This photo is my blog-style post, written on www.binksjardin.com

My substack is different, because I usually type them quickly, or on my phone, or quickly on my phone. And I make my substack about my gratitude list. Because I’m sure people really like to read misery disguised gratitude, or forced happiness, or whatever. Doesn’t matter. It helps me, and if you didn’t know this by now, all of my social media is about how self-oriented I am.

So I found the sublet on an instagram account. The girl’s previous subletter fell through, and she was apparently really happy that I swooped in and saved the day. I was also really happy, because I told everyone at this wedding I was at that I had a sublet in Silver Lake, and that sublet fell through for me. I had paid the deposit and everything, and she sent it back. It made me feel like a rejected loser, when that happened. But this sublet is way better, I think. Probably. They were both studios, and that was the main point. This one has more windows, though, so I’m happy. It’s been awhile since I had good light in my living space. That’s important to me. I keep being reminded of that, the hard way.

I found my last two leases in Facebook groups. I am a huge advocate for subletting before locking in to a lease. Maybe this is because I have an adversity to being an adult, or because I have mild commitment issues. Probably both, and a few other things. But something about subletting also feels like a good-samaritan thing to do. Like: someone is desperate to get out of their lease for whatever reason, and I am relieving them of that stress.

The girl who lives in my sublet has a great library (according to my lit-fit expert best friend, who helped me move in on Sunday. She also has interesting art, and good kitchen-ware that implies she actually cooks for herself. There is no air fryer, so I have had to manually char my food. It stinks, because I prefer to take a shower while my dinner burns, convection-oven style. But she has a really good at-home vibe, and I love pretending like it’s my home. I wouldn’t be able to achieve this exact vibe in my own home, because I am a different type of girl than her. I recently got called Normie, and I know it to be true. This girl is definitely not Normie, and I can tell by the photos and notes and magnets on her fridge. I can tell by her ceramic mugs and bowls, and her silverware. I’m not sure how I’d describe the design style, but I’m sure she comes from a creative family. This is new territory for me. I didn’t know there were so many cool-types of people in this world. Everyone in my world is pretty much the same. Normie.

I think the girl I sublet from is probably in her 30s, because she’s organized in a smart way, and seems to have things figured out. She seems to edit things to what you actually need, instead of over-packing moves, the way I have for my past few leases.

I wonder if she feels as awesome living in her apartment as I feel. Not to mention, the rent is good. At least relative to NYC.

The girl I sublet from offered me to ride her bike around, since I don’t have a car. I was pretty psyched about that, but she also told me she got hit by a car riding around LA. She said the cars aren’t “kind” to bikers. IDK if I feel like getting hit by a car this month. It would probably send me spiraling in the opposite direction, and I would probably just say fuck it and move home to NJ, if I got hit by a car in LA. I wasn’t entirely sure that I wouldn’t just move to NJ, before I got here. That was my cop-out plan. But I’d be doing the same thing there that I’m doing here. And I’d much rather be in LA dream-chasing than in NJ dream chasing. Except for the fact NJ is free, technically. But whatever. I’m already in a medium-amount of debt, and I’m interviewing for a job tomorrow at some fancy hotel bar. So I can fix the debt, and work at a fancy celeb-hot spot. And if thaaaaat doesn’t work out, I’ll fuck off and go home.

All that to say, I feel awesome!

Which is great, because I was freaking out last week. I am gonna jump right into gratitude.

1. I am grateful that I get to read acoustic books and put my kindle-books down for now, especially because I feel very Meh about my kindle books, and this sublet library has a few books that my friends have been prodding me to read. Currently I am reading Rebecca. I’ve also opened and chewed down 10 pages of a few other books. I’ll definitely finish Rebecca. IDK what other books I’ll try to chew on.

2. I’m grateful I got an interview via connection. I’m grateful it’s tomorrow. I’m grateful that I don’t really care if I get the job or not. It’s a super cool job, but it’s high pressure. It’s a reservationist at a hot-spot. Could be annoying. Or it could be cool. I guess I’ll maybe find out, or I won’t.

3. I’m grateful that I’ve allowed myself to spend money on beverages (sesame latte) and local Persian food (Cameron Winters ate here) and fried fish tacos (at some historic Malibu fried fish spot) because if I do wind up not staying in LA that long, at least I jumped in to the culture and made the most of it.

4. I’m grateful for the good feeling I have about LA, I’m grateful to be here.

5. I’m grateful to feel excited again, even though it slightly worries me, because I fear mania

6. I am grateful for the way my body lotion smells. Not because I love it, but because the smell will always remind me of California. I’ve never used anything that smells like this before, and I probably won’t again. It reminds me of the time I got Nivea body lotion, and used it to jerk off the guy I was seeing at the time. I didn’t really like that smell, and now I have it as a negative-association with dating a kind of weird guy. The lotion reminded me of a resting home, before I started jerking him off with it. Nice, right?

7. I’m grateful I’ve gotten back into the habit of calling my grandma!

8. I’m grateful my mom is sending me Kerstasse hair oil. I said I’d buy it myself today, because I begged her to buy it the other day and she kind of brushed it off.

9. I’m grateful I now live in the same city as my best friend ever ever ever!

10. I’m grateful that I feel like I have a handful of friends in LA. I didn’t realize I did. But I do.

11. I’m grateful for personal hotspot.

12. I’m grateful for cool funky chairs and cool funky coffee shops.

13. I’m grateful that silver lake feels like an actual city, in the way that a lot of neighborhoods in LA do not. It makes sense that people refer to LA as a “town”

14. I’m grateful that I’m confident in my wardrobe, after working on it for the past couple years. My thing was always: I want to be able to go everywhere with this wardrobe. I actually decided I needed the revamp when I started visiting my aforementioned best friend in LA when she moved here 5 years ago. My wardrobe felt loser-ish back then. It made me feel shy. Now it doesn't. Even though I wear more out-there pieces. They’re more me.

15. I am grateful I am getting a better idea of what “me” is as I get older. I’m grateful I think for myself and I’m grateful that I’m not afraid to have a POV.

16. I am grateful that I’ve gotten back into art and writing over the past few years, and that I’ve now been trying to make that a career. It’s not there yet, but I’m grateful I have something to work towards.

17. I am grateful for my cool website. I like saying I have a website. Usually people say: you should put that on a website! And I say: I have a website, and it is on there! I don’t think anyone really looks at my website. But whatever.

18. I’m grateful that I’ve taken such a long break from dating, and I’m grateful that I feel like maybe shifting into maybe dating again. Maybe. If it makes perfect sense, if it’s the perfect person for the moment. Otherwise I will not date again!

19. I’m grateful for my life, that I’m alive, that I’m healthy and safe and loved.

20. I’m grateful I’m in LA!

This is a click-bait title in my head, because people are curious about mental illness. At least I was, before I knew I had one. And it’s great, because I want more people to read my writing. People who don’t have bipolar, and people who do. I think it’s very important to talk about the reality of being in typical high-pressure social environments with such a stigmatized diagnosis. I put my vanity and my ego aside when I talk about bipolar. I put my parents wishes aside when I talk about bipolar. It would be much more brand-safe to skip it, and I’d probably be making money online, if I cared more about being brand safe. I really care about advocating for bipolar.

*I also would like to make money, but that’s why I am writing a book. I am procrastinating writing the book, by the way, by writing on substack.

So I am bipolar. And the obvious silver lining is that I will never have to worry about whether or not im Interesting. I have worried about if I’m concerning, humiliating, and ultimately not really the kind of person you want to associate with. That’s mostly due to the fact that my mental illness illicit a total transformation. I have had several life-ruining level freak outs (manic, psychotic).

People will always think it’s interesting if you suffer, especially if they can’t tell. Like, especially if you’re pretty, or popular, or if your parents are rich. I like to tack on: especially if your life didn’t actually get ruined. Which I think makes me most interesting.

My parents, specifically my mom, hates when I bring up the bipolar. It doesn’t matter how great I’ve done in light of it. I should be doing great, regardless. There’s a spoken kind of pressure, in addition to the unspoken pressure.

It’s important that I add: It’s not the genetic kind of bipolar, btw. It is the drug induced kind, that sometimes happens when you’re sober. No one in a respectable, upstanding family would have bipolar disorder. That would be appalling.

Did you know that I’m proud of my family? There is a side of dysfunction that I don’t like, but I am proud of my family despite that. My home is beautiful and my living room is cozy. My family watches movies together after we eat dinner together. My mom is a great cook, and my water pressure in my shower feels amazing always, but especially when I’ve been gone for awhile.

My dad works hard and has provided us a really beautiful, enriching life. When I say enriching I’m referring to my education, and the fact that my family has gone on a number of trips and vacations. We have gone to music festivals on the beach, we get along. Our friends get along. My mom is a martha-stewart level host and brings friends of friends together in our family home on a regular basis. We have an open door policy, and you hear about it on your way in and on your way out: come back! Come on a Tuesday! Ride your bike over, we can play music over the Sonos speakers and lure other sailors into the downstairs bar. There’s a long list of people who have fallen asleep next to the fire out back, join it!

Sure, my parents embarrass me sometimes. But I know I have embarrassed them far, far worse with my manic episodes. I won’t address the ways in which my excessive partying has embarrassed or inconvenienced my family. That can be a separate blog entirely. I just want to focus on how mortifying my bipolar outbursts have been. Many of the people who have been in and out of our home only learned about my bipolar diagnosis through my sharing about it on the internet. Or through the grapevine, because people who witnessed or heard about my outburst obviously did not want to keep that kind of juicy goss to themselves.

To me and to my family, it was not juicy goss. It was kind of like, hell on earth actually. Psychotic breaks are not comfortable, or pretty. Though I documented a lot of my time in mania, all 5 times, and I still looked really pretty when I was manic. It’s so confusing how that works.

It would be easy—my mom says—to put it behind me now. To just be a high functioning person. I could still be popular online, she says, if I stopped mentioning that I was bipolar. It’s kind of ruining it (it being the image of perfection that everyone is really eager to show off). I could just focus on my sobriety, which has a more positive ring to it. Sobriety ties things up in a bow. Sobriety emphasizes how discipline I am, how I’ve earned the goodness in my life. I do Not need to tote that I am a high functioning person, who has bipolar disorder. So let’s be clear: as much as I claim the narrative, my mother would like to sweep it under the rug. I can hear in her tone of voice when she's read something where I talk about depression, mania, or use the B-word. It sounds the same as when I was about to be punished as a child. It sounds like I am going to be sat down and spoken to. And I am, to this day, sat down and spoken to. I often have to explain why it is so important to me, that I keep talking about my bipolar disorder online.

My dad has worked in tech, in New York City, and has been exposed to other high-functioning bipolar people. They don’t blast their diagnosis all over the internet, but they admit it to their colleagues. In an effort to justify some not-so-great behavior, usually.

Everyone seems to be pretty ashamed of bipolar. Whether you have it, or your sibling has it. If you find out your neighbor has it, I guess you’re grateful it’s not in your house, contagious. Why would people want to claim bipolar? When the media depicts a bipolar person as screaming hell-demon, banshee, murderer type, you hear you have bipolar disorder, and you think you’re probably better off dead.

At least that’s what I thought. I got the bipolar diagnosis and I was like: well, I might as well die. But I was on enough anti-psychotic medicine to render me unable to lift my arms (I have had no noticeable side effects to Lithium, for the record, other than less manic behavior. I have not found an antidepressant. I just deal with the depression, which renders me unable to do much, but I can still lift my arms). To be fair, I often wished I were dead long before the bipolar diagnosis. I sometimes wonder if my excitability as a kid was an early indicator of bipolar. My happiness, my eagernesss, my sensitivity.

Still, I get happy, and I wonder if it’s allowed. I get excited and my heart drops, I recount how much sleep I've gotten that week. I post a lot of wordy stories and want to throw myself off a cliff. Not because I’m naturally wordy, but because that might be an indication that I am something far worse. (Bipolar).

So I didn’t Kill myself. Which is great, statistically speaking. I barely even want to lately.

Suicidal thoughts are a coping mechanism, my therapist told me. And when I heard that, I figured I might as well replace that coping mechanism with someone else that ends my suffering in a more productive way. Like, in a way where I am alive, and maybe even get excited about being alive.

More often than not, now, I am excited to be alive. Mostly because I am working towards something. Prior to this leg of my life journey (I’d say this has been a work in progress over the past 2.5 years) I did things because I was supposed to. Attending a certain university made my parents proud. Working in certain industries made me sound really good to finance guys at bars, especially after I told them what university I graduated from (Go Knicks! I’m so sporty and so smart, thanks to my great college!).

I loved giving my parents something to brag about. Especially* since it could overshadow all the bipolar bullshit smearing up my good track record.

* for the record, my alcoholic drinking also kinda smeared up my good track record, but mostly everyone in my circles drinks alcoholically. They are just able to manage their lives despite it. My life, when drinking, was unmanageable. And it embarrassed my parents.

So, I guess what I want to get across here is that I graduated on time from a good school with my bipolar disorder. I was diagnosed as a sophomore, took a semester off my junior year, and I can put my GPA on my resume, with the proper 4-year window (2016-2020). It took a hell of a lot of effort, I thought my chest was getting ripped open sometimes, with all of the cortisol spikes and self-hatred and gritty scrappy showing-up-despite-it-all ethos. It was brutally painful. Recovering from manic episodes inpatient felt the same. There was real physical pain that ripped through my skull, opened my chest, burned my throat. That came from raw-emotion, confusion, anger, despair. I didn’t ask to deal with bipolar. I’d much rather not. I’d be much cleaner, much more wifey, much more brag-worthy if I didn’t brand myself Bipolar, or if I didn’t carry the baggage of the Bipolar experience

Except I am grateful to be bipolar, despite the negative ring the word has. I am more empathetic, thanks to my bipolar experience. I have shared living space with people I’d never meet in the circles I run in. And I have learned more in my weeks spent inpatient than I did during some semesters at that great university I brag about (which was my fault, because there were long stretches of time where I cared more about drinking and frat parties than I did about class). I am proud that I step out from behind the widely accepted, even imposed curtain of shame. I am proud that I am willing to talk about the diagnosis and the experience, and that I believe myself to be articulate and sensitive enough to do so. I am also proud when I'm not directly mentioning experiences in crisis (funny or haunting) because I am proud of how I show up as a person. Even without my corporate badges, without a stable job or a city where I feel like I belong, I am proud of myself. I am taking risks (not in mania) to find out more about my lifestyle preferences, and who I am without an army of friends who know me best. I am proud that I can move a plane-ride away from my family, hours from the closest major city, from the type of culture that I’m most familiar with. I’m proud that I put growth and self-discovery before comfort. Because I know that I can do hard things, and I really want to show other people with similar struggles that they can also do hard things.

Whether it be landing a great job or being employed in the same place for a year. Whether it be making a friend and telling them “I’m bipolar” and seeing that it actually doesn’t make their face twitch, instead they say: “probably same”. It feels good to broadcast to a sea of anonymous people that dating with bipolar hasn’t been a challenge. Even if some guy I dated might see the video and say: I actually did Not like dating this girl at all, she was nuts. It feels good to let a younger version of me see that being bipolar doesn’t make you ugly, it doesn’t mean you won’t be able to get a degree or a job. Being bipolar doesn’t mean that you’re not dateable, that you can’t have lots of friends and lots of fun. It doesn’t make you anti-social and weird (though you can still be both of those things, bipolar diagnosis aside, and be perfectly OK, maybe better than most). I’m grateful that I get to work hard and check off my perfectionist-boxes and still be outward and admit that I am not perfect, there is something very flawed in my brain that makes me act in ways that I would never willingly act. If I was a robot they would put me out of commission. But I am not a robot, I am a human.

So I will transition into a bipolar-framed gratitude list tonight, to honor my grat-list substack format, and stay on theme.

1. I am grateful that a college age girl could google bipolar-key words after her diagnosis and find my social media/writing/website/blog (I was not able to find any relatable bipolar girls online when I was looking, and I dug really hard)

2. I am grateful that I have recognized so many bipolar references in TV, in music, in reality, since my diagnosis. It’s like a 6th sense, but it’s also sometimes very obvious. Bipolar is super common. I wish there was a database that tracks all the innuendos, just for comfort. I’ve thought about compiling something like that on my website, but it felt like too much effort. I just clock it in-real time and smile. I usually feel grateful in those moments. A lot of cool people are bipolar.

3. I am grateful that there’s a noticeable genius associated with bipolar. I am not going to come online and start proclaiming that I am a genius, but I like the pool of people I am lumped in with. It appears that bipolars climb into a place of significance, if we look at the cultural canon. Way more significant than the general population.

4. I am grateful that I am quick witted, so I never feel stunned and unable to respond to quips about my mental health.

5. I am grateful that my mom dragged me so hard during the first few years of dealing with bipolar, because nothing could hurt worse than that. Like how native Americans had really tough soles of their feet, from walking barefoot through the forest all the time. It’s like that. For lack of a better metaphor.

6. I’m grateful I have friends who stuck by my side in college and post grad, during my psychosis, during my mania, during my depression. Like, super super super grateful for this one. I wouldn’t have been able to step foot back on campus without their support, honestly.

7. I am grateful that I did go back to Villanova the semester after my psychotic manic episode, and that I braved the hallways in the quad, and smiled back at staring faces, and assimilated as if nothing happened.

8. I am grateful that the boys I liked in college did not flinch at my manic episodes. I am grateful that in the many years post-graduation, I have received unsolicited apologies about this time period from a few of the boys in question. Apologies that they didn’t handle my situation better, that they didn’t know better.

9. I am grateful that I am in position to advocate for bipolar disorder in a way that hopefully normalizes it. I hope that I reach people who can maybe extend empathy and kindness to the classmate or the situation-ship who goes manic one semester.

10. I am grateful for my sobriety in light of bipolar disorder, because it helps, but moreso because it gives me credibility, trust, and ability to advocate for myself.

11. I am grateful for the incredible stories that have come from my manic episodes (I mean this in a somewhat-derogatory way, and also in a bit of an awe-struck way. Some of the stories I have in my memory bank I should not have lived to tell. But did, by the grace of god).

12. I am grateful for my mom and my dad, for dealing with my bipolar diagnosis and my episodes with all of the grace and patience that they could muster, for doing so in a way that has restored my sanity each time, without a guidebook. I am so grateful that I am back on my feet, and I wouldn't be without them. 

13. I am grateful for the hospital stays, despite how horrific. I am grateful because they restored me to sanity, however backwards and unnecessarily traumatizing it may have been. I am grateful to be sane.

14. I am grateful that my journey with inpatient stays has inspired a life-long goal to hopefully be able to fund the kind of inpatient stay I wish the past-version of myself had the opportunity to experience. I wish for people in the future to be able to recover in the best, most functional way possible. I am grateful that I have something like that to work towards, that I actually really care about, because it makes me not want to kill myself. If only to see it through.

15. I am grateful that I am alive, that I did not kill myself, that I am creating a life that excites me, that fills me with purpose, and that I really believe is worth living. Despite the bipolar diagnosis. And probably because of it. Otherwise, I think I’d wind up being average, and being super pissed-off about it.

16. I’m grateful I don’t sit back and let myself be pissed off and depressed about my circumstances. Even if the fire lit under my ass is because I am desperate to prove that I can do everything and then some, even with the bipolar.

    *for more bipolar media check out my Tiktok, where I have a little folder thing, full of videos that fall into the category of mania, depression, or the B-word

    I also have written articles that address living with bipolar on www.binksjardin.com/shewrites

    It comes through in a lot of my writing, but based on the titles it will be obvious which blog posts are bipolar-specific.

    Speaking of, I need to write another formal blog post over on my website. It’s been awhile.

I had to get out of the eames chairs by the window because the library guys are setting up a concert for babies. This annoyed me. The library does not have AC, which I learned the other day. It feels worse to be hot in a big glass-brick building full of old paper than it does to be hot in my gross stuffy little bedroom. I sit on the gross carpet in my room, I think of all the gross ski bum boys that have lived in my Room. I think about how I could probably live with boy roommates, but how I’m glad I don’t. My roommate Rosie has lived here for 10 years, and this is the first lease she’s ever signed with all girls. I brought in my own gross cowhide rug, that I got from a thrift store. I have gotten acrylic paint droplets all over the carpet. I tried scrubbing the paint out the other day. I used scissors to cut the paint out, which was a bad thing to do, technically. My Landlord is a huge aashole, so I don’t care. He likes me because he likes where I went to college. I still hate talking to him.

I killed a Brown Recluse spider the other day, and when I sit on the floor in my room (or anywhere in my room) I think I see big spiders moving around. I have eye floaters. and I’m paranoid. Im not worried that I hallucinate spiders. Im more worried that they would be real. I fucking hate spiders. They make me think that we live in real life hell.

Im mad in the library because I picked out an art history book that I expected to tell me more. The snippets of information they provide don’t feel relevant, they feel like filler. Usually I publish things I’m not proud of, but I don’t really use filler. I’ve gotten to the point where if I don’t have anything to say, I’ll leave my videos with no text overlay. That was a big deal for me the first time I did it. I felt like people would be mad at me. Or they’d love it, and they’d be mad next time I wrote. I hate the way I think about people thinking about me. I practice shoving those kinds of thoughts out of my mind all the time. If I only think about the people who praise me, it’s an unhealthy echochamber. And if I think too much about the people who hate me, it’s unhealthy too. And I get that I can be annoying and out of touch, but I have stopped hating myself so much lately.

My mom called before I got disrupted by the baby-concert set up and it panged at me. A lot of the time, my dynamic with my Mom makes me want to throw up. I have thrown up over it before. I have cried so hard and out of control over it before that it makes me sick, that it makes my roommate leave the apartment because it’s probably really uncomfortable

To listen to something like that, even if I am trying my best to muffle it in the pillows. That was a while ago. I have just been sassy to my mom lately because I can’t control my disdain for her lately. I hate the dynamic as much as I ever did, even after a period of controlling it pretty well. Things aren’t even bad right now. I need to call her back. But I didn’t answer because I’m in the library, and I can’t help but think I’ll pay for this later. Her silence and her anger and her words hit me way harder than they hit my dad or brother, it seems. I like to think that’s because I’m pure and honest and take things at face value and not because I’m sensitive and easily manipulated. I’ll never get into a relationship with the type of person who acts the way my mom acts. So I’m grateful for that lesson, I guess.

I’m usually Paranoid, which is an embarrassing quality. Part of it might be because I used to milk bongs before my brain fully formed, in order to look tough and cool and bad ass to the kids I was smoking weed with. I’d hear sirens and flashing lights and I’d pass out on occasion. My parents hate weed. A good reason to be scared. Not paranoia, real fear. My parents brought me to the hospital before, to drug test me for weed. It was fucking annoying.

I’ll type in the library til I’m not shaky anymore, then I’ll go get fruit, or maybe a single Greek yogurt (fage) because I leave tomorrow. I saw my roommate had gotten a large bag of chia seeds. I have no problem stealing speckles of my Roommates food here and there. Which is kind of fucked up, I don’t even try to conceal it. I don’t get paranoid about that. I think it’s weird of me to do, but I also think it’s kind of funny. This is the kind of attitude that made people not like me very much in school. I know that, and I knew it then. It’s assy and antagonistic.

I still feel groggy, there’s fucking kids screaming and chattering and crying in the library, because the story time Just let out. I’m really Glad I don’t have kids. One of my best friends is pregnant, and I told her I hope it comes out talking. My Coworker-turned-friend in Colorado got knocked up and hitched and had a baby and didn’t tell me she was pregnant til the last month when it was obvious. I had to ask, actually. We are 28 and I felt Awkward, like she was a pregnant teenager. I still feel like a teenager, and I pretty Much have as much responsibility as one. I feel left Out from all the types of people who grew up fast and lived big lives in their teenage and early twenties years. I was just getting too high and I didn’t know how to dress myself in a way that made me feel confident. I didn’t know how to stand. I didn’t know what to do with my hands or my feet and I only recently learned by watching other people. I say this fact often, actually. I don’t know why I’m always trying to prove how insecure I was. I always read about how people gaslit their way to the top, and I’d like to find my way to the top too, but I don’t like gaslighting. I don’t like lying or calling bluffs. I don’t think I really need to. I feel like the better you are at communicating your observations, the more right and trustworthy you are, and less of an asshole.

i cant let go of how bitter i feel towards my mom lately. I am irritable in general, i just got my period, and I resent her. She always tells me what I can be doing better, and she’s never doing any of those things herself.

I feel kind of suicidal in the background of my head lately, which is an annoyingly familiar feeling. I like saying it out loud. Not in a manipulative way. In highschool I was friends with someone who did that in a manipulative way, it drove me crazy. I think that’s an awful thing to do.

Once my mom told me I should just kill my self already so she didn’t have to worry anymore. I think about that quote a lot, sometimes it’s funny and I feel assy and rebellious for not killing myself. And sometimes I think about it in a very woe is me way. Life is about perspective. And I’m having a pretty great time recently, in nature enjoying wild flowers and going on morning walks by the creek. I’m also spiraling into debt kinda. I don’t really care about that. Because I’m confident I can get rich, if I’m being honest.

Anyways, I was just gonna post this weird blurb and leave it at that but it’s kinda dark and clearly I need to do a gratitude list.

1. Im grateful that one of my nyc party friends texted me to get a helmet. She was pretty much scolding me, and I immediately felt kind of bad about the fact that I am an influencer promoting helmetless bike riding with my thirst traps. So I will post a helmet thirst trap, once I get a helmet. I’m grateful that my friend intervened before I got a TBI, which would be a public embarrassment, all things considered. I’m also grateful that my party era did score me some pretty great friends, even though they mostly exist in the background, since I don’t life in nyc anymore, and I also don’t party

2. I’m glad my brother calls me/ picks up my calls lately. Even if it’s just to vent about my mom, and even if I have to keep quiet when he explains a dynamic that is much less bad than the one I’m familiar with, and he clearly doesn’t play the codependency game like I do, and I’m jealous

3. I’m grateful for my friends and I’m grateful for the trip to Portugal. I’m grateful that I’m turning a blind eye to my debt so I can enjoy my life freely, because you could die in a tragic accident tomorrow and that would suck if u restricted yourself your whole life to save money, which comes and goes pretty unexpectedly half the time

4. I’m grateful I have a loose filter, so I can say the truth, but also think and filter my words for a moment so I don’t hurt anyone beyond repair. Even though technically people have hurt me beyond repair, I’ve been bullied before, and I did repair myself, so I think that’s a myth, or I just have grit.

5. I’m grateful I don’t have a car even though it’s fucking annoying that it takes an entire day to get anywhere or do anything. I’m grateful it has made me tan and fit

6. I’m grateful I live far from people I know well, so I can fuck around by myself and get comfortable with being alone. I’m grateful that I can recognize I’m alone, not lonely. I’m grateful most people pick up the phone when I call them out of the blue.

