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That’s that me, Depresso – Semi-Serious Reflections on the State of my Mental Health
I could say a lot about my history with depression and anxiety. I HAVE said a lot about my history with depression and anxiety–they are inexplicably a part of me, after all. I used to analyze it all in depth, chronicling the recovery highs and lows, wondering if I was getting better at all. There was a time when I thought I was better, and I was so sure. I considered depression something I had, past-tense, and that, at that point in my life, I was just occasionally experiencing depressive episodes. Of course, I was naive (and a measly twenty-one), and I didn’t know all the tumultuous emotions I would…
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My Hairdresser’s Spidey Sense is Tingling
I want to dye my hair pink again. I actually want to do this every couple of months, sometimes in smaller intervals. As a kid, I never really wanted to dye my hair, ever. It always got browner in the winter and blonder in the summer and I had a weird ombré-thing going on the rest of the year, which was cool with me. Then, when I was sixteen and visiting my best friend in Nashville, we rode our bikes to the store and got many, many lemons to juice and lighten our hair. We also bought Monster Energy drinks and watched The Crazies, which I still joke is a…
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Time for a Little ✨2024✨ Tomfoolery
Happy January! ‘Tis the season for setting unrealistic expectations for myself. Every year–for the last handful of years, at least–I’ve set a small list of goals. I prefer to see them as GOALS and not as RESOLUTIONS. Resolution implies I need to be fixed, and we all know I’m perfect. Kidding, obviously, I’m far from it, but the notion stands. Resolutions sound like something to repair, while goals are something to work toward. All about your wording! I post these goals on my Instagram stories every January 1st. I love it. It keeps me accountable, and to me, it’s simply fun. I love setting these things up for myself, and…
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Crying at a Gas Station in Commerce – Notes on Grief
Once, when I was in college, my tire blew on the freeway in the middle of nowhere. I drove a car older than my sister, so it was bound to happen. I was going to be late for class and miss a presentation, I was crying to the AAA lady trying to tell her where I was. There wasn’t a discernible landmark in sight. I’m a nervous driver anyway, so I couldn’t contain the whimpering. About three years later, a college friend of mine passed away in a car accident. Her celebration of life was in San Diego, so I left early, early, early on a Friday to get down…
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Doesn’t have to be Louis V up on Bond Street: A London Post Pt 4
[disclaimer: as I was traveling alone and am a woman, I chose to post this after I returned from England] You know that scene in Avengers: Infinity War (spoiler alert, but if you haven’t seen it yet, idk what you’re doing?) when Thanos gets all the infinity stones, snaps his fingers, and a bunch of people get dusted? And how one of those people is cute ol’ Peter Parker, and when he’s about to disintegrate, he goes “Mr. Stark, I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go” and he’s on the verge of tears? Yes, that’s how I feel knowing I’m about to leave London. My knees, however, are very…
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Notes App poetry is my new medium: A London Post Pt 3
[disclaimer: as I was traveling alone and am a woman, I chose to post this after I returned from England] Not me visiting my work offices in England and thinking I can finesse working my new job but over here!? Anotha day, anotha eleven miles. Anotha gander around some museum or other. Anotha bench I’ve read my book club book on. One of my favorite things so far has been taking my book on field trips around the city. I’m in a Harry Styles book club (because duh), and this month, we’re reading Love is a Mix Tape: Life and Loss, One Song at a Time by Rob Sheffield. It’s…
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If I were a main character, this is where I’d be: A London Post Pt 2
[disclaimer: as I was traveling alone and am a woman, I chose to post this after I returned from England] I dunno if you know this, but I took this grand trip to England for my birthday. Let me tell you, what a way to ring in twenty-six! One of my pals from school is getting her PhD at Oxford, and she’s basically living my dream. When I planned this trip, I knew I wanted to try and see her, so when she was free this weekend, it felt perfect. Here’s the thing about my birthday: I don’t tell a lot of people about it. I have several close friends…
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Cheerio, mate: I’m in London!
[disclaimer: as I was traveling alone and am a woman, I chose to post this after I returned from England] So if you’ve seen my Instagram stories post-brief-hiatus (or you know me in real life), you’ll know that I’m currently writing this to you from a hotel room in London, England. Even more fun is that I keep forgetting to buy plug adapters, so I’m writing part of this from the floor right outside my bathroom, since that outlet—for whatever mysterious reason—fits US plugs. Sounds like a tomorrow problem when my brain is a bit more screwed on. I’ll start by saying that there are a lot of restrictions in…
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Pan(dem)ic! at the Disco: Covid Summer 2.0 (an update on my headspace)
Well, well, well, would you look at that, LA County. Reimplementing your mask mandate already? Almost like we shouldn’t have opened up our doors so widely so soon. Here we are, pandemic summer part 2. Not sure how long this go-around will last, but I don’t really mind locking down again. I know so many people who, even vaccinated, are still at risk, and I really like staying home with my TV and my streaming accounts. Especially if it’s going to do a little good for other people. It took me quite a bit of time for the magnitude of constant staying home to hit me. Not because I don’t…
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Keys Like Wolverine Claws, Pepper Spray at the Ready
TW: sexual assault, sexual harassment, rape [I’ve gone through a lot of mental back and forth about this post, but my brain can’t stop thinking about it, so here we are.] Greetings from page 124 of Know My Name by Chanel Miller. I’m 5 chapters into this memoir, and I’m not kidding when I say I’ve cried through most of it. Reading not only through Chanel’s experience with the legalities of the trial and her pain from the assault but her every day experiences she (and every woman I know) has with men randomly catcalling or hitting on her. The way she is over it all, the way she screamed…