Happy Holidays

I got the quiet, blissful Netflix filled Christmas of my dreams!

                                                                 Happy Holidays ya'll.

Ice Princess

Got my first parking ticket because I didn't know there were snow ordinances that frown on cars being parked on the street during a storm. 

I spent the better part of today, shoveling my car out of what can only be described as a car igloo and now my arms and back are sore. Oh and I have to pay my county $20 bucks for disobeying the law. 

Annoyed, cold and tired I made myself some spiked hot chocolate and watched the snow fall from the sky for about an hour. It was peaceful and unnerving.

I am ready for this month to be over. Christmas is a week away and as always I am more Grinch than Elf. My aunt is pissed at me because she wants me to spend the whole weekend at her apartment despite the fact that it is infested with roaches and my cousin Michelle is in no shape to be around anyone(she is now being homeschooled because her fake shakes are a distraction at school). 

I told my aunt  that I am sort of an adult now, with other holiday plans and while I do not mind spending a few hours with them on Christmas Eve I had other plans for Christmas Day. She called me out for being a disrespectful niece, though I think the main issue is that she is treating me like her daughter instead of tending to her actual daughter who she continues to neglect. 

It sucks that I don't have any actual plans on the day of Christmas outside of spending the day at my own house, opening presents and eating food. But honestly this is what I would prefer to do. I am still super anxious and cranky about the state of the world so the holidays feel like a mirage or worse a fog and I am sort of ready for the air to clear and for things to come into focus again. 

But I will try to enjoy the holidays as best as I can. Even though, I never want to see snow again thanks to shoveling it the whole afternoon, I must admit being curled up in bed, under the warmth of blankets with Christmas music playing in the background is heaven in a lot of ways. Pure heaven. 

5 Years Gone

5 years ago my best friend took her life.

When I was a kid, I used to like jumping from high things. I didn't necessarily like the jumping part but instead the sensation of falling was what I craved. The way the air suddenly gets trapped in your lungs on the way down and you feel weightless and afloat all at once.

The last few years in many ways have felt like the falling part except without the fearless pleasure of my childhood gusto. Instead, the fall has been more of a uncontrollable tumble and the air that is trapped in my lungs burn and ache. The fall does not feel weightless, it feels like drowning.

5 years ago my best friend took her life.  

We met on my first day of 7th grade. I had just moved to South Carolina and I felt the nervousness throughout my whole body that day. I was new,  not only to the school but to the town and the state. I was so nervous I thought I was going to die.

Maybe she noticed my awkwardness. Maybe she saw an opportunity to make friends with someone who didn't know she was the least popular girl in school. But at lunch that day, while I tried to be invisible and blend in, she sat down next to me and introduced herself. She had big frizzy hair and a mouth full of metal. She wore a shirt with horse on it and said I talked weird so that made me interesting.

She became my first and only true friend in South Carolina

5 years ago my best friend took her life.

We went Trick or Treating for the last time in the 8th grade. We were at that annoying age where we wanted free candy but felt too old to dress up for Halloween but also too young not to dress up and enjoy ourselves. Our friend Melissa's dad agreed to drive us around if we wanted to still go, so at the last minute we bought costumes and went Trick or Treating.

I dressed up as an angel in all white. Marie dressed up as a scary clown because she still did not equate Halloween with dressing provocatively. That night after hitting up several houses, I got my period in the back seat of our friends pick up truck and bled through my costume. I was embarrassed  and felt betrayed by my body. I felt even more tragic because I was dressed as an Angel the irony was heavy. Marie lent me her jacket that so I could wrap it around my waist. She also laughed and said this wouldn't have been an issue if I just dressed up as a devil instead.

5 years ago my best friend took her life.

We decided to join the AV club together our Freshman year of high school. This decision of course solidified our nerdiness but we got to hang out in the library during homeroom and lunch while also skipping mandated assemblies unless we were needed to video tap the events.

Along with the AV club, we joined the Debate team together. I was taking Speech class because I had a crush on the teacher and I was Honors English so I couldn't take his English class. Marie was a natural debater because she liked to disagree with everyone. Even though I was taking his Speech class, I initially declined my teachers invitation to join his Debate team. He thought I wrote well and had an eloquent voice and wanted me to be a part of his team. When I refused he went and asked Marie to have me join and because she was convincing I attended a Debate competition once.

The debate team carpooled to this event in a town a few hours away from us. I was nervous because I had only given speeches in front of the team and my teacher. He and Marie seemed most eager about my debut and when I failed to win any awards that day they both encouraged me to come with them to the next debate because I showed potential. I remember telling my speech teacher that I didn't plan on taking him up on that offer. He seemed disappointed by my rejection and on the way home, I slept on Marie's shoulder on the way home, while she teased me for being such a baby

5 years ago my best friend took her life. 


In the 11th grade our math teachers son killed himself. We knew her son Kyle because his older brother Barry was in the AV club with us. He was weird and withdrawn and only seemed to open up around Marie. She volunteered with Barry at the local animal shelter because he was 18 years old, and was her adult chaperon during their visits. When his brother Kyle, a freshman, killed himself were both shocked and confused because Barry seemed more susceptible to that kind of tragic end.

Our whole AV club attended the funeral out of respect and curiosity. We had never been this close to death before, it felt like our tragedy and spectacle in a lot of ways.The wake was on the weekend and Marie was allowed to drive her moms new car to the church. Inside,  we sat with the media club in the back and judged all the classmates who attended that never spoke a word to Barry or his brother.

We could see Barry and his mom from our seats. There was a perverse curiosity to them now and also a strangeness that we related to.We talked briefly to Barry afterwards, asked him if he was okay and said that we couldn't wait for him to return to school.

And then Marie and I grabbed food at this hot dog place nearby, dressed all in black.

5 years ago my best friend took her life.

I was accepted to the University of Pittsburgh (but went to a small school in Philadelphia before transferring to USC my freshman year) and Marie got into Clemson.  Our acceptance letters arrived at the same time and we were both excited to put high school behind us.

We were selling candy to raise money for the end of year video the AV club was in charge of producing. Instead of trying to sell to students we primarily hit up the teacher and guidance counselors. That year we were called the Skittle twins because of this venture.

 We decided to hit up our Speech teacher during lunch and after making a sale we told him the great news about our college acceptance. He was happy for us but also but worried because "how are you guys going to survive college without each other". He said we were like two peas in a pod because we were so inseparable.

It was the first time, the thought crossed my mind that going to different schools would mean I wouldn't have my best friend around. But I knew that it wasn't Marie he was worried about. She would do fine. She was a super genius and willful. It was me he addressed his concerns to. It was me he was sure would not survive.

5 years ago my best friend took her life. 

Senior Prom! We didn't want to go because the only boys who showed interest in going with us were the few from the AV club and even then they didn't want to really go with us. They made a bet that we couldn't look like real girls in dresses and stuff and because we were defiant and secretly want to attend Prom we told them "bet!".

My mom owned this dress little black dress from the 80's that i was obsessed with wearing. It had silver traps and flared out at the bottom. I didn't want to make a big deal of prom, so i decided to wear that dress instead of having my mom buy me a new one. The day of, I went to the hairdresser to get my hair done. She was overbooked and by the time she got to me she put so little effort in my hair my mom and I walked out angry.

Marie showed up at my house an hour before the event. When she got out of the car I was struck by how beautiful she looked. It was also the first time i'd ever seen her in a dress and the care and attention she went into dressing up let me into a secret about her...that she was like any other girl who wanted to look beautiful on her big night. My mom took a picture of the two of us. I looked uncomfortable and sweaty with this ridiculous unkempt hair and Marie looks happy and beautiful.

We arrived at the Prom early and of course the only other students there were the nerdy awkward kids and a few teachers. Everyone gasped when Marie walked in. It was her moment, so I stepped aside and let her soak it in. Our history teacher came up to us first and said we looked great, followed by my crush the Speech teacher and then our AV buddies circled around Marie and gawked at her in awe.