7. I’m grateful I don’t have to promote my writing if I don’t want to, especially if I’m writing weird depressing crap like this. I’m grateful I still feel inclined to publish it.

8. I’m grateful for the elderly people who scoff at me when I type my substacks and walk without looking up, so I can get annoyed in my head and think: fuck off, I’m grateful when I have something Actual to be annoyed about, instead of just being annoyed for no reason, which is how I’ve been waking up lately. Though I think it’s my period. My PMS has been getting really bad, and luckily Dixie Damilio was public about her PMDD struggles, so I can reference that and just think: ok, me too

9. I’m grateful for the other people who have a loose filter, so I have something to grasp onto when I feel really isolated and weird in my own struggles

10. I’m grateful I can confide in my best friend about my eating disorder, and we can laugh about it and pretend like it’s not a big deal, because that makes it true: it’s not a big deal, I’m bigger than this, this is a choice I make, and obviously it’s a choice that makes me feel bad, even though it makes me feel in control

11. I’m grateful I have a handful of other coping mechanisms that make me feel in control, that are helping me ease out of my eating disorder

12. I’m grateful that I moved to Colorado to work on myself, and that I actually am working on myself

13. I’m grateful for the active lifestyle here, and how many people go outside

14. I’m grateful for libraries and for learning and for curiosity and the freedom to ponder. I was listening to a podcast the other day that told me Socrates was killed for pondering against the church. I don’t know why I didn’t remember that. I was supposed to be a philosophy double major, but my manic episodes in college made it impossible for me to earn those credits and graduate on time. So I am only a philosophy minor. I’m not sure that is a valid excuse for not knowing the story of Socrates, but then again, I don’t remember most of the things I learned in school. I started drinking every weekend at a young age. Not sure I can blame that either, but it’s a contributing factor, for sure.

15. I’m grateful I don’t take myself to seriously, and I can admit when I’m a bit of a dummy. I’m grateful I don’t feel the need to prove myself to anyone.

16. I’m grateful my mood will improve as my period goes away, and I can look back on this disturbing two weeks of bad mood and think: that was not me, and I don’t relate to her

17. I’m grateful I can be someone to help another person online, even if it makes Me look bad. Again, I’m grateful I don’t really care that I sometimes look bad.

Anyways

I really do hope I lift out of this shit mood. I think publishing this will help, because then I’ll feel desperate to feel better, and I’ll work on it extra hard so I can get to a place where I can come back and write how great I feel. If only not to scare the internet.

Weird coping mechanism, but it has worked before.

I asked my friend to validate my content style and lack of growth the other day. I wanted her to tell me: keep doing what you’re doing, it’s fine if you see no growth at all, you’re doing something intentional, you’re building a narrative, it’s a longitudinal study and you’re having fun, living life, keep it up. (She is a fellow creator who is much more successful than me as far as content creators go. We started at the same time and she has 5X the followers I do, way more virality and engagement, makes more money, etc). She asked me to hop on the phone to share some ideas and I said I was too tired (I really was), so she texted me a legit content plan. It would work, too. One month of intentional planned videos about sobriety and bipolar and some relatable 20-something content (those usually go viral for me) and one month off to post what I want. Talking videos. More general approach to Substack with more click baity titles (not titles like: I’m grateful for my cool new bike). More focus on one thing, not all of the apps, the drawing the painting, the videos, the writing, and Some other suggestions I don’t remember, because I checked out as soon as she told me I’d have to try harder. I want to keep doing what I’m doing. I have a lot of faith in what I’m doing. I am open to constructive criticism, but I also am trying to get better and trusting myself, and I want to get more confident paving my own way.

I don’t really want to be just like any other #influencer

I have a lot of faith in why I’m doing it, not necessarily how I’m doing it. But people seem to like me, I still get stopped on the street some times (which my family loves, and which still shocks my friends). I’m enjoying myself, I like how my real life feels separate from my content (so much so that I sometimes forget I have a platform). I don’t want to burn out. Some nepo connection of mine spoke to me last summer about the industry. He works at UTA. They werent offering me anything but counsel. He told me I’m too small, and to keep doing what I’m doing, and to be patient. Success doesn’t happen overnight.

For my friend it did. But I’m not my friend.

She’s doing great, and I do things differently.

I think there’s room for so many different types of great. I’m just inventing my type, because I want to be great in the way that is most easy and most natural for me. That is the best case scenario.

I’m grateful that I’m making an active effort to catch myself when I’m comparing myself to others, and I’m grateful that I’m working on seeing what I want in my life, by recognizing what I envy about someone else’s.

So I want to be successful, and I want to enjoy my life. I don’t mind trying hard. I did really well in school because I knew (somewhat intuitively) how much I needed to apply myself for different classes to get As. I tried just hard enough at sports and extracurriculars to be average: get average parts in plays, average amount of playing time in sports games, nothing embarrassing, but nothing that would wow you either.

I felt confident in my social status my whole life, I got bullied some and I got years of extra-appreciation from peers and boys and life-in-general, where everything feels kinder and things glow a little bit. I also have shitty periods, that hypothetically are supposed to balance the good periods, but I’d really rather go without ever feeling bad. I think I’d appreciate the good Times just as much, even without any bad times to contrast. In fact, I think I’ve had enough bad times to balance a life full of only goodness, starting now.

So I don’t want to change anything about my content, because I intuitively Believe in what I’m doing, and it’s still fun and easy, and somewhat rewarding (when people tell me that I’ve helped them out, or that they absolutely unconditionally love me for being me). I know im being a helpful person by exploiting some of the worst diagnosis/eras of my life (bipolar, alcoholism). I feel passionate about mental health reform. And I think god will see what a Good Samaritan I’ve been, and how noble my long term goals are, and he will conspire with the universe to give me enough money to one day see some personal dreams to fruition (the inpatient reform one, specifically, where I get to open my own chop shop lobotomy house. Just Kidding ).

So that’s the main reason why I believe I don’t need to change What I’m doing. All woowoo spirituality supports my belief, and all rational thinking and evidence says otherwise. So I think that if I pray enough, and do enough baby steps in my real life, I can kind of do influencing the way I want to do it.

*Which is sharing my stream of consciousness on my story, reviewing things vaguely and at random, living out my chapters via art, writing, drawing, and performance in real time,

and leaving behind an archive of stories/thoughts/ photos/ videos/ documentation behind for anyone who wants to take a similar path as me.

Or whoever wants to feel better about their ups and downs (in the case where I am indefinitely 🆙, and am a perfect and well-documented example, thanks to the internet, and god and the universe).

I also do this just for whoever’s curious, for whatever reason. I like when my name is in other peoples mouths. I’ve always liked that. Preferably when they’re saying it adorned with glitter, bells, lights and praise, but it comes with the territory that people are gagging and wretching on it too. Which is fine.

I’m grateful that I’m so Buddha zen and so respectful of the balance….

So that’s kind of my approach to all of this. I felt the need to spell it out for some reason. I guess because I’m grateful that I believe in myself, even if the current situation tells me that I could believe someone else and probably wind up in a better position. I just believe I will wind up in the best position.

1. I’m grateful for my prayer, that god always gives me The best case scenario. It makes me feel better about all of the outcomes, whether I asked for it directly or not

2. I’m grateful for the delicious burger I had tonight, and the icecream, and that I got to enjoy a night in vail like a tourist, which feels super awesome

3. I’m grateful I did a day trip to Aspen this week. It feels cool to add boujee spots like Aspen to my travel resume. So I can whip it out when I feel inferior, to remind people: I’ve done things that give me a certain level of…….. prestige? I don’t know the word. I do rich shit, respect me.

4. I’m grateful for the goals list I wrote that was very abstract, because i was thinking: I want xyz, and then I realized most of my goals are things like: I want to feel comfortable, I want to be at ease, I want to be safe and seen and appreciated and respected and thought-after.

5. I’m grateful I powered through my anxiety all week, and that my good night tonight kind of helped

6. I’m actually grateful for my new friend out here, who is probably more the reason for my anxiety easing up. I’m grateful she likes to do things, and invites me to do them with her. I’m grateful she is easy and fun to spend time with and to talk to.

7. Im grateful that I like vail so much right now, that I came back and stuck with it and am able to compare my positive feels now to the homesick feels over the winter, to prove to myself that it’s good to take risks and see things through. Yay

8. I’m grateful I’m not dating right now, that I’m focusing on myself and developing real non-negotiable expectations (standards, I guess) instead of like: attention and sex

9. I’m grateful for people who like to eat, and I’m grateful for good food and interesting flavors

10. I’m grateful that I’m good at taking pictures. Or at least I think so. I’m grateful that I think I’m good at some things.

11. I’m grateful for my honesty

12. Im grateful that I now understand what people mean when they say I talk funny. Today my friend pointed it out, and she’s a newer friend, so she doesn’t know that everyone has always said this to me. I sometimes speak in riddles and tongues. I think it’s because I read a lot as a kid, and my dad used big corporate jargon with me.

13. I’m grateful for the corporate resume I can toss out when talking to strangers, so I can assure them I’m credible and smart and worthy of respect, that I’m driven and intentional with my choice in no longer working corporate, that I’m actually very smart no matter what I do!

14. I’m grateful for my friends who let me text them absurd things like “I’m anxious and/or sui” out of the blue, and they tell me the things I should be grateful for, or send me a bible verse or comfort me with a nice phone call or an inspirational reality check. I’m grateful I know who will give me what. I’m grateful for my friends. Period. and I’m grateful for their patience.

15. I’m grateful I’ve cherry picked the best friendships to keep with me. I’m grateful for the ex friendships that taught me things.

16. I’m grateful I can look back on things-gone-sour and recall the good memories instead of having a black-cloud attitude that my whole life has been awful, just because some things have ended badly. I think that’s maturity, so I’m grateful for aging.

17. I’m grateful for the free music tonight, the beautiful sunset, the friendly people who kept coming up and petting the dogs we were with

18. I’m grateful my outfit today was better than my outfit to the rodeo yesterday, which I hated

19. I’m glad two people complimented my painting when I made a crash out ig story series, freaking out about how much I despise my paintings, and how much I hate painting.

20. I’m grateful for painting. I’m grateful that I want to be better, that I paint often

21. I’m grateful that I’m better at drawing than I am at painting

22. I’m grateful for the people who want to commission my art

23. I’m grateful that I found a way to make money online that doesn’t involve being an infomercial or forcing people to pay for my writing

24. I’m grateful that I have a goal to publish my writing, continually, for the rest of my lfie, hopefully starting sooner than later. One, because I think that would make for an amazing life, and two, I would not feel guilty making money that way

25. I’m grateful for my cool website and I’m grateful I was able to make it myself. I’m grateful for my long term goal to gamify / world build around the website

26. I’m grateful I have long term goals, even if I’m not working towards all of them every day, it feels good to have goals

27. I’m grateful for my platform, I’m grateful I started posting a few years ago and I’m grateful I’m not too hard on myself with it

28. I’m grateful I quit my corporate job and I’m grateful for what I’m doing now. I’m grateful I’m open minded and that I’m resilient

29. I’m grateful I have earned the ability to call myself resilient, because I’ve been through objectively hard things (this may be the main good-part of hard-things. And bonus: it’s bragging, not martyring)

30. I’m grateful for the sky, I’m grateful for my kindle, I’m grateful for stories and for good conversation and for getting to know people better and liking them even more when you do

31. I’m grateful I’m learning about what kind of lifestyles I like living most, by choosing to go out of my way and live varied lifestyles (city, beach, mountains, suburbs)

32. I’m grateful I’m learning about what kind of places I like to be, I’m grateful I’m sober and present enough to really know how I feel

33. I’m grateful for my cool new vintage trek commuter bike that is an awesome color way. I’m grateful for all the compliments I get on it. I’m grateful that someone pointed out it’s very Jules from euphoria coded, because I loved season one of euphoria

34. I’m glad my life has so many seasons so far, and that it will continue to have more seasons that must be cooler otherwise I’d get really bored, because I keep raising the bar for myself. I’m grateful I have fun doing this. I’m grateful I like life most of the time lately.

35. I’m grateful for the wealth manifestation book I keep listening to, happy pocket full of money. I’m grateful it helps me not tweak out some days, and that it makes me feel serendipitous and safe

36. I’m grateful that I’m safe

37. I’m grateful for wildflowers in Colorado, for all of the cool hikes I’ve been doing, for all of the lakes and streams and creeks and how beautiful the geography of america is.

38. I am grateful that I’m doing a roadtrip in Portugal with my best friend in the entire world before my other best friends wedding! Yay

39. I am grateful I am healthy and that I am breathing clean air and that I have things to look forward to and nothing real to fear.

40. I am grateful that people think nice things about me. I am grateful that I haven’t had people reporting back the bad things others say about me, because I stopped being friends with the types of people who like doing that

41. I’m grateful for my growth and I’m grateful that I lean in and force it to continue, even if it’s hard

42. I’m grateful I’ve been reading a lot of other people’s substacks lately, as well as books, it feels good to absorb writing and to learn

43. I’m grateful for my curiosity, I’m grateful rude teachers and friends never beat that quality out of me (they tried)

44. I’m grateful I’ve gotten better looking with age, I’m grateful I take good care of my hygiene and my health and my body and my face and hair and nails etc. I’m grateful these things are natural habits for me when I’m feeling good, and I’m grateful I have routines in place for when I’m feeling bad.

45. I am grateful for days when I love my outfits and for days when I love myself and my life

46. I am grateful today turned into a day where I love myself and I love my life

As for sharing it online, I am just an attention whore. Separate issue.

Gratitude:

1. I am grateful that I set up and posted my commissions page for my drawings.

2. I am grateful for my cool website. I am grateful that I’m decent at graphic design, and I’m grateful that my personal-branding and aesthetics are kind of unfolding in a way that is natural for me to create, and nice for me to look at.

3. I am grateful that I have multiple goals that sit in buckets all around the path im walking on. It can feel overwhelmingly ADHD, to have multiple goals, and I’m grateful that I can call on the word “multi-hyphenate” to calm myself down while I bop from half-baked idea to half-baked idea. I am grateful that my brain works like this, and I am grateful that I am learning how to cope from the anxiety that comes from this kind of brain. I am grateful that my coping skills are improving.

4. I am grateful that I can read listicles about how-to-live-a-good-life and that I can feel confident I am living my life in a directionally-good way (now). I am grateful that I did such a 180 from the time I felt anxious and self-loathing and life-hating and totally-on-the-wrong-path. I am grateful I can give myself credit for the 180. I am grateful that I am kind-of gritty, honestly.

5. I am grateful that I am not competitive. I played corn hole with my extremely competitive 2nd cousins, while staying at my 3rd cousins house, for my great aunts birthday. I liked making my cousin happy when I sometimes got the bag in, because he was running a tight ship and screaming at his sister. It was funny, but he was serious (because he is competitive). I am grateful that no activity on the planet could bring out that kind of behavior in me. I am grateful that I don’t see my cousins very often. I am grateful only because my cousins are not my kind of people. I used to really badly want lots and lots of cousins, but only because I imagined a big family where everyone was cool and beautiful and helping each other out all of the time. I am grateful that my Irish-catholic town does have big-cousin-heavy families like that, so I can see that it is actually possible (to have a big-cool family, if I ever decided I really wanted that. I am grateful that I am not super family/baby focused right now. I am grateful that I have other things to focus on.

6. I am grateful that I do nice things for other people sometimes, and im grateful that I can get through hard times, and smile through awkward experiences, and I’m grateful that I’m not a people pleaser really at all, and I mostly care about pleasing myself. I am grateful I know all of this, so I can continue to be very selective with who I choose to make happy, and how, and why. I don’t want people to count on me to make them happy. I’m fine if they’re surprised by it, actually.

7. I’m grateful that I am so fit right now. Really, I’m in great shape, and I’m not calorie counting or anything. I am grateful for the little muscles forming in places I’ve never seen muscles on myself. I’m grateful that these good-body-changes are because I’m hiking and biking, not because I’m going to workout classes and starving myself. I am grateful that I do want to go to workout classes when I get to LA, only because they made me feel cute and important when I did them with my bestie in LA last summer (I visited for a month, she had me download a class-pass trial).

   1. I told my mom about my toned up bod, in the excited way that you tell your fat-phobic mother that you’re in shape. I told her it’s au natural body-response to the activities that I’m enjoying doing, and she skimmed over the part where I have enjoyable activities in my life and asked if I was doing crunches too. I asked her if she was doing crunches, to which I knew the answer was no. Her preferred method of weight-maitenence is cigarettes and one meal a day. So it’s safe to say That make me pissed off, and I’m grateful that I allow myself to get pissed off at annoying things my mom does, instead of bottling it up and pretending that she’s perfect. Plus, I stared at my stomach in the mirror when I got home, and I noticed that I look more toned now than I ever did in a crunches-era. So thats that, I’m grateful I debunked crunches. I’m grateful when I do the right thing, and the right thing is Not what my mom told me to do

8. I’m grateful when I’m patient, and when I bite my tongue. I’m grateful that I have improved both of these habits over the years.

9. I am grateful when people I have just met call me chill or mellow or laid back, because I always wanted to be those adjectives when I was growing up, and I knew my adjectives were more like: loud, annoying, chaotic and spastic. I still get to keep the adjective quirky, and fun, according to friends who have known me forever. I am glad that I can attribute this improvement/balance/grounded-self to sobriety, so that I can keep being sober, and keep improving grounding/balancing my personality. Especially because I plan to meet many more people, and I want everyone to think highly of me. I am not grateful that I want everyone to think highly of me, because that is impossible. I am grateful I can say when something is unhealthy and impossible, even if it’s something that I actively do. I am grateful for my self-awareness.

10. I’m grateful I had a heart to heart with my dad, more than the rambling boardwalk honesty-dumps we usually have, but a real heart to heart where I got to say: I feel like you love me, but that you don’t really like me, and he got to cry because the thought of that made me want to cry, too. And I’m grateful he does like me, even though it was awkward listening to him call me funny and cool and all of the things you hope your dad thinks you are. I am, after all, a daddys girl, and It was hard to recently realize he is human and not a perfectly-written hero-type. I am glad my heart-to-heart resulted in more phone calls, even though he isn’t really that fun to talk to over the phone. I prefer our bike rides, and our walks. I am grateful that my dad always makes time to bike ride and walk with me, and seems like he enjoys it. I’m grateful for my relationship with my dad

11. I am grateful that I’m not dating right now

12. I am grateful for all of the focus and attention and effort I get to put into myself and building the kind of life I want/like to live, or to find out/refine my idea of what kind of life I want/like living.

13. I’m grateful for the flip side of the coin, or the two things true at once, because me being the only friend on my specific chapter felt really bad for awhile, and now it feels empowering, and I am grateful that I’m independent and that I’m making self-oriented type choices.

14. I am grateful for the way I look, which I wasn’t always grateful for.

15. I am grateful that I worked up the confidence to not wear makeup all of the time, and that I sometimes feel more confident without makeup.

16. I am grateful for praying and for seeing my prayers answered. I am grateful for serendipity and the chill down my spine that sometimes makes me smile out of no where

17. I am grateful that I am my own person, and that I dont feel compelled to copy other people, and that I stay in my lane and do my thing my way, because I really do believe that is how I will build everything I want to build, in my life, in my career, etc. (ETC accounts for the other ways that this will hopefully improve my life)

18. I am grateful when people tell me I’ve helped them through something hard, or that I’ve inspired them

19. I am grateful I got my first art commission, even though I drew it 10000 times and I still made little mistakes and wasn’t entirely proud of it, which I shouldn’t say, but I guess this feeling will help me lock in and improve (quickly) (because I am getting more commissions, which I am also grateful for)

    

20. I am grateful I got posters in Italy and wall-decor in Santa Fe, and I’m grateful everything looks good together, and that my room looks more homey

21. I am grateful I went horseback riding with a friend, and that said-friend wants to do many more fun and interesting Colorado-type activities. I am grateful that I get to fill up my limited time here with lots of fun and unique things.

22. I am grateful that I am going to Aspen this week with another friend, because I always wanted to go to Aspen in the summer ever since I saw other people doing it, via instagram.

23. I am grateful there is live-music in Vail on Tuesdays, and I’m grateful I went, and that I’ll continue to go.

24. I’m grateful that my roommate and that my friends have all invited me to go to concerts in/around Denver this summer, even though I probably won’t go (I am not much of a concert-person, ever since covid. I used to loveee blacking out at concerts in highschool)

25. I am grateful that my parents do believe I would write a good book,

    1. even though my mom read my blog post for the first time by the encouragement of my dad, and she had a bunch of questions and corrections and laughed as if she didn’t know I was funny and exclaimed as if she didn’t know I was smart, and didn’t credit me for making points on purpose, or using double entendres. That pissed me off bad, and the whole toxic dynamic really pops out when I get hurt or offended. It makes me so mad that I am not allowed to have unlikable qualities, but my mom has so many. I am grateful I guess, that I am more emotionally intelligent, thanks to this. I’m grateful I recognize the dynamic is unfavorable, so I never willingly enter a manipulative/emotionally painful relationship dynamic like this in the future.

26. I am grateful that my hometown is so nice to return to. I am grateful I got to spend so much time there, enough time to get sick of it.

27. I am grateful that my parents are adding coffered ceilings to the dining room. It looks really nice, and it makes me think about how proud I am of the aesthetics of my home, and the aesthetics of my family, even if neither are perfect or exactly what I would choose for myself.

28. I am grateful I’m growing

29. I am grateful that I write and express myself and post online despite not being perfect, and being so obviously out of touch

30. I am grateful that I don’t watch much TV, and I am grateful that I have enough of an interest in culture that I can lock into the must-see type movies and shows, if only for the sake of conversation

31. I am grateful that I am a self-starter type

32. I am grateful that I am moving to LA to seek mentorship and information, I'm grateful that I am going in with an openness and curiosity in the social-type way, to see what I can learn about how to recharge my social battery, mostly, but also about the industry

33. I am grateful for month to month leases

34. I am grateful for Costco, for frozen food, for fruits and vegetables

35. I am grateful for sardines, I am grateful for hot sauce

36. I am grateful for collagen, I am grateful for compliments on my skin, and my hair

37. I am grateful my hair is long again

38. I am grateful my brother is talking to me again, since he stopped because he thought I was embarrassing, and now he thinks I maybe know a thing or two about what’s best for myself, and what may be good in general, despite my mistakes and my flaws and my very visible run-ins with insanity

39. I am grateful that some people find insanity interesting

40. I am grateful to be born on the cusp of mental-health reform, and I am grateful for my long-term goals to participate/fund/create around that sort of improved-mental-health-inpatient concept I reference from time to time

41. I am grateful for my hard experiences for making me better, I am grateful for my good experiences for making me happy, inspired….

42. I am grateful for my friendships, I am grateful for laughter. I am grateful that I’ve always had deep and quality friendships, even if they went rotten and expired.

43. I am grateful my friends have always been so beautiful, I love beautiful things.

44. I am grateful for beautiful things

45. I am grateful for interesting architecture, thoughtful design

46. I am grateful for vail, it is very nice actually, now that I am not panicked and homesick and uncomfortable and afraid

47. I am grateful for the new book about empires throughout history that I just started, that doesn’t feel too boring or awful to read yet, I am grateful to be learning about things I’m curious about

48. I am grateful for my curiosity

49. I am grateful I have a lot of good qualities, and I’m grateful I have patient people who love me despite my bad qualities

50. I am grateful for the way that I write, because it feels easy and because people say they like it. I am grateful that I also sometimes like it. I am grateful that I want to pursue writing, and that I actually do it often

51. I am grateful that my best friend and I planned a roadtrip through Portugal, before our other best friends wedding

52. I am grateful for the ways I’ve been helpful with this wedding and in this friendship, and that my friend has given me grace for all the ways I haven’t been helpful or thoughtful much at all

53. I am grateful that I can cut friends out of my life and not look back. I am grateful that I have a good judgement of character, and good discernment, so I don’t really feel a loss from this sort of thing. In fact, I’m grateful that I feel so many improvements, from this sort of thing.

54. I am grateful I am me, I am grateful for quitting corporate and following my instincts and becoming more myself, happier with life, happier to be living, excited to be alive

55. I am grateful I went to Villanova

56. I am grateful for my brain and my perspective, I am grateful that I am willing to grow and to change my mind, I am grateful that I add layers to my experience being alive, weaving my interests into things and deepening and expanding my experiences beyond the 5-senses in the moment

57. I am grateful I like healthy food, and that I am not a picky eater, and that I know what good food is in multiple senses of the word.

58. I am grateful for my privilege, for my parents work-ethic and cultural mobility and the safety net this provides for me. I am grateful that I am aware of this. I am grateful that the internet showed me a mirror: that I am privileged and that I do come from money. I honestly didn’t really see that before, and I especially didn’t think so when I was estranged from my family for a bit (read: cut off entirely, emotionally, physically, financially, for really no good reason, other than mommy issues, honestly. Honest to god! I even got sober, and no one in my family is. I really thought I was broke, and feeling broke made it much easier to be okay feeling like a frog in boiling water, at home, in my kinda-toxic family dynamic).

59. I am grateful that I am not super affected by my kinda-toxic family dynamic. Like I was super affected, and now I’m only kind of affected. I’m glad the way wool was/is being pulled with that.

60. I’m glad I didn't ever kill myself, or really try to. I’m glad I don’t really want to anymore, unless the weird coping mechanism seeps in and I remind myself that I actually want to live

61. I am grateful for my taste, and I am grateful that I’m so believing of the fact that my personal finances will one day catch up with said taste.

62. I am grateful for my values and my priorities

63. I am grateful for my current proximity to the outdoors. I am grateful for wildflowers. I am grateful for how story-book nature can look. I am grateful for hiking often, and beautiful vistas, and alpine lakes. I am grateful that I am really starting to appreciate Colorado more than I did before, and for good reasons, not phony twisted-lie type reasons.

64. I am grateful that I am alone a lot, I am grateful that I have a few friends here. I am grateful for the ways I spend my time, I am grateful for my art, and I am grateful for art supplies.

65. I am grateful that I am definitely gonna mog my ex-friend who was a huge bitch to me next time I see her. I am grateful that I will be classy about it.

66. I am grateful that I have a vivid imagination, that I play pretend in my head, that I can entertain myself. I am grateful that I want to express my imagination in my career, I’m grateful for the big and small ideas, I’m grateful that I’m trying.

67. I am grateful for the podcasts I found a few months back, I’m grateful I made (and downloaded) a Spotify playlist for them, and I’m grateful I’ve been listening to them during my solo-hikes. I am grateful for knowledge and for information, and for how easy it is to access it. I am grateful for google maps and podcasts, I am grateful for apps and the internet and data and wifi. I am grateful for social media. I am grateful for my phone. I am grateful for the last decade and the next one. I am grateful for history.

