Hello?? is this thing On?

splashing into another week

As I write this, I am currently on hold with Uber Eats support in regards to my long-suspended account(s) due to a not-at-fault accident & I guess the ‘fraud’ committed due to my multiple accounts. Much background sound, I have been saying ‘are you there’ for what feels like 20 minutes. Where is my side hustle 😥 Also apparently Grubhub and Insta Shopper both have waitlists, and DoorDash is taking their sweet merry time reviewing my account when it has been well over 24-48 hours. EEEEEk.

Did not realize that the office was closed today, as no one told me, and there was no memo. I thought ‘hey make a day of it’. Got a coffee & did a few errands, thought what the hell let’s drop off that stuff you have in the trunk and do some light shopping at Crossroads. I’m officially canceling Crossroads. It is quite literally the most inefficient system. I wasted 2+ hours, trying on clothes, trying on more clothes, going across the street to tinkle (no toilets OOF), and they STILL didn’t call my name. I literally just gave up and went home. And when I finally did the perfect parallel parking job, whatdoyouknow, I get a text from them saying that it’s my turn. Cue me driving like a bat out of hell, more waiting, more waiting. And then ‘sorry we can’t take any of this’ like dude this could have taken you five minutes, and instead has evolved to this THREE hour cat and mouse game. I h8 it.

FUNZY NEWS. My building is getting fumigated for ‘many types of pests, bugs, and insects in this building’. Can’t wait to be evacuated (ɔ◔‿◔)ɔ ♥

Concerns have very much been less self-hatred, anxiety & inward emotions and more just frustration with all the boring lame stressful life shit. Money money money = she has none.

I’ve also become more at peace with solitude. It’s so easy to feel the comparison game, of why don’t I have XYZ person in my life. And there’s a lot of societal shame that comes with being single or not having a huge circle, but all of that is just toxic messaging. I don’t want to have to suppress my personality or pretend to like things that I don’t. It feels like everyone is boring. Or maybe I’m boring for not being curious enough and asking enough questions. But then I think, if I am going to expel mental energy, I would rather reinvest it into myself. I also don’t think relationships or friendships should be forced, even if they seem convenient or desirable, or like they’ll in some way validate us, if temporarily. Maybe it’s short sighted but I hold a lot of value in intuition.

I think that I will know if a person or situation is right almost immediately, and I think most of us do, but we just suppress this with the superego. What we ought to do, how we ought to think. There’s also an attachment issue side of it, where we attempt to force situations that don’t serve us. At this point, I just want to build myself, and hope the rest will follow.

And maybe it is dickish of me, but I don’t want to worry about anything or anyone anymore. I don’t want to absorb anyone’s opinions on anything (unless it’s maybe calling me on my shit and in line with my shadow work.) This feels radical–and obnoxious–but I feel like I’m so used to looking to outside sources of validation, that it feels important that I become a self-sustaining unit. That whether I’m being praised or criticized by others, ultimately these opinions hold no value. Ultimately we all go through life alone, and no one can know the full extent of our experience, and so all we have is ourselves.

I long for community, and I think community is integral for healing, but it’s also not always possible. So it’s a question of cultivating unconditional love for ourselves :S What does that look like? So many of us have never even experienced it.

//

All of these stupid mundane things are a part of life. But have to remember not to get too emotionally involved with them, as they are ultimately pointless. Just gotta smile n’ laugh!

I’ve been trying to re-shift feelings of dread from ‘I have to do this’ to ‘I get to do this’. ✨ In some ways I’m starting to see old parts of myself again. I think that’s a good sign. I did some mirror gazing yesterday and that seemed to be a good reset. I don’t know if it’s ‘normal’ but almost every time I do a mirror gazing meditation I begin to cry?? There’s points where your face becomes deformed, one eye larger than the other. Some features shrink and grow. I see the older form of myself, my younger self. I notice that inexplicably my pupils become larger. (There’s some people in the spiritual community that say if you do this in a darkened room with candles, that you can summon a demon.)

~Off to do some more mirror work~

mirror mirror on the wall.

Ciao!

The Anti-Aging Case for Not Being Stressed ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

A young woman suns her face with a reflector in New York's Central Park  Stock Photo - Alamy

My anti-acne medication is working (finally???); I woke up this Sunday with noticeably clearer skin and non-Corpse Bride sunken eyes. Even though I had the potential to go down a stress/shame spiral on Saturday, I thought to myself: ‘hmm we’ve been here before, and this person who you are so upset about is so fully in denial that they will likely never know the error of their ways!!’ My conclusion is that it’s not worth being stressed, and I would much rather be hot.