We only stayed at Prom for 10 minutes. This is not n exaggeration. We wanted to be seen and then as quickly as we could we ran back to the parking lot, decided to drive to Walmart for PJ's and then grabbed burritos to bring back to my house. That night we had a slumber party in my living room and watched Medium on NBC

5 Years ago my best friend took her life

I was fucking livid. This kid we both knew named Spencer decided on Senior Night (a night were all the graduating seniors accepted their yearbooks and were thrown a small party in the cafeteria) that he wanted to tell Marie how much he hated her. We were sitting at a table in the far back of the cafeteria, just the two of us because surprisingly all of AV club friends ditched us,  and he and another friend came up to us and wanted Marie to personally know she was a "bitch". Spencer was in the AV club with us and sure Marie gave him a hard time but every one did.

The verbal attack was unprovoked and I remember him having to be pulled away by some other kid because he wouldn't stop lashing out.  Marie was red-faced but resolute and brushed his attack off as just some lame attempt to get back at her. I was fucking livid because it was our last night together as the graduating class of 2004 and this guy we thought was a friend wanted to ruin it.

When we collected our yearbooks, i was so mad I only let Marie sign it. Sure I had other friends but she was the most loyal and dedicated and a note from her was the only note I wanted. As I was signing her yearbook she pulled out the small wallet sized senior photo she took a few months earlier. She wanted me to have it, because "like i know we are still going to be friends but I just wanted to you to have something". I felt awful because I planned to give her something as well; an edition of an Annie Prolux book that she didn't own. Prolux was her favorite author and I saw this novel in a used bookstore. I paid for it with my own money and planned to gift it to her that night but i forgot.

I still have that copy of the book in my house. Alongside Marie's photo.


5 years ago my best friend took her life

The summer of my sophomore year (college) Marie invited me to a water park with her and her boyfriend Josh. Marie's college life made up for high school and middle school years. She had a core group of friends that she hung out with regularly.  She was excelling in all of her classes and given amazing research opportunities with professors who saw her potential. She moved into her own apartment and adopted a puppy. And she had a boyfriend, her first boyfriend . She lost her virginity that year and was in love which meant she talked about him all the time. I was envious of her relationship. I wanted a boyfriend, I wanted to be annoyingly in love and instead I was spent most of college anxious and alone.

Marie was desperate for this outing to work out. She needed me to like her boyfriend and vice versa but I often felt abandoned by Marie during college. We talked less, were living two separate lives and I was honestly very envious that things were working out for her. I was happy, don't get me wrong, but I wished college was the best years of my life as it seemed to be for Marie.

That day the three of us went on every ride imaginable. Marie was able to balance her attention between the both of us better than she had before, but there were still moments when I caught the two of them escaping into that magical naive place where they gazed at each other and only the two of them existed.

During one of the rides, I almost drowned. Literally. I am not a good swimmer and this ride included insane waves that caused me to panic and sink to the bottom of the pool. Marie saw me struggle and swam down and grabbed me. She yanked me out of the darkness and dragged me to safety. The rest of the day we spent on the lazy river and she held on to my inner tube the whole ride because she was afraid to lose me again.

5 years ago my best friend took her life.

Marie accepted a job in North Carolina and I moved to New York soon after our college. The spring before our big moves we decided to visit our old Highschool librarian (who we both adored) and buy her a  gift to show our appreciation for her guidance. We bought two small bears: one a Clemson bear and one a USC bear and planned to surprise her at the high school.

We didn't know though that our college spring break and their high school spring break was the same week. So when we got to the school we were annoyed that there was no one there. Of course, this didn't stop us from wanting to achieve our goal. We decided we would instead break into the school and leave the gifts on her desk so that we she came back she'd have them.

Breaking in was a lot easier than we thought (it's the south, nothing is locked) but when we got to the library there was a maintenance man inside. We tried to explain why we were there but he didn't seem to care.

He was more confused by us wanting to leave the bears though for Mrs. Wimberly, who retired the year before. We didn't know this of course, because we failed to stay in touch, so we thanked him  and left with our bears in tow. Marie said I could hold on to them and that maybe we'd get them to her another way.

I still own the bears.

5 years ago my best friend took her life.

Marie was quickly advancing at her job in North Carolina while I was struggling with my retail job in New York. But she envious of my social life because she felt alone in North Carolina. She broke up with Josh before she moved and most of her college friends became text buddies.  But I talked to her everyday for hours. We both were struggling to adjust to post-grad life, so we found a lot of comfort in each other. And I was happy to have my best friend back, though she still frustrated me from time to time.

I felt closer to Marie post college than I ever did while we were in High School or College. We were so vulnerable and unsure about our future that I think, we were glad we both had each other. She talked about wanting to visit me in New York and I wanted to come visit her in North Carolina. She admitted she felt unfocused and thought about joining the Air-force for structure. I told her I wanted to move home because maybe New York was a mistake.

We'd watch tv on the phone together and talk about our future selves. She was going to marry a lumberjack named Zayne or Dayne and I was going to write a book about us. She helped me work out the plot and the characters and encouraged me to set writing goals. I was struggling with character names, so we both spent hours on the phone going through baby names together for future characters.

I came across the name Carrick in one of these books and liked it so much I told her I would name my kid Carrick. "imma call her Carrot, you know this right?". We already discussed that she would be the aunt/godmother to my kids and it was her job to love and make fun of them. She didn't want kids, just a lumberjack and a cabin in the woods and lots of animals. She said Carrot and I would always be welcomed.

The summer before she died, we decided to read Jane Eyre and were both surprised by how much we liked it. Our last conversation was about the TV shows Bones and a new work friend she was hanging out with. She was so lonely in North Carolina, and she complained a little about the fact that she worked primarily with men who didn't like being told what to do because she was so young and a woman.  But that was always Marie's problem, everyone was threatened by her. Everyone thought she was a know it all. But she always dealt with that in a way that I admired. The fact that she talked often about loneliness was something new though.

That was July 2011.

5 years ago my best friend took her life.

I was in the city with a boy named Josh (a different Josh), who wanted to be a graphic designer and had a tattoo on his chest that he keep showing me. On the train ride to the city he gave me a formula for wind because I said I wanted a tattoo soon that reflected something that inspired me. He looked like James Franco and a week prior he asked me to go to the city with him to pick up some equipment for a school project.

Normally I would not have gone because of nerves. He was so attractive and nice and interesting I could not understand his interest in hanging out with me. I only said yes out of spite. Marie and I had not spoken in weeks. Suddenly we went from talking every day to complete and utter silence. I thought maybe it had something to do with her new work friend because she ditched me in college when she got a boyfriend, I just assumed the same thing was happening.

So i went to the city with Josh, because if Marie could ditch me for a dude I could find solace in one too. But Josh was super young and I knew right away that he was the sort of guy who was self involved because he only talked about himself. But was so pretty and it felt nice to be around someone who wanted my company even if just to gloat.

After picking up some old cameras, we stopped at a pizzeria for lunch. Our hands were greasy and sticky but I remembered watching people pass by and then turning my gaze back to Josh and wondering how I got here at this moment with this boy. But this moment of calm is interrupted by my phone ringing and when I look down I am shocked to see that it is Marie.

But the shock is quickly replaced by anger because i am really pissed at her because it's been 5 weeks of me attempting to call and text her only to hear nothing back. And i'm with James Franco and I don't want to take the her call because I know this moment is rare. That I may not get another chance to hang out him and eat pizza in the city and enjoy this feeling that things are coming together.

So i let it ring. I don't pick up the call.

I have never admitted this to anyone.

I called her later that night but she did not pick up. That was the last time she ever tried to reach out to me. This was September 2011. 3 months later, almost to the day, she killed herself.

5 years ago, on a cold Tuesday morning,  my best friend took her life and it still feels like I am falling.

The air continues to rush into my lungs and I am struck numb by the gravity of her death. I blame myself in many ways for not recognizing the unusual pattern sooner. That i mistook her silence for something else and that when she reached out to me randomly I was unavailable. I feel guilty for not being a better friend, for not telling her more often that she was my anchor and rock. I feel guilty that she died thinking she wasn't necessary in this world despite the fact that in all my future fantasies she was a part of it.

5 years ago my best friend took her life and a little part of me went with her. I miss her everyday. I think about her everyday. I wish she was here everyday because she was the truest friend I ever had even though we were complex and argumentative and stubborn. I resent that her life is just reduced to memories that are becoming more and more sporadic and unverifiable. I hate that she'll never get to experience things that make existing better. She was the only other person outside of my immediate family who felt like home to me and since her death I have felt without one.

26 + 5

Happy Birthday Amanda Marie.

Maybe.

