not everyone deserves to be humpin' around...

[tw: stalkers; harassment; panic attacks; why are men?]

it's wednesday. your morning didn't go as planned but you still managed to get to work earlier than normal, only to be met by emails from people who couldn't be bothered to update their calendars, let alone look at yours, before making requests that had you gritting your teeth and acquiescing to breaking your friday rule. it's fine. everything is fine. you'll power through the workday because past you bought a ticket to a bourbon tasting and you know current you will have a good time. you being you, you power through the workday even though one of your new projects is giving you fits and you're not sure if you even know enough about the subject matter at hand to get through the initial phases without asking for help. it's fine. everything is fine. 

you grab dinner within walking distance of your bourbon tasting. you pull out the book you've been reading and decide to get a few more pages in while you eat. no big deal. your bags are secured, you've scanned the perimeter, you know you have time to actually enjoy your meal before you need to head out...everything is fine.

until it wasn't fine. until you looked up and saw him. you haven't seen him in damn near 10 years, if not longer, but you'd know that face anywhere even if you can't remember his name. you can't remember his name. you know you could text at least two different people, neither of whom you've corresponded with recently, and they'd get it, even if they couldn't remember his name either. 

he's a former (?) patron at your former library employer. he's the one that tried to make your life miserable, but he didn't know that you'd already begun climbing out of the misery that was your life in the early to mid 2010s and therefore had very little time/patience/energy/fucks to give about whatever he was trying to do. he then moved on to one of your younger teammates, who also had very few fucks to give about whatever he was trying to do.

that didn't stop him, though. and why would it? he was "a professor." people "knew" him. he "knew" people. how dare you, and your teammate, not want to engage him in conversation beyond the basic necessities?

but you didn't. and your teammate didn't. you were both creeped out enough to escalate the situation. you both followed protocol.

he didn't. he asked when your teammate was working and got offended when everyone played dumb. he left notes. he'd try to get other departments involved in the hopes that someone would command your teammate to respond to him. he'd wander around the library to the point where you and other teammates instituted a buddy system so your teammate had a shadow for what seemed to be the entirety of their shifts. the protocol finally did what needed to be done and he was banned. we breathed a little easier.

but then you saw him tonight, for the first time in...a decade? maybe more? who's counting?

you're counting. you're counting your breaths because suddenly you've forgotten how to inhale and exhale like a normal person. 

you'd know that face anywhere. you scan the area. you remind yourself that you're in walking distance of your upcoming bourbon tasting and you know people there and if you really need backup, you could pick out a couple two tree people, maybe more, to help you out. your brain, god(dess) bless it, is doing an admirable job of keeping it together. 

your body, on the other hand? PANIC. your chest gets tight. you're not sure if your dinner is going to stay down. it does, thankfully, but you definitely have to remind yourself where the nearest bathroom is located just in case. 

but then your brain betrays you because, well, it's your brain and it's an asshole.

remember undergrad? that time when someone approached you and, realizing you were still with your high school boyfriend, decided to move on to one of your friends? and then that went real bad real quick, to the point where even though your friend followed protocol and reported it, you and some other friends took turns sleeping in/outside your friend's dorm room because if he decided to approach them again, he was gonna have to go through at least one of us first?

you felt so guilty because if you'd only entertained him, he wouldn't had stalked your friend. if you'd only entertained that library patron, he wouldn't have moved on to your teammate. you know none of this is logical, but your brain is really leaning into being an asshole.

meanwhile, you look around again and realize that he's gone. he probably didn't even see you and if he didn't, he probably didn't recognize you.

try telling that to your brain and your body, both of which have gone into full "get the fuck out of here not now but right the fuck now" mode. so you do. you pack up. you repeat to yourself that you can walk to the location of your tasting, you can order a drink, you can try to take some deep breaths, you can identify a staff member and/or fellow tasting attendee if you're really concerned about him following you, and you tell yourself that if it's too much, you can nope right on out of there and go home.

but you don't know how to articulate any of that. you look at your text messages and realize that you don't even know who, if anyone, knows enough of the backstory for you to be able to text them without having to explain, because you know the backstory will be enough to send you back into panic mode and you're really not trying to go there.

so you get to the tasting location. you order a drink. you say hello to some familiar faces. you engage in conversation. you power through the tasting. it's fine. everything's fine...but you know it's not fine.

you know who you saw. how he made you feel, even all these years later. you know how your brain spiraled. you know your next therapy session is gonna be a doozy because you're not sure you've ever discussed him with your therapist and there's clearly some shit to unpack because why is he effecting you like this?