I have a theory that your main, general disposition wears on your face like a heart on your sleeve. I often find that even when I’m feeling cute, dressed in what makes me feel good, makeup having been meticulously applied–I will look in the mirror and see only a morose, scared waif. I understand that it’s the personification of my wounded child coming through, and yet I want someone to save her. (Only to realize that oh wait, adult me is the only one who can save me! I am also resentful of the fact that I have to take care of this inner baby, but I guess a baby’s gotta do what a baby’s gotta do.)

It’s actually insane the effect that prolonged stress can have on your appearance/overall wellbeing. How it can wreck your skin and digestion and hair (@ the clumps of hair that I have yet to recover after the getting kicked out of Clinton Street fiasco.) I feel like I’m doing the psychosomatic equivalent of smoking or doing drugs to my body. In fact, my skin wasn’t even this bad when I was sleeping all the time and smoking like a chimney. Really need to practice the art of ~letting go~ if not for my own sanity, then for my own vanity. I had a call with my trauma sister on Sunday, and when I brought up this observation she said “I probably have the mental health equivalent of smoking crack rock” :S I mean I get it.

I think with our similar traumas, we’ve both come to realize that undoing years of gaslighting and narcissistic abuse that it’s addicting to re-live the pain. Or that reliving the pain over and over again is the only way to validate it? There still comes times when I push myself into self-denial. That maybe I’m not even worthy enough to claim trauma. It also doesn’t help when you are continually denied by your family that caused the whole shebang?? Need to remind myself that if they had the ability to show remorse and heal the bond in a real way then we wouldn’t have gone through any of this in the first place?? It’s like expecting the blind to lead the blind.

Although I still had a hard time ruminating last night, and hardly slept from anxiety. (Hell I even did THREE guided meditations at 3am to no avail.) The injustice of being ignored, gaslit takes me to my primary trauma response of RAGE. I feel a deep fire in my chest, and jagged like I swallowed whole pieces of glass. But rage will literally kill you, and it will cause health defects. More importantly, I feel like when I’m in a state of rage/feeling wronged, I am just really on edge. And I don’t want that for myself…Need to just laugh at the absurdity of the dynamic. That someone can fully lie to my face and expect me not to catch on phew!

It is terrifying and yet invigorating to think that anything I may hope to do is in MY control.

I have my first Fulbright advising session this week and I am dreadinggggg it. All the feelings of imposter syndrome and shame coming to the forefront as I am reminded of last cycle. But also it is reassuring to know that the only reason I DO feel imposter-y is that I have high standards for myself and for my work. ❤

Every week for the past month has felt like a game of Anxiety Jeopardy. Will I be evicted? Will I lose my job? Will I face some other humiliating event? Tune in next week! In some ways I think I worry so much because I care so much. I finally feel like the dust has started to settle and I don’t want that to ripped away from me. But as it always seems to go, the more that you guard your blessings, I feel like the more, ironically you are bound to lose them. Sometimes you can ruin a good thing by holding on too tightly.

ACCEPTING & Letting Go! (again this is an aspirational blog.) I hope to some day to get to a place on non-attachment, but uh, I am also human being with feeling, so it will probably be some time b4 I get to this state of zen.

Need to remember to eat regularly scheduled meals, and to be more aware of the influences I’m allowing to enter my brain. Thinking about doing a social media cleanse. Because ultimately unless the images I see on my phone are sitting right next to me they are irrelevant. //All that matters is the here and now, anything else that is not in my line of vision is irrelevant//

Eagerly waiting for the chonies I impulsively ordered on account of a ‘mid-summer Black Friday sale’ to come in so I can stunt this whale tail 🐳

I get to choose what I attract. And I am manifesting healthy relationships, self esteem, adventure, travel, authenticity, and deep connections. I am not here on this planet to be small, I want to be greedy in my thirst for experiences. For a while there’s been a wall separating me from myself, holding myself back, and I want to break it.

~To more art, to more reading, to more writing, to more language-learning~

LAISSEZ MOI DANSER! LAISSEZ MOI. CHANTER EN LIBERTÉ TOUT L’ÉTÉ

Driving Anxiety & Other Pleasures ;)

beep beep

Lately when i leave work or have 2 drive late-ish on the freeway, I’ve been having not so good feelings. It’s like the hyperawareness that you are in a hunk of metal going 65+ mph, and that there are lanes upon lanes of cares behind you, that if suddenly you stopped or slowed down they would all run you over AHHH. I’ve always been having intrusive thoughts of being involved in a horrific accident. Sometimes when the 5 splits towards the Glendale fwy, I feel like I’m gonna SH!T myself. My hands get all sweaty and I have to place then directly over the AC fans or rub them on my pants. Or sometimes the inverse is that I forget that I am driving at all and when I do remember that I am driving I freak the f out and have to bite on my lip really hard or slap myself in the face just to ground myself. ~In a word~ I simply wish to avoid all driving on the freeway, particularly the 405 DEAR GOD.

