When I saw that this local showcase of films made by people from the Rio Grande Valley, I thought this sounded like the exact thing I needed to attend, and I got in my little car, and made my way downtown to the Cinema to where the festival was going to be.

Like any person who just decides spur of the moment, I did not plan on what the parking situation would be. When I arrived I got there early because I thought what if I have to walk far, and I want to be on time. lol I managed to find parking right across from the theater, but naturally it was not free because nothing here is. So, I call the parking meter number and begin entering in my vehicle information like my license plate number, and my card info to pay for my spot when the what I can only assume was the automated assistant begins to tell me I entered my information incorrectly.

I thought that’s no big deal might of just put the numbers in wrong. I’ll simply do it again. I did this another three times each time the voice on the phone telling me, “your information is incorrect.”

I did not have the mental fortitude to enter in my card information again. So, I thought it’s fine I’ll go in for a minute see the film booths before the screenings start. After all, I’m still early. I proceed to not pay for my spot, and go in to the theater for about 15 minutes. My hands full of film festival merch I head back to my car to move to a different spot because I have still not paid. Thankfully, my car was still there, and I had no parking ticket.

I’m driving around looking for another spot when all I see are spaces with parking meters the same as the spot I was in before, but my hopes not totally dashed just yet I pull into another spot, and get out to see if it’s a different payment situation, and to my surprise there is a coin option. I think finally, yes! Some luck at last I happen to have a bunch of coins in my car. I pay for my spot, and wait for the meter to change from red, and expired to green, and good to go. Of course, the meter does no such thing, and after about 30 seconds I begin to think oh this meter just ate my coins, and does not work.

Still maintaining my optimistic attitude I see that there is fortunately a number to call if the meter isn’t working. If you know me, you know that I hate talking on the phone to people I don’t know, but this was a desperate situation. I was assuredly running late now, and I still hadn’t managed to pay for my parking. I call the number expecting another automated voice to answer, but I was surprised to hear an actual human pick up the phone.

I told her my situation, and how the meter ate my coins. I quickly realized I was not getting that money back “unless” the woman said, “I wanted to wait until she sent a technician to come and look at the meter.”

I did not want to wait might I add I live in South Texas. It is the middle of August. Temperatures border on close to surface of the sun levels. I was definitely late at this point, and thanked her for her help, and continued to drive around looking for another spot. Now all this time, I maintained my positive attitude, but between having my coins eaten, and making an unexpected phone call my resolve was seriously beginning to wain. I whip into the third parking spot of the day, and see there is a parking app I must download to pay. I download it, and once again begin to enter my license plate, and card info. Only to have it tell me that my information is incorrect.

At this point, I have had enough the universe clearly is against me today and doesn’t want me to enjoy an afternoon of art, and the celebration of filmmaking. I am about to pack it in. I did, after all, manage to get some cool free festival merch. However, I decide to enter my card info one final time. It works. I am so relieved. I check to see that the meter updates from red to green, and it of course does no such thing. Even though I downloaded the app and finally entered in my card info right.

I’m muttering to myself the entire time, but I think what the heck you still have a little bit of change maybe you can pay again with your coins and it will finally work. I put the last bit of change I have into the meter, and check to see that it updates and nothing.

I have done all the things, I have called the numbers, downloaded the apps gone to lengths to park in the right spots, and where did that get me? Absolutely, nowhere. I can’t help but think this is a metaphor for what it’s like being an American. Even doing all the right things, in the right order, in the right way doesn’t mean the system will reward you. It just means the powers that be get a good laugh at watching your dumbass run around and look dumb.

I’m so done, and annoyed but I think fuuuk it. I am going to that film festival, and that is the scorpio in me doing things out of sheer spite. If I get a parking ticket so be it! I’m not paying it I think as I mutter to myself walking into the theater. I find a seat, and wait for the screenings to start by some miracle I’m not late. I’d like to share that once the films started that the power of art healed me and I left feeling better. While to some extant that is true the films were gorgeous, and I did enjoy them. I left annoyed, but thankfully I ended up not getting a parking ticket.

I cried on the way home, and that bit right there that is what healed me.

A few months ago I shared how my hopes to join a local book club would help me make new friends, and I’m so glad to say it did! As a recent transplant to the Rio Grande Valley, the only people I knew were my extended family and a couple people from my short stint working for the local parks and recreation department.

After deciding to leave that part-time job for my mental stability, I wasn’t really meeting anybody. I have a tendency to be shy, and don’t like to go out much. Full disclosure, I was incredibly nervous to put myself out there. I had never really done book club, the book we were reading (Woman Hating) was in a genre I didn’t know too much about, and I felt like I might be too old to join (I’m 33).

Despite all of these . . . let’s call them what they are excuses. I went to my first meeting. As I mentioned earlier our first read was, Woman Hating, a feminist text, and for context our book club is called Radical Rhetoric. I would be lying if I said that first initial meeting I wasn’t nervous, but I had such a good time. Everyone was incredibly welcoming and kind. Although I didn’t chime in a lot with my personal takeaways from the book (one thing at a time), I felt like I went away having learned a bunch as well as meeting some very cool new people.

The local coffee shop we meet at for book club also hosts a variety of community events such as poetry open mic nights, food drives, and even movie nights. Which if you know me, you know your girl loves a movie night. It is because of this community outreach the coffee shop does I even learned about book club in the first place. Through it, I have been able to meet wonderful human beings who have grown up in this very interesting place on the Texas/Mexico border.

I am committed to learning more about this land that is so politicized and misunderstood. Rest assured I will be sharing that journey with you dear reader. Until then, please take the time to attend a local community event in your area. Tomorrow, I’ll be going to a Pride event (my first one ever) with beautiful people that I’ve met from book club. Suffice to say it worked out very well, and I did indeed make some new friends.

All my love <3

Each week I would think this is the week I’m going to drop. I’m not cut out for this, and it was a stupid idea to go back to school. I’m not sure what it was honestly that got me through it because it isn’t like I stopped feeling inadequate or stopped having serious IBS. I simply just kept going to class. True each week I was anxious out of my fuuking mind. I should probably be on some type of medication for that, but one issue at a time.

Elements of the Writer’s Craft was the focus of the class, and truly there were days I felt I had never written anything in my entire life, and I knew absolutely nothing about storytelling. We would have these in class discussions about what we thought the difference between plot, and story was and of course there were students who were always so eager to answer.

I, however, was not one of those students because as I said before I had never written anything in my life and didn’t know. Most days I would just sit and gladly soak in the information, and happily get lost in whatever short story we were assigned to read. There were times though that I couldn’t escape speaking and giving my opinion.

As part of the class requirements, we were expected to write, and provide feedback for each other. The part of the class that I feared most—having to give my thoughts on someone else’s writing, and in turn accept feedback from others on my own. Just go ahead and slowly kill me why don’t you.

The first assignment was choosing a craft element like showing vs. telling, atmosphere, point-of-view, structure etc to examine how that particular craft element is utilized in the readings we had done. Seems simple enough, and I felt I did a decent enough job on the first draft, but then I got three pages worth of feedback from one of my group mates’ (we were only required to provide at least a page) that sent me into a spiral on the eve of the class when we would then have to meet and discuss our work in person.