68. I am grateful I am grateful

I am very grateful that I figured out how to plan a great birthday for myself.

I’m grateful for a lot of things, actually, and I’m at a really pleasant point in my life right now, after last years hellish summer. It actually had great range, that summer— I spent my 10 days in Paris following a wedding, and my 27th birthday fell in that 10 day window. I was suicidal for the 5 months prior, and during, but I still had room in my heart for Paris. I came home and swiftly descended into madness, which was as haunting as it sounds. I wound up in a psych ward by mid July. I really thought I was over the psych ward pipeline since committing my life to Lithium (a bipolar drug that gives me 0 side affects, other than effectively subduing mania). Only I had been accidentally abusing my new beta blocker prescription, and apparently people with a propensity for mania are Not supposed to do that. So I had an interesting mixed episode. A spiral into psychosis, if you will, riding my Beach cruiser around my hometown and Dissociating very far from reality.

I tangled myself into believing I was a time traveler, and that I had solved the economy. I was also an interdimensional prophet, and the devil/the interdimensional government/the elites on earth were coming to sabotage my plan to save humanity. I also had developed the belief that my time traveler husband was coming to rescue me from this awful period in my life, and from the people that were after me.

So I I felt very much like an intergalactic princess last summer. And it was all very playful, except for the fact that I was completely dead-ass about all of it. And I still think the time traveler husband thing is really romantic, actually. It just sucks that he never arrived. I like to imagine he has rerouted, and will appear in my real-reality at some point.

I’ve come a long way since then. In my head, and in real life. I made my big move to Colorado, I have 10 year plans, and I even feel like I could start making steps towards 1 and 2 and 3 year plans. Like, I plan to sublease in LA for the winter, I am thinking about a grad-school plan, like studying art history. I want to publish something, even if it’s a coffee table book or a children’s book. I feel like I have options, now, to live a really interesting, fulfilling life. I still need to do a few things about it, but the road is becoming more clear. I’m grateful for that.

And I’m grateful that I actually want to live lately. I’ve been suicidal on and off throughout my life, whether or not I have something to be grateful for. At some point in my childhood I noticed that if you pay attention to really sad things you can make yourself more sad, and then you can believe it’s True: the world is terribly sad and nobody loves you. Melodrama had become a comfortable place for me around the same time kids started getting too comfortable teasing me in school. Using this special tactic, it felt empowering to get myself sad, and I liked summoning the tears to prick at the back of my eyes. But it bit me in the ass, because the habit of self loathing and seeing the world like this was very hard to kick.

Self loathing is still a form of self obsession. It just took me 28 years to recognize it’s more beneficial for me to focus on the things that would make me obsessed with myself (in a good way) than the things that make me hate myself.

So I think writing gratitude lists are a helpful tool in opposite-actioning and working to achieve a better outlook on life. In case you didn’t know why I do this. it kind of starts to become second nature, when you start to spiral out, to reach out and do a grat list. It also feels really good to make one as inventory when you’re feeling good, too.

Here’s mine right now:

1. Im grateful that American ballet theatre’s swan lake opened on the day of my birthday this year. They performed at Lincoln center, and I went to the opening matinee. I wanted to see the ballet on my birthday a few years back, and Onegin was the one playing. I didn’t care about seeing onegin, because I wanted to see swan lake, but I still liked the plan. The friends who I floated the idea with didn’t care about the ballet to begin with. They told me it was an old lady birthday and to figure out something actually cool. So It felt very serendipitous this year, for this plan to lay itself out so neatly like this. It was gratifying that I felt confident enough to go by myself. And that I actually planned it that way, and that I am now the type of person who seeks out a nice time by myself. It feels good not having anyone to yuck your yum. I’m grateful that I see solitude this way, after years of being entirely codependent with my friends. I’m so sigma.

2. I’m glad I dressed up for my birthday and wore the cool funky heels I’ve been eyeing up in my mom’s closet, even though I have a hard time locking in and wearing heels. I’d like to wear them more often, they definitely make my legs look more elegant (unfortunate truth).

3. I’m grateful that I’m finally comfortable living in my body. I fear my awkward phase lasted longer than it’s supposed to, and my arms and legs never felt comfortably like my own. One of the things that makes me believe I am mis-diagnosed as not-autistic is that I had to lock in my junior year of college and hyper-focus on how other girls were standing. I studied countless stances before I chose what my resting stance would be. Before that, I never knew what to do with my legs or my feet.

4. I’m glad I have gotten into the practice of imbibing things with meaning. Like manifestations on my birthday. Like: dressing up extra nice on my birthday, because life is short, and I own nice clothes and I don’t know how or when to wear them, and the birthday is a great place to start. Like, if I can wear my nicest clothing on my birthday, I can learn to wear the rest of my stuff on regular days. And then I’ll wake up one day as a very stylish and comfortable person. I’m practicing. The same thing goes with eating nice meals, and staying in nice hotels. First, it’s a birthday manifestation, and ripping off the bandaid of feeling out of place, when you’re somewhere new for the first time. Then it becomes something you’re used to, and you start seeking out nice hotels, and you have a baseline understanding of what sets a nice stay apart. I am comfortable dining in nice restaurants. I want to live a life where I stay in very beautiful and luxurious hotels. Which is why I booked a stay at the plaza on my birthday- eve this year.

5. I’m glad I laid a handful of kind-of-toxic friendships to rest. I’m glad I said something to a few of the toxic friends who didn’t realize I got wind that they’re kind-of mean about me behind my back, even if it’s only because they have a propensity to gossip and speculate negatively on all of their friends out of boredom, and they’ve been this way since I first met them. I’m grateful that I’ve adjusted and improved my standard for friendship.

6. I’m grateful that I had a reframe on titles with my therapist a few years back. I said I felt weird that I called so many people my “good friend” and they probably didn’t say the same about me. We talked about the difference between a friend, and someone you know, and someone you spend time with, and that was very helpful for me. Like: we spend time together, and you’re okay, but you are not a close friend. You’re just a nice person I know. It made me feel more important to have the reframe to discern this. And it empowered me to shell away the dead skin friendships that I was holding on to for the sake of numbers.

7. I’m grateful that I have cleared out and created open space in my life for future friendships and opportunities. I like imagining going to grad school overseas and making a quirky and interesting friend group who I can travel with and learn from and truly enjoy the company of. I don’t have many single friends, and it feels like nobody has time or interest in living the kind of life I imagine myself to live. No judgement, but I’d like to have friends who are on the same page as me in this way. (Like: not settling down and getting married and living in the NYC suburbs and starting a family. It’s a nice and safe choice, but not for me at this moment. Maybe later.)

8. I’m grateful I’ve gotten so comfortable doing things solo. It opens a lot more doors when there’s just one person walking through, and that person is happy and complete on their own. I like being this kind of person, and I like doing things easily, as I please.

9. I’m grateful that I had the stockpile of credit card points that afforded me the plaza hotel stay on my birthday. I’m grateful I got overpriced room service for the sake of the experience, and hung out in the beautiful tub for 5 hours on my birthday-eve, and woke up in my beautiful hotel room. I’m grateful I curated a quick and effective main character in a rom com playlist on Spotify to set the tone. I love being cinematic. It makes me recognize that I am Infact the director and producer of my own life. That’s empowering. And so is the self love playlist, when you’re alone on your birthday eve in a fancy and iconique New York City hotel. I drew and journaled in the tub, and I really felt like That Bitch, aside from my pruned up feet. Also, the bubbles eventually dissapated, and I couldn’t seem to get them huge again, and I had to get out of the lukewarm tub because I had begun to feel rather absurd. 5 hours is a long time to spend in a tub, no matter how beautiful the tile is or how great the playlist is.

10. I’m grateful I was able to draw on my birthday, and I’m grateful I was able to draw on stationary that boasts The Plaza Hotel. It feels like a ~moment~ for me, if I’m being honest about my choice to sometimes do things that are a bit outside myself, for a larger and more specific purpose. I drew birthday self portraits in my sketchbook last year while my best friend and I picnicked on pavlova and pastries in the park (I realized halfway through this sentence that I was using a literary device, and the ease at which this sentence wrote itself outweighed how Much I did not want to be using it). We were looking at the Eiffel Tower, and I felt particularly special when we set ourselves up there, on the morning of my birthday. I felt like an It-girl, and I was dressed like my idea of one, and I wanted to kiss myself with smug delight. This is when I knew my ritualistic birthday planning had started to trickle into my everyday life. Like: my life was more often beautiful and perfectly planned than not, and I more often felt like an it-girl than I felt the previously familiar self loathing suicidal hatred. That was my original goal, anyway. And it didn’t even matter that I couldn’t post it all because my Instagram was suspended, I really loved soaking up my smugness and documenting all of it for my camera role archive. I think I said out loud that I wanted to do that sort of thing every year. This is considering the smug and self indulgent factor, and because I look forward to one day sifting through all of my birthday artwork and remembering the context in which I made it. This something I’d suggest for anyone who doesn’t know how to make a birthday special. It’s especially cool to have an iconic setting to reference. Maybe I’m setting the bar too high for myself, because I specifically said in front of the Eiffel Tower that I’d be happy to spend my future birthdays in any park, drawing and journaling and eating a special birthday picnic. I remember being kind of reluctant to leave our spot in the park on that day. We had plans to hit the petite palais and the outsider art museum in montremart, which I was excited to do. I’m glad we did make the effort to do those things, but I was really enjoying myself.

11. I’m grateful my friends are and have always been willing to participate in my birthday celebration, regardless of what it looks like.

12. I’m grateful that I got sober at 25, and that I’ve grown more and more present in my life and in learning about myself. I’m grateful that things continue to unfold in the direction of self discovery and self indulgence.

13. Going back to the museums in Paris thing: we wound up seeing a haute couture exhibit at the petite palais, and similar to the swan lake thing, it felt very serendipitous. The outsider art museum felt like a nod to my own budding interest as a self-taught artist, and a nod to my general appreciation of the absurd. My general boredom and dis-ease with life (before and immediately following sobriety) has lended itself into an interest in fashion, expression, culture and history (I think I can categorize this as a general interest in art history). I’m grateful for that interest, and that it’s given me more of a general lust for life. When planning anything, I can call on that interest and from there, I can create a pretty inspired itinerary. It’s a building block thing, and I’m grateful that my birthday acts as a measurement for this growing interest. When I first started planning big-deal birthdays in my earlier 20s, the research that went into coordinating worthwhile trips was guided by my interest in going to beautiful and culturally meaningful places.

14. To further this point I’m making, I’ll say I’m grateful that my friends have entertained my sometimes extravegent and expensive planning. I celebrated my 24th birthday in Newport, Rhode Island with a dinner on the top floor of the Clarke Cooke House. The pink candy-stripe-canopy-ceiling-room required men to wear jackets, and I might be embellishing, but the plates may have been $200 a head. At the time, I had no regard for money. I had saved up $20,000 waitressing post grad, and I was equally successful at blowing those savings on things like this. I will say— I am very grateful for this experience. It felt like an act of manifesting a more beautiful life for myself.

15. I am grateful that I learned how to plan a great trip by obsessing over my birthday trips. Newport was the kick-off for honing in that talent. I kind of overpacked my birthday weekend with a sailboat tour, a boat race, a polo match, dinners and night life. Candidly, I was drunk the whole weekend, but I did much of my appreciation and learning online, with 40+ tabs open and multiple rabbit holes about the history of the Vanderbilt mansion, etc. the following year, I was able to recognize that I truly just wanted a beautiful bender for my birthday. Which is why I chose to ring in my 25th year halfway through a bender in Montauk, surrounded by my most committed party friends, and a few of my real, truefriends, who let me be a proper alcoholic without intervention. I kind of intervened myself though, weeping to My parents upon my return home, that I absolutely did not have my shit together the way a 25 year old should. I didn’t change anything following that meltdown, but it was good that I acknowledged that I maybe was sabotaging myself by prioritizing partying over literally everything else.

16. I’m grateful for nods from the universe, that I’m doing right by myself. I see a lot of angel numbers, and I have a lot of serendipty. Like it also felt very serendipitous that there was a sailboat race happening on the day of my birthday in Newport that year. (the sailors race annually, to Bermuda). I am grateful we scored a picteresuqe spot on the chandler hotel lawn, where I efficiently nursed my signature day-of-birthday hangover by double fisting a dirty Shirley and a Bloody Mary.

17. I’m grateful the signature birthday hangover more quickly lended itself to sobriety than a real tradition. I’m not sure why I always went so hard the day before my birthday, full well knowing I had a few days of activities and photo-ops ahead. It’s most likely because I’m an alcoholic. I’m grateful that I can name that what it is, and that I found the solution (not drinking at all).

18. I’m grateful that I do things sober and enjoy them more fully. I’m grateful that I don’t feel like I’m missing out or living a less full life by abstaining. I’m grateful that I am tolerant of other people drinking, or moreso that I don’t register the drinking much at all. Im grateful that I’ve been noticing improvement in my skill and style of drawing (I can’t draw hands with confidence, but I’ll get there). I’m grateful I have this little interest / hobby/ whatever you would call it, so that I can fill up my free time

19. Im grateful that I went to a free people movement store and realized the tops are only $30 and the shorts are $40, which falls into the realm of affordable workout wear that I will actually spend money on. I’ve been wearing noticeably outdated high school-workout clothes for years now. I rotate the same two pairs of pilled lulu lemon align leggings (one navy, one black) and it was getting embarrassing and ridiculous. I am currently on a walk in old Nike capris (now back in style, thank you Based god) and a new free people top. I look arguably stylish.

20. I’m grateful that Ive been home in New Jersey for the spring, while Colorado is in its shoulder season. I’m grateful home is so close to the city and the beach. I’m grateful that the typically bitchy and fickle June weather has been presenting like True Summer, so I can feel as though I’ve enjoyed a full season on the Jersey shore before I return to experience my first mountain summer. I’m grateful for both opportunities.

21. I’ve stayed on the east coast longer than what I originally intended, and I’ve been paying rent for an apartment I haven’t stepped foot in once over the past two months. I’m grateful that my end-of-season bonus and tax-refund has afforded me that luxury.

22. I’m grateful that I’ve been able to use my parents collagen while home, and that I’ve been able to eat for free, and use shower products for free, and be a total parasite mooch. I’m grateful that they encourage this.

23. I’m grateful that my family has a big comfy living room couch and I’m grateful that we all nest there with a movie on the TV post-dinner. The movies we watch consistently suck for some reason, which is fine, because I’m grateful to just be near my family, like an extrovert-energy vampire.

24. I’m grateful that I chose to rent the old great gatsby movie (With Robert Redford as Gatsby) while I stayed at the plaza on my birthday eve. Sometimes I do things because they seem fitting, and not exactly because I want to. This was one of those things, considering that I typically won’t lock in and watch a movie unless I’m in a movie theatre. So I played the movie to both set the mood, and to widen my cultural resume. it was filmed in a beautiful and interesting way, and the costumes were special, and I’m not really a movie person but i definitely appreciated this one. I felt good about myself for watching it. I did have to rewind a lot, because I kept getting distracted by other things.

25. I’m grateful that I’m single right now, and that I have such peace. I’ve been willfully celibate for 2 years now. I’m grateful that I’ve likely revirginized in that time. I’m grateful that the next guy I date will be someone that I actually like, because my standards have raised and defined during this time of solitude. I’m grateful that I can give him the generous gift of my virgin pinhole pussy, in return for his everlasting devotion. Because that is what it will take to get me to sleep with someone again.

26. It feels really empowering to be confident about/ unbothered by the lack of romance in my life. I’m grateful that I see it that way. Without the distraction of wondering about potential boyfriends and love stories, I’ve built my life up in other ways. I’m also grateful for that.

27. I’m grateful that I had a heart-to-heart with my dad on the beach, where I was able to confess that I have felt lately like he doesn’t really like me that much, while it’s clear that he loves me immensely. I am grateful that I know you can go through phases of disliking someone that you love, and that relationships withstand that kind of thing. The reason my dad dislikes me is because I have pretty harsh, negative, and judgmental out loud towards my family. I was under the impression that you’re allowed to do this to your blood relatives, in order to shield the people who aren’t related to you from your horrible truth. As it turns out, no one really wants to be subject to that kind of attitude. I’m grateful I became privy to the situation, and that I was able to address it with my dad. I know he felt bad that I clocked the tea, and I know he also probably felt grateful that I acknowledged I’m working on it. I’m confident that I am becoming a more likable, more positive person, thanks to all of my incessant navel gazing. I’m grateful that I can communicate with my family about all of this. And that I can communicate with the Internet about it, if only to resonate with somebody else who is equally self- obsessed, recovering from self-loathing and suicidality, and also working towards small improvements ( and ultimate perfection).

28. I’m grateful for my healthy habits, my healthy diet, my love of long walks.

29. I’m grateful for my music taste and for my playlists

30. I’m grateful for the kindle I bought myself, and for all the books I’ve bought on the Amazon account linked to my dad’s credit card. I’m grateful that he hasn’t Venmo requested me for this yet.

31. I’m grateful that I spent this birthday celebrating on one single day, instead of sprawling it out into a week. I’m grateful I honor myself each year with my birthdays, by doing something that reflects where I’m at if I look back at all of my birthdays, they really do forecast how my year will go. Which is why I think they deserve such meticulous planning. I will probably write about how I plan a perfect birthday for Me and publish that on my website. It’s tough to frame, though, because while my perfect birthday may be easily enjoyed by anyone, what makes a perfect birthday perfect, is making it totally custom to your interests. Like, customizing my birthday has allowed me to know myself, and to be most intentional with my time. And with where I go and what I do. It’s like a game to me.

32. I’m grateful that Plato confirms that my obsession with beautiful places and things is a noble pursuit. I’ve gotten really good at curating a beautiful day, or weekend, or trip. And it feels really great to know that it’s in philosophical alignment with What Is Good and True , and not just me being totally vain. I want my life to be as beautiful as possible. And by being obsessed with planning a beautiful and perfect birthday, and by letting that trickle into my everyday life, things have gotten arguably better (and more beautiful). I’m also grateful that I can recognize and name cognitive dissonance. Like the fact that two things can be true at once. I’m grateful that I’m super determined to create a habit of seeing things in the most positive light.

I think this was properly tangential and all-encompassing.

Happy June.

1. I’m grateful my dog doesn’t smell right now while he’s nuzzled up against me, because I do love when he nuzzles, I just liked it better when he was younger and less lumpy and smelled like a regular dog and not a dying one. My mom gave him a bath a few days ago, I’m grateful she is clean and does chores like that.

2. Im grateful for the heated blanket and the lazy rainy day today, especially because im watching the sopranos right alone and its an episode where they are freezing cold in the van, and it reminds me how good it feels to not be freezing cold, and how badly a freezing person would want my heated blanket right now. I’m grateful how other peoples lack can make me more grateful, I guess. I drank a freezing cold iced coffee just now, so I’m pretty cold myself. The blanket feels awesome.

3. I’m grateful for the collagen kick I’ve been on, it’s definitely been making me glow in a noticeable way, and it feels good to exist on a planet where at least some things do what they promise to do. Not to mention that kind of internal glow inspires me to do a bunch of external looksmaxxing shit that can ultimately fill a huge gaping hole in me. That’s the idea anyway. I looksmax because I want to be desired and lusted after and yearned for. I want thousands of men to launch ships and go to war for me, and collagen really does make me feel like that. Arguably better to feel like it than for it to actually happen, because a lot of the time I think my expectations and imagination come up with something better than reality.

4. I’m grateful my family vacation went well, arguably better than my expectation, and I’m glad I prepared with research and PowerPoints and excel spreadsheets and my pins dropped on the Apple map. I’m grateful I got to see everything I wanted to see and do everything I wanted to do, and that I was sober for the trip, so I really got to be present and aware of my perspective on the trip.

5. I’m grateful my mom and I discussed the idea of me studying overseas (she’d prefer Florence, I’d prefer France, but that’s not important yet). I’m grateful she’s for it because I can barely do anything without her approval (which is something that isn’t necessarily healthy, and I’m grateful to acknowledge the weird codependency problem so I can maybe fix it, and do more things by my own accord). I’d love to study abroad. I want to study art history.

6. I’m grateful that I had a break between college and a chance to build up a desire to get another round of formal education, where this time I actually pay a bit more attention and care what I’m learning about, not just caring about the grades being good. It would be a really random choice career wise, but that wouldn’t be the point, honestly. I want to learn for the sake of possessing knowledge and deepening/widening my perspective and understanding of the world. Which I believe may be the point of living, no? At least I believe it is for someone like me. And I’m grateful I’m learning to understand myself more.

7. I’m grateful that the episode of sopranos I’m watching out of the corner of my eye while I do everything else just gave me a serendipitous confirmation that I should go to school for art history. Thanks, meadow, twin. New Jersey girl, art major. She had way more rizz with guys than I do, which is fine. We don’t need to be entirely the same. Like, my dad works in tech and advisory, and is not in the mob, for example.

8. Im grateful that my parents can afford to give me experiences and travel with me and expose me to things I couldn’t afford to expose myself to. Im grateful they’re generous with me in this way. I’m grateful they want to spend quality Time with me, because that’s actually something I do care about. That, and words of affirmation, and gift giving. Which they mostly give me. Though I’d prefer more gifts, and my dad holds the wallet and isn’t exactly the gift giving type. Never has been. I never really understood how to become a spoiled brat, because I always wanted to be one. I guess I’m glad I’m not. On behalf of my other relationships, which would probably take a hit if I had another huge personality flaw.

9. I’m grateful that one particular guy from college, who I loved dearly for 2 years, still communicates with me on the regular. Though i don’t know what love is, so its probably more accurate to say that I liked him in an obsessive way and gave him a personality out of my brain, with no indication or confirmation from His end that it was remotely accurate (it wasn’t). Anyway, I’m glad he keeps in touch with me, and gives me updates on his life, and I’m glad he sometimes asks me questions about myself, which i sometimes dodge, because I think he is feeling isolated and churning up old feelings for me, and I just appreciate the friendship because of what it means for my past self getting validated. I guess I’m grateful for all the male validation in my life, which isn’t a lot right now, considering this makes the list. It’s nice to have a male presence on my walk-and-talk call list, too. He usually picks up the phone, and he always calls back when the call drops.

10. I’m grateful that I’m single right now, I wouldn’t want to be in a shitty relationship, and I still don’t have an exact definition of and standard for and boundary against what a good or not worthwhile relationship would be. I am grateful that I trust god not to waste my time and stress me out with any shitty guys, and to only put a relationship in my life when it’ll add something necessary and good, and ultimately improve things.

11. I’m grateful that I get to go back to my apartment in Colorado when I feel like it, and that I’m not rushed back, so I can get proper sick of my comfortable family home in New Jersey and not be all homesick there. I don’t really like the beach, or the muggy humidity around where I live, so it’ll be nice to experience a mountain summer. I’m grateful to experience things I’ve never experienced before. I’m grateful I moved out of my parents house, that I’m still welcomed back, but that I have a place to call my own.

12. I’m grateful my best friend from college lives in LA, and that I can possibly sublet there this winter (once my lease is up in Colorado) and that I can live a fun silly carefree Southern California life for a few months, as a trial period. My parents don’t love that idea, particularly my mom who hates California (even though I was born there) but my brother does, which I appreciate.

13. I’m grateful I spent some quality time with my brother yesterday, especially since we had a bit of a falling out before I left for Colorado, when he confessed that I am a huge embarrassment to him and he wants nothing to do with me. Yesterday he asked if I wanted to join him in picking up his new Rolex from fedex, and he used all the new big words he picked up in the last 6 months to give me life advice. I’m glad that this all reminded me how immature he is, at 24, and that he will likely grow into himself and be more likable to hang out with. Because even though I got all butthurt that he wasn’t totally into me and how I am, I’m not always that into his personality and choices and general disposition, either. I’m grateful to recognize that, but also to be the one mature enough to extend grace and bite my tongue. God I’m awesome. Such a family girl.

14. I’m grateful my family is close again, and we got through the shitty terrible times from 2 years ago, where we weren’t talking at all. I’m grateful I prioritize family, and that I’m willing to bite my tongue and say the serenity prayer a lot to not say something catty that will explode into something shitty and terrible.

15. Im grateful that my parents noticed my suuuuper classy way of denying alcohol in Italy, super nice alcohol by the way, because my parents like to drink. They said they were proud of me a bunch, which pleased me, because my mom often asks me if I’m still sober, even though I’ve been sober for two years, by her suggestion. I’m grateful I can laugh at the mixed messages this kind of commentary sings to me, because I’d otherwise get pissed about it, or I’d just start drinking really nice alcohol with my parents and going about my life, fucking things up and embarassing myself.

16. I’m grateful that I got a kindle, and that I have a bunch of great books lined up, and that I have a nose up in the air attitude about low brow beach reads and that I’m super superior to everyone in terms of reading and lit and being astute and cultured. Kidding, but I’m glad I’m making an effort to read literature that will make me smarter and develop my understanding and knowledge of the world.

17. I’m grateful I like the taste of healthy food, and that I started forcing myself to like sardines even though they stink soooo bad and ruin everyone’s good time with the scent. I’m glad because they will give my skin a special glow. In addition to the collagen and all of the other healthy stuff I eat. I’m grateful for my freakish orthorexia food-obsession in highschool gave me deep knowledge about nutritional value, so I can always give myself a mental high five when I’m eating a vegetable and clocking the benefits in real time

18. I’m grateful that I got a microdermabrasion the other day, even though it’s kind of embarassing to see a bunch of people over Memorial Day weekend with my face all battered looking. I’m so over being self conscious about my acne scars and apparently microdermabrasion helps. It’s also apparently cheaper than the standard to go where I go, so I’m also grateful for that. same thing with Botox. I love Botox and I’m grateful I get it!

19. I’m grateful to be getting older and wiser and more comfortable in my body and in my mind. Even though I’ll post some dumb shit on the Internet, thinking it makes sense and is honest, and then I’ll catch a back hand slap across the face from the internet and I’m like: maybe I am actually out of touch. And I’m glad that doesn’t necessarily discourage me, because I have a strong blind faith in myself that I will follow my aspirations and be a success in my terms of the word, and all that.

20. I’m grateful I got sober at 25 and that I’m still under 30 making all of these big life changes, because I do still measure successes next to age, and I’m doing pretty OK on the arbitrary timeline I’ve made for myself in my head.

21. I’m grateful I’m getting increasingly more comfortable with where I’m at in life and the decisions I’ve made over the past two years. Ideally I’d like to become increasingly proud of myself, and have outside successes confirm that I made and continue to make good choices for myself. For now, internal validation is enough. The aforementioned blind belief is still working.