Since arriving back to New York from my amazing Thanksgiving home, I've mainly been in contact with my aunt who keeps bugging me about Christmas plans. I am not going to lie.... I am desperately trying to get out of spending Christmas Eve and Christmas Day ( i don't mind one or the other) with my aunt because it's really just her way of getting me to cook breakfast, entertain my now pre-teen cousin,  help clean her house and now drive her all over the place. It's not that I don't enjoy spending time with my family but lately the holidays with them seem less important. My cousin Michelle is more concerned with her cell phone and my aunt just wants an extra adult around to help out.

If I can be honest there was something magical about waking up in my own bed the first Christmas in my apartment and since then I've anxiously wanted to spend at least Christmas Eve or Day in my own home. I was soooo poor that first year and my apartment was not even furnished yet alone decorated but I made due. I cooked lasagna and opened presents, I listened to Christmas music and watched all the Harry Potter movies. It was great and if I had a bigger place I could see myself hosting Christmas for family and friends because I've suddenly become a domestic goddess.

But it's hard to explain that to people. I have yet to meet anyone who understands my desire to be alone on Christmas. It's not necessarily the Christmas blues, but there is a stillness about the month of December that I like to take a moment and pause in. But i'm rarely allowed to do this because being alone during the holidays is socially unacceptable. Kat was absolutely suffocating during the holidays and my Aunt is more demanding of my time and resource during this month.

Since Marie died I've accepted that December is going to be tough for me. Because of this I try and compensate for how shitty I feel by making the holidays as cozy and light-hearted as possible.  I decorate and bake cookies and watched campy holiday movies. That's mainly even why I like spending Christmas alone. When I am surrounded by people, it's like I remember suddenly that one very important person is missing and it's hard to reconcile the beauty and magic of the holidays with the devastating realization.

During the month of December my thoughts of Marie are always front and center most days, especially today. Marie's birthday is tomorrow and as I was sitting at my cubicle, I suddenly felt this awful pang of sadness. It's like there is this cloud over my head which makes it impossible to think of anything else except her.

I am surrounded by people with regrets. People who feel they've missed out on something . Just the other day Heather texted me in hysterics because she is turning 30 in a few days and regrets how her life turned out. "How is this my life? I think my would be completely different if...", yadda yadda yadda. I listened of course, I empathized, I tried to give advice and after she calmed down a bit I retreated to that place in the clouds that hangs over my head.

I am a person who accepts the decisions I eventually make. Sure it takes me a long time to get to that place of acceptance but I rarely think about what "could have been's" when it comes to relationships or situations. Sure life could have been different if I went to Med School, it also could have been different if i stayed in South Carolina instead of moving to New York, it could have been different if I pursued a career in publishing that I so adamantly thought I wanted, it could have been different if Sean choose me.

But dwelling on "could have's" does not help with "what is", so I don't have obsessive thoughts about the sliding doors of scenarios. I believe things are they way they are for a reason and because time travel is not an option, I have accepted my life at 30 as something in progress. But I must admit there is only one fixed point in this thought process that does not apply: Marie.

I wonder all the time what life would be like if she was alive. I wonder who she would be today is she decided to just live and exist. I wonder what her life would be like on the other side of this tragedy. What version of womanhood she'd encompass. Maybe she'd be married with kids. Maybe she'd finally have a house in the woods with the lumberjack of her dreams. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Selfishly I can't help but ponder my own existence as well if she was here. I am almost certain we would still be friends in some capacity. But I am so aware of how much I have changed since she died, that I feel envious of whatever imagined life I could have led if she had lived. Maybe, maybe, I would have turned out differently. I wonder what I could have accomplished in the two years I was paralyzed by grief. I am curious where the path would have led me had I not broken down right in the middle.

Because if I can be honest Marie's death has changed me. I am kind, I am gentle but there is a stiffness to me now, or better yet, a numbness that I have yet to shake.I  am  unable to relate to people. I cannot commit to one thing or person because I know how quickly things can change. I am too aware of how that the rug can be pulled from under you...so I am always prepared for the worst before I even consider the consistency of calm. I am sad and sullen and jaded by the loss. Of course sad and sullen and jaded do not define me, but I recognize it is a part of me.

And I regret that she isn't here. I miss her immensely, but mainly i am filled with regret. I didn't get to her in time and I knew, I knew that something was wrong because I felt it. But I waited too long to see the signs, and by the time realized that something was seriously fucked up, I was just too late. And I wonder all the time, if things would have turned out differently had I been a better friend. If she had known that I was in her corner no matter how terrible things were going in her life. I regret that she felt so alone and that she'll never know that I looked for her and sought her out and tried to find her but she was always just one step ahead and out of reach.

Tomorrow is her 31st birthday.  Tomorrow i'll get up and go through my day and try to keep it together because focusing on the "maybe" will undue me. But tonight, I'm okay with sulking and contemplating the maybes. Tonight, i feel okay mourning her "what if's" because my best friend was phenomenal and complex and just the worst-best person I've ever known and I wish she was here. Everything feels a little duller without her.

Be Gentle December

                                                                     Please.

Go back and Get It

I arrived in New York yesterday after a pretty amazing (and exhausting) trip home. 

I tend to feel more rejuvenated after Thanksgiving. There is something about being around my very small but energetic family that replaces the dread and doom feeling that usually persists the weeks leading up to the holiday. And while 2016 has been fucking terrible in some very extreme ways, I tend to always feel overwhelmed and melancholy before Thanksgiving. This year was no different.

There is an old African word Sanfoka which refers to this image of a strong bird with a long neck that it uses to reach an egg that is resting on it's backside. The term Sanfoka translates "to It is not wrong to go back for that which you have forgotten". I saw the image of this proverb on a gravestone last spring while I was home for a wedding that never happened.

Charleston, much like New Orleans, is surrounded by graveyards and on one stone was the image of a bird with it's head turned around reaching for an egg. I was sort of transfixed by the bird and meaning behind it so much so that I want to eventually get a tattoo of it because I relate so much to the meaning. I often worry that I am too much of a malleable person. I change so quickly based on the situation that I understand that I come across hard to understand. So going home for me has always been this time where I can reflect on where I come from and retain some of the things I feel I've lost during my constant adaptations. I am humbled by my time home, it's like base for me: a place where I can rest and regroup and maybe sip some water before I head back out into the world.

And that is pretty much what I did for a whole week. My mom made my old bedroom up and I read books I haven't touched from college, scribbled down some story ideas, slept a lot and reflected on the girl who used to call that place her primary home because she wasn't sure how or if she could build a life outside of what she knew. It, along with hanging out with my nephew, drinking with my brother and bonding even more with my mom, was superb and rejuvenating. I was almost giddy with the thoughts of coming back because I want to continue being this boss ass adult that i've suddenly become. Life is so strange. 

Of course I am a person who constantly thinks about what's next. I am such a planner that it bugs me not to have goals to work towards. So while I was home I set goals. I want to volunteer, I want to write a novel, I want to travel, I want to meet someone and I think I want to own a home. The last one is the hardest but also on the top of my list of achievable feats. I love my town and I think I want to call it home. I know it seems impossible to be a single person trying to become a home owner...but why not. I mean obviously this isn't going to happen overnight but 2-3 years it could be a real possibility if I continue playing my cards right. 

Though I am not in the market at the moment, it hasn't stopped me from stalking a few places since my return. The gem in the photo is an actual house, in my actual town that is decently priced. I adore it or the idea of home ownership and I don't see why I can't continue making great things happen in my life. Sure the novel writing and meeting someone would be perks but if I could do this on my own, I would feel one step closer to....good. 

The future is sort of ambiguous right now. I am still anxious and nervous and often full of blues. But when I was home I realized how far I've actually come since leaving 8 years ago. I've surprised myself and am shocked by my tenacity. And because i'm not sure what's next in the universes master-plan for me I can start working on the small things. I can continue setting goals for the life that I want to live and lead and share with the world. 

Holiday Season

I guess i've started a mini tradition in my apartment. Before heading home for Thanksgiving I always decorated for Christmas. It's much easier to enjoy the week with my family and then come back a Christmas wonderland. December is a hard month for me, so I compensate by trying to make it as magical as possible. Decorating is the first step in this master plan. I spent all morning putting up the tree and swapping at all my fall decor for winter ones. I still have a crap-load of cleaning and packing to do, followed by some mindless errands to prepare for my week away but i'm excited to head home tomorrow. I could use the family time as a distraction from the impending pressure of December blues. 