Maybe this is some residual body trauma from my accident last October. A guy jumped on my car as I was driving on Sunset, and I thought I killed him 🙂 Even now, when I see someone beginning to jaywalk, I begin to slow to a crawl. I’d rather look like a fool than experience the trauma of inadvertently killing someone! I think there’s a lot of things that can be triggers in a city. Honking & loud noises, strangers, wolf whistles, uneven roads/sidewalks. I find myself jumping even when I don’t realize it. Parallel parking in a one way-street on a really cramped hill but trying to be sure that you’re in an okay spot because of the last two tickets and times you got towed AHHHHH.

This past month especially has really challenged my nervous system to relational conflict, money trouble, poor diet/exercise/sleep/hydration levels, the dance of my own mental undoing. It’s starting to get better now. For a while I was in a hypervigilant mode of waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m still just a level above this and can very much slide back in, but still, nature is healing. The content of @_peacefromwithin on IG is very wholesome but also really accurate for depicting what’s going on inside here. (I didn’t even realize I had been having intrusive thoughts for the longest time?? I too, like she mentions, thought I was simply a monster. It’s also really liberating to think that thoughts are just thoughts are have no moral basing on your character or who you are as a human being. And that they are just stupid electrical signals which are a product of our society/environment/monkey brains. I think repositioning thoughts as just something that flow through you rather than what define you or have ownership over is a big break through for me.)

I’ve also been engrossed in my healing journey, but i think I’m actually making some progress within myself. The intense rumination of the past year, of trying to validate my own CPTSD has lead nowhere but the same conclusions which is “people have their own shit that has nothing to do with you and trying to rationalize irrational behavior will only drive you mad.” It’s funny to think how much of other’s faulty thinking and opinions of me I’ve absorbed bc when I really think about it, it’s so stupid??? The fact that I’m the identified patient of my family, not for any rhyme or reason other than just being my own person and not fulfilling the ego ideal of my family??? Is mind blowing.

A nice bit of Michael C. Hall

The fact that in this podcast I was listening to, the dude said he would amount to the future Charles Manson is chillingly similar to the time in adolescence that I was told I was going to become a psychopath because I watched too much Dexter and that I needed to be put on drugs and sent to an institution. (On Michael C. Hall: no further comment, your honor.)

When I buy clothes in a setting where there are no dressing rooms or nowhere for me to try on, I have the tendency to misjudge my size severelyyyy. I don’t know what in my brain thought I could fit into this child size 10 skort that I got this weekend at Goodwill. In an effort to prove a point to myself that I didn’t waste $5 I spent a good 20 minutes cutting off circulation trying to squeeze my literal A$$ in. FOR what stubborn baby! I’m now determined to not let this faulty purchase be in vain. Maybe some looser elastic?? Let out the hem?? Spanx??

Right now I really hate all my clothes. But I don’t want to accumulate more junk, but then Buffalo Exchange only wants to give me $15. excuse me. But also I get it, there’s a reason I’m giving this stuff away.

The Facebook Marketplace quest to get rid of my vanity continuessssss. I am really not a good capitalist. Maybe I should add some emojis and cutesy language? A depop listing vibe but for the good folks of Los Angeles Free & For Sale.

//

I went to my Ballroom class this Sunday, for the first in ages, and I was very much not on beat 🙂 My body felt so clumsy and disconnected, when weeks ago I felt like I was hitting the moves. It was a transformative moment which I’m actually really really really really embarrassed about, when it was my turn to walk and everyone was watching me/cheering me, but what felt like pity to me. I ran outta there crying in like an unable-to-breathe-way and had a full on alleyway therapy session with one of the instructors who gave me the pep talk of the century. I think being visible/seen by others is a really palpable way of like holding a mirror up to your soul.I have no eloquent words to truly express my gratitude for Prince Zay but it was a really beautiful/profound moment for me.

Performing really forces you to confront your innermost feelings about your worth and how you want the world to perceive you

Got to try floor work which involved opening some leg and flashing some C U Next Tuesday in a very fast-paced coordinated way. I need to remember to keep going to class so that I don’t lose progress and save the waterworks.

We make full circle in this blog post w Driving anxiety, as I was very much scared to be driving home after class. It’s weird I had this intense fear when I first started driving in LA, but it had mostly dissipated once I started driving for Postmates. I think that being tired and maybe dehydrated is a contributing factor, bc when I came home yesterday I drank copious amounts of water in my little rinky dink Madonna Inn tumblr.

Speaking OF. I should probably hydrate rn and begin to wind down to prevent such an occurrence tomorrow.

Ta Ta for now x

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.

OOOF

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

👁👄👁

STOMP STOMP

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

(http://www.isamit.com/system/files/downloads/The%20Drama%20of%20the%20Gifted%20Child%20-%20Advanced.pdf)

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 💋