24

 I spent this past weekend celebrating Chino's birthday.

We met up with Ian and went to Sacred Needle after work on Friday. Chino got their tongue pierced and I got two more helix piercings, which are the woooorst. We survived. 

I spent the night and turned in early despite Chino booing me because my frail body demands it. I've started seeing a therapist again. It's been less than two months and she's already suggested I should talk to my doctor about a screening for chronic fatigue disorder. On Thanksgiving, I helped my aunt set up a bit, crashed on a couch for the entire meal, almost fell down a staircase, and then left. It's not ideal.  

Saturday was Chino's actual birthday. We spent the morning and afternoon playing Stardew Valley. We're to fall of the first year in this save. Ian alternated between working on his elaborate cake and playing Cattails: Wildwood Story. I think it's better than the original Cattails. 

I drove and picked up Hayley. We regrouped at the apartment and Chino opened gifts from us. 

We had dinner at Momo Mee, which is where the four of us went for Chino's birthday last year as well. Always really good. Ian ate so much he unbuttoned his pants the second we got back in the car. 

After, we chilled at the apartment and talked shit for a few hours and ate the birthday cake Ian had made, which had a long name in another language my brain zoned out on after the first syllable. Something strawberry and lovely.

I meant to take Hayley back before it starting snowing again, but lost track of it, so she got to experience the occasional fun slipping and sliding of my poor sedan in no way designed for winter life.

Happy birthday, Chino!  

Bang

I shot a gun for the first time. 

I've always been terrified of guns. The fear is guns is reasonable. Smart, even. Especially growing up and living in the USA. God bless America. 

But, like many fears, I think mine has been intensified by the fact that I knew absolutely nothing about them. 

For anyone who hasn't been subjected to my complaining, for years and years I've been having nightmares and stress dreams nightly that I remember when I wake up. There's been an uptick lately of ones about gun violence. So I thought maybe I should try to do something about it.

I looked up gun safety courses and found that there is a gun store and range five minutes from my house (God bless America) that was offering a beginner's workshop for women for thirty bucks. 

(Look, I've only been on testosterone for less than two months and all it's done so far is give me acne. I'll take what I can while I can. I did my time.)

We learned a bit about different guns and how they work, and focused on how to hold and shoot a pistol during a short classroom portion before we were released to practice shooting on the range.

I felt so nauseous aiming at the target with the first bullet loaded in the barrel. 

I thought I was going to panic after the first shot and leave. I told myself that was fine, but I had to shoot once, even though I really wanted to unload the gun and just walk out then.

And then I pulled the trigger and didn't instantly burst into flames with the end of the world. I stayed and shot the whole box of ammo I was given, thanked the instructors, and drove the five minutes home.

I kept the first shell casing. I'll find it somewhere in a few months and throw it out, probably. But it means something for now.

Knowing a bit more about guns and how to handle them will not change the fact that if someone wants to and has the means to shoot me or someone I love, they will. But if I'm ever in the same situation again I was a few years back trying to find an ingredient in my dad's kitchen while cooking for Thanksgiving and opening up an overhead cabinet and seeing one of his handguns next to his peanut butter, I think I'd feel confident enough to move it myself instead of just closing the door and asking someone else to deal with it.

(He most definitely put it there while sleepwalking. How that man is still alive, I could not tell you.)

 

 

Barn Cats

Ian, Chino, and I had our last weaving class. I'd missed a couple sessions and was anxiously sweating flying through the process trying to catch up. We need to finish up the ends and soak and dry them, which we'll do before our DND session on Saturday. 

I like how our pieces turned out. They're just long strips of testing things out, something of a table runner or uncomfortable scarf. My project from my first time taking the class has been sitting on top of my bookshelf since I finished it, and I imagine this one will probably join it.

We picked up dinner from Culver's. Ian watched Chino and I make a new multiplayer save in Stardew Valley and play through the first week or so. 

I forgot there's a character in the game named Robin, so I named my avatar Robin2 as a catchy, clever distinction. 

We had to abandon our last save because the game glitched and our cat vanished, and we weren't too keen on playing on without a little friend.

Speaking of cats, I saw a young one near the on ramp to the freeway on my drive home from Ian and Chino's apartment. I took the first exit off the freeway to double back and look for it for a while, but there was no sign of it by then. I hope it scampered off to somewhere warm and safe.