Thankfully, the in person break down of feedback was not as terrible as I thought it was going to be, and the guy that gave me three pages worth of notes was actually nice enough about it that it didn’t seem as life ending as I had made it out to be. Still managed to sweat through a blouse and a sweater on said class day but I digress.

I didn’t quit. Despite the fact that I so desperately wanted too just so I could return to the days where I wasn’t constantly questioning my life’s decision to go back to school. I didn’t necessarily stop feeling the imposter syndrome, but I did keep showing up, and I’m so glad I did. I was able to learn a lot, and start work on something that I’m really excited about (more to come on that later). I’ve also decided to keep taking more classes!

If you’ve been struggling, with something that really has you questioning your life’s choices this is my little sign to you to keep going. You’ve got this, and I’m rooting for you! Just keep showing up. The imposter syndrome might not quit, and that’s okay because neither do we. All my love <3

I wanted to share what all that studying inspired though. I hope you enjoy :)

Before Lexi walked into her grandparents’ home, she checked her reflection in the screen door. She looked decent enough, but she forgot she’d pierced her nose since the last time she’d visited. On top of that, her skin was breaking out. She put on a full face of makeup to hopefully distract her grandmother from noticing. As she entered the house, Bandit, her grandparent’s dog, came hurdling towards her. She quickly closed the door otherwise he would slip right past her. She couldn’t blame the dog. He lived a good life but was never walked and only allowed in the backyard. The few times he got the chance to explore outside was when he managed to bolt out of the house when someone was either coming or going. Afraid he would escape; Lexi shut the door just as Bandit was about to make a break for it.

“We’ll go out later.” She promised him.

“Lexi?” Her grandmother called out. “Is that you?”

She was sitting at the dining table surrounded by neatly organized piles of opened letters—most likely bills. Her grandmother resembled what Lexi imagined a college professor must look like at the end of a very busy semester. Her glasses had slowly slipped down her nose, and she could see an unfinished assuredly cold cup of tea next to her. The stacks of bills a little larger since the last time Lexi had come to visit.

“Hi gran, how are you doing?”

Her grandmother looked up from the water bill and scanned her face then her body. Looking her over the way she might examine an avocado at the grocery store, she checked Lexi for any irregularities making her unfit to take home.

“How was the drive?” “Did you have any problems?” Finishing her assessment, she went back to her bills.

“The drive was good.” Lexi lied. She knew it would be the first of many. “Only traffic in Raleigh.” She was not about to admit that she’d nearly run out of gas and was almost stranded on the side of I-40 due to all the construction and stand-still traffic. Her grandmother would just ask why she hadn’t planned better. It didn’t matter anyway she’d made it in one piece.

“What did you do to your nose?” Her grandmother not looking up from one of her bills asked.

Lexi remembered a conversation she’d had with her when she’d been in middle-school about how distasteful facial jewelry was. Lexi half expected her to reach out and pluck the septum piercing right from her face.

“Oh, I got it pierced.” She remarked trying to sound casual. She waited for her grandmother to respond with a sermon on how this new addition, made her look unattractive, but instead her grandmother continued examining another bill.

“Have you been to the dermatologist recently?” Another seemingly harmless question. “Martha’s granddaughter was having trouble with her skin, and she said the doctor prescribed some topical cream for her.”

Martha was her grandmother’s church friend. Lexi used to go to school with her granddaughter Hayley. They hadn’t really spoken in a while. Lexi being busy with work and living in a different state had felt guilty about not doing a better job of keeping up with her. They both had lived eerily similar lives. Each being raised primarily by their religious grandparents. The girls had bonded over their shared love of Harry Potter and soccer. It wasn’t until their senior year of high school when Hayley came out that their relationship shifted. They still studied together, sat next to each other in class, and even at church. But Hayley’s grandparents one Sunday morning, made a big fuss asking for prayer for their granddaughter who was living in sin.

“I haven’t, but I can book an appointment when I get home.” She had no intention of following through with this. She hated talking on the phone let alone scheduling a doctor’s appointment. Lexi finally sat down at the table and took a steadying breath.

“Do you still keep up with Hayley?” Her grandmother had taken a break from the bills and was studying Lexi.

Before she responded, she thought about their last time together. It had been Hayley’s birthday, and they’d gone to Pelican’s as was their tradition after the party to eat snow cones and chat. They’d kept this up all throughout college, during the summers, even though Lexi’s grandmother would make frequent comments about how Hayley needed to get her heart right with Jesus. That never stopped Lexi from seeing Hayley, but it did mean she got creative when it came to telling her grandmother who she was spending time with.

“You know I don’t Gran.” Lexi lied again another small betrayal, but necessary.

“Martha was just telling me last week Hayley got a job with the school district. How she managed to I have no idea. I’d imagine there are going to be some unhappy parents when they learn someone like her is going to be teaching their children.”

“Hayley is more than qualified for that job.” Lexi said. She had been the first to hear that Hayley had gotten the coaching position at their old middle school. She could already see Hayley standing on the sidelines cheering on the players who needed the encouragement, and shouting instructions to the ones that needed to get their heads back in the game. Still waiting for her grandmother’s response to her unusual defense of Hayley. Lexi held her breath.

“Have you applied for any full-time jobs?” Her grandmother’s question caught Lexi off guard. She had graduated from college the year before and was still working her part-time job. It didn’t matter that it was a job she enjoyed, or that she felt like she was doing good work. What mattered was that her part-time job didn’t come with any health insurance.

“Yes, I’m still there.” Lexi remembered to breathe. “I’ve really been enjoying the work, and my coworkers are great.” She replied evenly though she could feel her heart hammering behind her ribs.

“Have you thought about going back to school and working on a master’s degree?”

“I’ve thought about it, but I don’t know what I would go back and study.” This was true. Lexi had thought about going back to school, but if she did, she wanted to be sure what she was going back for. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she didn’t want to go back just to appease her.

“All that money, and time spent on a degree only to work part-time seems like such a waste.” Lexi unlike Hayley who’d chosen State had gone to Chapel Hill. Her admittance she knew was granted in part to her own hard work in school, and her killer striker’s ability out on the soccer field. But she knew, her grandmother was also part of the reason she’d gotten in. Lexi had always had a hard time focusing on things in school that didn’t interest her. It had been her grandmother who stayed up late with her after soccer practices and games to help her study when her mom would often work doubles at the hospital.

“I’ll look more seriously into full-time jobs when I get home gran.” She knew she’d conceded here. Hayley used to joke that Lexi had a serious case of pathological people pleaser syndrome. It was true even after all the things her grandmother would say. Lexi still wanted to make her proud and be the granddaughter she could brag about to all her church friends.

She slouched in her chair and let her gran continue with her questions. Lexi was reminded of an invasive dental exam she’d had the month before. The dentist had poked at her gums until Lexi could taste blood in her mouth. Her thoughts drifted between Hayley and the dentist. He had been saying words in English, but they meant absolutely nothing to Lexi.