22. I’m grateful that I miss painting right now, and that I have a bunch of paintings to get back to in Colorado, and that I’ll always now have that little bit to go back to when I’m bored and feeling creative.

23. Im grateful I’m better at drawing than I am at painting, in an objective way, and that maybe I can combine the two to create something that anyone could look at and think: that’s pretty good. Cos right now the stuff I make is rather subjective. Which is fine, but not necessarily what I’m going for. I don’t like being mediocre. I prefer to sit slightly above average. I don’t need to be the best, obviously. I’m not that competitive with other people, just competitive with my idea of average. I’m grateful for that.

24. I’m grateful for the tile and water pressure in the showers at my parent’s house. I’m grateful to be in my cozy home and enjoying the comfortable couch. Especially because of how much I yearned for this when I was homesick in Colorado.

25. I’m grateful that I didn’t put on that much weight eating tons of bread and pasta in Italy. And I’m grateful to be back in my routine of eating and healthmaxxing and in control, because deep down I was kind of anxious to be eating unrestricted. Unfortunately. I’m grateful I am aware of that so I can start to be a more normal and balanced eater. To be fair, I was kind of overdoing the bread baskets in Italy. I’m a very extreme person like that.

26. I’m grateful that I paid off my credit cards today even though it put me in a pissy mood, and that I’m finally dealing with some subscriptions that have been charging me, etc, because it’s really easy to put that stuff off since it’s so fucking annoying and stressful.

27. My mom said my exes probably look at my social media, she said it as kind of a warning, like: I think so and so probably hates you because of xyz thing you said, and regardless, I’m grateful that they might be looking, and that I might still have an emotional hold on them! I love that idea, because I’m very narcissistic and power hungry, and love the idea of owning real estate in the minds of men. Any men.

28. I’m grateful it’s raining for MDW because I don’t want to feel pressure to have a good time, my face is microdermabrasioned. I’m also just antisocial in general lately and don’t wanna be peer pressured into going to bars. I’m too old to be at the Parker house.

29. I’m grateful that feeling too old to be places, being sober, and having other hobbies and aspirations besides partying and meeting boys out and being popular all coincided.

30. I’m grateful that I don’t measure myself up against what people I know in real life think of me, or what they’re doing. I wouldn’t want to trade places with anyone I know in real life. I would like to trade wardrobes with a few people, maybe, if that. In reality I’d just like the money to someday build up my own wardrobe into something I really cherish and enjoy. I’m grateful I have goals like that. I’m grateful my main goals aren’t about getting married and starting a family. To be honest, those have never really been my goals. I just didn’t have anything else I wanted to do until recently. So everything feels better now that I at least have a semblance of an idea about that. Not great, or perfect, because those things aren’t in motion and they’re just little clouds of ideas, but I’m grateful to at least have that part. I love having something to look forward to. I hope everything turns out like the family vacation I just took, where it actually works out better in execution than on paper. Which, by the way, I’ll be writing a blog post about. On www.binksjardin.com

31. I’m grateful Instagram has pissed me off again by banning me from posting reels. It reminds me I have my own platform, and that I need to nurture it a bit. I always forget I made myself a sick website. I’m grateful I did that.

32. I’m grateful I don’t wanna be dead anymore, and that I’m liking life even when it’s boring, and I’m being strategic with my experiences and what I consume and making a fun little game out of everything, in a way. I’m grateful that I am a playful type of person. I’m grateful I noticed I gossip and complain less. I’m grateful because I think my dad noticed too, it seems like he likes me better lately than he did during my low points, when I lowkey spent a lot of time bitching and being negative. I’m grateful the people in my life give me grace when I’m at my worst and most insufferable.

33. im grateful my future is open. Im grateful im taking a more positive more hands on approach to my life. Im grateful I can discern what’s in my control and what I need to go through to get to the right places (internally and externally). I’m grateful for where I am at right now. And 33 is a good place to stop, because 3 is my favorite number.

    I’m grateful anyone reads this stuff. I’m grateful people who read my stuff give me grace, and when I write more formally, I’m grateful I have a bit of an audience who can say: wow, all those Substack gratitude posts really helped her practice her writing, this is much much better than some of the garbage we’ve read from her before, we are soooo glad we grit our teeth stuck around.

Xoxoxoxoxo

Something about living in NYC made me feel better than everyone else. And I’m pretty sure everyone else in the city feels that way, too.

I am from New Jersey, 2 hours to the city by train, an hour by car. I am still a transplant. but I am not from the midwest or the south. I like that the city isn’t clean, and I like the grit of the LES compared to the West Village, because I always wanted to be at a slight distance from my kind of delicate Normal Rockwell-esque Jersey Shore upbringing. I wanted to hang out with the surfers and the skaters and they did not want to hang out with me. I like to think that everyone manufactures themselves by the places they choose to be. But you can’t have access to just Be wherever you want because you want to, you have to earn it, or build it, or go somewhere adjacent. Or just fuck off all together.

I got a B on my Heidegger paper in college, and I still think about that. I feel like I should have gotten an A, because I felt like I had a real handle on the material. Like I understood it deep in my core. I used to google philosophers and important people in society to see if I felt a strong past life connection to them. I felt this way about Heidegger. I think I got a B on the paper because I am such a tangental editor, and I am a rambling writer to begin with.

I like Brooklyn more than Manhattan, and I’d live in Astoria if it meant I got more space and a washer dryer. I say this because most of my friends would not agree with me, and they would not come see me if I lived in Astoria. A lot of my friends wouldn’t come visit me if I lived in Brooklyn. I’m actually not friends with a lot of people I was friends with when I first moved to New York. Mostly for no good reason. A lot of them visited me at my parents house on the Jersey shore, because New York City sucks mid-summer. This had nothing to do with me, and mostly to do with being somewhere cool.

I spent a good amount of time above 14th street during the 3 years I lived in New York. I say this seriously, in response to the online sentiment that there’s a group of transplants who actively choose not to experience more than life downtown. Being downtown is cool. I think people are most performative downtown, and I love being there. I also think there are cool places in uncool areas. I don’t think cool people need to be somewhere to make it a cool place, if it has merit on its own. I like history. And art, and design. I don’t have a formal education in art and design, and I feel like that holds me back.

I lived in 4 separate downtown apartments, and I experienced New York both at the peak of my party era and my sobriety. I hung out with New York Natives who made me feel not New York enough, and I hung-out with a group of transplants who made me feel like being from the Tristate earned me a closer relationship to the city. I always felt like having a closer relationship with New York made you a better, cooler, more important and more interesting person. I still feel like that’s true.

Proximity to cool things and cool places can make someone cooler. It doesn't make them cool in a vacuum.

In middle school, we had 2 field trips to New York. One was to see a Broadway show and eat dinner at Mars 2112, and the other was to tour the Natural History Museum. I fucking hated New York. It got on my nerves. All the stimulus was annoying to me. Mostly because I wanted to dick off, and we were on a tight leash during these visits to the city. The teacher and parent chaperones also annoyed me. They seemed uptight and dorky. I didn’t want the business people in Midtown to think I was an uncool kid on a field trip. I wanted them to think I was also a business person.

I kind of prefer being alone in New York, so I do get to choose where I spend my time, and I never feel like I'm on a leash. I feel cooler when I’m alone. Honest to god, I got greedy with my time and my agenda when I got sober.

In high-school, I went to New York a handful of times. The trips were usually poorly planned, with a weird goal in mind. Like getting drunk on the sidewalk for Saint Patricks day, or to attend a bottomless brunch with fake IDs, only to wander aimlessly, drunk in broad daylight for a few hours, before taking the ferry home. I later learned that high-schoolers from Long Island and West Chester went out to real Adult clubs via promoters in the city. This affirmed that everyone else lives a much cooler life than me, which is obviously a merit in my world. It’s just that it has always felt like no one has ever wanted to take me under their wing. And maybe I’m desperate for mentorship, and I want to be hand held through things because I have a helicopter mom. But I have FOMO for people who get that special hand-holding treatment, and it seems really nice to have the chance to be ushered into that secret-club part life, where I am clawing at the door. If I even learn where the door is. That’s how I felt sometimes, in New York.

Another time in high-school, when I still loudly disliked the city and wanted to live a hippie lifestyle, I was invited to New York for a friends birthday. The birthday girl’s sole mission was to get some fake designer on Canal Street, and then go take an instagram in front of some butterfly wings spray painted on a brick wall in Soho. We didn't have an exact address for the wings. It felt so uncool to be searching for wings and buying black market bags off the sidewalk, which made me feel shy and embarrassed. It was hot out, and the city sucks in the summer, and in the winter, and everyone who actually lives there knows that. The city is mostly only good in the Spring and the Fall, if I’m being honest. So I was feeling not-very-secure in myself, and I didn’t even care about designer at the time, let alone fake designer. I didn't think much about signifiers of wealth in high-school, and I didn’t care much about life outside of my bubble. In an act of rebellion, I marched off from the mat of bags laid out on the ground and I bought a colorful glass bowl off of a folding table. I didn’t even like smoking weed, but I did it for the sake of building a wild-child hippie-dippy party-girl identity that my mom hated. My new bowl was a status symbol that served the same purpose for me as the Canal street bags did for the birthday girl. The girls thought I was kind of ratchet for my purchase, and I thought they were ratchet for theirs. We had a shitty dinner in Meat packing that night, and everyone was frizzy and irritable from the city heat (there is no shade on Canal Street). I was genuinely confused about what all the New York fuss was about.

I’m reluctant to say anything bad about New York because I want to belong to the group of people who thrive in the city, who love it unconditionally, who refuse to leave and live there forever and benefit greatly from simply being there, flooded with opportunity and growth. Those kinds of people dont spent hot summer days on canal street. I wonder often if these people all had mentors or handholding or some sort of leg up on me, to know things sooner and to thrive more easily.

I think the truth is, these kinds of people are not heavily influenced by what anyone (especially their parents) tell them is good or bad. They forge those ideas for themselves. And act on them. And thats how things get done, I think. If living in New York did anything for me, it helped me recognize I need to do the same. Easier said than done, but the awareness is a start. I am still working on confidence, and on making decisions for myself.

When I finally did move to the city, my mom would tell her friends that it’s a “right of passage” for us Monmouth county kids to live in New York. I hated hearing that. I wanted to be in New York because I was the type of person to do well there. I felt like my redemption arc was that I could grow out of my hometown and not go back. Hearing the term “right of passage” made it sound like I cared Most about what my hometown thought, and Least about what the rest of the world thought. I was not as small minded as this, because I was the type of girl who bought bowls a few years before other girls started smoking weed, and slightly pushed back on the tight boundaries of small-town suburban life.

I wanted to be the type of person whose career unfolded at events and in interesting nooks and crannies of New York, and who had a cool, punk, beat-poetry kind of life. Only I worked on the 52nd floor of a high rise in FiDi, I came from a preppy vanilla bean family, and my excel spreadsheet job sucked my soul out of my body even though my parents were super proud of saying what I did for a living.

As I spent more time in the city, I noticed the pulse of New York that I admired actually had very little to do with me. Which made me feel kind of detached from my life path, if I’m being honest. I was surrounded by people working in finance, who also grew up in different suburbs of the city. They were happy in their jobs if only because of the bonus, and they were on track to afford a good life, and they would likely live with their nuclear family in the suburbs in about 10 years. I hadn’t and still haven’t felt called to that life yet, probably because I grew up living it and find it to be restrictive and boring. I was having a lot of in fun basement of Acme, dancing to oldies under a disco ball and sloshing $20 worth of martini onto the checkered dance floor. I also liked going to clubs with a gayer crowd, where finance guys wouldn’t have fun, but the door was hard enough to where they couldn’t really get in even if they wanted to. I felt like it earned me something. But I went places to say I had been there, mostly. And the people I was talking to had an idea of what they were doing later, and probably didn’t care much about the buzzy name of a dumb club, because if their friends couldn’t get in, what was the point?

Like genuinely: what was the point? Once the novelty wears off, there’s just the truth: at the peak of my partying in New York, I didn't have a 5 year plan or a 1 year plan. New York can be a great distraction from planning. It just sounds great that you’re in New York to begin with. Even better if you’re somewhere Cool and Exclusive in New York. That is plan enough.

When I stopped trying to seek validation on the nightlife circuit, I got to voyuer a side of the city I didn’t look at before. But that is what it felt like: voyuerism. I was appreciating art and culture from the outside without contributing to it whatsoever. This also felt embarrassing, not because I felt like I had to contribute to earn my spot in New York, but because I wanted to, and I hypothetically could, but I wasn’t. This was when I started to feel very lame. Or worse, like I was living a purposeless life with literally no meaning, and I had no contribution to society. It became apparent that even when I was sober I was trying to escape boredom, and find purpose, and I was looking to be fulfilled by something I couldn’t name. I felt stagnant in a city that was very fluid. Which was, quite frankly, embarrassing.

I fed my eyes up with a bunch of other peoples lives and experiences and achievements, and I felt like I was getting more cultured. I kind of got a quick bump of What If, and I wanted to do something with that. But I didn't really want to have that reset in the city for some reason. I felt like I needed to leave and shower myself clean of everything I was trying to be before my little wake-up, and see what was left of me before I started building something new. And sure, I could do that in New York. But a lot of people I knew were there. It’s kind of hard to get a good clean shower when you’re being watched. And when you’re being hard on yourself, and placing yourself in competition with the people around you, instead of with yourself. It’s not fun to do anything when you’re putting this kind of negative pressure on yourself. I had to go somewhere quiet and boring, where I didn't have pressure to be serious or ambitious or successful. Which is how I wound up in a ski town in Colorado. (I do not want to be a ski bum, either, obviously).

More of what I love about New York: I like being constantly stimulated with fresh ideas. I like being inundated visually, and I appreciate living in a city where the pace is faster outside of my brain than inside of it. I actually knew this before Colorado. I like being around ambitious people. I did not know this before Colorado. I like being surrounded by people who are taking risks and who want to grow and expand and express themselves, which could be anywhere, not just New York. I like seeing a spectrum of life in one place. What is unique about New York is that all of this energy is tangible.

The energy is thick enough to latch and suck on, honestly. It was a parasitic dynamic. Which is an ugly way to see the world. But if you don’t clock it as being parasitic, this is the feeling that gives everybody such a hard on about themselves when they say they live in New York. Or even that they frequent, or that they visited once.

What’s so cool about living in New York is that bunch of high-achievers and high-earners and important-people also live there, or go there, or spend a good deal of time there. It’s a super cool accomplishment to eat in the same establishment as someone who did something that many people are impressed by. It basically means people are impressed by you. The very impressive background character.

When I was first living in the city, I was really excited about spending nearly $100 to try a really good lasagna at a restaurant where I snagged a 4 PM 4 top off resy. I did not feel like a background character at all. Getting reservations at cool restaurants was basically my favorite thing to do. It was exciting to shoot of texts in tiers, and bring people together from different-similar friend groups. I loved guzzling down a few martinis, and feeling really chic about knowing exactly what alcohol to ask for, and how to ask for it (Hendricks, extra dirty, blue cheese olives). I felt very cool and good because I was never paying for any of the drugs that floated around the afters, meaning that I didn’t have a drug problem, and I was just a chic and fun party guest (I didn’t have a drug problem. I had a drinking problem, and a deeper insecurity problem, but that’s a different story). I was very relevant and High Society in my head. I enjoyed my life because I was eating family style and feeling like I was on the inside of a good joke. I was spending a lot of money and the return on my investment was a refined pallet, and a good grasp on menu terminology. I felt very cultured to possess the knowledge that Ceviche and Tartare are Raw and Cubed and Carpaccio is Raw and Pounded. It felt very spontaneous to spill into the bar next door and round off the dinner bill, and then some.

I don’t remember most of these outings I had in New York, unless I’m looking at some of my flash photography photos of my dinner table. Even then, all the meals blend together. That’s the thing I haven’t been able to shake: I feel like most of my experience in New York blends together, with only a few memories jumping out. My date at Bemelmens was pretty forgettable, but the hand painted wallpaper and live music is not. I had a really nice spring day where I went solo to the Guggenheim and the Central Park Conservatory, because no one wanted to come. That’s the exact day I realized how much I enjoy spending time alone. I enjoyed hair of the dog drinking on the sidewalk tables at Fanelli’s, because friends had walked by and impromptu filled out our 4 top table. A few afters at particularly cool (read: large and expensive) apartments stick in my mind. I liked being able to stay out all night, and meet people exactly like me but in a different font, from a different university that offered them an experience very similar to mine. I liked imagining that I was popular and cool and living a New York life that people covet when they watch Gossip Girl or Girls or Sex and the City. It’s all very fun the first time, and you keep trying to recreate that, and suddenly you’re getting older, and you’re not really fulfilled, and your close friends were actually just drinking buddies all along. They’re not at the afters anymore.

Maybe that’s what this whole thing is about. Not being the last person still excited about afters or the first to get sober, or the only one who has moved out of the city. This is about me trying to be myself in relation to a City that has made up much of my identity so far. Much of my life has been about experiences liking or disliking or at least being close to New York. And if the city that makes me important doesn’t care about me, and it doesn’t matter if I’m there or not, what does that say about me?

Maybe this is all because I don’t want the city I live in to be the most interesting thing about me. And my worry is that I am most interesting when I am in relation to New York City in some way. I had dabbled with the idea of leaving about 6 months before I finalized the move. When I floated the idea (from a content perspective) to a girl in my circle of content-friends, she assured me people would not be invested in me if I left the city. And because this was happening while I was putting words to the fact that I wanted to be a writer, I also clocked that I would need an audience who was interested. So it was important to use NYC to make myself more interesting, then. But there are millions of people who can write accounts of their experiences in New York, if New York is what someone wants to read about. I want to write for writings sake, because I have something to share that is not just about just New York. I want to share about my experience living, so I kind of figured I might as well leave New York, and go do that. Which led me to run away to Colorado, to live uninterrupted. And it’s been useful.

And sure, when I tell people who live in New York that I also live(-d) in New York, it feels like I’ve earned their trust. I’ve met members at the ski club I work for who treat me like a valuable person once they learn I’m from New Jersey and lived in the city. It’s a halo effect, where they see that what I’m doing now isn’t necessarily spectacular, but at one point I was worth something, and I may be worth something again one day. They have no idea that I maybe wasn’t thriving in New York. Just by living there I am definitely baseline good, cool, and accomplished in some way. I did cool things, despite feeling like a loser while doing them. The city was great in the way that I was on the same stepladder of potential as everyone else. There just came a point where I wasn’t really climbing. So I moved to a place with a shorter ladder. I’m so much closer to the top, here. If we discount the other ladders people prefer to climb in places like Colorado, where you’re measured on your skiing or mountain biking ability. Gorp.

Subconsciously I made sure that I checked the boxes that confirmed that I am a part of the Legit and Cool part of New-York, because I have always and maybe always will measure myself by that score card. Maybe not everyone is as judgmental and as vapid as I am, and maybe they aren’t assessing my worth based on my answers to New-York trivia questions. But I think I have a good read on people. And pretty much everyone I’ve ever been in contact with gives me a nod of approval when I answer that I live(-d) in Nolita, because they’re aware that it’s a good neighborhood for someone in their early twenties. Especially someone who wants to be in the center of everything. I worked a pretty-good non-finance job in 3 World Trade (a great building, by the way, super relevant, for people who like to assess office buildings for fun) and I went out to restaurants that make people say something to confirm that they, too, go to hot-new-cool restaurants. I went to all of the museums, and by the time I was comfortably sober and OK with doing things alone, I tacked a few cultural activities to my to-do list every weekend. This made me feel very cultured-New Yorker. I started drawing in a sketch-pad I bought from the giant Blick in Soho, so I had found myself an easy hobby. I was even going to the NY Public Library in my neighborhood, which made me feel like an active member of my little New York community (I spoke to no one, not even the librarian, when I picked up and dropped off my books). I felt really fulfilled by all of this for a few months, because it was new. And then I went back to feeling like I had potential that was frozen inside a giant ice block. And I had to wait for it to melt. And why was I waiting in my $2500 Nolita apartment.

Thats another thing. You go home to your small apartment and it never really feels clean or entirely cozy, but it’s fine when you spend most of your time outside of it (read: spending money to hang out in establishments instead). It was all very chic on paper, and my life felt like a New York TV show. And years started to pass and I started to age and nothing really changed all that much. My life felt like the sad ending of said TV show. At the end of the day, every restaurant and museum and club and bar and walk-around-the-city experience is pretty much the same. And it’s boring to live re-runs, and it’s even worse if you don’t realize you’re doing it.

Maybe it’s just that I’m at the age where people grow out of making establishments their entire personality, and making New York their entire personality. They will leave New York on trips and come back and that will be their personality. It’s maybe just a type of person I am sick of.

I think I admire most the people who absorb, and select, and turn around and start to contribute to the culture that interests them most. Like, opening restaurants, or writing about them, or starting businesses of any kind. I really admire the people who have a strong perspective, and back it up with action and creative output, and bricks and mortar, because they are the ones who make New York. Or any city. I want to be that kind of person. Which is why I left New York.

If New York did anything for me, it enhanced my brain. It made me want to have a perspective. It made me see what output looks like from many walks of life. Which is why I am currently throwing putty at the wall with writing and content. I don’t expect everyone to like what I make, because I don’t like everything I’ve seen. I don’t even like everything I’ve experienced, whether I’ve chosen it or not.

But the fact is, in terms of perspecitve: when there’s so much to be seen, you naturally become more selective with what you pay attention to. New York gave me the opportunity to create my own value system. This is important for me in particular, because I have always cared so much about the value system of everybody around me, and I grew up twisting myself to fit. This is an impossible feat (another thing New York forces you to understand). I am better at moving through the world smarter because of my 3 year stint in New York. I don’t hang on every interaction with every person, and I dont feed into every option presented to me. I get to choose what is insignificant and what is worth paying attention to. You have to be that way in a city with millions of individual timelines. Not everything is important all of the time. And you can’t do everything at once. And when your plans are jumbled, there are a million other options. This makes me a much more confident person; when you practice being selective in every aspect of your life, you realize you’re actually the architect of your life.

Which is why I chose to leave New York.

Maybe this article is why people get really uptight about earning your spot in New York. I always found that be kind of obnoxious. But I am writing a bleak review about my experience with the culture of New York, when I didn't and still don’t contribute to the culture of New York. I come from privilege and spent time with people who are similarly positioned, and I couldn’t easily break out of the cage, even though I obviously held the key. When I can be a contributor, and when I can participate with the culture of the city in a different way, I’ll return. Once you can handle New York, you can basically handle any other place you choose to go. So I’ll go some other places, get bored there, say bad things, and return to the city. I predict it’ll be a cycle for me, to become tired of everything being so familiar, and wanting to be challenged with unfamiliarity, and then being exhausted by that challenge and wanting to rest where I feel my identity took root. Even though I am still kind of a bitch about my beautiful hometown, and my vanilla bean background. Despite how easy it has made life for me. Like, It gave me unlimited access to New York.

As far as working in a ski club in the summer, ive been warned that it gets very slow. To me this sounds like I have permission to grocery shop produce in the word fridges while I spend the shifts reading and drawing. I’ll even continue to write my musings mid-shift, and publish them on substack while I’m still clocked in, because I tell myself that people really care about what I’m thinking, and less about what I’m up to. Because really, as we know, I’m not up to much. It’s all the same as when I worked corporate, but I don’t want to kill myself because there’s essentially no pressure in what I’m doing, and I tell myself I’m chasing my dreams. When people ask, I say I want to freelance write and eventually write a book. There’s a lot of things I’m interested in, and a lot of things I’d be happy doing (in pursuit of those interests, or at least that would refine them). The beauty of what I’m doing right now is that my money and my workday has nothing to do with my dreams and long term goals, so they still feel achievable. When you work directly in what you want to pursue, you see red tape and ladders and realistic boundaries and steps crop up. I know it’s all there, but I don’t want to see it. I think my success is more likely if I’m walking blind. Like in the cartoons, when someone is sleep walking and they miss every obstacle that gets in their way. I still walk a lot, like I did in New York, but I walk next to a stream. I feel less manic here, albeit desperate for culture and relevancy. It’s hard, because I hate the west village attitude in New York right now, where every girl with a Dyson thinks she’s really very important. No one is important except in their own lives, and the lives of their closest friends. I used to have friends that believed they were very important to everybody. Celebrity level important, almost. They felt like the general public was waiting with baited breath to see what hotel their family was staying at on their euro summer tour of the coast. Of course, there are levels to delusion. I was delusional enough to be friends with girls who felt they were superstars, and I am still delusional, but I at least stopped being friends with these girls. These kind of friendship-delusion boundaries are really empowering when you actually put them into practice (instead of just bitching to your other friends about Friend Group B’s insane delusions. If you do that, then friend group A is probably talking to their friend group B about how you’re actually the delusional one, for thinking you’re exempt from the scale and for staying friends with people who… kind of suck).

Anyway, I have tentative plans to camp and hike and see an air balloon fest, but nothing, even plans with your very best friends, is promised. I never get trip insurance and I always wish I did, for this exact reason. I’m going back to NJ and seeing some friends and family in the off season, and I’m really glad I have an off season. I haven’t shut the fuck up about how homesick I am, so it’ll be great to go home and get properly sick of there too, so I finally will lock in and be happy where I am. I’ll flit around NYC and stay at my friends apartments rent free, and I’ll probably wonder why I don’t move back (forgetting that the cost of rent is actually a major setback when you actually live there, and budget accordingly). I do think I want to sublet in LA for the winter after my Colorado lease. Either to make myself even more homesick, or to recognize that the Southern California lifestyle is suitable for an aspirational sober bimbo like myself.

I keep getting ahead of myself, though. I have two more shifts here before my big spring break blow out.

So for the next two days I’ll be working in the kitchen and chowing down on free berries and yogurt and collagen and nuts and seeds, and wondering why my bank account looks exactly the same as it did corporate (when I paid NYC rent, and paid for groceries, and had a social life, and traveled, etc). and since I’m obviously feeling very rich right now (tax return incoming, end of season bonus incoming) im scheming about a car. Which may be a problem, because I’m delusional and aspirational, and deep down, inherently very cheap. I fear this part of myself more than anything, because it feels very hard to manifest being filthy rich when I operate like a broke person. I know my coworkers are more broke than me, they call off more and spend more, and they seem really happy, actually. It may partially be the fact that they sniff cocaine all day, but that in itself is an expensive habit! I want to take a note out of their book. Spending like a rich person makes you happy, even and especially if you’re broke.

Gratitude;

1. I actually am happy that I don’t have a spending problem and that I know how to save money, even though it does seem like spending money is the way to make money. I’m grateful I’m not in debt and that I have goals to be rich, and not just goals to own and do things. I think my main goal is to be comfortable and happy. I am naturally Uncomfortable and a huge complainer, so I know that putting this standard and expectation out into the universe means I’ll naturally attract lots and lots of money.