I called both Ian and Chino, and left a voicemail for Chino of me yelling about my personal cat crisis since I couldn't subject them to it in real time. Chino has gotten a lot of voice messages of me yelling. Ian doesn't check his voicemail, so you might as well scream into the void if you need to reach him.

It was a good night, cat woes aside.

Sky 2 Stay Winning

Five years ago, I did a term with AmeriCorps NCCC. I was on a team of eleven people, and we got sent on various service projects around the country.

Six of us spent last weekend together in Denver, where we met. Four had wanted to make it but weren't able to, and the other one tragically passed away earlier this year.

We've heard from other teams that many don't keep in contact or keep in minimal contact. It's a wild concept to me to go from living together in cramped and questionable quarters, working alongside each other on horrible tasks day in and day out, preparing and eating every meal together, and never being alone to never speaking again. Our team was formed in the height of the pandemic, so we were basically each other's entire social sphere for the time we were serving. 

I made some genuine friendships within my team, but even if I hadn't, I feel at the very least trauma bonded to every single person on my team from the things we endured. Alex and Kiana started dating during our term and have stayed together. Truly a glorious relationship origin story. 

I envy them a bit in that they have each other to talk to about what happened. I don't try to explain my time with NCCC to anyone. It's a pointless venture. There are no words that could paint the picture to someone who did not go through that.

Last weekend, we stayed in a house with one of the weirdest layouts I have ever seen. I was the first to arrive and took a nap the second I finished scouting out the place and had thought maybe I'd dreamt the convoluted design. I hadn't.

I dragged a twin mattress into the big closet of the room Alex and Kiana were staying in. Everyone made fun of me, but in the spirit of the program, it would have felt odd to have a room to myself. 

We had a really nice reunion and a blast catching up, reminiscing, and exploring Denver and Aurora.

One of the days, we walked around eight miles (I was suffering) between a loop of a state park and finding our way to our campus. We probably spent only around a month there in total between our initial quarantine and training, another quarantine after the holiday break, and days here and there using it as a landing pad between projects. It was really strange to be there in person again. Especially with it empty, as DOGE cut a lot of funding to AmeriCorps earlier in this Trump administration and the current government shutdown being the nail in the coffin for the organization currently.

To Sky 2, it is always a joy. I look forward to our ten year reunion. 

🍞

I bought a bread machine from Facebook Marketplace.

Ian and Chino both made fun of me about it in separate but near-identical conversations in typical fashion of a couple together for going on seven years. 

It looks like a tiny space shuttle. I picked it up after work from a very pleasant older gentleman. 

My uncle found me a used one when I was in high school. It was kind of busted and I'd have to fish out the metal spinner from where it'd detach and get lost in the loaf. I did not tell him this. 

I enjoy making bread more than I enjoy the resulting bread itself. But, I think it is fun.

My niece always enjoyed making slime. The times she convinced me to join her when she was younger I did begrudgingly. I can't stand the texture. She does it pretty often still and I refuse to touch it. 

I'm not entirely sure why because bread dough feels pretty similar when you start kneading it by hand and I like that.

If anyone wants subpar homemade bread (at best, mad science experiments at worst), hit me up.

Mr. Worldwide

One of the things Ian and Chino gifted me for my birthday (I am 24 now as of Friday) was a pair of socks with pit bulls on them. 

They're my favorite kind of dog. The pit bull isn't a breed itself but a group of several similar breeds.

I've always really loved dogs. I'd spend my time as a kid reading books about different breeds and watching videos about them online or training shows on television. 

My cousin Andrea and I were very close growing up and were convinced we were going to open a dog daycare or training center together when we got older. She works as a chef at a restaurant and as a boxing coach at a women's gym now. It's really cool.

My mom asked me recently what or where in my life makes me happiest. My mind flashed to MADACC pretty fast.

MADACC is the animal control for Milwaukee County. Anything that gets picked up as a stray or seized by law enforcement ends up there. Lots of dogs and cats. Sometimes little guys like rabbits, rats, and chickens. Of note, we had a giant pig, a sheep, and an alligator since I started volunteering there last summer.

I don't get myself over there as often as I wish I did, but I do love it when I convince myself to go. I work with the dogs or do community outreach for the most part.

My mom and I stopped by for a little bit yesterday. I got to show her around and we walked a couple dogs.