“Malocclusion”

“Pathological people pleaser”

“Calculus on back molars”

“Lexi?” Her grandmother was staring at her expectantly.

“I’m sorry gran what was it you were saying?”

“I was saying don’t slouch.”

Lexi sat up straight and let her thoughts wander back to Hayley.

“Would you like to go and get some snow cones?” Her grandmother loved going to Pelican’s in the summer and would often take Lexi as a treat for surviving the inquisition.

Lexi hesitated. “I’ve got plans later gran. How much longer are you going to be?”

Her grandmother began clearing away the piles of bills from the table. “We can go now if you’re in such hurry.”

Lexi sighed. “Let me put my stuff up, and use the bathroom, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

She went back to what used to be her old room when she’d spend the night and put her things on the bed. Lexi glanced around the room, and noticed a new bed frame, but the same old bed spread. When she finished taking in the changes, she went into her Papa’s room and gave him a hug. Her arms wrapped around him easily as if there was now less of him to love. He still smelled like Marlborough Reds, and Folger’s coffee at least.

Lexi made her way to the bathroom. While she peed, she scrolled on her phone and thought about texting Hayley. Before she could open her messages, a text from Hayley appeared.

Heard you’re back in town. Want to meetup later?

Lexi stared at the text. She loved that even after a few months of not speaking they could still be so in sync. She responded that she was going to Pelican’s with her grandmother but could meetup with her later. As she finished up in the bathroom, she heard her grandmother calling. Lexi quickly tucked her phone in her back pocket, washed her hands, and went out to meet her.

“Will you drive?” Her grandmother asked. “I don’t like to since my arthritis has been acting up.”

“Of course.” She really didn’t mind. Her grandmother’s driving had been concerning even before the arthritis and often made Lexi carsick. She was happy to do it. When they arrived at Pelican’s, the place was packed. Her grandmother had gone to find a table, and Lexi went to order. When she finally made it to the front of the line, she was surprised to see Hayley behind the counter.

“What are you doing here?” Lexi managed to choke out.

“It’s nice to see you too.” Hayley laughed. Her laugh always had a way of putting Lexi at ease because it sounded so genuine never forced like Lexi felt hers sounded.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Well, if you would’ve checked your phone, you would’ve seen that I gave you a heads up I was going to be here.” Hayley chuckled a low sound that sent heat going all through Lexi’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry that’s my bad.” Lexi’s eyes lingered on Hayley’s tanned arms. “You know how it is when I come back here. I barely had any time to look at my phone.”

“I know.” Hayley reached over the counter to squeeze Lexi’s shoulder. “I’m off in about an hour.” Hayley glanced behind Lexi to where her grandmother was most likely sitting. “Plenty of time for y’all to spar over snow cones.” She smiled her half smile. “Then you can drop her off at home and meet me back here. So, we can catch up properly?”

Lexi hesitated she hadn’t planned on Hayley being here, and there was a small part of her that was afraid her grandmother would see them talking.

“You know it’s okay to tell her.”

Lexi knew she was right. There had been so many opportunities to come out to her gran, but if she was honest with herself. She wasn’t ready for the fallout that would inevitably come.

“No pressure though dude. I just wanted you to know that you’ve got me. No matter what.”

“Hey!” Came a man’s voice from behind Lexi. “Are you gonna order anytime soon sweetheart?”

“Oh my god, yes! I’m so sorry.” Lexi rattled off her order to Hayley and quickly paid.

As Hayley helped the guy that had been behind her, Lexi noticed she put a little something extra in his snow cone.

“Think he’s going to notice the salty flavor?” Hayley came over with Lexi’s snow cones grinning ear to ear.

“I can’t believe you did that.”

“A little sweat never hurt anyone.”

Lexi felt her face flush red again.

“Should I save some for you later?”

Lexi found her grandmother waiting for her at a crowded table with small children and hot, tired looking parents. She sat down across from her grandmother and immediately started in on her snow cone.

“What took you so long?”

“I was catching up with Hayley.” Lexi replied mouth full of blue raspberry slush. Her grandmother was studying her again. Like she was really seeing Lexi for the first time. “She’s been working here for the summer before she starts her coaching job at the school.”

Lexi’s grandmother hadn’t touched her snow cone. She was just watching Lexi shovel more spoonfuls of blue into her mouth.

“Good for her.” Lexi’s grandmother looked the furthest thing from pleased.

Lexi still thinking about her encounter with Hayley moments before smiled. “I’m actually going to pick her up after her shift.”

“Alexa Marie, you know how I feel about her.” Her grandmother had completely abandoned the snow cone, and it was already beginning to melt in the Wilmington heat.

“I know.” Was all Lexi said. She didn’t bother to look up from her snow cone. She wasn’t about to waste it.

My heart beats against my chest so hard the sheer force of it surely will crack a rib. I haven’t sat in a classroom as a student in what feels like an eternity. I’m praying fervently to every god that will listen help me not make a fool of myself. I think it’s the first day we should only be going over the syllabus nothing too scary.

To my horror, we are going to have to speak to our peers in the class. I should’ve known. My mouth is so dry swallowing becomes an Olympic feat. It’s one of those exercises where we have to pay attention, and listen to our partner as they speak. Then we take turns introducing them to the rest of the class. My partner introduces herself, and asks me about the pronunciation of my name. Already she is able to put me at ease by her easy demeanor and interest. I do my best to ask her thoughtful questions as well.

I don’t want to seem anxious, or worse like I’m uninterested. Our conversation comes easy. It reminds me of how natural chatting feels when I’m not on guard. We share the books we deemed the best as per the professor’s prompt. Her’s is the Lord of the Rings the Two Towers specifically. She says she’s a big ole nerd and loves fantasy. We bond over our shared love of Tolkien, and the films as well particularly the dvd copies on extended edition. When it comes time for us to introduce ourselves, she opens with, “this is Laura our Scorpio queen”!

The intro makes me smile, and for a brief moment I’m not anxious. Then it’s my turn to speak I’m suddenly so aware of myself, and how dry my throat is I completely forget everything my partner shared during our chat. I stumble through the few things I remember, and it’s painfully short compared to everyone else’s introductions. My heart still beats with a herculean strength that I think this has to be the moment it shatters my rib cage. Of course, that would happen to me on the first day of class.

I can already see the headline. Texas woman dies of massive heart attack during a zoom lecture. What a way to go out I shudder. However, I finally stumble my way to the end of what feels like an incoherent thought, and quickly turn my mike off. All I can focus on is the fact that my intro was terribly short, and how bad I feel about messing it up. Granted the class was nearing the end anyway.

We were the second to last pair. There are 15 of us in the class. It finally ends my heart slows down ever so slightly. I’m not as concerned I’m going to keel over, and die right then as I was before. I’m left with the thought that I have a whole semester of this. Plenty of time for me to improve, or to in fact give up the ghost entirely and make that headline after all.

Earlier this week my sister shared a cute Tiktok of this local little coffee shop called The Caffeine Library—a recently opened coffee shop and bookstore. One thing about me, I love a sweet treat and a book. Seeing that my two favorite things were combined in a cute, and cozy little space peaked my interest immediately.