2. I’m also grateful I am sober, because I am definitely an alcoholic at my core. My life would suck and be really hard if I were partying like how I used to, so I’m just grateful I’m doing this instead. This being like, existing as a regular person.

3. I’m grateful that I naturally prefer whole food flavors and enjoy fruits and vegetables and proteins and legumes and those sorts of healthy things that lots of people need to be forced to eat. I like not being forced to do things, first of all, but I also like feeling healthy and like I’m being good and doing a good job.

4. I’m grateful that I’m not stressed out all the time like I used to be working and living in NYC, though I haven’t found the perfect recipe to feel excited about my life and work and home, I at least feel content right now. Probably helped by the fact that I know it’s temporary, and I know it’s almost over, actually.

5. I’m grateful for contentment. I haven’t really felt it before this, and after reframing it from boring to peaceful, I’m a lot happier with how I narrate my life right now. Who knows what I’ll say later, not like it matters! Life exists only in the now.

6. I’m grateful vail library is pretty, even though I haven’t been in awhile because I can’t really read fast enough to return the book on time. Mostly because I keep getting long dense books that I hate picking up, like east of Eden.

7. I’m grateful that I don’t let a book like east of Eden make me feel illiterate, and that I can keep up with reading afterwards. Despite feeling kind of discouraged. Whatever. I’m grateful I can disagree with people and fans and authors and classics that I don’t like, because I have free will to read it as much as I have free thought and free speech to dislike it, and talk about how much I dislike it!

8. I’m grateful for my family, who care about me.

9. I’m grateful I have leveled up my taste and standard in men, and that I feel confident leaving the bar after talking to a cute guy, because I don’t like the idea of visiting his family on holiday in the state he grew up in. Like, I need to date someone from a state that feels worth frequenting.

10. I’m grateful that I find fun in painting and that I got back into painting in the past year. Both things are equally important, because it shows follow through, but it also shows I like things. Because I do complain a lot.

11. I’m grateful that I’m getting used to oscillating my hobbies, because I’ve actually been getting bored of some of the things I do lately, and luckily I have other different things to do that I haven’t gotten bored of!

12. I’m grateful that I can go home and reset finally, and come back and experience something new. Like a summer in the mountains.

13. I am grateful that my parents booked our vacation and now I can do the fun part: planning the itinerary. I’m glad I find that fun and I’m grateful I’m good at it, and that my family agrees with my taste. And I’m also grateful that they can afford it.

time to wash dishes.

I’m grateful I have free rein to use exorbitant amounts of dawn dish soap when I wash dishes. Because I’m a wasteful American.

Also I’m grateful that I wash dishes at work, I feel like it gets me bonus points with god, for being very humble.

I love that the service industry is low pressure and accepting of all walks of life. I don’t love working on holidays because I’m alone and far from friends and family, so it’s not like I go home to anyone or have anything intimate to look forward to (ever). I do feel seen by my coworkers and the members I serve, because they’ve gotten to know me over the past few months. I have idiosyncrasies that are obvious in a kitchen. Like the amount of fruit I eat and the way I put several tea bags in a cup, and 7-10 Splenda per coffee, and about 3-4 coffees. It’s been brought to my attention that I have a contagious laugh. My laugh varies based on how funny the joke is, and I don’t fake laugh, either. I actually don’t mind working holidays. The club decorates, and they are more festive than I would be if I had the chance to sleep in and spend a holiday all by myself. Plus, I’m fed at the club. Not all kitchen jobs will feed you past a staff meal, if that. This one does. I make up the difference between my hourly pay now and my corporate salary in berries. Tax free. I get more berries on an average work day than anyone eats on any holiday. I’m spoiled basically, and I’m getting paid. (I love saying things to convince myself that what I want to be true, is true. Like Easter. I’m Catholic).

The first guy I liked in college called me last week to tell me he officially joined the marines. He is very thin, and when he didn’t pass the marines the first time (he also let me know) I figured it was due to the fact that he’s underweight. His career in finance didn’t work out. I was kind of shocked he resorted to the marines, but I guess he was just believing in himself. We went to a good college. I work in a kitchen.

My family knows this guys name. 1. He’s the first guy I liked in college and 2. He’s the guy I liked during my first ever manic episode. Those things kinda stick with you. I liked other guys (in addition to him) as college went on. By the time I started liking his best friend senior year, I had two manic episodes under my belt and I had kind of forgotten his name. Or haven’t forgotten, per se, but it didn’t make me my blood pressure spike. When his name popped up on my phone during peak infatuation, I would jump up and down and tell all of my friends. Like, everyone. We’ve texted on and off for the 5 years since college graduation. He secretly hates me because I did the homie hopping thing. Not so secretly, actually, because he likes to remind me of my blunders. We also met in chicago when I was visiting a family friend in her first year of law school, and all he did was get wasted and tell me to eat a steak and butter diet, the best diet. We all selectively believe things. And I believe god was looking out for me when he interjected my drunken college love story with a few manic episodes and some ADHD in the boy department. I’m really glad I didn’t wind up marrying anyone I’ve met yet. I’m also glad that the boys I liked the most either pop back into my life or get married. I liked them for a reason, usually, more often than not a reason I made up in my head. Like, I get very narrative with the backstories of the guys I liked. If I actually wound up dating them, I’d be very disappointed to learn that the reality of them is nothing like the story I told myself. I do learn lessons though. He serves as a core memory of how it feels to like someone who likes being depressed more than they like you. I ended up liking his best friend better. But again, I told myself a story. He was also depressed, he liked me as much as depression, maybe more. He liked me more than he liked his best friend, I guess. Because he was willing to take his girl. He doesn’t text me, though. He’s in a relationship and I’m happy for him. I think it kind of says more, when they don’t keep in touch. I think the guys who keep in touch are just as bored as I am, and just as lonely, and they’re curious to see if I’ll answer. And of course I will, I love to shoot the shit. And I want to complete the circle for the younger version of myself, who would absolutely freak my shit with glee and delight that so and so boy texted me. A boy texting you does NOT mean they’re in love with you. I hope. Because I’d be really glad to learn the boys I liked most (who actually haven’t texted or called or met me in random cities) me are actually the ones who are in love with me. Even (or especially) if it’s just a version they created of me in their head. If that’s the case, I hope they never reach out. I want them to stay in love and I want the fictitious idealized version of myself to stay intact. I say this because I am not healed.

Anyways. Gratitude! I’ll see if I can put a glorified fictitious single girl spin on this. As it would be very Thematic of me.

1. I’m grateful that I had a big thick collagen Greek yogurt nuts and berry bowl this morning, so that I’ll look youthful and healthy forever, and when I run into anyone I’ve dated they’ll think: wow, she looks younger and better than I remember. Plus, to potential suitors, I’ll also look young and healthy and radiant. They’ll think I’m 23, and I won’t even bother to correct them!

2. 2. I’m grateful I have a last name That often gets confused for a cooler last name. The pronunciation is not DISCO like the dancer, but I rarely correct people on that. If I choose to get married, it’s important that my husband has an equally cool if not cooler last name. If his last name sucks, I’ll correct my last name (Dicso) to be disco, and he can take mine, and it’ll be very progressive. It’ll also heal my inner child, who got called Kelley Dick-so-big, and who got made fun of for changing her Facebook last name to “Dixo”.

3. 3. I’m grateful to see my friends in long term relationships and engagements and marriages and pregnancies. While I don’t feel old enough for this, I do feel more mature and more wise for bearing witness and learning a thing or two before it’s my turn.

4. 4. I’m grateful that my family expresses their love for me in phonecalls and questions and keeping in touch. I used to get so pissed off when I was hungover as hell, or straight of a 6 am afters, or a bender, and I saw my parents calling me (presumably to ask why I was out until 6 am). Now I am happy to see my parents contacts pop up. It fills the void of getting excited when boys names pop up. No boys name excites me anymore.

5. 5. I’m happy my standards are raising. I can feel them being higher, and I can imagine myself rejecting people that fall into the category of boys I used to date. I can also see myself being confused and unsure how to navigate dating someone I actually like and want a future with, but we’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. For now I am learning a thing or two about myself, uninterrupted by people not worth the use of my 5 senses.

6. 6. I’m happy to know that I’m not as shallow as I talk sometimes, because I’ve dated a smattering of not so handsome men, or not so rich or successful or smart men, etc, and I accept them for it. I notice their weakness and I try to build them up in that category, which is a very nice thing to do. Of course I reveal myself on the internet after, which is maybe not so nice, but it’s not shallow. I’m very deep and deep down, very kind! Now I just hope someone who does the same will come and find me and fill my gaping holes.

7. 7. Just kidding, I’m filling those gaping holes myself, by being alone in the mountains. And with law of attraction, and will meditation and hobbies and binaural beats manifesting music and by rewiring how I talk to myself and rewiring mostly everything in my life, not talking to people who talk to more or see me poorly, etc. I have even gone a long time not talking to my mom. She talks to me very nicely now, actually. I’m learning so much about myself, and about the world, and about other people, just by being alone and talking to almost no one. Except My top 6 best friends, and my family, and a handful of acquaintances via the occasional dm. I’m new.

8. 8. I’m grateful I don’t just keep people around for plans and validation and to keep me

9. Occupied. I used to do that!

10. 9. I’m grateful for private bathrooms. I don’t have much privacy otherwise, because I tell all of my own secrets

11. 10. I’m grateful for looksmaxxing tools like white strips and makeup and leave in conditioner. Im grateful that I’ve gotten used to my face without makeup

12. 11. I’m grateful my acne scars are starting to heal. Or that I’m starting not to care as much about them. But I should still get some

13. Lasers or something, because it would be amazing to not have people look at my skin in an inquisitive way. Though sobriety has honestly helped with the whole quality of skin thing.

14. 12. I’m grateful for sobriety too, because I think I owe drying out and my sober lifestyle for any wisdom or improvements I’ve seen in myself, at some level.

15. 13. Like boundaries. I’m grateful for my stronger boundaries. I often wonder if I had these boundaries always, where I’d be. Arguably someplace better, which makes me really glad that I’m sober now, with the boundaries I have. I hope in 3 years I’m someplace way way better than I could’ve imagined 3 years ago.

16. 14. Im grateful i take the initiative to culture myself, and I find I like talking to my coworkers who are cultured, too. Plus they’re unserious, and I appreciate that balance because too much emphasis on your refinement is pretty stuffy behavior. I like that I’ve placed and am continuing to place myself in a category of people that I appreciate. Like: I appreciate myself. I’m driven. In addition to my parents kind of directing me that way with how they chose to raise me. I’m grateful for myself, and for my parents. Even though I complain about them a lot and blame them when it suits me.

17. 15. I’m grateful I mostly choose to believe in good and positive and interesting things. I hope fairies are real.

Happy Easter

Technically all of these people are new friends, but not too new. Like, I’ve known them for a few months. I’m happy to be around people who want to try new things. I guess it’s the age. Except I am 27, and these kids are 23. And today one of these kids was soooo utterly shocked to learn I’m 27, because she jokingly said she was 28 (jokingly because 28 is old) and I said, I’m actually 27, and she was shocked because that may have been a blunder. But then she told me I look even younger than her, so it wasn’t a blunder at all, I’m taking her for serious. I rebought my collagen powder from Costco this week, and I also started retinol yesterday. I eat berries every day, I quit drinking and I quit nicotine. It wouldn’t be crazy to accept her bandaid compliment. I am a 16 year old. I kind of act like one. Or I used to, I guess. I wish 16 year old me acted like I act now. I would be set for world domination. I would’ve bought bitcoin. Instead of weeping over guys who didn’t want me in college, I would’ve went for cuter, cooler guys. But I’m actually glad I wasn’t in the position to date appropriately at that age. No one I’ve ever been in contact with was worth marrying, and I would hate to live a life where I settled. I’m glad to be where I am, looking 21 and hanging out with 23 year olds in the mountain at the big age of 27. Almost 28. Please wish me a happy birthday in June!

So I love making art alongside other people. It’s a great way to bond. But I don’t want to look at other people’s art when it pops up on my algorithm. I find museums to be really inspiring. I like seeing the art my friends make, or that the random people in my art class make. I’m informed by their personality and by the time spent together. When compelling art pops up while I scroll, my chest hurts and I want to set all of my own artwork on fire. Because it’s not as good, or it’s not good in the same ways. It’s not good, actually. And that’s fine. It’s just a past time. but I do put a lot of effort into it, and it’s cathartic because I slap my emotion on there too. It’s abstract as hell, and maybe lacks technique, but it’s from the heart. So when I see someone make something beautiful, also from the heart, with technique, I feel very far behind, and very silly. Like, I find some art online to be really inspiring, too. It makes me think about perception and emotion and the human experience, even. My algorithm feeds me. But in the same note, it makes me feel like I want to stop making art myself. My art is Bad and Ugly in comparison. If I make bad and ugly art alongside friends, it’s totally different, and I’m happy about it, though I maybe don’t want to keep it for myself I definitely want to advertise it, because it was made with love of course! I sent my mom and dad photos of my pottery, I sent it to my friend who actually Does pottery, and I posted it all over the Internet. I’m having fun! I’m not serious! With my paintings, I am kinda serious. I’m not even sure why I’m serious about them, I just am. I guess it’s the time spent? Alone? Pining? Deciding? Editing and lamenting the painting that existed 5 iterations ago? If I were the only person to ever make art it would be different. These artists on my algorithm must have went to art school. You can tell! Or they’re just talented, and I’m not, and I didn’t go to art school, and I get my paints and canvases from Walmart, and I am real smacky with it. You can tell. Which, whatever, a lot of contemporary artists made smacky bad looking art, and it costs a lot of money and hangs on important walls. And my art hangs on my wall, because I’m constantly editing it. My art is worth the cost of the cheapest paint at Walmart, and the bus ride is free. I am happy looking at my art after months have passed, and I’m proud to show my art before it’s even finished. I guess I’m just proud to be doing something besides scroll on my phone and look at other people doing things. But sometimes I look at videos I make of my art and I get pissed, because I am happy like a kid showing their parents their art, but I maybe shouldn’t feel that way about the unforgiving internet. I look at my videos in general and get pissed, because if I put in a little more effort, I could make something better. But what I make is lo-fi and I don’t try and it shows. But sometimes people do like it, when they see it, and they say I put into words how they feel. And most people won’t read my substack or my blogs on my website, so it’s good that I sprinkle some sentences over some dumb shitty videos of me dancing. I like sharing my thoughts (even with no pat on the back) and I like it even more when I form a sense of community amongst people who say “real” or “same” or “are you in my brain” in the comments. I don’t need virality on every video to feel good. I just need, like, a comment. I let so many flop videos stay up in hopes that someone feels good So I should keep making art, because in between the times where it really pisses me off to look at something I painted, it is a really cathartic and meditative experience.

Anyways, my weekend sucked. I am happier here in Colorado, and it’s springing early and I like that. It’s 20 degrees again today, but it’s been spring pretty much all winter. And now flowers are blooming and things are getting green, and I feel really peaceful. The clouds have been rolling over the mountain tops and it makes me feel like I’m in twilight. I walked around in the rain and sleet yesterday because I’ve finally been getting more steps in and I want to keep the streak. I feel like I’m going to peel my skin off when I sit around inside all day by myself. Sometimes it’s better if I do it with someone else, but a walk does wonders for any building anxiety. And walks in New York City are really stimulating, I can easily get 20k steps in and learn a good deal about the pulse of culture. Obviously the mountains in Colorado are different, and it’s too muddy to hike, but I’ve seen a lot of gorgeous well landscaped mountain homes. And they’re really interesting because they’re built in to the side of the mountain in different ways. I’m enjoying myself.

I’m also looking forward to going home during my shoulder season break. I miss New Jersey. A great cure for hometown hatred is to go somewhere random as hell all by yourself. I’ve developed a new deep rooted fondness for where I grew up, and im getting happier here so I’m feeling bubbles of gratitude lately, but if I could only pick one thing to be grateful for this would be it.

Anyways, grat

1. 1. I’m grateful I built out my own website and that I’ve put myself on different platforms, it feels really empowering to have a voice online because even if I’m kinda talking about dumb stuff, it’s not dumb to me at all. I’d know, because in sobriety I’ve been able to better discern what’s worth saying. So I mostly only say things worth saying, and sometimes I say pure brain rot just for the pleasure of it. I’m grateful for the opportunity and for the discernment. I’m grateful that I’m the type of person to rebel against my own standards too, because fuck it.

3. 2. I’m grateful I moved to the mountains and powered through the worst feeling ever, apparently called homesickness but it felt like physical and spiritual death and needs a better name to indicate the possibility that it’s excruciating.

5. 3. I’m grateful, always, for the berries and fruit at work, and the cheap papaya at city market, and now for the collagen. The healthy eating makes me feel good and feel good about myself, but the collagen actually makes me look better. Like, I can tell. So I’m grateful to be looksmaxxing in hiding in the mountains, to emerge my most healthy glowing and sexy self. Plus, the oxygen is probs great here, and I’m grateful that breathing contributes to my mountain glow up.

7. 4. I’m grateful for my pursuit of youth, and for retinol, because it’s good to pursue something and it’s great to have tools that will actually help. I literally just started retinol yesterday and I will be ramping up slowly because I don’t want to flake too bad, but I’m 27 and I wanna look 21 by the time I turn thirty. I’m grateful to have important goals!

9. 5. Im grateful to be going to Italy with my parents during my break. Does anyone have Amalfi coast recommendations? Or Florence recommendations? Rome for a half day? I’m grateful that I can ask that and likely get at least one thoughtful response.

10. 5b. I’m grateful I exist in a platform where my audience engages with me, and I engage back. It’s fun.

12. 6. I’m grateful first to be going home to NJ, and the to be visiting my friends in NYC. I’m grateful New York is my home-city because it’s objectively the best city in the US. There’s a lot to do, and I asked my girlfriend I’ll be staying with if we can go to the ballet. If she says no I’ll probably ask other people. I’m grateful she will probably say yes!

13. 7. I’m grateful to remember I can make choices that my parents don’t agree with, like potentially subletting in LA next winter. My parents don’t like LA, even though I was born there, and I am not totally obsessed with it but I do think it would be fun to live there for a few months.

14. 8. I am grateful that all of my coworkers literally just disappear at work, I have no idea where they go, but that means it’s also ok if I just disappear too even though I have strong work ethic and prefer to keep busy to pass the time. Writing my gratitude Substack in the bathroom also counts as keeping busy.

15. 9. I’m grateful I get endless free food and bev at work, too, and can take things home because that’s what everybody else does.

16. 10. I’m grateful I have friends/ familiar faces in the mountains now. It makes it less scary and more fun, kinda, but not that fun because I prefer to be alone if I’m being honest.

17. 11. I’m grateful that I am going to pottery with my friend later, even though it kind of pissed me off when she reminded me, because I was ready to go home and sit in bed for 5 hours doom scrolling, reading my book, putting my book down and doom scrolling more

18. 11b. Post pottery: I am grateful for my friend that reached out via social media and has been very grounding and fun and pleasant to be around, I’m grateful she likes to do activities and has follow through, and I’m grateful for the high vibrational crew at pottery tonight. I’m glad we went for dinner and drinks afterwards, even though I’ve been a real penny pincher here.

19. 11c. I’m grateful my mom told me to stop being a penny pincher, that I have more than enough money to enjoy my life and spend time with new friends doing fun things. For some reason I always feel better with my parents permission, even though I’m a full blown adult

20. 12. I’m grateful that literally no one has been prioritizing texting me because it’s making me realize I can and should stop checking my phone. I’ve been on a scrolling and opening app grind that is toxic and unproductive. It needs to end. And now that no one is paying attention to me anywhere on my phone, it might.

21. 13. I’m grateful to be planning a summer trip in Europe with my best friend to precede my other best friends wedding in Portugal. I’m excited for that.

22. 14. I’m grateful that I am growing wiser and more grounded and that I can recognize that

24. I’m grateful my work is hosting a mountain closing party this weekend for the members, hot dog theme, which means I’ll get to eat a bunch of hot dogs this weekend, too

Yeah. 👍

Hope yall have a lot to be grateful for and a lot to think about. I hope yall are like me.

So I am in a great Mood today, I went on a walk and it smelled like spring and the sun acted like a spring to summer sun in the sky today- with how warm it felt and how it cast light through my window at dusk. It was perfect. The reason I was so pissy last week is because I got my period. I knew it was coming and then I forgot and started to feel like demons were crawling through my rib cage. Then my period comes and by day two I feel like the SpongeBob meme where he has a flower cap on his head and he’s tossing flowers out of his basket. I often feel like SpongeBob, in all of his forms. But I’m much less annoying now than I used to be. My annoyingness used to feel so uncontrollable. Then I got sober and i became like a bag turned upside down, and the annoying dripped out of me, and eventually evaporated, dried up completely. Now I’m very chill. A new friend of mine asked me to describe her and I said “you’re like Jim Carrey in a hot girls body”. She is not very chill. I asked her to describe me In return, and she told me I was a chiller, I was “real” and “a chiller”. And I had never been described as that before. I am always too shy to ask someone to describe me, but people have called me “annoying” without me even asking, so there’s that. I’m glad I’m not annoying anymore. Though sometimes I feel too chill. I feel like a big chill boulder, and I cannot be moved to fake a laugh or emote in a way that I don’t actually feel. It’s a blessing and a curse, I guess, because people always feel pretty awkward when I don’t laugh at any of their jokes in the kitchen, and then when it’s funny I actually snort and crack up. Like, that’s when it becomes really obvious that your jokes maybe aren’t very funny. Because obviously my sense of humor is really good, and my laugh is really musical and pleasant.

Anyways.

I’m gonna share a gratitude list now:

1. I’m grateful I made a YouTube video, and I’ve showed myself I can post on YouTube at my leisure, and I don’t have to be all crazy about it like that family friend at UTA told me to do. Because at the end of the day I don’t wanna YouTube forever.

2. I’m glad I tell everyone my hopes and dreams to be an author so I can hold myself accountable to that

3. I’m glad that guilt and the pressure to be good and do a good job launches me out of bed in the morning. Like it did this morning. And I’m also glad because when I don’t launch out of bed, it proves that I actually need the sleep

4. I’m so grateful for and happy with the friendships I have right now, perfect for when I actually feel like being social, but not too close to where I can be pressured to do anything I don’t wanna do

5. I’m grateful for the fun exciting plans I have this summer, especially to go to the amusement park on the side of a cliff and to go to the air balloon festival

6. I’m grateful that I’m going home for a month in April, im looking forward to spending quality time in my parents cozy house, eating home cooked meals, spending time with family and friends, and that I will be in New York City during a beautiful time of year (it’s only good during fall and spring anyways)

7. I’m grateful the tiff with my mom is making me reconsider moving to LA instead of immediately back to NYC. It kinda cured my homesickness

8. I’m grateful to be getting a glimpse of spring/ summer right now in Colorado and I look forward to enjoying the summer season out west, which I’ve never experienced before

9. I’m grateful I have the shoulder season off to do travels

10. I’m grateful I can spend quality time outside very easily from where I live

11. I’m grateful that I painted today, went for a walk, ate fruit, filmed TikTok’s

12. I’m grateful I’ve been getting sent PR from brands because I love free stuff

13. Im sooo grateful I’m going to Denver tomorrow to drop off a car and spend the day with my pregnant work friend, thrifting, I have literally no summer clothes here so I need that, and I’m desperate to be in a city

14. I’m grateful my work schedule changed to 5 days a week and the shifts are soooo much easier I wish I did this sooner but how could I have known? I thought I had a good set up with 3 days off but nay, I was far too overworked to enjoy that

15. I’m grateful that I learned I don’t need to live in a ski town to go skiing. I can just go on vacation to go skiing, and actually chose the mountain that gets the most snow that year. For example, I would not have come to Colorado on a ski vacation this year

16. I’m grateful I have no desire to date, it works perfectly considering the fact that I have no viable

17. Prospects to date

18. I’m grateful for my wardrobe right now, I’m really sick of it tbh but it’s getting the job done / got the job done this winter

19. I’m grateful my roommate will be at a wedding for the next week and offered me to use her car. I’m going to go to Costco, I’m very excited for that, even if I only get collagen and wild blueberries

20. I’m grateful I have money in my bank account, even though it’s not a lot

21. I’m grateful for my platform and the people who care to engage with My writing and my videos and such

22. I’m grateful most of the j1 kids have left, they were getting really catty with eachother and I was getting sick of the drama. I’m grateful the j1 who I feel closest to/ who speaks the best English is here solo for another week

23. As always, im grateful for the berries and fruit at work and im grateful for the $5 papaya at city market

Im grateful to go to bakeries and get matcha with my pregnant friend tomorrow, in addition to the clothes I’ll hopefully get at the goodwill bins for cheap. I know I said this before but this time its different because its from a consumer Lens, like im grateful for more than friendship and experience and location. I also want to possess and consume things. Ok? If this gratitude list hits gods ears I want him to know that I want material goods and I want endless money to spend. I eventually want to go shopping in retail stores and feel comfortable spending money. Because right now I don’t, and I guess I’m grateful for that too, because I don’t actually have the money to spend!

I’m grateful for the health and happiness of my friends and family and coworkers and I’m grateful for a bright future and I’m grateful for my relationship with god who isn’t a genie to grant all my wishes but who maybe can sus out the vibe and grant me really good wishes? Basically. But the better way to say that is: all things that happen to me are in gods will, and obviously good things are happening to me because look at how much gratitude and happiness I have, and where attention goes energy flows, gods will for me is that I have a life full of gratitude, and good vibes. Amen.

See what I did there?

Anyways watch my new YouTube, “poetic controversial well read little princess”. I don’t talk about gratitude but I do ramble similar to here, and maybe sound a bit like an idiot. I mention some books I’ve read, I’m reading, and plan to read next. I talk about cancel culture and SA/ pedophilia (and not in an eloquent way), and I also talk about what’s new with me, kinda. Whatever. Life is about perception. And honestly, I think life is about sharing. And with that, attention. I just want attention. That’s why I even wrote this, honestly.

I’m so honest.

I’m having such a rough week. IM not that happy. I’m not like, sad per se. I’m more distraught than anything. I feel really stagnant. Usually bad things happen to me, and nothing bad has happened, which should feel good. But it’s the year of the fire horse, and I did all the Chinese rituals you’re supposed to do on Chinese new years (it was my first year celebrating, meaning I should be even more lucky). Techinally, according to how I perceive the situation, good things should be happening to me. I want to tell myself the universe is moving in silence, behind my back, conspiring. I want to believe good things are on the way. But I’m just in pain, lonely, tired, overworked homesick, mopey, feeling removed (not irrelevant, luckily, just removed from the lives of the people who matter most to me, which feels sad, even though I flaked heavily on everything I was invited to when I was home, for the most part). I was complaining to the j1 who barely speaks English, and she told me I’m probably not sad, I’m tired. The j1s make me think that American culture is fucked, and they’ve got it right in Latin America. They seem to be more in touch with human nature over there. Everywhere except here seems to be more in touch with human nature, actually. So I will try to believe her, that I’m not sad, I’m just tired.