Panther Pride

I went to the same K-8 school for most of my time in grade and middle school. My brothers went there, as well as a bunch of other family members. Some of my younger cousins are there now. 

That's where I met Ian. He moved to Wisconsin and transferred in when we were in the fourth grade, and the rest is history. 

On Saturday, the school hosted a community event to celebrate its 100th year of operation. Ian and I stopped by together. 

We walked around the playground and did a lap around the school. A giant concrete slab when we were there, since renovated to include patches of green split by gravel paths. Halls that hold years of memories for the both of us, not as much changed.

We approached one of our middle school teachers and had a nice little chat with him. I could see in his eyes that he couldn't place either of us, not that I'd aggrandize myself to assume any of my teachers from there would. (Or if they did, it'd be because my anxiety was extremely unchecked and I was having meltdowns every single day.)

It was really cool to see him. We dearly enjoyed pestering that man when we were his students, and he's someone we still bring up from time to time in stories and inside jokes.

I think teachers take on an interesting role, being people to impact kids for their entire lives in ways they may never fully see or understand even long after they've moved on. Continually forming those bonds and saying goodbye seems really emotionally exhausting. 

Not sure what would have to happen to someone for them to willingly choose to be bullied by middle school students as a career, but I'm glad he did. He was a supportive and positive role model for me growing up. 

Warp & Weft

My skills in textile arts are not good, but they're passable. I can knit, badly. I can crochet, badly. I can hand sew and embroider, badly. Badly, but functionally. 

I got a sewing machine for my sixteenth birthday, and it has sat in its box for nearly eight years because I am intimidated by it. Still, I have a huge love and respect for textile arts because they're so impressive and hold a special place in my heart.

I stayed in the afterschool program sometimes when I was young. I was a kid that was easily overwhelmed, to put it very mildly. It was so loud. I would freak out. 

One of the special ed teachers was a saint and would take me to her room. She'd put on calming jazz music and taught me how to knit when I was eight years old. I made my way through some godawful projects with her before she retired. 

I convinced Ian and Chino to take a weaving class with me through the Milwaukee Public Schools Recreation Department. We had our first class tonight. I've taken it before and had the same instructor.

She's a cool person with gorgeous hair, a keen fashion sense, and tattoos of the heddles of the loom running down her arms. There's a materials fee due at the start of the first class, and I was prepared this time and did not give her ten dollars' worth of quarters from a coin purse I keep in my car like the initial go around. Really good first impression. When you start at rock bottom there's nowhere to go but up, I guess.

In eight weeks, the three of us will walk away with creations. They will be ugly and they will be badly done, but they will exist. As something to lovingly laugh at, as something to remind us of time spent side by side, as a physical representation of someone giving their time to teach us their craft, as a reminder to try new things even if being a beginner can be daunting or embarrassing. Nowhere to go but up, after all.

Maybe I'll bust out that sewing machine someday.

The Joys of Progress

 I'm not going to go into specifics now, but I'm definitely at a crossroads in my life. 

I have a couple big choices to make.

I've been having hard conversations with the people I hold dear, and there are more I need to have. There's a lot of introspection and sitting with myself to be done, too.

Deep in my heart I know what I'm going to do, ultimately. The fact that there's any debate in my mind is enough of an answer for me. It's just a matter of when I'm going to let myself really accept it. 

I've cried a lot. I have to stop myself from making myself nauseous letting my thoughts run in circles.

I'm trying to be brave.

There's growth in discomfort. I know someday I'll be on the other side and grateful for enduring the unease. But man, does actively being on the path suck. 

Stay Gold

My nephew Michael was born when I was in first grade. Yesterday was his 17th (and golden!) birthday. I love that kid to death. It's been a joy growing up with him and watching him become the person he is.

My mom had a party at our place last night. My brothers, my niece Aly, my grandpa, and Michael and Aly's mom, step-dad, and little brother came by.

My grandpa even drove himself over! He had a major spinal stenosis surgery back in April and recovery has been an arduous process for him. It's weird to think it's only been five months. Time seems to crawl and fly in equal measures. 

One of my friends gave my contact information to an agent of a scam-- or, at the very least, extremely predatory-- life insurance company. (...Thanks.) I chatted with the guy for a good half hour in a Zoom call after the party.