Upon furthering investigating, I discovered that they were right in the middle of celebrating Wicked Week complete with themed drink, and pastry menu. Not only did the menu items sound absolutely delicious, but also they were going to have a Wicked movie night! I was over the moon ecstatic when I realized it would be the very evening I was seeing the post on their Instagram.

Another silly little thing about me, I have terrible social anxiety especially in new spaces, but this year I resolved to go out more, and try new things. Trying this new spot was the perfect opportunity to test my resolve. As soon as I finished work, I got in my car at half past five in the afternoon, and made my way to the next city over.

Traffic wasn’t terrible so I wasn’t too incredibly late, but when I finally arrived all the lights in the shop were turned off, and I wasn’t sure it was even opened. The thought that I must’ve misread the Instagram post immediately lodged itself at the forefront of my mind. However, I pulled on the door to see if it was locked. Relief washed over me when it swung right on open.

The whole place was crowded—a good sign, but also I could feel my anxiety prickling beneath my skin. The lights were turned off, but the movie’s sound carried over the gentle din of the room. As I looked around, a woman asked if I wanted any popcorn. Graciously accepting it, I made my way up to the counter where there was a small line. As I waited to order, I nibbled on my popcorn which tasted like it was popped from one of those movie theater machines perfectly salty, and oh so good.

I surveyed the area lit by the light of Wicked playing projected against the wall behind the coffee bar. There were tables spread out, a couple of couches, and some chairs right in the front of the movie. I even caught sight of the bookshelves I would eventually have to browse at a later visit.

It was finally my time to order. My eyesight is traditionally terrible, and my night vision even more so. I couldn’t make out the menu, and I couldn’t remember the name of the drink I wanted to try, but the barista was so helpful, and hilarious. They told me when I came up that they wanted to say, “next munchkin up please!”

Immediately put at ease by this banter I asked for the menu options again because I, of course, forgot. The items included Glinda’s Pink Potion, the iconic Wicked Witch Matcha, and the Yellow Brick Road. In my humble opinion, all cleverly named. I ended up ordering the Yellow Brick Road, which no surprise, was delightful!

After I ordered, I quickly looked out over the room and noticed the only available seating was the row right in the front of the movie. Hesitating for what felt like an eternity, I grabbed that front row seat and settled in. I hadn’t seen the movie since I caught it in theaters back in 2024. Watching the Ozdust Ball scene, still got me, and I had to fight weeping in the front row lol.

Oftentimes my social anxiety gets the better of me, and I don’t normally do spontaneous evening trips like that, but I’m so glad I did! I’m also pleased to report that I will definitely be visiting the Caffeine Library again for the delicious drinks, and immaculate vibes.

Until next time dear reader, all my love.

L

I wanted to report back with updated news as I revisited the Caffeine Library again today, and tried the Wicked Wiiitch Matcha! Also a 10/10 highly recommend! I was able to browse their book selection which I must say they had an excellent range of titles. There was even a local vendors market happening that I happily checked out, and picked up some little goodies!

If you find yourself in South Texas, you must try The Caffein Library! You will not be disappointed <3

Shattering like glass
Is the breaking of my heart
The chains of love are cruel
I shouldn't feel like a prisoner
My face is turning blue
I can't breathe without you here
The chains of love are cruel
I shouldn't feel like a prisoner

One thing about me, if I love something I must consume every part of it. Thus leading me to spend an entire day listening to Chains of Love on repeat. It also led me to rewatch the trailer for the new Emerald Fennell film “Wuthering Heights.”

Putting the casting discourse aside for the sake of this silly little essay, rewatching the trailer, and listening to Charlie’s music has me absolutely feral for this new gothic interpretation. I haven’t read the book since I was sixteen, but I absolutely devoured it that first time. I feel like I didn’t appreciate it as much as I hopefully will now which is part of the reason I’m so excited to revisit it again.

From what I remember, the insatiable hunger the two main characters have for each other reminds me of my own teenage years, and the obsession I had with a couple of boys. lol I know very uncool of me to have been obsessed with boys, but alas! It’s where we were in our development.

The sort of lengths we go too to vex the people we “love.” Funny enough I wasn’t planning on sharing my own vexing nature when I sat down to write my silly little thoughts down, but here we are.

Imagine it’s 2007, and I’ve just finished middle school. I’m starting my high school career, and I’ve somehow managed to catch the attention of one of the high school boys. I’m trying to sound humble, but the truth of it is I was very athletic in school, and loved to play football.

I would spend my free time after school passing the football, and playing pickup games in the school/church parking lot. I would do this often enough that the boys would actually take me seriously.

Let’s pause there for a second and acknowledge how problematic that statement is. “The boys would take me seriously.” Thank you for taking that time with me. We can move on.

The high school boy, in question started hanging out with me outside of our pickup games, and I think that was the first time I was properly enamored with a boy. Like in middle school I hadn’t really been interested, but things had shifted.

I was obsessed. I would look forward to the bits of time we had between classes. Leaving little notes for each other, and of course playing football after school would be the highlights of my day. It was 2007 so I wasn’t really texting all that much, but we would leave each other funny voicemails.

My best friend at the time was a boy that the guy I was obsessed with could not stand, and I fully knew this, but it excited me. The thought that he would be jealous because I was spending time with the boy he hated even now makes me giggle. My best friend, however, couldn’t understand what I saw in football man, but he never gave me any grief about it.

There is this memory I have, of being in the school hallway talking to football guy about something, and then walking down the hallway just a short distance from his locker where I paused to fix the collar of my best friend’s shirt while he was knelt down getting books out of his bag. Just a small little intimate act, but I knew it would enrage football man.

I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn’t care there was a part of me that knew football man was an asshole even then. He is you guessed it a Trump supporter now so I have no remorse over messing with him. He never even told me he liked me. Never told me anything about how he felt in all those letters we passed in all those voicemails we left for each other.

You know who told me they liked me from the first moment we met? My best friend lol. I loved him for that. For not being afraid to tell me how he felt. Eventually, football man broke up with me shocker.

There is a line from the new Wuthering Heights trailer where Catherine says of Heathcliff, “whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” Thankfully, football boy, and me are about as polar opposite as two people can possibly be, but even now although I don’t talk to my best friend from that time. I like to think his and mine are still the same.

I found out today that I passed the required entrance exam for my graduate studies program, and I’m so excited and proud of myself! It seems like such a silly thing to say, and normally I wouldn’t be so openly enthusiastic about something for fear of not coming across as humble, or whatever, but honestly fuuuk that.

I worked really hard, and I’m just really proud of myself for sticking to it, and not giving up. For a while, I had been feeling really lost especially after the pandemic. There was a lot of insecurity, and resentment of feeling like I lost so much time. Even after the pandemic was declared “over,” I had this great sense of feeling stuck. I didn’t know where to go, or what to do after everything. I had lost my enthusiasm for teaching, and working in education so much so that I was deeply depressed, and had no motivation to try anything.