Once I’m done writing this Substack I will probably look at flights home. I might take off work next weekend, even though the season is almost over, just so I can abate my homesick misery. Idk.

I

keep telling myself I am doing the right thing by even being here in Colorado, but I’m pretty much always thinking about my friends and family, who live no where near me. Of course, part of my problem was that I was constantly flaking on my friends back home, and I was relying way too much on my family for a 27 year old girl. I kind of moved out to vail on a whim, because I felt weird living at home past the summer time (an excuse that sounded reasonable to anyone asking, since my parents live at the Jersey shore and New York City absolutely blows in the summer. Anyone who says it’s great in the summer does not have an escape. I hate to break this news to the general public, but it’s the truth). So I had the awesome excuse that I was choosing to live at home and quit my job because I was figuring things out, New York in summer blows, and I had a European wedding to go to over the summer, which I extended for ten days (also reasonable, this whole thing reads like a flex). Except it’s not totally a flex, because bad things tend to just happen to me. I was hanging out sober and taking my prescribed beta blockers (for my mild anxiety) and I went manic. Publicly. Which, whatever, my views had been down anyways. I posted a months worth of manic TikTok’s, and manic-texted my exes, and rode my bike around all day, since I quit my job. It’s not that bad. I went inpatient, which was bad, but not for that long. I was kinda like: what the fuck, obviously, because what the fuck. I had been doing so fine! Naturally I booked a one way ticket to LA to stay at my best friends apartment while her boyfriend was on a surf trip. I overstayed my welcome just a bit, went to my friends aunts house in Virginia, and then came home, to coordinate my random ass move to vail. All of this sounds chaotic, but it was to help get my head right. And I think I am getting my head right. In a backwards way, because moving to the mountains was my plan A, and my plan B was being normal and just living in Brooklyn and waitressing and writing and hopefully becoming a renowned author or something. Plan C was LA. And my plan A kinda made me realize I love my friends, my home, the east coast, being comfortable, and relying on my parents a little too much. But my lease here won’t be up til October. And I’m like: what the fuck. I have made a few friends. I don’t want to meet any ski bum boys. My job is fine but I work too much. And I am usually feeling quite ill in my desire to be at home and comfortable on my parents couch while My mom cooks in the kitchen. I want my nice flat ceilings, no popcorn. I want my nice bathroom at home. I want to be in New York poking into museums and art galleries and going out to dinners and seeing boys that I’d actually maybe consider dating. I can’t believe I had to move across the country to realize I was who I am supposed to be exactly where I was before. Whatever. I need to write a gratitude list because I’m absolutely spiraling.

1. I’m grateful that I can grocery shop in the kitchen at my job

2. I’m grateful that random brands will send me free things if I ask them. I love free things, and if my microinfluence doesn’t get me paid I’m glad it at least gets me this

3. I’m glad I have my painting set up on my wall. I’m grateful I’ve gotten back into painting, even if I often fucking despise my art, like right now

4. I’m grateful summer is coming after the god awful snow in Colorado this winter

5. I’m grateful some people have faith in me

6. I’m grateful I can separate the online world and real life very easily, so I don’t despair or get cocky based on what’s happening on my phone.

7. I’m grateful that I’m figuring myself out here, even if it mostly feels painful. I do feel like I’m doing what I set out here to do. Maybe a little less snowboarding than I thought, given the shit conditions, but whatever.

8. I’m grateful I can technically move home whenever I want. If I want. I might want that.

9. I’m grateful my mom wants to go on vacation with me in may while I’m off of work, meaning I’ll get much nicer accommodations and I won’t have to spend money.

10. I’m grateful I don’t have acne like I used to

11. I’m grateful that I’ve gotten back into reading, and that I’ve committed to it as a past time

12. I’m grateful for my friends from all different times and eras in my life, who call me and text me often, and help me feel less panicky and alone

13. I’m grateful that I’ve let go of friends who suck balls and who are fine but kind of a waste of energy

14. I’m glad I have some friends that I don’t talk to but I know they’ll be around when it’s time for our paths to collide

15. I’m glad I’ve been single during this time so I can mold myself into my truest best version of myself, who is comfortable and happy alone, for when it’s time to be in a serious relationship. Hopefully my future partner is doing something similar

16. I’m grateful I’m committed to writing often, even if it’s not writing the book

17. I’m grateful it’s light out after work, even though I’m kind of annoyed it’s dark when I head into work in the morning

18. I’m grateful for the tulip lampshade covering the disgusting lighting fixture in my room. I’m grateful it distracts from the popcorn ceiling

19. I’m grateful for the weird little vintage chair I got for free off Facebook marketplace

20. I am grateful that I believe in god so I have a word to use and being to project towards when I’m flipping the fuck out saying foxhole prayers and begging for mercy

21. I’m grateful for the Argentinian j1 kids for the interesting perspective and the laughs at work. Even though they don’t speak much English. It’s taught me about humans I guess. Non verbal stuff.

22. I’m grateful for the laughs in the kitchen with my boss and my other coworkers. And I’m especially grateful that my boss lets me eat lots of fruit all day every day.

23. I’m grateful I have a safe comfortable room to hole up in and ignore my roommates, who are totally fine people, I just never want to be around them.

24. I’m grateful for the instant gratification I get from cleaning.

25. I’m grateful for the warm mid winter sun in Colorado, it’s kinda making me tan

26. I’m grateful for my website and my blog even though I write here more for some reason

1. I’m grateful I’ve almost lost the weight I gained over the holidays

2. Uhhhh

3. I’m grateful I can choose to leave. I might. Idk. I’m grateful I have the choice though.

4. I’m grateful for my platform. Even though I complain about it sometimes.

La la la la

Separate but similar, I got a LinkedIn notification that my ex got promoted. I don’t follow him on Instagram anymore, so I never know what he’s up to. My mind used to fill in the blanks, but lately I just wonder what he thinks of me now. When we were living together he had been pretty serious about wanting to leave the company that he is still working at. That was 3 years ago. I have changed a lot in the last 3 years.

I clicked through his update and onto his profile to check out his new profile picture. He looked way better than usual, in a haunted kind of way. I zoomed in and stared for awhile. I was thinking about him thinking about me, because it would make sense that his undying love for me is what caused that frightened look in his eye. Because it wasn’t fright, it was yearning. The picture didn’t churn up feelings because I never had any. But still, I was happy he was looking kind of better, because I have had a lot of time to ruminate on my motley crew of past lovers. They’re a reflection of my poor self esteem. I wish they weren’t so motley. I was picturing him in the line up, with his spooky glow up, hoping it would raise the group average or something. I think my lineup makes me look bad. Whatever.

So the point of me saying that is that after I quit corporate I made my own LinkedIn profile very quirky. In a manic burst I established and paid for an LLC, named “binksjardin”, after my website. I made a company profile and added that to my LinkedIn, with a link to my blog. LinkedIn is a professional place, and I wouldn’t say my blog, my substack, or my online presence anywhere is very professional. I knew this, despite the grandiosity, and topped off my updated profile with a random mirror selfie. To be ironic. I now recognize that I’d be better off deactivating my LinkedIn all together. Who needs it? If I’m trying to stray away from corporate and pursue an artistic career? Except I do still need it so I can creep on people, and get notified about the job updates of my opps and my exes. The problem is that my OPPs and exes get notified of who views your profile. I no longer have a company paying for the privacy to lurk. So my finance ex can see me tweaking and being manic on LinkedIn, updating my job to something questionable. Fucking whatever. I added freelance writer to the profile after stalking him, removed my weird picture, and called it a day. The manic LinkedIn needed to be updated anyways, and I’m grateful for the catalyst. He sees my content online and he knows what I’m up to, but the whole thing with him inspired me to stop embarrassing my corporate coded dad and brother on a professional networking app. So Dumb. I fixed it, whatever. Now I can see that it was a dumb move to change my profile to begin with. Goes to show manic ideas are big and they can be executed quick, but they aren’t always good. I should’ve left it with a random drop off, corporate tombstone. Now I guess I’ll just have to see the whole binksjardin LLC through, become a CEO, and buy everyone’s life.

Being manic can be so embarassing.

Luckily I just embarass myself online mostly. And in my parents house, when I decide I wanna start 15 companies, become an artist, become an actress, I’m already acting and aliens are watching, become a time traveler to escape the whole Mess.

I do too much.

Instead of getting in my head about myself (I know it doesn’t seem it online, but my brain hasn’t been as self deprecating as it always has been. I think the mountains and the switch up and the quitting my job and redoing my life and doing all too much is actually healing me). The point of this Substack is to have gratitude. Because I was kinda dipping into self loathing for a second. Maybe because this ex talked so much shit to me, and even though I didn’t have feelings for him, it’s bad for the subconscious to live with that kind of vitriol. So I’ll begin.

1. 1. I’m grateful that I got into the habit of praying on my knees, and lately for being thankful when I say a prayer and knowing god and the universe can read my mind and pull me out of a bad spot if I’m in one

2. 2. Im grateful that I’ve developed a trust in god/ the universe to bring me to the right place so I can always feel safe and secure that I’m where I’m supposed to be, even if it feels that I’m not where I’m supposed to be at all

3. 3. I’m grateful that my platform has reached so many people who say they feel and think the same as I do, and who say I express how they’re feeling in a way that makes sense. That makes me feel really good and it makes me feel less alone. I used to always think I was very alone in my thoughts and feelings about the world, and that was a scary place to be.

4. 4. I’m grateful that I have goals, finally, and a desire to live a long life and accomplish things. Because I for as long as I remember, I usually had a deep strong feeling that I wanted to be dead ASAP. And that doesn’t plague me the same. Like it has cropped up once in the past 8 months, and considering what a hard time I had when I got here, that’s a great stat.

5. 5. I’m grateful I have so many people I feel close to, especially after cutting so much fat from my life in terms of relationships. I’m grateful the people in my life now are really good to me, and I’m glad I can be and want to be good to them too.

6. 6. I’m grateful I am accepting of people for who they are and that I can stretch myself to have fun with different personalities from different places. I do need to work on the talking shit thing, because I call it “venting” and it really just makes me feel like a disloyal asshole. Bad habit. Should’ve given this up for lent instead of cursing, which I’ve done every single day since lent started. Or I could’ve given up chocolate.

7. 7. I’m grateful that I’m in a place where I have access to year round outdoor activities. I’m grateful I get to bike and hike easily this summer, and that I get to do the golf and tennis clinics for free/cheap. I am grateful to finally Look forward to summer.

8. 8. I’m grateful I can snowboard for my days off, and whenever I want for the rest of the season, and I’m grateful that my Pass was free. Especially since the snow has been so bad

9. 9. I’m grateful I have trips to Santa Fe and LA coming up (unplanned but still) and that I have a trip with my mom in may instead of going by myself, so I can save my bonus check. I hope we go somewhere good.

10. 10. I’m grateful I have a wide open future and now that I quit corporate I have the freedom to take risks that won’t feel as risky, because the biggest risk was taken and I wound up happier for it (despite my worries).

11. 11. I’m grateful i got sober despite really not wanting to / not thinking I needed to. I’m grateful for all the fun things I can fill my time up with now.

    12. 12. Im grateful I get hit on in the bars so often here, even though it’s mostly due to the ratio of guys to girls in Colorado. It makes me feel good about myself and it makes me want to go out more knowing I’ll get attention. I’m also grateful that I have no desire to be with a guy just for the sake of being with a guy, so I don’t wind up with some bummy weirdo on accident. I’m grateful my standards are higher than they were when I was drinking and not paying attention to anything.

12. 13. I’m grateful for my imagination and to have things to look forward to, but also for my new ability to stay in the present moment more and appreciate where I’m at. I know I’m on the journey because I don’t feel satisfied enough to rest and set up yet, and I am grateful that I can see that and appreciate the journey part, instead of being so scared that I wound up at a bad destination.

13. 14. I’m grateful I made the choice to read literature as I prepare to write my own book. I like feeling my brain stretching with the way sentence structure varies, and processing all the different ways to engage in story telling is fun. Even when it’s hard, aka right now, reading East of Eden.

14. 14. I’m grateful I can write little blurbs all day every day on my Instagram story. I have a lot of fun doing that. And I have fun looking at my camera roll and pondering out loud for anyone on the internet to read. It’s funny to me. Someone told me to make a coffee table of my story archive, and I think I might try to do that. Only if it could look pretty, though. I know it would be funny. Maybe I’ll lock in.

So yeah, I do too much sometimes. And sometimes I should rest more. But I have such a pressure on myself all of the time, and I am mostly proud of the outcome of that pressure. Like, I write on substack when I want to prioritize my blog on my website, where I feel more in control and superior to the average substack writer, because I decorated my blog from scratch all by myself.

www.binksjardin.com

I’ll start writing here again^ and keep Substack for my little gratitude lists

I took my spin at wearing short skirts and skimpy tops to get attention from boys in bars. I slowly covered up, one article of clothing at a time, til I realized I actually feel most like myself when I’m dressed a bit modest (maybe because I’m so used to wearing my mothers hand me down clothes). I like comfortable clothing, which I confused with graphic tees as a kid. I don’t care very much for graphic tees lately. Though I am very thoughtful when I do wear one, because I have to consider what kind of attention I’ll grab, and why. I like to make references to things in fashion or more references to things in my head, and doing this makes me feel like I’m in costume most of the time. I don’t know much about designer or runways and I’m ashamed of that, because I pay a lot of attention to it. I’m too new to focusing on fashion, and too cheap to indulge in that kind of styling, but just aware enough to know it exists (sad). I probably wouldn’t get attention from this genre of person for my style, but I keep paying lots of attention to them, to see if I can learn anything good and useful.

So I decided I didn’t want attention for being sexy, which is why I veered off the skimpy outfit path. It didn’t make me feel as great as I expected, before during or after the follow through (if you get what I mean). I don’t get much attention for my face, either, because I’m not willing to pout or make sultry eyes (I think that’s why, like the opposite of Marilyn Monroe effect, where I really can’t turn my switch to “on” and become all captivating and sexy, though I’d like to, obviously. Mines always switched to “off” I think.) I barely like smiling lately, unless I’m laughing. I don’t really care to grab attention of strange men because I don’t care to hold meaningless unanchored conversation. That’s what smiling does, if you didn’t know. And I’m not that talkative with people I’ve just met, since I don’t drink anymore. So I’m not trying to get chit chat kind of attention.

Instead, Id like to start hobbies and make little friend groups of people with similar interests as my own. Which is kind of what I’m doing, and why I pulled myself out of the city and plopped myself down in the middle of the mountains. I’m not really a huge outdoorsy girl (probably average?), but Colorado is a good place to be for someone dabbling in entry level hobbies (outside of going out to dinner). if you’re making friends in a group where you’re all participating in the same hobby, there could be conversation anchored in something with a bit of substance, outside of where you’ve vacationed, where you got educated, where you work, and where you like to dine and dance etc. And if I were in a good hobby-based friend group, maybe I’d say something observant about the hobby, maybe tennis since I’ve started the $35 tennis clinic. So I’d not be great at tennis (because I’m not) but id be able to make an assessment and someone would give me an impressed kind of attention, like: I had no idea how astute you were since you’re not that good at this, but clearly you have a good head on your shoulders, so it’s fine. I plan to do this tennis clinic, and a golf clinic over the summer, and my friend wants to learn to sail, so we can do that too. And I’ll come back to the city with all these new hobby’s I can keep up, and everyone else will have just gone out to dinner.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t care much about being good at sports. And I don’t plan to brag about my sporty new hobbies (outside of the pseudo brag I’m doing right now). Not the kind of attention I want. Then something is expected of you: like winning, or willingness to play. And I don’t always like playing games, whether it’s tennis or ping pong or a board game. And for some reason, games seem to usurp your autonomy. People bully you into playing games with them, it’s actually crazy. But I like a little bit of positive attention, like the assumption I’d be just athletic enough to not sink a team. I don’t want the bad attention where someone assumes you suck at a sport and doesn’t want you on their team, either. That’s why I always allowed myself to be just athletic enough. I never tried too hard, honestly. I did the camps and I even took private lessons for soccer in midsummer heat, only to be just good enough to float by. That was the goal, and I felt perfectly satisfied with the attention I garnered. I wouldn’t have done the private lessons if I didn’t think I needed a little bit more positive attention. Whether it was from my teammates or the coach I don’t remember. I’m willing to do annoying things for positive attention. Probably why I did well in school, and I was good enough to get solos in theatre (but never main roles). I want my parents to be able to brag about me to their friends, I wanted my teachers to like me (and I was very polarizing honestly, because my teachers either loved me Most or literally hated my child-sized guts).

I don’t really always want everyone to like me, even though I say so. Like, I never did cheerleading (when my mother begged and told stories of her cheerleading days) even though I took tumbling and learned a back handspring. I don’t read the trending book and watch all of the trending shows (only some) because I don’t feel a kick from that mainstream kind of attention. Sometimes I want to be a part of the conversation when everyone’s talking about White Lotus or the JFK Jr love story, so I watch and I usually enjoy the show. But that’s just because it feels like a cultural phenomenon: where everyone’s attention is. Maybe I want to feel like everyone’s attention is on me, but that feeling has scared me before. I was mad, too, that the feeling scared me. When my follower account first started rising, I was pressing it higher with my will. But the numbers and the visibility would wake me up from my sleep with an anxious dissociative feeling. It felt like the attention flowing in was out of my control. And that was unusual for me, because I’d always been a master at the attention I was getting. I felt when I wanted more attention in school (not caring whether that attention was good or bad) I could just get louder. I could make loud jokes that would make certain people laugh (maybe at the expensive of others) and I could disperse which kind of attention was coming from who. This wasn’t the best method to get all good attention, which I learned is what I wanted. I read my Reddit snarks, because I’m nosy as hell about what my most negative attention says about me.

One snarker, referring to college, said that my main goal was to be hot and popular. Which didn’t feel like much of a snark at all. That was my goal in life up until fairly recently, and it still might be! They nailed me to my cross. I knew then (deep down) and I know now (up front) that not everyone thinks Im hot, and not everyone thinks Im likable. Boohoo! I blame the uncontrollable variables in my quest for attention. Like alcoholism, for one (and the annoying behaviors that come from being a drunken tween—teen—early 20s blackout). Like cystic acne (not very hot, period). Like my binge-eating body, and the awkward kind of outfits you put together when none of your clothes fit you (because you’re convinced you’ll lose the 30 pounds pretty much as soon as tomorrow, so you go 4 years without buying jeans that fit). I’ll be the first to admit, these sort of things garner you negative attention. As someone who always wanted/wants to be popular and liked and dare I say loved and adored, I was really at my wits end with how to turn it all around. Like, I thought I was doing mostly everything right, in order to be lovable. I was being myself ( innately likeable, duh), and trying to be polite and friendly, but ultimately taking the chance to be goofy and “funny”. And maybe sometimes, to the right crowds, that landed. I was animated and theatrical. Like a jester. And it did work to some degree, because I’ve always had plenty of people I’d consider friends, and I never had to spend any time alone. So I could constantly be stimulated with attention from others! But still, some people disliked me. My least favorite kind of attention :( And usually, if you’re anything like me, you’ll do anything to ignore the truth of this situation, or how you might feed the fire. Not everyone is for everyone, is the first rule of the book. And if I’m being authentic and myself, and people don’t like me, we’re not meant to be. You know? I’m choosing my wavelength and they’re not in it. And I don’t always make excuses for myself, but when I do, it’s usually when I can’t fix or change something immediately. Which feels very valid, honestly. Like I give myself a moment to catch up, either consciously or subconsciously. And when it’s conscious, and the goal is to flip negative attention to positive, you find loopholes. Like I did in highschool and in college. For example: no one will pay attention to your acne if you pile on hundreds of dollars of Hourglass foundation and stand in a dark corner. Just stay away from sunlight or direct overhead lighting, and If you can’t, never wear your hair up! Life hack. No one will notice your flaws, you’re perfect! Another life hack: if you wear A line skirts and shirts that cover your arms, no one will be able to keep their eyes off your tiny little waist, and you’re bound to get attention for having a coke bottle body (even if it is 30 pounds above your average, and your BMI is teetering towards a number that calls out your binge drinking and binge eating in the on campus dining halls). Like, wear those leggings to class again, not because nothing fits you, but because you have a nice big ass! Pair it with a giant sweatshirt that says kappa, you’re soooo valid and hot. Trust, your ass and your top tier status are the only things that people can possibly pay attention to. They literally won’t look at your uncombed hair or your makeup from the frat mixer, but if they do, they’ll prob think you’re cool for going out on a week night (lol, quirked up shawty, fun girl). They won’t smell tequila Oozing from your pores, and they won’t notice you’re still drunk from last night when you whisper nonsense at full volume to your in-class-only-friend who feels genuinely unlucky sitting next to you. They will think you’re hot and popular. Duh. This is Positive Collegiate Attention 101. Plus, if you’re loud and spazztic around campus during the day, they’ll pay attention double. Positive attention, because you seem so fun and you’re so eye catching with your flailing arms (shouldn’t someone call standards on her?) No, because that behavior last night wasn’t a drunken blunder, this is who I am, as you can see from my behavior now. And you better be paying attention, because I’m really fun and silly and interesting, and I’m Not an alcoholic! Plus, my best friend is actually standards, and she deflects all of your guys comments, so seriously stop fucking trying, I know you can’t stop paying attention to me, I’m invincible!!!

In all seriousness, I learned a thing or two from paying way way way too much attention to myself. Like: to stop wincing and cringing at all of my memories (new and old) I had to stop repeating the cringe behaviors. And I had to stop drinking. With the embarrassing mania crash outs that garner so much attention every time, I had to keep locking in and making positive comebacks and getting back in step with my normal-self and my normal-peers, with my head held high. Because that garnered enough positive attention to help me pretend the really negative attention wasn’t more eye catching and interesting. And eventually people kind of forget, so I just had to get through it, smile, be nice, and grit my teeth over my inner dialogue about the whole thing. When I became ashamed of my TikTok scroll brain rot and jealous of the seemingly eloquent tiktokkers who were educating me and drawling parallels I could never think of myself, I started reading more. And when I felt like I was behind on the cultural conversations amongst the academic circles I longed to be in, I started reading more (but this time, reading literature). Where I put most of my attention: I recognize that’s where I want to be, or what I want from life. I clocked that I had so many pictures of lighting fixtures of my phone, to recognize I have a strong interest in fixtures, and I paid attention to every fixture I’d see, and I’d do a little due diligence on the period of origin, materials, design, etc. Then I recognized I care about architecture and design, and I pay more attention to the point where I recognize I don’t have the vocabulary or the knowledge to describe and hold a conversation about design OR architecture. And this starts to shape my path forward, because I think: do I checkout library books about these things? Or take courses? Or go back to school? How much of my attention does this all deserve? And then I take a step back and recognize I’m not begging people to pay attention to me as much as I used to. I’m paying a lot of attention to things I find to be beautiful or interesting, and then it leads me to pay attention to my everyday life, how I learn, what I talk about, what I do, where I go, and maybe what my future of work looks like, if I choose that. It Makes me feel like I will never be bored, and like I can fill my life up with interesting, entertaining things. Like I don’t have to be the interesting, entertaining person. I was always a jester for attention, and I’m not really like that anymore. I started paying a lot of attention to what I pay attention to. Instead of working myself into a thing that people would pay attention to. And of course I shake and shimmy online, and I cut my edits in my videos quickly and change the pace of the text in a way where I’m trying to capture and hold attention for just long enough. Because I do think I have a good message to share, I think I am good at sharing it (sometimes, when I try to spell check and edit at least a bit) and I think I am a good person to do the sharing. For those reasons, I want to capture attention. Ultimately the message I try to convey is: my life was challenging when I was actively drinking and partying, and quitting made my life much much better. It has given me purpose. So I want to show my journey to people who may find themselves in similar positions and don’t know what their options look like. I want to be a part of of destigmatizing mental illness by sharing my experience: I was diagnosed bipolar in college with 2 severe manic episodes, and I was sexually assaulted as a freshman. In spite of this, I graduated on time, cum laude, and I maintain many positive healthy relationships from college. Post grad I’ve held high-pressure corporate jobs in major cities. When I got the diagnosis, I was in a tizzy on google trying to shake the magic 8 ball and have it tell me what was going to happen to me. And there was no good news or references to look up to, no celebrities declaring their bipolar diagnosis (just exhaustion). I literally thought my life was over. I was the first person that anything bad had ever happened to. It was the same thing when I was sexually assaulted (pre me-too movement). None of this stuff was what I wanted attention for, and it seemed to be defining my life at the time. If I didn’t bring it up so much online for the sake of bringing attention to the concept, I’m not sure how often I’d think of any of this. The worst tragedies of my life seem not that significant anymore. But I know I’ve been processing and healing and growing past these traumatic parts of my life for awhile now, and there are a lot of younger people who maybe still think it’s very tragic. I wanna be a Google Hit (or a TikTok send) for someone to see that their position is not the end of the road (even though it feels like it). And that’s why I put so much emphasis on these things. Of course I’d love To be the kind of influencer that gets attention for being really Hot and stylish and mysterious and cool. I’d like to be brand safe and to make money online posting free stuff with #ad in the caption. But it’s more important for me to put attention on these things first and foremost. Otherwise I’d prolly have no purpose online, and I’d go to school to be an architect or an interior designer, and just put all my effort into world building in that way. Ideally I sit down and world build a book or something, maybe that way I could make some money. I’d rather be rich in cash than rich with attention, honestly.

Xxxxxx

^ I was never like, begging or posing for my friends would take pics of me. But obviously I liked it when they chose to do so on their own.

You should know this is a lie, I always care way too much about my roommates, regardless of how I feel about them. I am a reliable narrator, at the cost of sounding chalant and affected.

So if I’m being honest, my roommates probably don’t think I’m mad at them. They invited me to cook dinner at a house-sit-home tonight and I declined, with a pretty flaky sounding excuse. My guess is that they probably think I don’t like them. If they even overthink like that. Maybe they don’t, and maybe they think I just didn’t wanna go for no apparent reason. That would be great, because that is the truth. And this whole roommate dynamic is a good step for me, because for far too long I cared way too much about people liking me. To be liked by people, you typically have to put in some special effort, or at least acknowledgement. And I don’t go out of my way to acknowledge my Roommates in this special kind of way. I guess Im not desperate for my roommates to like me, is all. I’m not as talkative now as I was when I was younger. This is because I don’t get bored enough to sacrifice my peace or give up brain space on bad or lazy conversation. I’d much rather sit through some awkward silence than participate in a bad or lazy conversation, and then I can scurry back to what I was doing.