I love talking to those guys. I spent forty-five minutes not too long ago parked outside Hayley's apartment building chatting with a representative of what was almost certainly a fake cybersecurity education program. I've done several video interviews with "recruiters" of some of the shadiest job postings I've ever seen. Sometimes I'll call the numbers in phishing emails I get and try to give them pointers on how to be less obviously scams and they get really, really mad. 

Existential Ramblings (With Cats!)

You never know what you have until it's gone. Common sentiment.

I feel there's something to be said on the pain in anticipatory grief, too. Being in a moment and knowing that its end is approaching. That the stage of life you find yourself and those around you is a fleeting one, whether you want it to be or not.

We live in a world of perpetual motion and change. Time stops for no one. Life is bittersweet, though it feels to skew towards the bitter end more often than not. 

You know what's coming. Only the exact details of how it will go down are yet to be seen. 

I've spent the past few years living a five minute drive from Ian's mom, Deanna. She travels quite often, so I've spent a lot of time at her house watching over Dorothy and Hazel, her two cats. 

I'm with them again this weekend as she gets details squared away about her move across the state. 

I've come to love her cats. I've come to love this house and the 10+ years of memories it holds for me. I've come to love her dearly.

I'm happy for her! She's going to graduate school to pursue a passion. She'll be closer to the rest of her family. She'll be out of the city life, which Ian has said she's wanted for a long time.

But it still stings. 

My nights here with the girls are numbered. Dinners with Deanna, Ian, and Chino will be a rarity of the past. 

Everything is a give and a take. The changes that come with time's flow aren't necessarily bad. The unknown is just uncomfortable. Scary sometimes. 

I used to think there was a perfect ratio between living in the moment and trying to prepare yourself for the future. That someday I would find it and things wouldn't feel as overwhelming. Endless worry is pointless. Never considering the ramifications of what's to come is foolish. Now, I'm not so sure there is a balance. I've tried hard to rationalize things in a universe that obeys few rules. I don't think there is a way to win. 

I don't mean to sound cynical. I won't say I've made peace with many things in general, but I feel like every day I get a little closer to being on the path to getting there. Everything around me feels like it gets harder all the time, but I feel like I've gained the tools over time to deal with it better. 

For now, I feed the cats.

I saw a video on Instagram of a guy crying while singing 'Landslide' by Fleetwood Mac and petting a cat, and that will be me the last time I watch them here. 

Sacred Needle

I got my picture taken for a passport application and then went to the dentist this morning. I scheduled them for the same day because my piercings needed to be out for them.

Cue several hours of me nervously sweating in front of the mirror with an arsenal of different pliers. Have I ever mentioned I developed a movement disorder out of blue when I was twenty? Not fun.

I have twenty-one active piercings, and have had a few more that I've had to let close over the years. I've gotten them done at various different places, some better than others.

My favorite by far has been the newly-opened Sacred Needle in the Riverwest neighborhood of Milwaukee. I went there after work because there were a few pieces of jewelry I hadn't been able to get back in on my own. Gabby helped me with that and also expressed some concerns about the bridge piercing I got elsewhere being done in the wrong gauge with a piece of jewelry that shouldn't be put in that piercing. Again, some of the places I've gone to have been better than others. 

As with anything, do your research, scope out your options before committing, and trust your gut if something doesn't feel right. And for the love of God, stay away from piercing guns.

I highly recommend Sacred Needle.

Chino tagged along and Ian met us there. Chino ended up getting a vertical labret piercing with a pretty opal gem after my little fiasco. 

Hello Again

My grandma died rather suddenly last August.

I dreamt of her last night.

She invited me in. I sat across from her at her kitchen table. We acknowledged that it had been a while since we last saw each other. She told me she was proud of me about my job. She told me to always stick up for myself and to not let people take advantage of me. She told me about how she was going through some papers she had around the house. I offered to help her sometime if she wanted it. Maybe, she said, which would've translated to a no even if it had been possible. 

I spent countless hours of my life sat across from her at that kitchen table. It's a conversation we easily could have had if she was still alive. It was hardly dreamlike in that sense.

But she had her favorite dog with her, who is long gone. There was no trace of my grandfather in this version of the house, who has survived her. She seemed healthy and she seemed happy. That hadn't been the case for many years. There was no cigarette in her hand. 

It was a nice dream. 

Well, that part at least. If in it I went to her house at three in the morning after finding a dead body in the light of the full moon, that's neither here nor there. 