The years that followed that period were spent going from one meaningless job to another. While I know that is not totally accurate, because there were some very meaningful relationships that I was so fortunate to develop, and still bring me so much joy and encouragement. Where I was at mentally, emotionally, and spiritually just felt perpetually dark. Everything seemed like too much, too heavy, and too hard. I didn’t write often. A habit that had historically brought me so much relief even seemed to be too much. All the while constantly thinking I’m not making any progress. I’m not moving forward. If anything, I feel like I’m moving backward.

Even now when I think about that time, I don’t know that I have totally recovered from it all. I’m not sure that I ever will. In my head, I’m still 27, and scared. Scared of feeling like my best years are behind me. Scared of all the things I’m missing, and incredibly fearful of what my life will look like in the future.

I turned 33 in October, and when my cousin asked how I felt I said, “ well I’m the same age Jesus was when he died.” A joke that I then heard Josh Hutcherson make on Brittany Broski’s Royal Court (not a requirement, but if you haven’t seen that episode you should check it out). Lol

Since he and I both share the same birth year, and month granted he is a couple weeks older than I am, I am going to claim that joke as mine. I’m not really quite sure what that says about us, but over the last couple years my perspective on getting older has shifted a touch. Don’t get me wrong there is still some residual fear. There is also acceptance. and honestly a realization that when you turn 30 your life isn’t over. There is still time to apply for that grad program, or make that career change. Finding joy and passion in new things doesn’t end when you reach a certain age. Sure I’m basically a million years old in tik tok years, but that’s okay.

I’ve still got time to figure things out, and so do you dear reader. If you’ve been feeling stuck, here is your sign that it gets better. There is still time for you too, and the road doesn’t end here. That’s all for now. I think I’m going to watch the grinch and finally bask in the yuletide cheer. Until next time dear reader. All my love, L

I’ve been listening to a lot of Rose Betts lately, and there is something about her voice, and the instruments that make me feel like I’m being whisked away on a little adventure. I grew up reading Tolkien, and C.S. Lewis so I love me a little adventure some wardrobe magic, and wizards. Can’t forget the wizards.

My sister, and I would pretend we were the hobbits running away from the black riders when we would be playing in our backyard. On the days our friends would come over, we would all pretend that we were a part of the fellowship. Even though our friends had never even heard of the Lord of the Rings they would fall right into with us.

Those are still some of my favorite memories as a kid. Days spent in our back yard, or down at my Nana’s house running around with my sister, and our friends. We would spend literal hours outside playing pretend, swimming, and riding our bikes up and down the street sometimes until it got dark, and even then the darkness didn’t stop us from playing.

I can still remember leaving our blankets that we would use as our little cloaks outside, and my dad reminding me to bring in all our “toys” when we were done playing. I don’t think I ever did remember to bring them in now that I think about it. lol I was too wrapped up in thinking about the next day’s adventures to even bother.

I’m grown now, but I absolutely still love a little adventure. Putting on my cloak to venture to the grocery store, feels like a trip through Emyn Muil especially now that it’s the holidays. The parking lot alone is basically a maze of razor sharp rocks. lol Just thinking about it now makes me cringe a little at the inevitable next trip I will have to make.

I do hope, however, dear reader wherever this finds you that your daily adventures are not so treacherous as those as our literary friends’ adventures tend to be. Until next time, please listen to some music that makes you feel like you’re travelling through middle earth, or if that’s not really your thing perhaps some music that just warms your hearth and makes you grateful you’re home. All my love L

I cleaned my dog’s dirty little paws for what felt like the millionth time today because it’s finally raining here in the valley after what feels like ages. I am of course exaggerating, but this is my little corner of the internet so I can do whatever I goddamn well please here. It takes time for me to clean them because like most dogs she hates having them touched, and she tends to get all squirmy making it a bit difficult to actually clean. lol

We’ve also got work being done in our backyard, adding to the overall muddy state so for the foreseeable future my poor dog is going to have to deal with me touching her little paws whether she likes it or not. I, of course, feel terrible for putting her through this stress, but since we are merely guests in our current abode, and can’t be tracking in mud a little stress is what we both must endure for the time being.

Late fall is such an interesting time here the temperatures range from mid 90s to potentially mid 70s. It feels like it could be the end of August, and not in fact the start of December. The only indicators that we’ve moved past summer, and my beloved Halloween are the Christmas decorations in every shop, and the lights and blow ups in people’s yards. I’ve accepted the overall lack of seasonal changes here in South Texas, but that doesn’t mean I’ve got to like it. lol

I even tried to partake in the Black Friday festivities, and made a little trip down to the mall, but when I arrived I was greeted with the site of an abysmal parking lot situation that immediately had me turning my car around, and heading back the way I came. I did, however, stop for a little sweet treat on the way home so all in all not a total loss.

I’m getting ready to venture back outside, and I must admit one of the upsides to living in the Southwest is that even though it is incredibly dark very early it isn’t so cold that I don’t want to go outside. lol I am at least grateful for that. Even if that means I’m spending my time cleaning my dog’s dirty little paws.

I think back to the first time I was in love with someone. I was only fourteen at the time, and never had a proper crush on anyone up to this point in my life.

Falling in love before fourteen, never really seemed all that appealing to me. In fact, I believe at 10 I was very satisfied with the idea of never being married, or having children. I can still remember hearing my Nana’s voice when she said, “that will all change as you get older.”

Fast forward four years, and it would seem my Nana was correct. I don’t quite remember exactly when, or how me and this person met, but I remember thinking they’re cool. They like to play sports, and they’re not bad almost as good as I am.

I remember feeling like they liked me too, but with both of us being young, being incredibly awkward, and growing up in a very religiously conservative space. Neither of us ever saying explicitly how we felt about each other which would eventually be our undoing.

But I knew, and they knew. It was in the way I would look at them, and in the way I pretended to look away when they caught me staring. It was in the notes they would take the time to write, and leave for me in my locker. In the way, they would pretend to look away when I caught them staring.

I think back to our bus rides. We both played for our school’s basketball teams. At first sitting away from each other with our separate friends, but still being totally aware of each other. Days passed of sharing glances, writing notes, and exchanging jokes when we had the opportunity between classes.

On some days, just the thought of meeting between classes, or even getting to sit next to each other during a shared class would be the only thing getting me through a mundane school day. Days turned into months of this, and only this—shared glances, and moments between classes.

At last, we now sat next to each other on the bus. Listening to Greenday, and sharing headphones because we only had one ipod. This was my first relationship, and by some standards may not even qualify as a relationship.

Since we never defined the relationship perhaps it never was, and there are certainly times I feel as if I may have imagined it, but then even now after all these years I remember what it felt like to be seen, and pursued in a way that felt thrilling.

Author’s note: best read with blue velvet playing softly in the background

It’s only been three days since the end of my favorite holiday, and I’m still not recovered from the fact that it is over. I will eventually be all right perhaps a day, or two more of observance. If I do not respond to any messages on here, just know dear reader I am unwell, and shall remain unwell until I feel the spirit of Mariah Carey move me to Yuletide.

I didn’t even realize the hour had changed to what feels like perpetual night. Although as a goth at heart, I’m not entirely mad about the change. I do wish, however, my eyes were better suited to seeing in the darkness. It would definitely making driving around a lot less frightening for me, and those around.