Jumanji was his name.

Last night I grabbed dinner with Christina (momma to be) and another girl named Elise  (who worked with us at Le Sad Store) and I must say the girls night was much needed and appreciated reprieve from the last week of shell-shocked-ness.

Before the election my friend Christina invited me to her baby shower. I knew going was going to be impossible because of her closeness to Kat, who was also invited,  but I still wanted to show my support and congratulate her on this huge event in her life. Heather suggested that I invite her to dinner as a way of showing my support because going to the baby shower would be a huge mistake.

At this point in time, I don't believe me and Kat can attend the same outing and not "have it out".
I ghosted her (so to speak) and after 6 years of friendship she probably deserved better than that. But I didn't see any other way out of my backed corner, so I did what I always do when the pressure gets too much...I disappear. I recognize now that I could have ended our friendship more diplomatically but I was reminded of my drag out 'break up" with Sean. I was reminded of my own inability to let go of things easily: I cling and struggle with the edge until the tips are my fingers pulsate in pain.

So even though we have gone months in radio silences, I can't imagine she would be apt at seeing my face at Christina's baby shower and I wouldn't want things to get super awkward in front of our mutual friends who have no idea of the discord between us. So I decided to decline the baby shower invite but last week asked Christina (and Elise) if they wanted to grab dinner after work one night to catch up on things.

Last night was that night and the 3 of us meet at this small Peruvian restaurant  near my job to catch up and talk shit. Despite my closeness to both girls, I was nervous as crap about the dinner. The three of us have gone out to eat numerous times and each time has been exceptional. We are a trifecta of diversity and I often joke that I love meeting up with them the most because we can talk about race and politics and sex unfiltered. But I was worried nonetheless that too much time had passed between the last time we saw each other and that the dinner itself would be awkward.

Of course that was not the case. For starters Christina is having a freaking baby. She is nervous and excited and anxious. She let us touch her belly and joked that she's taken to calling the baby "jumanji" because she recently cried during the movie as her hormones are out of whack. Elise  (who is fabulous and smart and going to take over the world one day) recently got promoted at her job and is finishing up her bachelor's degree. She recently went through a shitty breakup and of course we listened intently as she replayed the dramatic story and her ex's awful ways. I of course, stuck to the basics. I talked about work and my desire to head back to school for a degree in interior design (that of course will be paid if I can land a job at the university again). I talked about my car and going home for the holidays but mainly my excitement over seeing them.

We of course talked politics and expressed absolute horror over the election and the next four years. We all voted but admitted that we didn't really know much about politics or how our country is governed. During the last 8 years we've sort of lived in a bubble of hope and optimism. We all didn't think we'd ever get the complete and utter opposite of Obama. Elise is trying to organize things on her college campus to encourage (more) people to get involved in their local and state government. We talked about the fact that only 51% of registered voters voted in this years election. 51% percent. She brought this up as I was lamenting at the fact that people voted for Biff. She reminded me that only 26% of our nation voted for him willingly. 26% voted for Clinton (who also ended up winning the popular vote) and 46% didn't vote at all. .

"You can't worry so much about converting the 26%. It's about reaching out to the people who voted for a third party, people who wrote in Harambe as a candidate and most of all the 46% who were unhappy with both options. Those people are more reachable and valuable at this time".

And holy effing shit! She's right isn't she. It was like a light switch went off in my head, especially since I've been mulling over how to empathize with individuals who voted for him because in my mind even if "you" voted for him because you think he will bring jobs back to America while also fighting terrorism....you are guilty of ignoring the other 95% of his racist, sexist rhetoric and it's unacceptable to me. un-fucking-acceptable. So, idk, there is some relief in accepting that I can extend my hand of solidarity to those 26% but I am most unified with the bigger majority of individuals who rejected his non-sense even if they didn't do anything to shut it down.

We ended the night on a promise to hang out together before "jumaji" is born. We hugged and assured each other that while we were "fucked" we are determined to play our parts to make things better. I offered, of course, to drive Christina home because well she's pregnant and I didn't mind dropping her off. On the way to her house she asked me what happened with Kat.She didn't want to bring it up in front of Elise but was curious because Kat told her she wasn't sure why I stopped talking to her.

I told myself before the dinner that I would not talk about the drama between Kat if it came up in conversation but Christina is sort of the most neutral person I know. She gives advice based on the situation: never taking side and I sort of respected that she waited until it was just the two of us to ask me. So I told her the truth without demeaning Kat. I told her I felt smothered and that our friendship did not have any boundaries. I told her that when I tried to establish boundaries Kat took it as a form of rejection and became super possessive. I told her that Kat wanted more from me than I could or was willing to offer. At the end of the day, I choose myself over our a friend who wanted me to only consider her needs and happiness before my own. 

I didn't expect to say all of this but she's the only mutual friend I've talked and I guess I still question whether ending our friendship was the right thing to do. Because honestly Kat made it seem like it would be a disastrous decision because I'd miss out on the awesomeness that is having a best friend  So needless to say I was taken aback when Christina said "Fuck her man and her super crazy ass" followed by "I mean, I love her but seriously that's on some single white female level shit. You have to do what's best for you and only you. I love you and as long as you are happy I'm with you all the way".

She's going to be an awesome mom. Just amazing.

The dinner was my last big social outing before I head home in a few days.The awful feeling of despair still persists but I feel invigorated to do good things and be a good person while enjoying my comfy chair in-between. I am still anxious and nervous about the future, i still think we have taken giant leaps back in the wrong direction but if somehow I can turn these fears and pain into something productive maybe that is the good that can come out of it.

Moments of Clarity

A week from now I will be on a plane to South Carolina for Thanksgiving break. Of course my boss was not happy when I asked him for 3 days off to accommodate the holiday. I think he may have literally sighed and sat back in his seat while mentally questioning why I would need to take any days off to see my family. It's not that my boss hates me (because he doesn't) but I think he hates to admit that I contribute a lot more to this company than he bargained for. Of course after a few minutes of deep sighing he said I could go home for the holidays but that I couldn't request anymore personal days which I am still going to do because I'm an adult.

I need this trip home more than ever. I have never been in a physical fight before but I imagine this feeling of defeat and shame must be what losing one feels like. I feel battered and ashamed. When I was in the 2nd grade, I got into a horrible accident that banged me up pretty well. I made the mistake of trying to roller blade down a super steep and bumpy hill. I tripped all sorts of awkwardly and slide down the hill face first.

The left side of my face looked like charred meat for half the summer. I don't remember the pain from the accident, I don't remember crying but I do remember the days I had to stay home while my mom tended to my face. She'd hold me in her lap while she applied cocoa butter to my skin re-assuring me that I would be okay and that this wasn't the end of the world.  I felt embarrassed by the accident and more embarrassed by my battered ugly skin. I could still go outside and play with my friends but I didn't want anyone to see me because I was most ashamed about falling and tripping and face sliding. I felt like an idiot and didn't want to interact with anyone until I was whole again. I did not like feeling battered.

I guess right now I feel battered more than anything else. I am not in pain but instead am bruised in  areas I didn't know could ache. I am not a person who does well with change at all, and I can't help but feel that this imminent change is a negative one. And I am not blaming this fear on my liberalism, I am not a butt hurt left winged person who didn't get her way. I am just in shock and disbelief that my values do not match up with millions of others, and because those values seem so black and white to me (don't be a racists, sexist, asshole)  I am pained by the ugliness and cruelty this past week.

I knew it existed but didn't know how deep the division was. I feel sorry for their rage and hatred but I don't know what I can do to change the narrative. I read a comment yesterday that sort of hit me over the head with clarity. We have a tendency of generalizing people based on who they voted for. They are clumped into this group of deplorable s that make up such a small minority of the millions who voted. But maybe if we understood why those individuals gravitated towards such a negative campaign we could begin to move forward. Because honestly it's those minds we have to broaden. It's those minds and attitudes we have to tap into: the individuals who are resistant to how much has changed so quickly in our country

What I've realized is that I can re-blog as many posts about unity and peace and togetherness as I want. I can keep writing journal entries about my fears and concerns and freak-outed-ness.I can still plan to stand with all the vulnerable communities out there nervous about acts of violence and cruelty towards them or fearful that their rights and ability to thrive in America will be suppressed.  I will continue doing all of those things but if my core message only reaches the audience of like minded individuals I have in my life the message will fall on empathetic ears but not the ears that need to hear and listen the most.