but then you breathe. you clocked him but he didn't seem to clock you. he looked way worse than the last time you saw him and you know you look way better. vanity, yes, but fuck it. you deserve. 

you deserve. you deserve so much more. so much better. so much greater than what your asshole brain could even conjure. 

you're no longer in touch with that friend from undergrad, but they also deserve better. so does your former teammate. you all deserve better. 

we all deserve better. even in the midst of chaos. even when our brains are trash. we deserve so much better. let's go get it. 

for my best friend, with whom i am well pleased

both my bff and i turn 50 this year and, in what will come as little to no surprise to anyone who knows me, i'm making a big deal about it.

i remember when it felt like neither one of us was gonna make it this far. when we kept hitting brick wall after brick wall and feeling like nothing we did was working. when we really couldn't see the point of continuing to try. 

but we did, and we're here, and when this goes live, i'll be celebrating my bff's birthday. i am the excited. 

i'm excited b/c i am so ridiculously glad we're still in each other's lives after all these years. decades, really. our friendship is old enough to run for president (and maybe it should, given *gestures vaguely* current events). 

i'm so glad we still show up for and with each other. i'm glad that we're willing to ask questions and attempt to be ok with the answers, even the ones we don't like. i'm glad that the fact that we've never lived in the same city has never stopped us from being close. i'm glad that we're so different in so many ways and yet sometimes we're so alike that it's scary. i'm glad you're slightly more petty than i am and i'm also glad you don't unleash your petty as often as you could or should, because then i'd have to be petty right along with you and the streets are not ready. 

i'm glad that i pushed you just enough to celebrate today. you deserve this and so much more. 

i'm glad i get to wish you a lifetime of abundance. of ease. of grace. of curiosity. of hope. of love. of knowing that who and what you are will always be more than enough. 

happy birthday. love you. mean it. 💜

still grieving after all these years...

hey boos hey. long time no type, etc.

i'm about midway through my annual season of grief due to birthdays and death anniversaries. not gonna lie, this grief has stronger hands and is landing more punches in 2026 so far than it has in previous years and your girl is feeling it.

past me sometimes has good ideas, which means i've been sorta kinda managing to keep myself busy so i don't have as many opportunities to sob and/or scream into the void. however! crying in the shower? definitely still a thing. sobbing myself to sleep? yup. waking up crying because something in a dream reminded me of a dearly departed one? absolutely.

this happens every year and yet i still manage to be fucking gobsmacked by the first wave of grief in february, like i didn't know it was coming. to be fair, i did start this month with three concerts in as many evenings and other social obligations that kept me busy, but when i finally realized what was happening, the shutdown was almost immediate.

sometimes i forget how challenging it can be to deal with my own personal grief while adulting, particularly during these "why must everything be so fucking unprecedented?!?" times. there's so much happening every goddamn day. i can barely catch up on the news without crying tears of sadness and/or anger. and then i remember that lori's not here, and neither is james, and my parents are both gone, and the fact that they all died years apart and yet within weeks of each other fucks me up every single time. it's not fair and it actually physically hurts as i'm typing right now. stupid unsexy grief.

so yeah, if you see me out in the streets and i don't seem like my usual or normal self, it's because i'm not. i'm trying to do that thing where i actually acknowledge how i'm feeling, let myself feel all the things instead of bottling them up, and allowing myself to be vulnerable or whatever. my therapist would be proud but thanks, i hate it. i'm all about loving myself and others out loud, but this particular form of self-care? zero stars. do not recommend. 

if you don't see me out in the streets with my usual or normal frequency, it's because i know i need to attempt to take a break and sit the fuck down somewhere so i don't push myself past my breaking point, emotionally and/or physically. also sometimes it's because i just want/need to be at home and enjoy my solitude and quiet, especially after being outside and around people. i mean, have you met people? the worst.

this is going live on what would've been my father's 93rd birthday. i cannot believe it's been 29 years since i last saw him alive. what in the actual entire fuck. i can barely make a grocery list without breaking down these days b/c i can still see him, clear as day, sitting down at the kitchen table with the sales papers and mapping out what he was gonna buy from which store based on what was on sale. me? the sales papers are digital now and i do the majority of my grocery shopping at one store, but otherwise? o hai, it me. he'd be pitching a fit about groceries being this damn high even with whatever coupons/discount codes he had, but then he'd be proud about snagging a good deal on something, and i'm the same way.

but here i am. trying to lean more into loving myself and others out loud. to embracing whimsy and other things that make me happy because imagine being an unwhimsical ass bitch. ¿en esta economia? could not and will not be me as long as i have anything to say or do about it. 

i just wish grieving wasn't such a big part of living.

love y'all. mean it.