I shall inevitably have to move past the tragic end of my most cherished holiday, and prepare for the business of the upcoming end of year celebrations. There will be many a festivity as we entertain family, and friends for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and eventually New Years. I used to look forward to this time with great anticipation, but in my old age I fear I’m already tired just by thinking about it.

Although I have never seen the Jim Carey version of the Grinch, I am beginning to understand the desire to just want to be left alone to rot in the privacy of one’s own home, and not have to be forced to do any kind of mingling unless as I stated before the spirit of our lord and savior Mariah Carey moves me.

Perhaps the next couple of weeks I shall spend preparing for what is to come. I’ll linger on listening to my vintage autumnal oldies playlist, and throw on Fantastic Mr. Fox to still feel all those fall feelings. Slowly, I’ll get into the Christmas mood, and put up those delightful decorations, but for now I am mourning the loss of Halloween, and the spooky vibes with it. Rest assured dear reader you still have all my love, and maybe a little bit of my melancholy. lol

This past week I had the great pleasure of being in my first ever wedding. There was a previous situation in which I had to step in for a cousin who was supposed to be a bridesmaid, but unfortunately she had a dress debacle. So, I was forced to step in quite literally (i don’t view this as counting so we’re sticking with what i stated earlier).

I flew to North Carolina from Texas, and was picked up by my dear sweet friends at a most ungodly hour. This was truly one of the highlights because as someone who has severe travel anxiety. I don’t know how to explain how much of a relief it is to see the faces of people you love after several hours of flying, changing airports, and flying again.

The week itself was expected to be busy. I knew this going into it. I had foolishly thought I would have the energy to get in some fall activities the day before the rehearsal, but hadn’t really thought about how tired I would be with the travelling, and the hour change.

My friends, and I settled for a quick coffee date, and a yummy brunch that really helped lift all our collective moods. One of my sweet friends was the maid of honor for the aforementioned wedding, and as crunch time really started to settle in over all of us we could feel the coming pressure. This little brunch felt like the the deep breath before the start of a big race.

Surprisingly, the actual rehearsal was not too hectic. We had the opportunity to get a good look at the aisle we would be walking down. It was only slightly treacherous for those of us in heels, and I had the chance to see my beautiful friend and bride. <3 The venue was absolutely gorgeous, and felt very autumnal which of course if you know me you know how I feel about fall dear reader.

Even the rehearsal dinner went smoothly, I only spilt my plate on myself once. I consider one clumsy moment for me a total success. Ready to peace out early, and check in to our hotel a little early. My friend and I left the rehearsal feeling pretty pleased with ourselves. Little did we know the shenanigans that were about to ensue.

It was already after dark when we arrived at our hotel. The first red flag for me was the fact that the name on the hotel sign was not the name of the hotel we reserved. However, the first red flag should’ve been the simple fact that both times my friend, and I called to make sure they had our reservations the person we spoke to over the phone neither confirmed, or denied whether or not we even had a reservation in the first place. Which of course was super confusing and unsettling.

The parking lot of the hotel was incredibly busy. There were cars in what felt like every parking spot which was a bit odd considering that it was still early enough in the evening, but what do I know. The other off thing to me was how many men were just out in the parking lot drinking, and chatting with each other like was there a party going on?

I think the final straw was before we even made it to the hotel lobby we walked passed a hotel room with the door wide open, and a man just laying face down on his bed with the all the lights in the room completely turned off. My immediate thought was “I hope that guy is okay, and we need to get the fuuuuk up out of here!”

However, we persisted to the front desk and asked about our reservations which of course they did not have, but still let us check out our room because both my friend and I were already suspicious of the place. There was something off about the room. I can’t explain it, but I immediately felt uneasy when we walked through the door which did not seem very secure.

The lights didn’t work at first when we tried them. Already not a great start, and as I examined one of the beds I noticed two very large dark stains on the red comforter that just made me more and more unsettled. I looked at my friend, and was like “I do not want to stay here.” lol

She thanked me for being honest which was so sweet, but like I just felt so uneasy there was no way we needed to stay here and get human trafficked. We went back to the front desk, and politely told the man we were not interested. He then tried to show us another “more private” room which was weird because he didn’t offer to do that for the first one.

My friend and I looked at each other, and were like absolutely not, and I let him know we were not interested. While leaving was the best option in my opinion, and I still stand by it. It, of course, left us with nowhere to stay. We called our friend, and maid of honor and filled her in on what had just happened.

While we drove around to try and find other accommodations, our friend found us a place to stay for the evening. It was the groom who offered to let us stay at his mom’s house. Honestly, so kind and such a huge relief because it was becoming apparent to my friend, and I that we were going to have difficulty finding a new hotel.

We did eventually find one. After bopping around town, and getting a solid night’s sleep. Thank you again to the groom, and our maid of honor for saving the day quite literally. The real last hurdle to get through was of course the wedding. Saturday finally arrived, and so did our responsibilities as bridesmaids.

We were voluntold to steam all the bridesmaids’ dresses. Which I thought was super funny we were nominated for this job being the only two non white girls in the bridal party, but I digress. As stressful as it was for making the dresses look worthy of being photographed for the wedding, I had a fabulous time vocal stimming to 12 to 12 with my best girl.

When it did finally come time for the actual ceremony, I was only slightly nervous. lol I wish that were true. I was actually so nervous I was going to trip and fall down the aisle, but I’m happy to report I did not in fact fall down. Thankfully, nobody was really paying attention to me. It was the gorgeous bride who had all our attention.

When she began walking down the aisle, I could hear the loud sniffles of the groom. This, of course, made me start crying because I am a sympathetic crier, and can’t help it. The rest of the ceremony was absolutely beautiful, and passed quickly. Our maid of honor knocked it out of the park with a lovely speech, and with her responsibilities fulfilled she could finally let lose and dance the night away.

There were so many beautiful moments from my little trip. I shall be thinking about them all for a long while. Granted there was also a good amount of stress too haha, but nothing so terrible to overcome when you are surrounded by people who consistently have your back.

As I reflect on it all, I can’t help but feel so loved, and so incredibly grateful to know and be known by such amazing people. Okaaay, enough of all that sentimentality, or I’m going to start crying again for real. lol Until next time dear reader. I hope you feel loved, and seen by those closest to you! <3

author’s note: best read with a piping hot cuppa and a light on

I had been hiking for a little while now. I couldn’t remember where I must’ve stepped off the trail, but suddenly there was no trail and nothing looked familiar. I tried not to panic. I knew that as soon as I gave in to my intrusive thoughts it was pretty much over for me.

I tend to go from zero to a hundred real fast, and getting lost on what was supposed to be an easy hike on a familiar trail was not on my list of ways I wanted to spend my afternoon. But alas here I was, trying desperately to find anything that looked familiar.

Just some bit of evidence to guide me back to where I must have stepped off the travelled path. It was getting dark now too not necessarily because it was late, but because the Appalachian woods are dense, and the day although early afternoon, was overcast.