That’s another thing. I am often doing something these days. I make videos and I write and I paint and read and draw, and all of these things are pleasant enough that I much prefer them to just hanging out for the sake of it. I used to love hanging out for the sake of it! My whole identity was based around hanging out at one point, actually. That, and drinking. I wanted to be a fun party girl. And that version of me would definitely have hung out with pretty much anyone, talking about anything, to avoid being alone. Or disliked. I’m glad I have a healthy distance between me and that version of myself, honestly. I don’t think I would have liked being her roommate. I don’t know if I’d like being my roommate now, but I guess it depends what I would want out of the situation. I don’t know these people. I don’t know what they want. And frankly, I don’t really care. Not to be rude. I just don’t have the space to care about what strangers want. Cos then I risk feeling weird if it’s different from what I am capabale of giving. Also, why would I need to give anything to strangers? Best friends, or close friends, or friends, maybe. And that’s another good way of explaining why I don’t want to be friends with my roommates.

Home is a break from having to figure people out, in my opinion. I am an adult and I know that people prefer space and quiet, at a minimum. I doubt my roommates care that I make myself more of a ghoul haunting the space than anything. And I don’t care what metaphor they would use to describe me. I don’t really know who they would talk about me to, I don’t know their friends, and they don’t live with their friends. And neither do I (though they visited, and I wept and wept the day before they left to go home, because I was desperately wising that we did live together).

Living with your best friends is relaxing and soothing, and it’s fun, but the kind of fun where you get a break from the world outside. You also get a buddy to hold your hand and go places, and errands become more fun because they’re together, and suddenly there are so many more things to do that make the day less mundane, and you’re always giggling or chatting, and the fun never runs out. I miss living with my best friends. We were perfectly codependent. I definitely appreciated it when we did live together, but now I am greedy and wish it never had to end. I wish I could live on a commune with my best friends, for forever actually.

I made a mistake and didn’t live with One of my best friends when I moved back to NYC from my first solo lease/big girl job in the Bay Area. In my head I knew I partied harder and more often than she did, and I didn’t want her to disrupt that perfect bender flow I had woven for myself. So I told her No, and I continued couch surfing with lovers and friends until I eventually Wound up living with the boyfriend I didn’t really want to date to begin with. Weird situation, though I do think everything happens for a reason. She moved in with her now fiance and I drank myself sober. Two best-case scenarios, all things considered. I like to think I learn and grow with each weird living situation I have gotten myself into ever since I stopped living with my best friends. When I was living with my best friends, I wasn’t growing or learning, and maybe that’s why it had to end. I want to tell god that I’ve learned and grown enough, and I need a break, and the next good dynamic that happens to me should be equal or better than the scenario where I got to live a codependent life with my best friends. As a treat.

So as far as my current roommates go, I found the listing on a Facebook group. I did the same thing in NYC when I was desperate for a quick furnished lease, and it worked out perfectly (I moved in within the week to an apartment down the block from the lease I was leaving). In New York and here in Colorado, the apartments had everything I needed: rent in my budget, proximity to public transportation, room by myself, decent light, good-enough bones, mostly furnished. The Colorado apartment also had 3 roommates I knew nothing about. But they were all girls, which is rare for a ski town. I said I didn’t care about anything aesthetic wise, and I didn’t care if I liked the girls or not. Many people asked me about that, and my friends were suspicious about whether I thought the whole arrangement through. Not that there was anything particularly odd about the situation, other than the fact that I didn’t know any of my roommates names or backgrounds. Except the girl who had put up the Facebook post. Kind of. And to me, this was fine. I met my Last roommate on Facebook and it was only by a surprise bonus that I had a few mutual friends with the girl. I felt Lucky that I got the seal of approval from a friend-of-a-friend who went to college with my future roommate. She was quirky in a fun way, like I was living with a sitcom character. I would have considered us friends, and I think she would have too. As far as my Current roommates go, I don’t like them in a friend capacity, but I don’t dislike them either. They are not like sitcom characters. This is an unusual thing for me, to not have strong opinions on these people. I’m usually very black and white with my likes and dislikes, and I usually try to default to liking people who I interact with often, if only To report to my friends and family that everything is fine with me. I like telling people that life is good, and I like meaning it. But mostly I just get really sick of bitching when things aren’t good. Roommate drama is pesky and annoying and I prefer to have none (either no roommates, or no drama, though I’d rather live with my best friends than have no roommates. Preferably In a huge house with wings. Or maybe just being neighbors with my best friends would be enough, actually). Probably obvious, but as a person, I don’t feel “nothing” very often. I feel very intensely very often, and when I feel “nothing” it’s usually because anger fried off my synapses and lobotomized my thoughts. And even that isn’t “nothing” because my brain feels like TV static for awhile, and then a dull ache replaces the thoughts about whatever used to make me angry before I willfully forgot about it.

This intense anger to lobotomy pipeline usually happens to me towards the end of a friendship. In a scenario like this, I pent up a lot of anger and resentment, finally let it blast, and don’t get the exact response I’m hoping for. Then my brain fries, because I’m like: how the fuck do you not see that I’m right?

Obviously I would prefer not to waste all of that emotion and mental turmoil on random roommates. It would be borderline irresponsible of me to do so, seeing that I know what a tizzy I can spin in to, and I know that my friends and family would fall victim to hearing me complain. Not fair for anyone. That’s why I refrain.

In college, I had a random roommate that I didn’t get along with. I don’t have much to say about that situation because I know I was an obnoxious alcoholic, and I know she had problems of her own. I just kind of avoided the room by the second semester, when I found my friends. The friend group I found was a little too big, I guess is the right way to put it. Like, not everyone got along by the end of college. Specifically with my direct roommate. She had a lot of lovable qualities, and a few hard to overlook qualities. Unrelated to other aspects of the failing friendship, I had let a petty living situation issue fester for too long. I bitched to a lot of people in my life about this girl and the behaviors that pissed me off. I was very fair in saying she also had qualities I liked, because I did still like hanging out with her most of the time. But she knew I was pissed because I have a terrible poker face. And I said nothing. Maybe it’s due to the fact that as a friend, I’m always saying something, or calling it as I see it or whatever, that makes this bad behavior on my part. Or maybe it’s that I ran around bitching. I just felt justified in doing that because I was too angry at her by this point, that I felt TV static in my brain and couldn’t barely speak. I couldn’t barely look at her, actually. And if I’m being honest, I didn’t. I pretended like she wasn’t in the room. I let her get into screaming matches with our other friends and roommates, and felt happy that my anger was being channeled through the mouths of our shared friends. I felt very vindicated, because I honestly felt this girl had really wronged me! If I’m being honest, we shared a room, and she got a queen bed and I got a twin, when we had both agreed to get twins. She was also a mess and ate in her bed and left massive piles of clothes and used my makeup vanity. Then I became overly analytic about every little thing she did, because that’s how I am. Or was. I haven’t shared a room with someone since, and I wouldn’t really want to.

So I ended up as the bitch in this situation. From her perspective. I think our other friends were bitches too, according to her, but I felt confused, because I actually thought she was the bitch! Sometimes I think the way I go about conflict is wrong. Like, everyone in the whole apartment had a problem with her, but I was the scapegoat, and I felt like we all walked away allowing me to take the fall for the dynamic, because I was pissed about the bed sizes, and I couldn’t look her in the eye. I think she blamed me the most when she wasn’t a part of our senior year apartment. And it wasn’t me the most, it was another girl! Ask anyone!

Just kidding. Or not just kidding, but I’m trying to be more OK with being the villain. I don’t want to be an apologist for behaviors I do not feel sorry about. Like, I would probably behave that way again. I want to not think and live my life and not care if I’m demonized In a girl fight or whatever. Because rarely are two people angelic in a fight, or even one person, and if I’m going to be a demon I might as well understand my role and play it well, no?

This happens to me a lot, the demonizing thing, and I do think it maybe is a me problem. Only hard part Is that none of the people I’m still friends with (regardless of closeness or length of friendship) have said much about where I go wrong in my falling outs. Usually my friends know the details of my dramas, and they stay my friend even after dissecting my role in my life. Now I’m a grown up and I dont dissect my role as often, because I see the through line for myself and have kind of got an understanding of who I am. Or I do it the same, but I dissect on the internet and call it “writing”. The main problem with this girl is that we all lived together the next year without her. And we stayed friends for years without her, til now, still now. And she told me this at a bar when I was being friendly with her and she said she was still hurt. And I don’t want to hurt her, and I feel bad because I know that definitely sucks to see. But I also wasn’t the ringleader of the whole thing. And she also didn’t seem to feel very accountable for her own role in the friendships dying. So I don’t know. Maybe I have natural born leader energy, which confuses some people and causes them To blame me most! It probably isn’t the fact that I’ve ever done anything wrong. It can’t be, because I’m pretty aware of the things I do wrong, even if I continue to do them anyways.

So I lived with my best friends from college for about 6 months after college. After we graduated there was a short stint over the summer where we all lived at home with our parents in New York and New Jersey, waitressing. Living with your parents as roommates when you’ve already had friends as roommates is a challenge. Of course I’ve done this a few times, at different intervals between moves. For the first few weeks they miss you and adore you, and then they’re confused why you’re autonomous. I do not like reverting back to my childhood self when I live at home, I do not like being bossed around, but I definitely like saving money. Like, I might try to do it again. Especially because the Argentinian 20-something’s I now work with all live at home with their parents still, because that’s just what they do over there. I think it’s an economy problem, but I seem to struggle in our economy when I’m out on my own, too. I used to judge people for living at home when I met them out at bars or clubs in New York. I was kind of like: what are you doing here? Where are you staying? And why are you out right now? The questions had clear and valid answers, but I thought they were losers because I wanted to think I was better for not doing that. These people can probably afford much nicer apartments now. They can probably afford groceries, too. I can’t say the same for myself!

I do feel valid moving home after Colorado, if I choose to ignore the laundry list of reasons not to. After living in many different places with many different people, the choice would feel different. It would be considered wise, actually, because I have experienced many versions of living out on my own, and I missed home over and over again, for one reason or another. Why shouldn’t I be taken care of at home by the people who love me most? I don’t party anymore, so I don’t need an outpost for easy bar access. Being close to friends is really nice, but not when it feels like no one can ever hang out because they all have jobs and boyfriends. It only feels fair, since all of my best friends live with their boyfriends/fiances now, that I should also live a cushy comfortable life. For some reason their boys seem to cook and clean like a proper Martha Stewart. It would pretty Much be the same deal if I chose to move back home at some Point, because my mom is also a proper Martha Stewart. Did I mention it’s entirely free to exist at home?

So after graduation, my two best friends in the world and I decided to move to Utah for college 2.0 (all of the drinking and boys, none of the education, still waitressing). After that ski season the three of us went our separate ways. Not because of a falling out or anything. We are still close. Just not roommates. Though I have forced my way into some sleepovers in Brooklyn and some elongated stays in LA when their respective boyfriends are out of town. It’s just noticeable now that I come second. Technically we would all agree I fall into a different category, but it feels like second. We went separate ways because a new life chapter was ushered in, and we had to fucking work. *had to is a strong way to phrase this. Personally, I felt an intrinsic pressure to get a desk job immediately following our ski winter, and I took my entry level job in the Bay Area kind of against my desires. I didn’t know where I wanted to live for sure, I just knew I was willing to move if I had to (kind of dumb choice to move solo for an entry level job, but I digress). Now that career-move pressure is gone for me, and I’m doing my side quest adult life the way my best friends and I fantasized about in college. We planned well into our twenties together, thinking up different versions of our ideal futures. I pictured my future alongside friends well into my 30s, because I never wanted to feel rushed or forced into a relationship. Im glad I set that principle for myself, because it has made it easier to not feel pressured in terms of relationships. I think the new pressure I have on myself is building a creative career from scratch, and that starts with everyday pressure of creating a bit of something each day. Unfortunately I do not have structured ideas around where I want to live, or how I want to maximize my relationships with friends and eventually with my partner. It feels more out of control, honestly. Hence why I am living with random strangers, and not my best friends. I still think of my best friends every day, and we talk just about everyday, so I feel the slightest bit accomplished in that bare- minimum check box item being crossed off pretty- regularly.

This is not the case with my current Colorado roommates. I try to think of them as little as possible. I talk to them when I see them. I like pretending I live alone, or live in a hotel with other guests, but not people I need relationships with. This doesn’t sound very nice of me, and I don’t really care. I mind my business and I’m clean. What more would I need to be, without becoming a friend? And I don’t want the responsibility of living with friends that I learn about as I go. It can get so sticky in a dynamic like that. Plus, I would rather be alone than have friends that I don’t care much for. I’ve learned this.

The problem that cropped up this weekend is that I’m just not trying to go to dinner with my roommates. The truth is that I’m worn out from the work week. And the secret sneaky added layer is that I actually prefer if we aren’t close. Going to a homecooked dinner at a mansion in beaver creek would strengthen the bond in a way I don’t really want. No hard feelings. I just don’t need to go out of my way to eat and sit in a hot tub together, because I’m tired, and because these are not my best friends. I did notice I’m the only one cleaning the bathroom. So I don’t really feel bad about my half ass transparent excuse not to do dinner. Because km not gonna ask my roommate to clean the bathroom, when I’d be cleaning it anyways if I lived all alone, which is sometimes what I pretend when our work schedules put us out and about at nearly opposite times. I prefer to have a clean bathroom and an empty sink, so if that means I need to scrub the toilet and wash the dishes, so be it. No sweat off my back. I already clean at work all day every day, and objects in motion stay in motion. I have the momentum for cleaning, basically. The fridge is also full of massive chobani and sour cream containers filled with soup and leftovers that I bring home from work and don’t eat. I told everyone to eat them so it didn’t become a haunting image in the fridge. I find it to be unsettling too, if I step outside myself and forget that I’m the one doing this. I think I may be the haunting roommate, for real.

I often wonder if the strangers I choose to live with think I’m a good roommate. Since I’ve gone random twice now, there’s a good diversified pool of people to fill out a survey. My roommate in Nolita would be good with filling out the survey. It maybe wouldn’t be in my favor, but she was honest, so I would like to see what she had to say. Like she told me the guy I was seeing had dark evil eyes, much like a shark. This was descriptive, negative and ultimately valuable information. She withheld this until we ended, because she didn’t want to skew my Perspective. Another great quality in survey respondent! She was a few years older than me, and she had a sparkly, thrifted, eclectic style and humor, which made me thoroughly entertained by her. At first I didn’t notice that she knew how funny she was, because she was dry and energetic and liked to play dumb. She had a harem of men she liked to swing through the apartment, and she liked to tell me stories, and I liked to ask and listen. I don’t think she listened to my stories, which was fine. She always invited me to hang out with her friends, and they were in their 30s and reminded me that everyone stays pretty childlike when they want to be. I’m sure there were some things about me that pissed her off, like the way that I ate all her snacks. She would definitely mention that in the survey. For some reason I couldn’t help myself, which is something that I didn’t (and still don’t) like about myself. I would replenish her snacks of course, because I’m not a total gluttonous freak, but it was obvious when I did, because there were 2 sugar free chocolate jellos in the fridge when she left, then none, then 6. Shameful. And I did clean the bathroom. She didn’t like when I attempted to add my decorations from my prior apartment to the living room, so I didn’t try. I pick up on social cues like that. I wonder if she noticed that and acted accordingly, or if she thought she was lucky with me not caring to decorate. She redecorated often, and some set ups I liked better than others, but I let her do her thing, because I saw she got joy from it. Overall it was a really chic and well decorated spot. I don’t think she loved when I started TikTokking in the living room, but I mostly tried to save that for occasions where she was out. She started tiktokking herself for a little Bit, so maybe she didn’t mind that much. She went out a lot, so I got my fashion show, then an apartment to myself, and in the morning I got to hear a debrief or sneak a peek at a new guy. I didn’t mind this. She always apologized when she would leave a drunken mess or host a post game, but I really didn’t mind at all, and I always assured her. I’d follow up with questions about her night, because I was actually living vicariously through her. I had just gotten sober the month I moved in, so I really liked to hear the details, and even get some Eye witness accounts. We went out a few times together, mostly when I had visitors. I don’t know if she thought I was loser, honestly. I referenced my old life, but my freshly sober chapter was way more obvious. When I met her out I didn’t stay for long. She hosted a few open bars that I showed face at, but I always left early. She pretty forcefully exchanged locations with me, which I quickly became appreciative of, so I could quickly run out and buy her new jello packs from across the street as her little blue location dot floated closer to the apartment. It was super helpful for things like that. It wasn’t helpful when I Irish exited her parties and came back to the apartment before midnight. I like to think these instances wouldn’t make it in the survey because she was having way too much fun. I think she thought it was bizarre when I abruptly told her I was leaving new York, and subleasing my room. I set her up with a cute roommate who worked long hours in the hospital. Because I’m thoughtful.

I only have one of my roommates locations now, but it was more helpful to just ask her point blank what her work schedule was. Not that it really makes a difference because I spent most of my time in my room anyways, but it’s nice to know when I get to be alone through the whole apartment. We barely are home at the same time, which makes it easy to live entirely separate lives. Unfortunately I learned the walls are really thin, and I wish I knew that before I took upwards of 50 phone calls in my room. I think all of my roommates possibly know more about my life than I originally anticipated, thanks to this little problem. I’m not sure I can be more analytical of the dynamic here without defeating the purpose of not really thinking about my current roommates. I just hope they don’t think of me either.

Even if I was living with my best friends now, I would probably still venture out solo. I’d probably be doing a lot more than I do now, and I’d probably feel a lot happier, too. Because sometimes walking around alone, I am reminded of college, and I loved college. But who knows, maybe I wouldn’t. Im a grown up now, and I see my best friends on vacations or over weekends or out to dinner. I can’t really speculate on what life would be like otherwise, because I haven’t lived life alongside my best friends in a long time. Though they have met my random roommates (both here and in NewYork), and I was really happy that they view these characters and dynamics the same as I do. Otherwise I would feel like a real villainous asshole.

Me in my room^

I wore red to work today to be festive. And I was very overwhelmed to be wearing my own clothes in the kitchen, instead of my uniform. I always wind up covered in sink water, and today was no exception. I work at a members club, let me remind you it’s a very glamorous set up, but I do have to wash dishes every day. Among other more desirable tasks, like cutting and eating lots of fruit. Today I ate cut and ate many strawberries, to celebrate the holiday. Sans chocolate, because I’m on a special new diet, where I don’t graze every 10 minutes for the entire day. I gained ten pounds in the last month due to the way that I constantly have something in my mouth. Abstaining from snacking is a small price to pay. The alternative would be shopping for new pants, and I barely shop as it is. I don’t make as much money as I did in corporate (obviously) but even then I had a broke ass mindset, and barely went shopping. I inherit hand me downs from my mom. We all know I come from privilege because I’m willing to admit it. I wish I came from more privilege so I didn’t have to work, but I digress. I’m fine.

The weight gain thing is very freshman kitchen-staff of me and I can admit I made a mistake. I can also admit I’m panicking about being able to feel my body. I’ve had many men make comments on my weight, usually “don’t eat that” or a comment about how great I’d look if I lost 15 pounds. The same boyfriend who made that comment also got me a cactus for Valentine’s Day in lieu of flowers. A very cunty move! I would prefer to date the kind of men who buy flowers regularly, and who suggest that I don’t have to work. That is why I’m single on Valentine’s Day.

The weight comments didn’t ruin my body image, but I can say that I’m the same weight right now as when he told me to lose 15. I am heavier than I was when a guy told me not to use heavy whipping cream in my coffee, because it would make me fat. To be honest, I don’t know why, as an Almond milk girl, I would be using Heavy Whipping Cream. Unless, of course, that was the only thing this guy had in his fridge. He was kind of fat himself, if I’m being transparent. But he had thin legs, and thin leg people get away with weight gain. I would know, because I am not a thin leg girl. I have always been hyper aware of the size of my thighs, actually.

The cactus-ex was in my dream last night. I was front row to a concert, which was unrealistic because I stopped going to concerts after Covid. They’re very overstimulating to me now. As a teenager I loved concerts, because they were an excuse to blackout and make out with everyone (if I was lucky)! It was always upsetting to make out with a guy at a concert and see him making out with another girl after you. Worse was to pretend like you didn’t care. The same sort of thing would happen in college at frat parties, and sometimes at bars. In an effort to avoid this special brand of humiliation, I usually tried to go for total losers. Top tier frat boy losers, of course (seeing that adjacent-popularity and name dropping were very important to me) but losers nonetheless. This mostly prevented me from getting picked and discarded, but not completely. I haven’t been cheated on in a real Way, thanks to this tactic, because literally no one ever wants my boyfriends. In my head I tell myself that by choosing these loser boyfriends, I make them more desirable. But they’re bad enough to where that isn’t even really the case. My last boyfriend still hasn’t had a rebound. And technically, neither have I. So I have no idea what that says about me.

So Lo and behold, my ex is in my dream, at this concert. I’m actually at the concert alone, which is the least shocking part of the dream, because I’ve mostly been existing in a state of solitude for the past year or so. I was horrified he would see me alone. Even though I know that everything bad that’s happened to me since we’ve broken up has gotten back to Him. That’s because we share mutuals, and he sees them more, because he doesn’t isolate. I know this because I ask about him. He has been in my dreams a lot lately, which I thought may be a Sign that he got a new girlfriend, or a new job, or that he died. Unfortunately I do not have a keen sixth sense, because apparently nothing new has happened with him! Thank god. I tell myself being alone and soul searching (or whatever it is I’m doing right now) sounds good by word of mouth. I tell myself that every guy I’ve ever been with (or wanted to be with) has seen my social media presence by now, and yearns for me. I imagine that they see me making major life changes, and they envy me, and they notice I have had a glow up since we were together, and they imagine my personality has changed for the better, too. And I’m not saying it has or hasn’t, but I will say I am not giving out any second chances to my roster. Unless, of course, they changed aesthetically and spiritually, and they told me I wouldn’t have to work. Then I may become repeat offender.

There was a month or two in my soul searching journey where I wasn’t doing well and I thought: I should text him. And some of the hims I was referring to did actually get a text. The ones who didn’t are not single, and I didn’t want to disrupt anything Good happening, because Ideally I would like my garden of little losers to grow into winners. I want good things to happen to people. This is my team, after all. In the spiritual realm we are apparently bound by inrercourse, so if they’re winning, that means I must be, too. So yes, I want all my exes to win.

But my valentines post is not to talk about breakups or exes or future anyone. It’s not really to talk about myself, either. I really do love this holiday. I think Hallmark holidays are extra fun because they’re extra festive. My mom always made Valentine’s Day special as a kid. Even as an adult, she always gave me gifts. And she pays it forward, by regifting my gifts to those who did not receive gifts. Like my brothers girlfriend. And I don’t think she knows he didn’t pick those earrings out for her, so don’t say anything. I only mention it because it’s important for me to remember: I’d way rather be absolutely alone lonely as hell all by myself than be with someone who doesn’t consider me. That’s what being in love is, in my mind. Someone who considers you, and wants to make you comfortable, and wants to make you feel seen and taken care of, and who wants to see you happy and be the one making you happy, too. I’ve witnessed a lot of forms of toxic relationships in my days, or I’ve heard about them. It’s more common to hear about this than about something that’s really good and honest. And sometimes my friends are the Perps, and they’re toxic as hell, and I sit back and think “what the hell” and do nothing. I’m not really one to meddle in relationships. I think I used to a bit, but I stopped

Trying to play god or weigh my two cents. Some people would rather be in a toxic relationship than not be in one at all. And that’s their prerogative. But if you ever catch me putting in more effort or allowing myself to be treated poorly, please don’t turn a blind eye. I believe both parties have to be held accountable in that sort of dynamic, and sometimes you can only see how shitty your relationship is from a Birds Eye view. And I would know. Like, in addition to my ex getting me a cactus for Valentine’s Day and calling me overweight, he also called me Stupid often and in front of my friends. He often told me he wanted to stab me in private. And I got so accustomed to being uncomfortable and tuning him out, that I needed my best friends boyfriend to shake some sense into me. He was like: Kelley, we want to help you and we want to be here for you, but it would be really nice if you came over not crying one of these days. And I was like: what the fuck. Why am I running away from my shared-with-bae but not-paying-rent apartment to Williamsburg, mid winter, to weep and regather myself to return to my asshole boyfriend. Who I claim to not even like.

I broke up with him three more times before he finally kicked me out. And I went on a proper post breakup bender, which inevitably led to me getting sober. So while that situation is referred to as my “dark ages” by those in the know, Im actually really grateful for the bleak sequence of events. I even want this ex to win, despite everything. Though in this situation, I may have to be the winning ex, who pulls him from the muck. I don’t think he’s doing too well, but I wouldn’t really know, because I didn’t text him.

I don’t really judge peoples relationships as harshly as I sometimes make it seem. Sure, I have a few friends where I size up their boyfriend and think: she can do better. But even if the pros and the cons are imbalanced, a mostly negative situation can catapult You into a really positive place. It could get you drunk as hell, so drunk that it gets you sober. It could get you a pair of earrings that belong to your boyfriend’s sister, wrapped by his mom. And those are really nice earrings. They came from the safe.

So I’ll leave you with this omen:

If I hearted your Valentine’s Day Instagram story today, I do think you’re proper in love. And if I viewed it and did not toss you a like, I’m not saying you’re doomed. But I am saying your relationship might be. Which is probably for the best. What’s the point in staying together if you’re not proper in love? Are you trying to force a catapult upward on yourself? Or do you literally hate being alone?

You should listen to me. I’m the relationship soothsayer, I know all things, because I’ve dated a handful of guys, and some of them have been my boyfriend, and they’ve all been fucking losers.

If they weren’t, I’d probably have married them by now. If you ever see me married, please know that I expect one of two things: I’ll remain happily married forever, or I’ll catapult upwards. In a perfect world, both will be true.

Xoxxoxoxo

1. 1. I’m grateful it’s my Friday, I made it through the 5 days in a row of ten hour shifts, and that I’m currently on my way to my friend and fellow egirl EVE’s house.

2. 2. Im grateful that im fed at work, the food is healthy and I get to make my own variation of bowls, I save money on groceries and I take home whatever leftovers I want. I’m grateful I save a lot of money on groceries. I’m grateful that I have a little tick where I google the nutrients and health benefits of the food I eat, and I’m grateful I like to eat lots of fruit because it makes me feel healthy and spiritually fit.

3. 3. I’m grateful I got a cowhide rug for my bedroom because I’ve been wanting one of those for awhile now and I probably wouldn’t otherwise have gotten one.

