I just try not to think about how they look on me or how I’m being perceived in them.

the homage

I am floundering, and the days blend together as I go about my lil tasks of trying to get myself to leave the house at least once a day, so that I can remind myself that I am living in addition to existing, and also so I don’t snap at my roommates. I am set to start a job in Burbank, which is exciting, the company sells an array of silk pillowcases, face masks, and eye masks. I’m hoping that if I’m nice enough, they will let me test drive the products hehe.

It’s been over a week since I quit smoking. I did not quit for the sake of my organs or longevity, but for fear of creating nasolabial folds. I have been highly interested in facial yoga as of late, and did not think it was wise to throw away what little strides I was making with an action which was literally setting me back! Also you stink. Your clothes stink, your hair stinks, everyone knows you stink, except you. And if you do realize it, then you try to mask the odor with a strong-smelling perfume, which gives you the aroma energy of a stinky bathroom smell being masked by Febreze. Quitting smoking forums are encouraging as they are depressing. The stark realization that you were filling your life with an addiction because it was a way to pass the time and avoid introspection. This past year has felt like nothing but boundless time. SO much waiting, and sitting. And waiting. And yearning. And missing people & places & new experiences.

I’m lucky to have gotten my vaccine a bit earlier due to essential work. But it’s been a bit of a mind f because in my head I’m like okay we’re good now, let’s get started on this new normal. But then remembering that the vast majority have still not received their vaccines, and the pain of waiting, and the pain of my Citizen app saying that there are now factory delays. It’s hard though to think of the ‘old days’ and how much sadness still plagued me then or uncertainty. Not knowing how to act in groups. Feeling sad for myself but then oscillating between that and being my own persecutor, telling myself to get over myself and stop feeling so comfortable in this black sheep victim chair, which I didn’t place myself in, but that I have the option to move from.

I think I miss getting ready and pre-gaming most. Which is funny because that is essentially already what being homebound has become. I think it’s the knowledge that you are going off somewhere with your friends. That good or bad, you’ll have a laugh over it. I did a virtual happy hour with a friend I’ve reconnected with from high school and it was so nice. We both bought cheap wine from our respective grocery stores, and cyber-stalked people who made us feel unworthy, people we hated, people we crushed on and/or are crushing on. Even if it’s just Bad Bunny.

i remember there was a boy in the fifth grade who fervently believed that WWE was real

They bulldozed my old high school building, which resided in the former Porter Middle School (or PMS as it was affectionately referred to) which was built in the 60s. I remember there being chipping paint and that in the bathrooms some of the windows opened. I remember sometimes I would go to the bathroom in the middle of class and would have the passing thought to escape prison break style. But now it is no more. Two of my former teachers have now quit in light of being expected back for in-person classes while the pandemic still rages in Texas. I don’t think any of my teachers liked me. Probably because I was a little shit due to mental-physical-spirtual disturbances from only sleeping for like five hours and not receiving emotional attunement. But we all have to grow and start from somewhere. ❤ A teacher I enjoyed for his being as socially awkward as we were, is now teaching at another school, and has pink hair. It made me think of Lady Gaga. He was from Washington, the harrowing place where I endured my soul-searching journey in 2019, as I attempted to gain access to enter the army base where I was born. I hope he is well, pink is always a sign of better times.

Looking forward to see where this job takes me. Feeling #blessed. Trying not to ruminate, trying not to fixate. Trying to be in this world but not of this world. Watched a very problematic Spanish film, Loco Por Ella which definitely is worth the distraction if not by its very absurd nature. Cheers X