I think that's where I am at right now. I am sort of paralyzed with the realization that while I obviously empathize with everyone I want to and will help, I also understand that outreach is just that...reaching out and I can't really just do that with only like-minded folks who think and live like I do. They aren't the ones who need "convincing" which isn't really the best word but you know what I mean Of course this isn't going to be able to tackle especially as I continue to read countless stories where people are losing their goddamn minds and inciting fear towards the very groups that are fearful right now.

I have a lot to think about and research while I am home. My anxiety is in maximum overdrive these days and if I don't channel it correctly I'm afraid it will have too much of a negative effect on my psyche. I honestly think a week home will do me some good (it usually does). I I am excited about this, maybe the only thing I've actually been excited for in 7 days. I will get to see my nephew and cook dinner with my mom and play video games with my brother. I will be able to let the reality sink in and devise a game plan that will make me feel more productive and a part of something positive.

State of Emergency

Heather and her boyfriend are moving today and last weekend I agreed to help them (well her) build some Ikea furniture they recently acquired to accommodate the new space.

Well, actually I agreed to help during the Ikea trip I tagged along with because I will never pass up a trip to Ikea. Ever since I moved into my new studio, i've wanted a chair of some sort to fit in what can only be described as a yet-to-be made reading nook. The space is wide "enough" for a small table or a chair and because I spend most of my time at home laying/sitting around I wanted to turn it into a reading or writing nook.

I don't have disposable income these days thanks to my car but i figured this would be my last big purchase for a while and because getting a chair is the only thing I silently desired  it made sense to go ahead and buy the damn thing and worry about all the money it cost later.

Of course this was last Saturday. Last Saturday, I didn't expect the world (and myself) to feel like utter and complete poop. Last Saturday, I thought this minor expense was a good idea because the world would return to normal soon enough and I'd have this nice little chair as a consolation prize for the last 14 months of anxiety.

Of course, I was wrong, so very wrong and instead have spent the last few days rocking back and forth in this chair with what can only be described as depression, fear and nausea. My feelings of doom and unease are unshakable and I haven't been able to find one thing or person of comfort to help get me through this.  As a strongly empathetic person moments like this undue me and I've only expressed this level of dread and fear a few times in my life. The most recent being Marie's passing but even then it was different. I worried only about how I was going to move forward and survive, not necessarily how a whole country and it's inhabitants would.

Just last night I had a dream where I was being driven to some sort of concentration camp. I am in a car with a bunch of other people forced to leave their homes. Of course, we don't know our fates yet we just think we have been selected for this for involuntary relocation and do not question why or to where. They takes us four at a time in black town cars to this remote location outside of the city. As I am sitting in the car waiting to be escorted out, my cell phone begins to ring. The driver of the car says I can take the call but he will have to confiscate my phone afterwards.

I step out of the car and answer the phone, only of course to hear Sean's voice on the other end. I am annoyed that he has picked this moment to call me. I am annoyed that I am relieved for a second to hear his voice. But then he asks me why I've been away for so long, why have I made it impossible to reach me. He wants to know where I am now, not so he can come and see me, but because he wants to know finally where I have "escaped to". Any relief I felt is immediately erased by the accusatory tone of his voice. As if wherever I am, whatever shit I am in is all of my fault and he just wants to hear me admit that i've gotten to this bad place, with these bad people because I was too stubborn.

I let out the most frustrated sigh and whisper angrily that I loved him and that that  didn't matter then or now. I loved him, i repeat again as the driver of the car is now standing next to me ripping the phone out of my hand before he shoves me back in the car.

And then I wake up. I wake up.

I'm not a dream analyst but I can only surmise that my anxiety about life right now is influencing my dreams. And that fact that the last voice i spoke to was one that demeaned and de-valued me as a person must too mean something. But i'm too exhausted to even try to decipher it. What I will say is that this week has worn me out emotionally and mentally. I held "it" together Wednesday through Friday but collapsed into a despondent, helpless mess these last two days. I keep checking in with my mom and brother to make sure they are okay. I keep reading the horrible things happening to people across our country and I feel utterly helpless. I keep looking for a concrete, proactive way to help and get involved only to be met with more symbolic means to contribute.

There is this mom and pop auto shop across the street from my local supermarket that just erected a huge ass Biff/Malfoy sign followed by signs about not trusting left-winged liberals or the media. I couldn't even go about my buying groceries because I became physically ill. Instead I drove 30 minutes out of my way to the nearest grocery store and even then only ended up buying saltine crackers because it's the only thing I can keep down.

I am not doing well this weekend. I'm not. So when Heather texted me this morning wanting to know if I was still down for building Ikea furniture, I had to tell her the truth. That I struggled this morning to get out of bed, shower and feed myself. That at the moment, I am afraid to step outside of my house not because I fear for my own safety but because the world feels different and I am trying to adjust. I am a person who needs time to process things alone and right now is this moment.

I am not sure she understood any of this. As my only real friend left, I don't want to come across as selfish when I explicitly offered my assistance but as someone who often struggles to be a person throughout my normal day to day happenings, this weekend it feels impossible to fake it. I just want to stay home and watch BBC America and eat as many cookies as humanely possible. I want to stay safe and away in the only place that feels normal right now. I want to sit in my newly purchased rocking chair and re-energize and re-group for the days, weeks and months ahead.

Safety in Numbers

Moving forward I have to remind myself not to engage (or attempt to engage) in arguments on the intervwebs.

This is going to be hard because I am not going to lie, I have been very tempted to voice my oppositions these last 24 hours but I want to continue spreading a message of unity and safety (even though I've wanted to gut punch the universe).

Outside of Instagram and Facebook I have stayed away from the news (though I just received a text from my mom about the protests going on around the country). It's not that I want to be sad in ignorance but I am trying to come up with a plan to help "us" best move forward and the news distracts me from that message.

By "us" of course mean everyone. Not just tiny, plaid wearing, combat boot steeping self. I mean all of us.  But even this is hard to do when the message I want to push forward isn't on the same page with the anger, frustration and of course violence that is occurring at the moment. Or the silent, passive, acceptance to juxtapose the latter.

I had to hold myself back last night from responding to what will be the most frustrating aspect of this post-election shock: silence and passivity. Unless you are a racist, sexist, misogynist who actively voted for Biff because of the racist, sexist and misogynist campaign he ran...do not tell communities of color, or women, or lgbtq individuals, or immigrants or Muslims or environmentalists, or poor college students or whomever is freaked the fuck out right now to "accept" what has happened and be quiet".

There is nothing more infuriating then ignoring the concerns of people who have been targets of discrimination and bigotry before, during and after his campaign.  It's like watching your neighbor's house burn down and telling them to "be quiet"  as they are visibly distressed and in need of help. I am that neighbor right now. My house is burning to the ground and I am freaking the hell out. So if I am telling you that I am scared and in need of help, validate my fears and offer assistance. Do not silence me. 

Last night I made the mistake of surfing Facebook and came across an old co-woker who posted this to her page:

Seriously the election is over. Whether you agree with Trump or not, he is who won the election. I'm tired of the only thing I see or hear about is the election. I get it that a lot of people are pissed but...

I just want to see posts of puppies and food again...

                           Or holidays. It's 2 weeks til thanksgiving and like 6 til Christmas. That's just insane.

No. Just don't. Please don't. That is not what we need or should hear right now. I am glad there are people who live in a bubble where they some how feel they will not be affected by Biff's presidency but those people are a very very very small minority. They may go down in history as the only minority group that doesn't have to worry. But the rest of us, the rest of us are scared and despondent. The rest of us feel without hope. The rest of us are watching our backs awaiting something bad to happen. As a human being, please hear our screams and feel the warmth of our tears and empathize with us right now.

Do not tell us to focus on puppies and food and the holidays as to not ruin your privileged existence. Do not. That has, so far, been the only moment I have felt physically angry these last few days. I mean of course I have seen the posts about people dealing with sadist racist and sexist and xenophobic hate  since Tuesday. Of course I watched the video of children chanting "build that wall" to their Mexican classmate. Of course I viewed the image of college students adorning black-face on snap-chat with a confederate flag in the background.  I have seen it and I am appalled but not shocked.