4. 4. I’m grateful I have the balls to runaway to Colorado and package it as running towards something, and I’m grateful that everyone in my life seems to think this is a good idea

5. 5. I’m grateful for all the little friendships I’m forming here, I’m grateful for the local vail girls who have reached out over social media because they saw I posted about moving here & I’m grateful I have met up with them. One is a sweet cute little thing and reminds me a lot of my little brothers girlfriend, who is also a sweet cute little thing (both blonde, kind of look alike, I’m grateful for that too, because it’s comforting)

6. 6. I’m grateful that I have kept up my habit of making phone calls to friends and family on a daily basis, even if it’s been on the bus instead of on walks. People on the bus maybe hate that, but I asked my Vail-Native coworker and he said it’s fine as long as my call is not on speakerphone.

7. 7. I’m grateful I got hit on by a hot australian guy at the bar last night. I’m not grateful that he owns a cannabis soda company because that’s kind of useless to me, considering I’m straight edge. I am Grateful that he seems to have an entrepreneurial spirit, becauseI think the market for cbd soda in Colorado is over saturated and he may need to pivot to something else. His breath was very stale, so I grabbed EVE and asked if she was ready to go, and I’m grateful he asked for my number before we left. I hope he will brush his teeth before I see him next, and that the breath issue was a one time thing.

8. 8. I’m grateful that I have no idea where I belong, because it means I have more life to live and more ground to cover before settling down

9. 9. I’m also grateful that I have the feeling I may need a partner sooner or later, I was getting a little suspicious of myself and my vagabond vibes. Mostly because all of my long-time friends are settling down, and I don’t love feeling untethered from my loved ones

10. 10. I’m grateful that the bus to EVE’s house is five dollars and it’s super nice, even though it’s one hour, I really don’t mind because I get to sit on my phone/laptop/ read a book the whole time. The alternative would be buying a beater car, and probably trying my best to not text and drive during a 30 minute car ride. So the five dollar bus is obviously a safer option.

11. 11. I’m grateful it’s been sunny and warm in Colorado to rival the negative 15 degree weather on the east coast. Obviously it’s a bummer we have not gotten snow this season, but I’d way rather be in a dry climate with warm sun and pretty mountain scenery than dealing with NYC in its current condition. I think it’s helping me not have depression. Something to consider.

12. 12. I’m grateful that I have a beautiful public library in vail with beautiful views and eames chairs and a fire place. Im grateful I have lots of books on my roster.

13. 13. I’m grateful for the Argentinian and Chilean j1s that I work with. I like that they culture me and speak to me in Spanglish and I like learning how they think about the world/ life/ America/ ME. I like that they like me, and observe and compliment me. I like being friends with them in the kitchen. I think it’s really cute.

14. 14. I’m grateful that I’m in a good place with my family after a rocky few years. I’m grateful I’m in a good place with my mom after a rocky 12 years.

15. 15. I’m grateful for my brain, and I’m grateful it’s growing and changing in a healthy way and I seem to be less paranoid and anxious. or if I do get paranoid and anxious, it doesn’t last as long or feel as intense.

16. 16. I’m grateful that Colorado is practically a socialist state and I feel like I barely pay for anything

17. 17. I’m grateful I have 3 day weekends

18. 18. I’m grateful that everyone hypes up Colorado summers so much with rodeos and lakes and outdoor activities. It’s good to look forward to a new version of summer because I was getting really bored of east coast beach summers and I was feeling really UNGRATEFUL for not appreciating the privilege of having parents and grandparents who live on the beach.

19. 19. I’m grateful this australian kid is trying to set up a date with me right now because it’s very fun and validating, I’m also grateful I don’t care at all so I am texting him half ass garbage while I flick back and forth between my iMessage and my substack app.

20. 20. I’m grateful that I have goals and aspirations now. I didn’t before, the corporate ladder I had been climbing was an anti-goal of mine, and I think this whole 180 in terms of future building/ career rerouting helped me not want to kill myself anymore. Which is obviously a really good thing.

21. 21. I’m grateful I scheduled a doctor appointment (so hard for me to do for some reason) and even though she’s a general practitioner, she agreed to prescribe me My Lithium and some PCOS meds, which I’m super grateful for. I don’t want to pay for a separate psych doctor because i think they’re a huge big pharma scam (even though i do want to be prescribed my meds) and I don’t think they deserve my Money.

22. 22. I’m grateful I live in capitalist America where everything is big and plentiful and easy to get. Apparently other countries are not like this. I was kinda bugging about being nestled in the mountains and far from luxuries like target and whole foods and tjmaxx, but the J1s taught me that even my version of lack is much more than their version of bounty. Tea.

23. 23. Im grateful my skin has cleared, and all the other health issues I had in highschool have resolved, and I’m hopeful that my PCOS symptoms will clear up in a similar way.

24. 24. I’m grateful friends and family have visited me right away, and I’m grateful more/ same friends want to come and stay with me in the summer months. Again, im excited for the summer months.

25. 25. I’m grateful for my sobriety and that my people pleasing qualities have evened out, and that my energy has evened out, so I’m basically super chill now

26. 26. I’m grateful my work ethic is good because I hate feeling like I’m not good at my job. I also hate feeling lazy. I like that people enjoy working with me for that reason

27. 27. I’m grateful other people at work don’t like the guy that I don’t like. I’m grateful he is moving to another state in the spring so I never have to work with him Again.

28. 28. Im grateful that I get a bonus and time off in the spring to travel. I am grateful that the world is my oyster when it comes to choosing where I’ll go.

29. 29. I’m grateful my best friend is getting married in Portugal this summer. I think that will be really fun.

30. 30. I’m grateful that everyone took my side with a friend breakup I just had. I’m grateful that happens mostly every time, because I’m usually confident that I’m right and I’m glad other people see things that way too.

31. I’m grateful that I have a friend in Colorado that I am comfortable around and I’m grateful we have sleepovers and I’m grateful her moms condo is so cozy and so close to whole foods and target and society, and I’m grateful she has a car and I’m grateful the bus is pulling up right now and that we can hang out and watch a movie with the fireplace on while we looksmaxx with face masks and hair masks and white strips. I needed this in my life and I prayed for it. I’m very grateful god always answers my prayers.

Clearly I had a lot of gratitude pent up. I feel a lot better about my life now. I was a little confused about how I felt today because of my long work week. Usually I enter a haunted place, but now I’m feeling like I’m one of gods favorites. Not his very favorite, at least not yet, but perhaps on the way. I need to remember how helpful it is to write gratitude lists. And I’m only ever really accountable to them When I know other people may read them.

I got into the habit because my first sponsor had a group chat of 8 sponsees and insisted we send 12 gratitude bits every day. 8 sponsees is too many, and I’m not actively participating in AA or sponsorship, but I like the practice. So Substack can read it.

Now that I said that I recognize I should get my shit together a little more, but for now this is it.

I hope you’re very grateful too. It feels good to be grateful. The alternative is feeling like a bit of a brat. At least that’s how I would describe myself when I’m not in my gratitude.

I took my lunch break walking alongside this creek today. I guess im grateful for that too. In my nature era

I’m pissed off because I put myself to sleep at 7 PM with wet hair. I always shower immediately when I get home from work, because I am covered in dirty sink water and I smell like chili and I look like shit. I was ready for full REM until my 5:55 work-alarm. I kind of wanted to forget today. Nothing bad happened, but I have a long week this week, since I took off 2 days last week to spend time with my college best friends, who were visiting. I would love to go on about friendship and visitors, but all I can think about right now is work. I get into this weird haunting delirium when I feel over-worked, and I kind of need to write it off my chest so I can fall asleep peacefully, again. I woke up pissed off and afraid at 8:50 PM. I hate naps because they always make me feel sick and confused and afraid. Because I am an adult with coping skills, I decided I would drink electrolytes, take a tylonel, light a candle, and brain dump on Substack. As one does. But mark my words: I am going to revert back to prioritizing my PERSONAL BLOG one of these days. I have been on substack more because I love attention and the idea of potential. When I write on substack, I imagine I could maybe reach somebody who could hand me a wad of cash and say: quit your job, write your book, you are Sylvia Plath reincarnate, except you won’t kill yourself, because you will be very rich, and money cures every problem.

The only reason I am ever discontent is because I have no money, and because I work a lot. That is the only reason anyone is ever discontent, I think.

That isn’t true, actually. I wish it were more obvious when I am being an ironic or satirical in writing. But it’s actually rarely obvious in person, either. No one expects me to be dry and cynical, I don’t think. Because I am sometimes bubbly. But deep down I derive the most joy out of being very dry and sarcastic, and sometimes especially when people don’t get it. I feel less like a weirdo when I’m like that, too. When I am bubbly and talkative and excitable I feel vulnerable, like people get the upper hand on me by not matching my energy, or not responding at all. That is incredibly rude, and it’s called taking advantage of a situation. It’s always hard to dull that excitement around people who aren’t my friends, honeslty. I had to learn how to do that in my sorority, because there was no shot I was gonna let some ugly bitch get the upper hand on me by flatlining my excitable one-sided conversation during chapter, or volunteering at the breast cancer table or whatever forced-sisterly time we were spending together. (Disclaimer: no one was ugly, but I like using the word ugly as a diss, because you can change your entire personality and your morals and ethics with enough practice, but it is very expensive to fix ugly, and even then it may not work. Ugly is also very subjective, and the most unsettling looking person can look beautiful with the right clothes, attitude, and honestly, inner light. If you are hard to look at and you’re sweet as pie, you’re actually really cute and I love you, I’m telling everyone I think you’re pretty, because half the pretty people I went to high school with were actually very average and only pretty by the strong and repetitive insisting of a few. If you’re actually pretty and your mean as hell, I just noticed every flaw on your face, and I can’t even look you in the eye. That’s how it goes). I have to remember this stoic power play at work, too. It’s funny, because when you don’t act like that to people (and when they know that you have it in you) they will kind of pine for your interactions. I love when that happens. I think that is me taking advantage of the situation, honestly.

Unfortunately We literally live in hell, in my religious perspective. Like, nothing is perfect in this life, and even if it is for a second, it’s fleeting. Buddhist practices are probably best to deal with the fact of the matter, but I do kind of try to do the whole law of attraction shtick, because deep down I would like to feel good forever. And I think that is the spirit, yearning for heaven, which is perfect and saved for AFTER life. Like, we get glimpses of it, but there is not heaven on earth, there is mostly Hell. The world has been full of violence and suffering and unfairness for all of recorded history, and it’s still that way, and it doesn’t seem to be changing any time soon. And I am not being sarcastic when I say that. It’s why I don’t fear death. It’s the only solution to the struggle of life.

But I no longer wish for death, which is awesome. Getting older and wiser has helped, and getting sober, but mostly realizing I have free will. Like, I have the freedom to quit my corporate job that make me want to kill myself. I have to freedom to move away from the east coast and experience a 180 difference, and decide what else I like and dislike in life, and then I have the freedom to pursue those things. I have to freedom to decide a dream life, and the freedom to make choices that may lead me closer to that dream. I do not have the freedom to achieve it, necessarily, because this is not Heaven on earth. Things are complicated. I’m forced to try my hand at willing things into existence, and working toward them, and hoping the two actions collide into something decent. Or like, a dream come true. Of course if I achieved my dreams, I’d probably find some suffering there, or find something to complain about, because this is Hell.

My work-wakeup used to be at 6 AM, but I am on a quest to align myself with the universe, so I reset my alarm to wake me up at 5:55. That is an angel number. Seeing 5:55 on the clock has helped me feel more positive about waking up and starting my day in Hell. This, and the Youtube binaural beats I have been falling asleep to. I used to say “fuck” and wish for death when I woke up for my job. Now I don’t say “fuck” and I don’t wish for death until at least mid-shift. I honestly look forward to falling asleep to the binaural beats, and to seeing 5:55 on the clock in the morning. The music could be subliminally programming me as a sleeper-bot for all I care. I’d actually prefer that, honestly. I always wanted an interesting plot for myself, where I get to do something cool and extraordinary, because I was chosen by the Forces that Be. Since I was a kid I was kind of hoping that would be my path, because I am special. I read a lot of Chosen-One type books, magic and fantasy and all of that. Unfortunately I sometimes think that I may have manifested my bipolar diagnosis and willed myself into psychosis with this same line of thinking. I do believe I am powerful enough to do this, I do believe in law of attraction, and in the same way, I do believe I can achieve my Biggest Dreams. My most recent psychosis led me to believe I was a time traveler, and then it shifted into believing that my time-traveler husband was coming to rescue me from Hell on Earth, aliens were involved, the whole 9. I have a really good imagination. It just sucks when your imagination becomes your reality. Especially when it only becomes Your reality, and you live in a world with other people, who are in a different, more normal, more believable, actually real reality. Like, everyone is seemingly on the same page.

I fear I have never been entirely on the same page. I always thought I was confused about alot of things. Then I pursued a Philosophy degree, because I wanted some fucking answers. My teachers often said my questions were annoying, and I got it in my head that I was really dumb or something. I felt like everyone else picked up on rules I didn’t get. Then I took my philosophy classes, and learned that pretty much everyone is confused, no one agrees, we are just pretending. People love to question where I land on the autism spectrum. We live in Hell on Earth.

I think that everyone at work gossips behind my back. This isn’t very Hellish to me, because it is a motley crew. I am obviously very judgmental about mountain people, and I like everyone I work with. But I often get the vibe of AHS Asylum when I’m at work.

I know that people at work do gossip behind my back, actually, because everyone at work gossips about each other. Some gossip has even gotten back to me. I am the favorite of the Argentinian J1s. I kind of knew this, because they have all separaretly told me that I am their favorite, and then they ask me if they are my favorite. What am I supposed to say? If everyone is gossiping, they will discover I answer “you” to all of them. So I say: I do not have a favorite, I love everyone. Which isn’t true. Everyone pisses me off in their own special way at a different point in time, and I think “fuck you” in my head. I am very perceptive and hyper-aware of micro-expressions, probably because of the way I was raised, so I know when someone is thinking “fuck you” to me in their head. I am much less paranoid about it now that I work a low-stakes hospitality job. I will usually think “I will literally quit by the end of the day” back to them, and I push it hard with my brain so that it enters their brain, and usually people snap back to acting normal towards me. It has nothing to do with the fact that I get really quiet and stoic, and go sit in the bathroom on my knees praying for 15 minutes. Then an hour or so passes and I am back to being net-neutral, wish granted from god. Sometimes I even get back to feeling good at work after my mood plummets mid-day. It is pretty rare that I go an entire day without spiraling into a really creepy dark place. I usually feel my best when I am stuffing my face with free fruit, or making some elaborate cottage-cheese bowl, because I can’t use the yogurt for my bowls since it’s whole milk. I have no idea why everyone here drinks so much whole milk, as if it’s so amazing that it’s worth the caloric full-fat splurge. When it comes to food, I make sacrifices so I can splurge in other places. Of course my diet is totally fucked, and I can only go unsatiated for so long until I binge on copious amounts of health foods and go net-neutral. I’m always aiming for net neutral, obviously, but it would be cool if I could figure out a way to cruise control throughout the day. It would probably involve drinking one whole-milk latte instead of drinking my 5 almond milk americanos, or having one andes candy when I decide I want one, instead of holding out til the end of the day and snacking on a whole handful that I scoop from the candy bowl on my way out. But that is not something I locked in on yet, because I am a very commitment-type girl, and I kind of enjoy reveling in the chaos of how I do things now. I have locked in before, on 8 years of veganism, and on 2 years of sobriety. I just don’t want to give up every single vice. I prefer to scroll my tiktok to see if I have put on weight, and restrict myself accordingly. I don’t weigh myself, so it’s fine. My eating disorder doesn’t really give me a feeling of fear and anger and isolation, so I know it’s not too bad. Employment, however, gives me a feeling of fear and isolation, and that’s a problem I’d rather address.

It’s really difficult for me to recognize that I am not the only person who works a job. I felt this way at my desk job, and I feel this way now. I see the bus-driver every morning, and I saw a different bus driver when I took the earlier bus. It doesn’t feel like they are working. It seems like they are having fun, driving is a good time, I wish I had a car here! They get to sit down the entire time they work, and they get to play music. If I was a bus driver, I would struggle not to text and drive. I also suck at driving, so I can’t be a bus driver. But it seems like an awesome job, and they get paid more than I do, I totally wish I could be a bus driver, I just can’t. I have to work in food service, because that’s what I’ve been doing since I was 14. I wish I could work in retail so I could get discounts and wear cute outfits, but I can’t. My best friend in high-school got me a job at Billabong, and I quit after one shift of training, because it was so boring and annoying. Food service is great, because I have always had an obsession with food (obviously). The thing that sucks is that I get covered head to toe in other people’s food splatters, I look awful in the industrial kitchen lighting, I look awful because the dish-washer steam flattens my curled eyelashes, I snack too much throughout the day so I feel uncomfortably full when I am actually in the mood to have a meal, I am on my feet running around all day, I have to go to the walk in and get freezing cold, people I serve do not see me as human, the uniform is always ugly, I reek of soup by the end of the day, I become more psychically tired on my off days than I should be, making it hard to do anything with my free time. The pros due out-weigh the cons, mostly because I don’t have to pay for groceries and I get to eat and socialize and feel satisfied completing silly little tasks all day. Bonus: there is a huge class divide in Ski towns where the workers hate the rich people, so you don’t even have to be so sickeningly sweet, the way I was in previous jobs. I just kind of walk around on auto pilot, doing my tasks. If someone is actually nice to me, I smile and engage with them. But most people like treating the help like robots anyways, so the auto pilot does exactly what it needs to do. I am not a waitress, either, so I am not working for tips. I’m just doing stuff. My title is club attendant.

I do feel that this job suits me better than a desk job. In my desk jobs, I never used my full brain. I used the parts of my brain that I didn’t like using, and I felt annoyed and stupid and paranoid all the time. I felt like I didn’t understand why people were trying and pretending, and wanting to climb the corporate latter, and acting like their titles mattered or made them less dumb. People loved acting stressed or busy to appear certain ways, and it grossed me out. In hospitality, people are more honest and more real and express that they think the job is dumb, the customers are stupid, and we live in Hell. We talk about conspiracy theories and firmament and CIA coups in the kitchen. We never talked about those things when I worked in P.E. or Tech or Big Law. I always made little mistakes on spreadsheets, and instead we talked about how important it was that I didn’t make those little mistakes. The seriousness around these things made me feel like we were protecting the White House from a terorrist attack, and yet my new friends in the kitchen seem to know a lot about that, and that its all an inside job, and the alien elite are trying to create a global bank or whatever. We literally live in Hell. I fear that nothing can be done to stop the alien elite, we never went to outer space because its impossible, we are in an incubator, and I am really okay with just focusing on getting through the hour, the day, and getting through this era of my life where I’m poor and grossed out by my popcorn ceilings. I am okay living in hell, but I am going to focus on inching towards making my own life less hellish. I’m doing that right now, I have moved like, 5 inches in the right direction since this time last year. Which is way more inches than I thought, before I realized I had free will and could quit my desk job and redirect completely. In the same way, I am glad I got sober at 25, and I am glad I rerouted at 27. For some reason I am a little worried about getting too old to do things, but I do know a lot of successful creatives did things much into their later years, so I have some time to crawl out of my layer of Hell, and into a better one. Where I have really nice ceilings, and I don’t work a money-making job that is separate from my career, or my passion.

I missed 11:11 tonight, and I normally make a wish. I am glad that I am scheduled to wake up at 5:55 AM tomorrow, and I’m glad I will get free coffee at work, and free fruit, and I always forget that I get a paycheck, actually. That’s a good thing. All things that are very-not-hellish. Things are pretty good, on a relative basis. I have definitely been in a thicker part of hell before.

I keep getting library books all at once. I read 10 pages of each and choose to lock in on the one I actually care about. I like reading multiple books at once, even though it takes me longer. I can’t do that with library books, it seems, because I actually need to give them back in a timely matter. This annoys me, because I’ve only finished one of the three library books I wanted to read. I don’t care all that much, and the solution would be to renew it or whatever. I could also buy the books, but considering I want to bring half of my haul back to the library, it’s better that I don’t buy them. I also don’t want to own certain books. I like that I can wash my hands of a book that I felt inclined to finish (because it’s a classic, or at least a cult classic) but didn’t actually enjoy all that much. I never feel inclined to finish books, because the author is not a god. They’re just a person, and I don’t really have to trust them, and I don’t have to share their mind or their POV.

Since I want to write my own book, I have been reading literature type books more than fun type books. Or books in the genre I am thinking of writing in. I do ask ChatGPT questions, by the way. I ask ChatGPT to draw crazy parallels that don’t make sense in my mind, because I like the confirmation bias. ChatGPT is wrong half the time, and I know this. That is how badly I want to exist in my own echo chamber sometimes. And I don’t like politics, but I stir up political/conspiracy type conversations in the kitchen at work so I can learn a thing or two. I’m good at taking what I want from things, I’m good at changing my mind.

Sometimes I worry that if I’m wanting something too bad, I can will it into existence. I am a big believer in manifesting, and I also fear that I can pull a string on reality by paying attention to the wrong things. That I can invent my reality because I paid attention to it. I get so freaked out that I start paying extra close attention to beauty, or great design, or great lighting fixtures. I am kind of convinced that I can create a beautiful life for myself with this sort of daily practice. Like I truly believe it.

And it’s how I keep answering the question: Why am I doing this? I am making YouTube’s and posting them every Sunday and I literally hate YouTube. A family friend in The Industry told me to do this, and told me to be patient and to be consistent and that I’m on the right track with all this social media stuff. And sometimes I wonder: why am I doing the social media stuff? It started out that I wanted money for a jaw surgery. I didn’t make the social media money in the year it took to prep, and I didn’t get the surgery, which was supposed to be this December. In the process of my money pursuits, I stopped with the silly TikToking and leaned into sobriety and mental health TikToking. The format was still silly, and some of my sentences were silly, but it gave me meaning. Why am I doing this; I am doing this because I am a mental health / addiction / recover advocate. The self appointed title made me feel amazing. Only I kinda stopped leaning in to that when I got shy and embarrassed, and when I got a few concerned comments from my family about how all of my taboo content was making me/them look. I also was getting compliments on my writing, and I decided I could lock in on my childhood dream to be a writer. It was kind of a secret dream that my family knew about, and that I sometimes soft-launched to friends. I am not a shy person, but I’ve always been shy about my dreams. I’m not too shy about them now, obviously. But it feels like I suited up for a long hard race, or a mountain climbing trip (I’ve never climbed a mountain, I only Say this because it seems like it would actually suck). So I’m at the base of a metaphorical climb, and I’m like: what the fuck did I sign up for, I don’t actually want to do this, I want to sit on my couch. Only there is no glory in sitting on the couch. Not only do I want to prove people wrong and impress people, a part of me actually really wants to see this through, and finish, and be proud of myself. I’ve never felt that way about any sport or hobby, I’m not particularly competitive, and I’ve never really cared about anything that much if I’m being completely honest. I like to dabble, mostly. Not commit. Like the library book metaphor. Like hobbies. Like jobs and careers and dating. Like living in different places. I’m Predictable.

But I’m also an overcomer. Like overcoming being a hot mess alcoholic, like overcoming all my manic episodes, and bla bla whatever, sexual assault, idk. I just feel like life has chewed on me a bit, and I’ve been depressed, and I’ve been suicidal, and I’ve also done a LOT of things to combat those feelings. And they’ve abated and gotten smaller and I’ve been proud of myself for the progress I’ve made. Every good thing for me is a regular good thing on top of the fact. In spite of. I almost always feel like I’m extra good because I’m overcoming the chewey sticky shit on my plate, and I’m eating my vegetables, and I’m going to work and I’m functioning. When I first googled bipolar (2018, when I was diagnosed) things looked pretty bleak for me. And they haven’t been. I’ve done everything that everyone else has done, on time, cum laude, Legit on LinkedIn, and in the face of adversity.

Of course now I’m not Legit on LinkedIn, I am taking Risks. Which will be really cool if they pan out well for me. Which they will, because I am manifesting and paying attention to the good things, and I never lock in and commit but I am this time, and I refuse to forever as myself

Why am I doing this

Because I know exactly why. I’m not really interested in letting my brain carve that self doubt misery path anymore. It’s so tread on that it defaults there, but I’m actually working at fixing it.

Why am I doing thia

I know whyyyyy I know why stop asking.

But I have always been curious and it’s mean to shoot and kick at curiosity because curiosity makes people smarter. (This is me calling myself smart, btw).

Instead of a gratitude list I will give 12 reasons why I’m doing this, aka why I’m living my life the way I’m choosing to live it.

1. I want to raise the standards I have for myself so I can meet a life partner that is at that higher standard

2. I want to be the far fetched but really awesome

3. Person that little girl me dreamed I could maybe one day be, in a fantasy reality

4. I don’t want to rely on anyone to give me the dream life that I want

5. ^ I want to buy myself whatever house, vacation, rug, sweater or meal that I want, when I want.

6. I want to be able to freely spoil my friends and family with gifts and trip

7. I want to be successful by my definition of the word

8. I don’t want to be jealous of people who have a life I yearned for at one point in my life, current or past

9. My dream life has always kinda looked the same

10. Since I was a young girl, which makes me think it is in my best most authentic interest to pursue it

11. I don’t want to feel like I wasted time or

12. Overlooked opportunities, Didnt take risks worth taking, didn’t live a colorful interesting life that was actually More attainable than I thought

13. I want to live a life that balances creativity, productivity, learning, free time, freedom, comfort, and beauty

14. I want to sleep in if I want to, but more importantly, I want to stay up as late as I want

15. I want to prove to society that bipolar wasn’t a setback for me in achieving my goals big and small, and for being a refined and kind and happy person. I want to prove it’s not embarassing.

16. I want to prove to society that alcoholism wasn’t a setback for me, for the same reasons as bipolar.

17. I want to open that creative psych facility I’ve mentioned previously

18. I want to have a legacy that little me would uncover somehow, in some internet rabbit hole, and work towards

19. I want to make my parents proud

20. I want to Make my brother proud

21. I want to make my best friends proud

22. I want to share my feelings and ideas and story and be taken seriously and be treated with kindness and respect by people who know my story and who know what I’ve done.

23. I want to be known and to be understood (I do not need to be liked)

24. I want to have a beautiful home designed and paid for by me

1. I want my OPPs and my exes to hate that they secretly love me, they hate that way more than they could ever hate me as an individual

2. i want to have fuck tons of money and not be an asshole About it, and to use it for Good

3. i don’t want anyone to question me, because they trust that I know what I’m doing (regardless of how true that may be in the moment)

4. I want to trust god has my back with all these fucking knees on the floor work bathroom prayers. Like, please god, please listen to me, I’m really serious about everything I say, u granting my

5. Wishes can toooootally be mutually beneficial

6. Xxxx