I check my phone for messages and the time. One message from my mom telling me to watch my six. I let loose a nervous chuckle. I’ve only been hiking for 45 minutes. I take a sip from my emotional support water bottle. At least I have water, and I even thought to bring a few granola bars so that was a huge plus.

Having been walking for a while I finally plop down on a little stump, and eat one of my bars, and drink more water studying my surroundings. While I hadn’t grown up in the area, I had heard enough stories about these primordial woods to know better than to respond to any voices calling out my name.

I listened carefully, but all I could hear are the birds rustling in the trees overhead nothing ominous. I packed up my trash in my little bag. I didn’t want to leave any remnants of my snack that could potentially draw a black bear, and start walking again hoping to come to a trail head of some kind. After walking what feels like ages, I come instead to what appears to be a staircase.

How strange! Who would build a staircase seemingly in the middle of nowhere leading to absolutely nothing? As I walk around what seems to be the most ordinary although slightly dilapidated staircase, I hear what sounds like a branch snap behind me.

I spin around so fast the drawstrings of my jacket whip across my face so hard they sting. Staring down the place I heard the snap come from, I see nothing but an endless sea of trees. Dread seeping in I can’t help, but feel I’m being followed by some pair of watchful eyes.

I slowly turn back to the staircase. My body on full alert ears listening hard for any sound. As if in response to the growing fear in my mind, I hear once more the unmistakable sound of a crack. This time from the corner of my vision.

Desperately trying to quiet my racing thoughts, I turn once more to the sound of where the snap of the branch originated. It sounded like it came from behind a rather thick tree. I gather my courage, and run to the tree thinking maybe surprise would be my safest bet.

As I come around to inspect what could possibly be hidden behind the tree, I’m greeted with the site of nothing except for the bits of broken branch that I must have heard earlier. The evidence of the broken remains comforts and alarms me.

I did not in fact make up the sound, but there isn’t anything hiding behind the tree like I suspected. Nevertheless, the feeling of being watched is one I haven’t been able to shake since the sounds of the snapping started. It feels like something is prowling around me, and the mysterious staircase that up to this point I completely forgot was there.

Intrigued by it once more, I turn back to further investigate the stairway to nowhere. It’s made out of what appears to be very old almost petrified trees. Fascinated by the design, I check to see if the stairs are sturdy enough to hold me.

After testing a couple out, I begin to walk up the staircase. There is no railing, and the stairway is very narrow. Old leaves crunch beneath my feet as I ascend further up, and up until I get to the top. It isn’t incredibly high, but I get a better view of the woods around me.

The forest air feels thick and almost heavy. Suddenly, I feel as if the trees are bearing down on me. I close my eyes believing this will somehow help me, and try to go back down the staircase, but I can’t move. I force my legs to take a step down, but they seem determined to ignore my brain’s command to move to run.

As quickly as the feeling comes on, it disappears. I’m able to open my eyes, and I must have finally been able to move because I’m now standing at the bottom of the staircase. My ears feel like they need to pop. I open and close my mouth a few times hoping that works to relieve it. Eventually, my ears do pop.

It’s really dark now, and I’ve decided I’ve spent enough time in these woods. I frantically run back to the area I think I was standing before I foolishly decided to inspect the staircase. I take one glance back to where the staircase is, and where the sounds of the snapped branches had been moments before and race off.

After running at a full on sprint for as long as my lungs can take, I finally reach a trail marker that after a mile, or so leads me back to the familiar path. I had started down. My phone tells me it’s now after six. I had started my hike just after 12. That time can’t be right.

I check my phone again to make sure I hadn’t made a mistake. The screen reads six fifteen. I’ve been out in these woods for six hours. That doesn’t feel right to me at all. I thought for sure at most it maybe had been two hours. I hadn’t checked my phone at all before I came across the stairs.

I was too busy worried about the feeling of being watched, and the sound of the snapped branches to bother looking at the time. I eventually make it back to my parked car. There are no other cars in the lot except for my brown Subaru Outback.

I must have gotten reception back because my phone is buzzing like crazy. I’ve got calls, and messages from my mom, and friends asking where I am, and if I’m okay. I call my mom first to tell her what happened. She listens quietly as I share my strange experience. She’s just glad I’m okay.

I’ve since gone back to that trail, but have been unable to find that staircase again. Sometimes I think I imagined it, and that it wasn’t there at all, but I remember how it felt being out in those woods alone. The feeling of being watched. All those trees pressing in on me giving me nowhere to go, and all that lost time.

this short story was inspired by some Appalachian tales of strange staircases found out amongst the woods. i hope you enjoyed reading. thought a little spooky tale for october would be a fun little change of pace. let me know what you think, and if you have any spooky tales of your own i would love to hear. until next time dear reader <3

It’s spooky season, and I really love watching movies that set the Halloween ambiance. One of those films, that I saw for the first time in 2018, and remember immediately loving was Robert Eggers’ 2015 film the VVitch a New England Folktale.

I rewatched it last night, and made my dad sit down with me for the first 15 minutes, or so of the film. If you have seen it, you know that those first 15 minutes are pretty intense. If you have not seen the film, there will be spoilers ahead.

To be fair, it was pretty late when I started watching, and my dad was heading off to bed, but he immediately was horrified by the opening bit of the film. At first I couldn’t understand why. What is so scary about an elderly lady that lives alone in the woods, and uses the blood of babies as her daily retinoid? lol

Suffice to say my dad was not interested in watching the rest of the film with me, but he did ask me if I finished watching the movie this morning. He was shocked when I said of course it’s one of my favorites from the spooky genre. He couldn’t understand why I liked it.

I didn’t fully understand what made me really enjoy the film as much as I do until I sat with it for a bit, but I suppose part of the reason I love it so much of course is where it takes place. Shoutout to my home away from homes New England! I love you!

The setting plays what feels like a role of its own from the way the very land looms in on our unfortunate exiled Puritan family imposing its “sinister” will. The music which is very sparce, but includes unsettling contributions that add to the eerie feeling of it all.

I can’t talk enough about the performances. They’re captivating especially Anya Taylor Joy as Thomsin. Just wow stunning no notes ma’am. The other performers as well 10/10 highly recommend. It is through these performances that you can’t help, but feel the dread.

As the story unravels, so does our family slowly at first, but by the end we descend in to sheer bloody madness. We get to see how easily all civility and rationale go out the window when we are left with nothing, but our fear and superstitions. Well those and let’s not forget the silly pride and foolishness of men.

I understand, having watched interviews with director Robert Eggers, that this film isn’t his favorite from his filmography which to be fair with last year’s Nosferatu. I can understand. Thankfully The VVitch performed so well that he could go on to make the films he really wanted to make.

It is, however, my favorite of his films because duh, witches! Well witches, as I already have discussed at length the story, the cinematography, the acting, the music blah blah blah. Anyway if you haven’t already seen this film. Please, check it out, and let me know your thoughts.

Also, if you have any spooky movie recommendations feel free to drop those suggestions in the comments, or not that is perfectly fine too! Thank you for coming along this silly little journey with me! Until next time dear reader. Happy Spooky Season!!