What shocks me is that more people are not openly offering their assistance, patience, empathy and solidarity during this time. What shocks me is the silence. It is so silent everywhere I turn. And it's disheartening because I feel so small and tiny. I don't know at this moment how much support I am capable of providing.

The other day I reached out to some Facebook group and asked if they needed any volunteer help. You would think the word volunteer would suggest that I am willing to help out without getting paid. The response I got back was "We commend your ambition and desire to help but we are not actively hiring at the moment. Right now, you could try and help us get more likes on our page and we'll keep you in mind when an opportunity does arise".

Facebook likes? what the what.  I was willing to hand out pamphlets, lick envelopes, print copies! I don't want to recommend a page for other people to like. What good is that. How does that help the helpless. My response back wasn't so diplomatic but I was frustrated and tired and at a loss. I want to help but how? And what will be the most useful (and productive) form of assistance that I can offer.

Right now wearing a pin of solidarity and unity is my first step. I want to make sure that everyone who has been a target of Biff's rhetoric knows that they are not alone and that I am a person who will go out of her way to help. We have to reject the divisive language that got him elected and the best way to do this is to shut it down if we see it or hear it. I am most serious about this. I have yet to encounter a situation where I have heard or seen something but I am on the lookout for it and plan to reject and challenge it head on.

I also think (as proposed by my cosmic twin) that there needs to be designated safe zones/places that vehemently reject racism, sexism and discrimination and will protect or defend anyone who feels threatened or scared. I was proud as hell to see my local rock climbing gym send out a Facebook message designating themselves as a  safe place for all individuals. This inclusiveness and unity is the reminder we need that people will not tolerate intolerance. I can only also hope people themselves can also carry and spread this message.

If you see something or hear something do something.  Be there if your black or brown friend is afraid of walking home alone. Be there is your gay or Muslim or immigrant friend doesn't feel comfortable in their classroom or out in public.  Defend any women who experiences vulgar sexual advances by some prick who thinks his ownership of a dick allows him to behave like one. I understand the protesting and the disbelief that is going on right now but I'd hate us to lose focus. I'd also hate for us to forget that hundreds of senators and congressmen and local officials have our backs and can't sit by and watch bad things happen around us without saying and doing something. Our main focus should doing the same but on a small and more local scale.

I am going to spend most of the weekend trying to organize my thoughts and turn some of these things into concrete initiatives. I don't even know if my small attempts will make a difference to anyone but I will definitely try and keep trying. We owe it America to give Biff a chance to prove all of us wrong. We also owe it to America to hold him and everyone accountable if he slips up or fucks up. If he fucks up, I am allowed to call him on it. Don't silence me. Stand with me, be patient, listen and help me help us move forward together.

We All Gotta be Marty McFly Right Now

Two days and I am still a mess. An inconsolable, red-eyed, comfort eating mess. I got all of two hours of sleep yesterday and literally went to work in an outfit that could have passed for pj's. I had the thousand yard stare of someone who'd seen battle, i was sullen and despondent. There were occasional murmurs from my colleagues about the election where they expressed  the same sort of shock and disbelief but not really understanding the totality of America's decision. My manager even had to nerve to joke that if we would have all voted this wouldn't have happened (ignoring the fact that he didn't vote). I fumed but was too exhausted by my lack of sleep to say anything back.

Despite Tuesdays outcome,  I am freaking proud of madame president. She was articulate, knowledgeable  and a fucking defender for all of us who have felt silenced in this country. I watched every debate, cried during the DNC and was so behind her as my commander in chief. The fact that she won the popular vote proves that half of the country was with her and her message as well. Knowing this doesn't make what happened any easier to accept but it is a small comfort I will take and cradle until January.

I can't help but admit that I am relieved that there are a lot of friends and family members who are equally as distressed about Biff being the next president of my united states. See what i did there, I refuse to write his name on my blog space. I will never write his name here. Someone today said he reminded her of Biff from Back to the Future and I realize that is where my primal discomfort about  him (among other discomfort) stems from.

I have always associated men like that as abrasive bullies. I have always avoided men like him because I feel threatened and scared of that form of masculinity. I did not personally know many Biff supporters and the few that were vocal about it also showed themselves to be also be sexist or racist and were quickly shut down and de-friended.  While I don't think all Biff supporters are awful, I guess I can understand (a little) how any person could gravitate to that form of masculinity. I gravitated to that form of masculinity when Marie died.

I lost someone very important to me  and my security felt threatened once she was gone. I was under attack emotionally and mentally and  was afraid of everything and everyone. When Sean offered me  support, I readily soaked it up because I didn't want anyone feeling sorry for me. He was always saying stupid things and doing stupid things and had so little filter, it was nice to be around because it distracted me from my sadness. I would cry or have a break down and he would let me take out my frustration on him. Like physically and emotionally because he said he was strong enough for that.  I realize now he was just a sociopath who felt no pain and never took responsibility for anything.

But that brand of masculinity only went so far. It was attractive and alluring and you bet your ass when he offered me his muscly chest to sleep on I was all for that type of masculinity. But when I began to heal as a person he did not possess the basic goodness that made us compatible. I simply didn't need him to just be this body I could do bad things with. I wanted a supportive, helpful, considerate partner that could help me rebuild what I lost. I ideally needed a Mr. Darcy in my life but I went for the bully in Karate Kid. And the moment it became apparent that what I needed from him was vastly different from what initially drew me to him(a receptive body I could do good things with), his masculinity turned on me and I am still recovering from the fallout of that.

I once did a paper on masculinity because it has always fascinated me. Women are allowed to be soft and hard beings. Of course when you are too soft you are considered defenseless and when you are too hard you are considered a bitch but we can still vacillate between both versions of femininity. I always got the impression that men cannot do this. If you are too soft you are immediately emasculated and if you are too hard you can be revered and despised...at the same time. 

I recognize that that form of male-ness is what also got Biff elected. In a nation griped by various fears his abrasiveness was not an immediate turn off for some. Instead it epitomized to them the essence of authority. I doubt that he will actually be able to provide comfort and reassurance to our country in times of need. I can't imagine any future addresses to the country where he is able to express sorrow and unity. I instead expect what usually ends up being the case with most men like that...impotence and the inability to follow through. All bark and no bite.  All muscly chest but no beating heart.

I feel a little better today than I did yesterday but as someone who always plans ahead this moment in history feels like a turning point for me. I understand that Biff will be in office come January, I understand that that could mean a lot of citizens basic human-ness will be at risk.  I recognize that a lot of people are scared and uncertain and filled with the same anxiety that has crippled me since Tuesday. But this is a good thing, right? That there are a lot of me's out there wondering what happens next and are ready to step up and do something about it. What I have seen in history is that when good people sit out and don't speak out against injustice people suffer (and Biff's are elected into office). So maybe this moment in history is supposed to be a turning point, maybe this is when the change we have slowly been working towards needs to be louder and made clearer to the silent majority.

I am not so worried about my own stakes and claims post this election. I can handle whatever shit is thrown my way but I worry more about my family in the south, I worry a lot about my LGBTQ friends and my lady friends and my proud immigrant friends. I am most worried about the individuals who feel like there voice was completely silenced Tuesday and I just can't potentially go through the next four years sitting by idly if Biff (or his supporters) try to antagonize and suppress them.

Of course all I have now is the energy and determination. I am not really sure how to be of help but I am mobilizing and taking notes and I plan to get as involved as possible. Dr. Who mentions that there are fixed points in history that cannot be re-written but it doesn't mean that in those fixed points individuals can't still make a difference.

January 1st, 2000

I imagine the dread, depression, doom and general malaise I feel right now is how I would have felt on January 1st, 2000 if Y2K happened after all.

Like most American's, I am stunned by the outcome of the election. I voted for her. I was with her. I am still with her. I thought I was going to be a part of another history making/defining election after the success of electing Barack Obama 8 years ago.  When I started this blog 11 years ago, I made the conscious decision to be as vague as possible about myself physically so that whoever read this blog could relate to my words and words alone. As a writer, I am interested in connecting to all people despite my  race and gender which has often been used against me to dictate what others feel I am allowed to write about or the life experience I am allowed to live.