Long Live The Black Parade

I took off work and drove down to Chicago yesterday to see My Chemical Romance play at Soldier Field.

Devo opened for them. After one of the times I shaved my head, my mom told me I looked like one of the Devo potato guys and I still don't know how you're supposed to bounce back from that.

My mom always gives me this pitying look whenever she hears about me doing things on my own. I was an awkward kid and am an awkward adult-- less, but still very much so. Being bothered flying solo was never an option. Other people not being on board has never stopped me.

I have done many things in my own company that were stupid and unsafe to do alone. The buddy system is crucial, existing as a woman in this world is dangerous especially at night, teamwork makes the dream work, and other such truths. Do as I say, not as I do.

I drank a Redbull that had been in my fridge for so long that I'd forgotten when and why I'd bought it and set the ambitious goal of surviving the night.

I've lived about ninety minutes from Chicago almost my entire life and, not counting layovers at the O'Hare airport, have only been into the city a handful of times, all of which after turning twenty. Once for a few days with my aunt and her family for a trip, once with my ex-boyfriend and his step-mom trying to fly out of O'Hare for a funeral but they didn't tell us until we got there that the flight had been cancelled and we had a very tense breakfast at a restaurant in the city, earlier this year for a trip with Ian and Chino for a couple days, and for the concert. 

While traveling, I've always told people unfamiliar with Milwaukee that it's just the lite version of Chicago. I stand by that. Milwaukee is like Chicago's little cousin who is kind of a loser. And that's okay. I love my hometown dearly.

I think I'm growing out of enjoying concerts like I used to. Don't get me wrong, the concert was awesome. I've loved MCR and their music for years. The lights and effects were cool. [A few years back, I tried to convince my nephew to go into pyrotechnics to profit on his tendency to start things on fire or explode them.] They had an acted storyline going on criticizing the current political climate of the US (this was Devo's message as well and they were far more overt about it). I traded handmade bracelets with someone sitting behind me. Gerard Way is an attractive person. 

Just haven't been as into the last few I've been to as much as I would have been in the past.

I'm getting older. I don't need to be awake that late. My hips hurt all the time. It's loud. I take preemptive ibuprofen before going in. 

After the show, I stopped at Ghareeb Nawaz, an Indian and Pakistani restaurant that my cousin Cindy recommended to me that stays open pretty late. I got home around two in the morning after eating and driving back. I don't miss being a stagehand in the slightest, because I know that crew had a much later night than me for sure. 

Praise for 'Tiny Bookshop'

I’ve been losing sleep playing Tiny Book Shop, a game that was released on Steam and the Nintendo eShop earlier this month. You play as someone who moves to a small coastal town to run a mobile bookstore out of a trailer you pull with your car. 

I loved to read when I was younger. That hobby waned as I hit high school. More often than not, I wouldn’t read the books I was assigned and faked my way through projects, if I’m being honest. 

I always mean to start again. I’ve been in a vicious cycle for years where I go to the library and check out a bunch of books, get overwhelmed by how many I took out, not know which one to start with, read none of them, max out the amount of times I can renew them, still return them way later than that, and pay quite a bit in fines. And then the process starts again. 

I am always somewhere in this cycle. I do not learn. I live a mile away from the library and have books I’ve been meaning to take back for over a week. I was using a hardcover book I’ve checked out multiple times and never started as a mousepad while I was playing. (The Sign for Home by Blair Fell, if you’re wondering.)

I did finish a handful of books earlier this year and have been slowly picking through one for the past month, I will give myself that.

Back to the game– it checks the only box I have for games: you can play even if you’re miserable at video games, which I very much am. Pathetically so for someone who had unrestricted access to a computer before they could even read. (No doubt at a huge detriment to my development. Don’t recommend. I feel great concern and genuine sorrow for ‘iPad babies’, but that is all its own can of worms.)

It’s really cute and laid-back! You acquire books sorted into several genres, stock your shelves, and set out. You can go to different areas of the town and get to know the residents. Sometimes people will ask you for recommendations, and you can sort through short summaries and characteristics of real books and try to give them something that appeals to them. 

There’s already been a few book titles I’ve seen in the game that I’ve written down because they sounded really interesting. Will I read them? My history suggests probably not. But, as my library debacle exemplifies, I am nothing if not very stupidly optimistic and incapable of judging my own tendencies.

Well, there are worse things in the world.

Back to the little seaside book shop in my computer.