It’s cooling down a little bit here in the South Texas Valley, and by cooling down I mean instead of it being 104 degrees in October it’s 94. I’ll take that 10 degree change any day honestly because to me that means we’re getting closer to the end of the year, and that hopefully means cooler temperatures are right around the corner.

Don’t get me wrong I do love the warmer months. I love going to the beach, and swimming the smell of sunscreen ever present. However, I’m also a creature that longs for the changes the different seasons bring. Fall has always been my favorite of the four (don’t tell the others). The cooler temperatures, the changing leaves, the sign that the end of the year is not too far away which means holidays hopefully spent among loved ones.

True the days grow shorter and darker, but oddly enough I love that because it gives me an excuse to stay inside and cozy up with a good book, or fun little spooky movie not that I of all people need an excuse for either of those activities, but I feel less guilt in “indulging.”

As much as I enjoy staying inside the moment it turns five pm, I look forward to the fall activities such as the pumpkin patches, and corn mazes where hopefully at the end of the festivities there is hot apple cider and maybe even an apple cider donut as a treat for making it through the corn maze.

The fall coffee menu at my favorite local haunts will provide some of the taste for September and October. That and all the yummy gourd inspired soups and pastries I will undoubtedly be consuming. Currently, I am obsessed with the pumpkin spice flavor creamer from Chobani (not an ad). It really makes that morning, or evening cup of coffee pop!

I have endless fall inspired spotify playlist soundtracking my day to day activities as well. Currently enjoying one titled Fall Feels. I shall be playing it for the rest of the day I fear. Trying to manifest continued cooler temperatures finding there way to me, and also to you dear reader. Happy Fall <3

I grew up all over over the United States. My dad was in the military so we moved around every three years since I was born. Oddly enough, I always enjoyed getting the opportunity to go somewhere new. We would all pile into my dad’s 91’ Toyota Carola and drive off to some place we’d never been.

It was always so exciting for me. My sister and I would play little games in the back seat, and talk about what new place we were travelling too this time. We spent a few years in California, a few years in Michigan, some in Alabama, but still even now my absolute favorite place we lived was New England.

It was the fall months that I think I fell in love with first. How the leaves would change colors to the most vibrant shades of yellow, red, and orange. Waking up to crisp mornings when it’s cold enough to see your misty breath, but not so cold that you’re hands are frozen and you’re miserable. True enough that time would come, but we are talking of Fall first.

The cups of Dunkin’ hot chocolate for those especially crisp mornings on our way to school would mark the end of summer, and the beginning of the autumnal months. When I would trade in my plaid Bermuda shorts for plaid wool skirts, and oversized sweaters from L.L Bean.

My last year in New England was my Freshman year of high school. I had an English teacher from New Hampshire—Miss. Hemingway (very fitting lol). She had us all memorize Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken, and I’m so glad she did because even now when I romanticize my time in New England it truly personifies the entire period.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both and be one traveler,

Long I stood and looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

For instance, Monday I had the day off, but I still felt as if I needed to be productive. The agenda consisted of taking care of all my laundry, cleaning my much neglected bathroom, and preparing and cooking dinner. While I considered ignoring all these house responsibilities, I knew they needed to get done, and once they were done I could rest in peace because I had earned it.

I’m not sure when exactly I started feeling like I needed to even on my days off earn resting, but alas! Here we are. I could lament how unfortunate it is to live in late stage capitalism, but I feel like I’ve done this enough. We are all keenly aware how terrible it is. Instead of waxing poetic for the slower days of yore. I would just like to encourage you to do nothing. lol

If you find yourself with a day off perhaps all the laundry does not need to be folded, or the bathroom entirely deep cleaned. Perhaps, you could just sit and read without having to earn that simple pleasure. Of course, we all have to eat but maybe the meal doesn’t have to be the most arduous thing you can cook maybe it could just be Annie’s mac n cheese (I can hear “girl dinner”).

If a solid scroll is more your speed, than I encourage you reader take that scroll just don’t forget to maybe put your phone down for a few hours too, and enjoy something that does not involve a screen. I promise you it will be worth it. In my humble opinion, doing nothing is the absolute best thing.

While not exactly a particular moment, but still a constant source of joy for me (sometimes a little stress) is my sweet dog Mia. I know I’ve mentioned her before, and this certainly won’t be the last time that I do, but she really does bring me so much joy. It’s funny because growing up I was terrified of dogs. I had a bad experience when I was probably about five where me, my sister, and my cousin got chased by some albeit small dogs.

Thinking about it now it makes me laugh because they couldn’t have been much bigger than Mia and she is roughly the size of a chonky toddler. At the time though, it was very traumatizing, and it put me off dogs until I was probably about eight. Some of my friends from school had a sweet Golden Retriever named Zoe that really converted me, and I have been a dog lover ever since.

Though rest assured, I also love cats. I just don’t have any sadly for fear of Mia Pooh trying to eat them. lol She constantly is trying to get me to give her food even if she has just eaten, and while that sometimes is frustrating it is also hilarious because I get it. I too, love food, and even if I’m eating I’m thinking about what I will be eating next.

Completely unrelated, but I also love the beach and swimming. Sometimes I forget how much until the occasion presents itself, and I find myself near the water, and then I of course must swim. Such was the case today when I forgot I had signed up for a 5k that takes place near the ocean.

Wading in the surf with my Auntie, and ducking below the crash of the waves brought me such joy, and honestly release that I might in fact be cured from all my ailments of which believe me there were many. Funny enough I almost decided not to come because I just wasn’t feeling up to traveling, or running a 5k to be totally honest, but I’m so glad I did.

I understand it can be a real battle to find joy in anything especially when it feels like there is so much bad happening every minute of every day. But I do believe, there is joy to be found in honestly the most simplest of things. Whether it’s that sweet constant companion, or a forgotten hobby. I hope you find yours dear reader. Until next time <3

I am a garden of black and red agonies,

blooming like the night’s fragrant flower

Sylvia Plath

I am not quite sure what exactly struck me when I first read this quote. Perhaps, it was the garden imagery? After all, flowers especially the ones that flourish in the night’s cool air are some of my favorite. Maybe it was the fact that I was reading this line of Plath’s from a perfume website, and that to me was quite an unexpected place to stumble across it.

I know The Bell Jar is one of her most iconic works, but I have not yet read it. I also did not know she wrote poetry. I think the part that struck such a chord with me was the bit about the agony of it all. “I am a garden of black and red agonies.”

Flowers are so beautiful after all their colors, and hues, their textures. How could something so splendid contain such pain and sadness? I suppose it must be for the sake of balance? Neither can exist without the other sort of thing. In order to have such resplendent beauty, requires a sort of suffering? If that is in fact the case, I am not so sure I want to aspire to be such a beautiful thing.

I do not care for suffering, and yet I understand passing through life nobody can escape unscathed. Whether small, or big hurts they are hurts all the same, and I am not sure I have met anyone that enjoys enduring such pain, and yet every day we must.

We must contain within ourselves unimaginable suffering, and still in spite of it all manage to bloom. Through hardship, through pain, through loss bloom. For the flower that blooms in adversity, “is the most rare, and beautiful of all.”