But when Barack Obama was elected in 2008, I was proud as an American to elect him but foremost as an African American to see someone who looked like me achieve the highest level of success. Because you know, I'm African American been so my whole life (i hope this doesn't change anything between us). Barack was, for me, a beacon of light and hope because he demolished  race barriers that I often struggle to break in my everyday life. I was always the brown girl in school who everyone made fun of because I "talked white" and was shy and  read a lot of books and liked rock music. Because of this, I have often felt strange in my own skin and strive to have people to see my character first before they focus on my skin (which yes, is like caramel)

For some reason my "blackness" was and is unusual because I am told that I don't fit into the caricature that is often perpetuated by the media. I am neither sassy or loud, argumentative or bossy. Like most human beings, I possess a multitude of traits that aren't race specific, though I live in a society that is constantly trying to attach specific generalizations on people of color.

 I am  proud of my heritage and where I am from but at the end of the day I'm really just an ordinary  girl with the same basic wants in life that I assume any other woman (or man)  wants. I just happen to have dark skin but that is the least interesting thing about me though it is the first thing that people equate my personality with. The most insulting ( and consistent thing) I hear from damn near everyone I meet is "you aren't like most black girls" as if the backhanded compliment should make me feel good. It doesn't. I don't know how other black girls are or are not, my blackness is not on some Kinsey scale of race.

When Barack came on the scene and I knew I could help elect him as the first African American president I was all about it. I rocked the vote. I listened to his  riveting speeches. I dreamed of being Michele Obama who epitomizes grace and strength.  I was so proud to see my county move into a direction where someone who looked like me could achieve so much and make an impact on the world. I cried like a baby on election night 2008. I felt proud to be a part of history. I felt proud of America's acceptance of 'blackness".

So you bet come 2016, I wanted to also have a hand in electing the first female president  for reasons that are connected to my  gender and belief that she was the best candidate for the job . I was never on the Bernie train and did not even considered a 3rd party candidate. I have admired and looked up to Hillary Clinton for as long as I can remember because she was a vocal first lady, turned senator. I didn't care if she was the perfect candidate  I just knew she was the right one. I felt energized by her campaign and message of unity. She tapped into my desire to be more of a public servant and make a change in the world. She made me care about issues and creating a vision of America that was full of hope.

I proudly supported her campaign for 14 months. I was vocal about my enthusiasm and yesterday when I woke up a 5am to head down to my polling center I was emotional as hell. The thought that I would have a hand in electing both the first African American and female president in my short voting history was overwhelming.  There was never a doubt that she would win. The polls were leaning in her favor, the other candidate seemed too much of a risk for people to vote for and I was convinced that Americans would vehemently reject his rhetoric and divisiveness of her contender.

Obviously that did not happen. I was already anxious about the election during the work day but by 10pm whatever history I thought was going to be made quickly faded to black. I watched her numbers stay the same and his increase, I felt the tension in the air, I knew that I had grossly underestimated how divided my country is. And then I forced myself to go to sleep, except this time I did not pray to God or Mother Nature of Buddha to keep me and my family safe from this disaster. I didn't pray for the nightmare to go away, or more importantly for a do-over because obviously we fucked up as a nation.

 Mainly I just laid there, with my eyes forced shut,  hoping that who I am will not (again) be something that is hated and feared in this county. I worried about my own 'blackness" and my "woman-ness", I worried about how other women or people of color would deal with this awful transition and shift in our country. I wondered if other communities (religious, immigrant, LGBT)  that were such a target of hate during this campaign season were holding up okay and I hoped that maybe they would know that I stand with them as I did with her and that love will trump hate. I promise.

The next few days,weeks and months are going to be tough. There are 71 days until inauguration, enough time to band together (enough time for him to fuck up too) and maybe create something beautiful out of this dismal situation. I think this election was an awakening we needed (but didn't want). I know and love this country and we are so much better than 288 electoral colleges. We can be so much more because of her and because of Barack and our basic human goodness. That's the only thing keeping me sane today.

#imwithher

'

I voted! I didn't get a sticker (my mom did though which she proudly sent me a picture of) but I voted and was the 2nd person in line today.  I may have cried on my walk to the local high school where I cast my vote this morning because the last 14 months have been exhausting and 5am is way too early for me to be walking to a high school but more importantly this election feels momentous. I helped elect the first African American president and yes, I want nothing more than to help elect the first female president. Tonight is going to mark a huge shift in this country and I hope that shift is towards unity and goodness above all else. 

Terms and Conditions

This morning one of my good friends from the bookstore, Christina, texted me out of the blue and asked for my mailing address. I am not going to lie, for a hot second I thought i was being set up and this was some weird attempt from Kat to reach out to me via a mutual friend.  Or maybe this was my lame hope that this was Kat's lame attempt to reach out to me just because...idk, the calm these past few weeks (slowly fading into months) is a little unnerving. It is so unlike Kat to not react harshly to any slight. And this is a huge slight.

In a weird way I am a person who doesn't necessarily thrive off of dramatic reactions but I do occasionally make bold decisions or statements anticipating that shit may or may not go down as a result. While my decision to un-friend Kat was a honest and good one for myself, I admit I was expecting some sort of cataclysmic fallout from her these past few weeks because well, she has always reacted in a cataclysmic way. Like, always.

But the past two months have been silent. There is a part of me that wants to ease into the dissolution of friendship but at the same time am too paranoid to trust this calm .

The last few months have been perplexing and relieving. Relaxing of course because not having to mince every word or feel anxious about every thing I do is well...great. But equally the silence is kind of confusing, we once didn't talk for two weeks and she was so livid we had to talk it out one night like married people. So the fact that it has now been three months since things went sour and I have heard virtually nothing form her is...perplexing.  But we were always insanely on the same page in a lot of ways and perhaps not being friends was a decision we accepted as best on both ends.

I guess in many ways, I expected and wanted a groveling Kat to appear out of the blue to validate how insane her behavior was. Even if we decided, post groveling, that it is best for us to not remain friends, it would have filled me with some relief to hear "I'm sorry that I put such terms and conditions on our friendship and that I didn't respect your boundaries". Because what I've concluded is that our friendship only worked on her terms.  Anytime, I needed to branch out and forge my own identity she would accuse me of growing distant and ruining a good thing.

She once threatened that she wouldn't be my friend anymore " ifyou keep treating me like you do"and I recognized that she was giving me an ultimatum and also explicitly making our friendship conditional. We could continue being friends only if we never disagreed, never had conflicting schedules or never needed time apart. Of course these conditions were specific to me: I disagree often, my schedule often changes and I need time apart to restore energy. And, I am not a person who deals well with terms and conditions. I am not a person who likes to be put on any leash.

And whilst discussing Kat's behavior in retrospect, I am struck by how absolutely fucking nuts her behavior was. It was crazy. It was both possessive and unhinged. If i talked about taking a class or wanting to see a movie or plans for my weekend, she would automatically assume those plans included her. And when she realized it didn't she would feel slighted and enraged. "why didn't you invite me to go" "we always do things together" "why do you keep pushing me away". But then in the same breath she would go and completely make plans for herself based on things that I did: buy a new car, visit Chicago, apartment hunt in my town.

It was strange. And because I know that it's completely insane to make any relationship conditional, why isn't she aware enough to know this. Why am I waiting around for the big epiphany to hit her, followed by an apology. Because I think what I want out of all of this is some apology. I can be a fucked up person, I can be flighty and restless and hard to grasp but my ability to love and be loved is boundless and my only favor in return is that you love me despite myself.

So yea, there was a moment of panic when I saw Christina's name pop up on my phone accompanied by a text requesting my home address. Christina is equally close to Kat as she is to me and the three of us hung out regularly while we worked at Le Sad Store. So seeing her name, I kind of expected some bull about what I did to Kat because naturally I am to blame. Despite how crazy I know the situation was, I expected Kat to blame me for everything. And I also expected her to tell anyone and everyone that I was to blame.

So I exhaled loudly, telling myself that this this was the moment the silence was disrupted and that I was in store for some unnecessary drama on my least favorite day of the week.

Christina and I were pretty close at BN. She worked in the music department and when  Kat wasn't there, I generally hung out and bonded with her. When Marie died she took care of me during the shifts were I walked in despondent. She told me her father passed away when she was super young and that she never got over it and we ugly cried in the music department while customer waited in line.She knew all about the Sean drama as it was unfolding and was the only person who came close to kicking his ass for real after everything went down.

We both quit le sad store around the same time and this revelation that we wouldn't see each other on a weekly basis crushed me. She is a force of a woman, tall and curvy to the point that people are intimidated by her size and her confidence. I called her "Mama Bear" because I admired all the things that made her intimidating and recognized quickly that she was a nurturer.  I probably spent more time  talking about intimacy and life fears and womanhood with Christina than anyone else, and I sort of admired her brand of femininity which was a mix of  real toughness and sentiment. Like lace and leather.

We've stayed in touch as much as we can but it's always an out of the blue "i miss you" followed by "same bitch". Because our circle of friends is still very tight we often meet up with a few other people from le sad store to catch up on each others happenings. I was almost certain hearing from her today meant another get together was being planned and that I would in many ways have to decline the invitation (because I have no interest in seeing Kat anytime soon). 

My fears were quickly assuaged though because she just wanted my address to send me an invitation to a baby shower.  Her baby shower. She is having an effing baby. Omg, am I at that weird age where my friends are going to get married and become parents soon?...and omg what a weird and absolutely exciting time? Or depressing time.  My Mama Bear is literally going to be a Mama Bear and what the hell, how did i get to this place. Everyone around me is growing up and progressing and adult-ing. Holy effing mess.

The baby shower a month from today and of course I have anxieties about this. I want nothing more than to be a supportive friend during this big life moment  But at the same time, i know that if i was invited Kat was invited and a baby shower seems like the worst place to duke it out with someone. Or worse, maybe we would both show up and just pretend we were never friends and spend the whole night awkwardly making sure the other person knew we were actively avoiding each other. 

I think ive decided that I am not going to go but instead have extended an invitation to Christina to hang out beforehand so I can give her her gifts in person. I knew that in ending my friendship with Kat would in many ways be ending a lot of relationships with people tied to us both. But i don't understand why I can't still maintain the friendships I have with a few small people despite the end of one major relationship. Being an adult is so stupid. Le Sigh.

NaNoWriMo is officially here!

This year, I want to participate in National Novel Writing Month.

I admit that writing and what I thought would be my adventurous life as a writer has taken a back seat to more pressing life stuff. You know, like finding a job, paying bills and making sure I can afford to live. It boggles my mind that I was so confident about my voice as a writer in high school and college than I am now. Because if I can be as honest as possible, I don't consider myself much of a writer at all.

Whatever voice I had then has been irrevocably changed by my experiences. And obviously this has to be a thing, that writers experience right? I can't be the only one who struggles to write because I don't recognize the voice in my head anymore. That voice--that girl---that woman---is so vastly different from my every day and consistent facade, I am afraid of the intimacy in those words that might come spilling out.

So I don't really write much these days, if at all. Whether it's blogging or short story/novel writing, I just am so uncomfortable in my 'writing' skin that i'd rather focus on life stuff. Mundane, boring, life stuff. Like this morning, I spent 20 minutes watching Youtube videos on laundry detergent. I wish I was joking, but honestly how effective are laundry detergent pods vs. the more conventional liquid detergent. Le sigh, how did I become this person.

Any, who I have halfheartedly participated in National Novel Writing Month every year, only to sort of give up around week 1 (hey, i'm being honest). Novel's aren't easy things to write and I have so many different stories and characters floating around in my head it's hard to narrow it down to one novel. Because of this, I want to remove the Novel out of National Novel Writing Month. Maybe I can just focus on producing some form of written work daily. I think in doing so, I can create multiple things and also maybe establish a routine of writing daily that can eventually lead to focusing on one body of work that I am actively creating.

Of course, I count blogging as a form of written work, so maybe i'll blog more during this month and if am not blogging, i want to be writing poems or short vignettes daily. I am a super practical person. I love working and making money. I love having stability outside of my creative life. But I do recognize often that writing is something I am good at and I would be disappointed and feel unfulfilled in this life if i never produced something for public consumption.

Wish me luck. i'm sure i'll be documenting most of my National Writing Month struggle here.

Happy Halloween

Happy Halloween! Of course I am spending the bulk of my day at work but I made a Halloween playlist to get me through today. What I wouldn't give to be at home in my pajamas watching horror movies all day. Le sigh.

Counting Down the Days

I am not ready for Halloween this year. Not one bit and surprisingly, I am okay with this.

 There was a brief window of time when I worked at Le Sad Store where Halloween was sort of the highlight of my year. I'd anxiously count down the days until the big day or at least the big events surrounding the holiday. I think my last exciting Halloween was at Patricia's house (before she became my arch-nemesis) and hung out with people from work dressed up in ridiculous costumes, drunk as can be and for the most part happy.

But that was 3 Halloween's ago.

The last two Halloweens have been dismal for various reasons. The year after Patricia's party was the first Halloween in my new place and I was too poor to do much of anything. I ended up renting a bunch of movies from the library and eating candy all day.  Last year, I was supposed to go to the Halloween parade in the city with Kat but she had a complete and utter meltdown the day of because her costume didn't fit, so I cancelled the parade and Halloween and just sat at home and watched scary movies all night.

This year, I was so focused on buying a car that outside of Comic Con, I didn't plan much for the remainder of October or Halloween. Friend break-ups are legit like romantic ones and honestly this my first Halloween without Kat. She was usually the one who came up with holiday themed activities. So this might explain why October sort of flew by and now here I am on the eve of Halloween with nothing to do. I don't even have a super cute work appropriate 'costume' to wear.

And I know, I know, there is still time to pull this weekend together. Heather texted me super early this morning and asked if I wanted to run errands with her. She is at the moment my only real friend, so while the temptation to stay home and watch scary movies while eating a lot of food is very alluring, I recognize my need for social interaction. Regardless, I still said I was "busy" but that next weekend i was down for errand running and shit talking for sure.

Soon after Heather's early morning text my aunt (oh my aunt) asked me if I was going trick or treating on Monday.

????

I shouldn't have to explain that I am a 30 year old woman who hasn't been trick or treating since I was 12 years old. I shouldn't have to explain why it is completely ridiculous to ask said 30 year old woman whether she plans on trick or treating Monday. I can only assume (and hope) that my aunt's idiotic question was more of an attempt to gauge if I were willing to drive her and Michelle around Halloween night and not an actual assumption from my aunt that after work tomorrow, I am going to hit up a bunch of neighborhoods for candy wearing a costume. I can only hope this is what she meant.

Of course I sent a reply back immediately stating that "um, i'm way too old for trick or treating". She didn't respond back, so I am half expecting a text tomorrow afternoon  my car services (tho Halloween seems to be the one holiday that doesn't require a car). This year has been equal parts great and exhausting and maybe my disinterest in Halloween in many ways is a result of this. Instead of living in the moment I found myself counting down the days:

I am counting down the days until this shit show of an election is over and the country can return to normal. But even then I am not sure what normal is going to look like. Just the other day a stranger spit on my friend as he was coming out of a store. My friend often cos-plays as Chef from South Park if you need to know what he looks. This older gentlemen was wearing a Hillary for Prison t-shirt. No words at all were exchanged preceding the event. He just saw my friend and spat on him. This is not the America I know and love, this is not the America I want to live in .

I am counting down the days until Thanksgiving. I am heading home for the holidays and will get to hang out with my nephew again. He's 5 now and adorable and asked me a few weeks ago when I was coming over "grandma's house to play with him". I need these yearly visits home. This restore me and remind me who I am and where I come from.

I am counting down the days until December: cold, grey awful December. I still get very weird during the first two weeks. I replay everything leading up to and after Marie's death during those weeks. It's impossible for me not too, her life continues to play on this loop and I haven't solved the big puzzle of her death that I think would relieve me of the grief I experience especially in December. I am sullen and sad and unreachable, so i prepare for the depression like I would a store.

And finally, I'm counting down until News Year. I find the holidays stressful. I am smothered with expectations of Christmas miracles and New Year Resolutions. I hold my breath every year as the countdown to midnight begins. And I pray anxiously that when the clock hits 12, that everything can just restart or rather fall back into place effortlessly and that the previous is just a series of memories that I can look back on fondly but also move past with grace.

But I am nowhere near the strike of Midnight on New Years Eve. Instead here I am the day before Halloween, stretched on my couch watching shitty horror movies, eating way too much pizza and playing the numbers game on when i think I will finally relax and live in the moment again.