Corona: On Quarantines, Finishing Things, and Rings of Light

I remember staring in disbelief at the email about my office being shutdown. I read it again and again, with my eyes zeroing in on words like “indefinitely” and “as this unfolds.” Aside from rejoicing inwardly at not having to make the nearly forty minute commute each morning, I also felt a wave of uncertainty about my mom, who is a visiting nurse who assists vulnerable people for a living. Then I thought about my son and other relatives, and how they would fare in all of this. I let all of those panicky thoughts whip themselves to frothy liquid inside my brain on the drive home from work that day until I remembered three things. One, I’d been complaining about my commute for ages. Two, I knew damn well that I had a book to finish, and working remotely could help me power through the last of it. And the last thing? That was easiest to remember: it’s best to choose patience over panic any day.

Quasar: On Cheating, Acceptance, and Pity.

Destruction. This concept is where this story began and where it ends. Where I was flighty and fiery to him and for him, she was mundane and accessible, like microwaved food. Readily available. Easy bake. Her only garnish, her age and flexible schedule. As food that is cured, well seasoned, and highly reviewed, I exist at the other end of spectrum from this woman whose name I still don’t know because she has harassed me under too many names to count. So, let’s start with the parts of the story I do know.

Here are the facts.

I became infatuated with someone far younger. A week or two in, he cut ties with a woman closer to his age that he said he’d been dealing with for a few months. He had little else to say about it or her, so from the beginning I just assumed that she was unremarkable.

I was mostly right, too.

Orbit: Rules, Reciprocity, and the Gospel of Rico Nasty

Desensitizing yourself to someone else’s drama doesn’t make you callous, it protects your peace. Doing so doesn’t mean that you’re unable to be empathetic anymore, but it does mean that you’ve become wise enough to discern if someone has too many issues to empathize with, i.e., perpetual drama.

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Aurora: Distractions, Death, and Pacts with God

Summer was euphoric. It burned brightly and waned as summer always does. Now, I’m in my season of harvest and there’s death all around me in a beautiful way. For each leaf that hits the ground I’m reminded that even though I have to push forward, I don’t have to allow myself to veer off into an aurora. The lights will always be there, flashing and flickering. Fun will always be there, swirling in limes and rose colored spirals around me. And if I choose to, I can spin and bask in those spirals until I lose my sense of direction and time again.  But like I said before, it’s harvest season. I have a pact with self, a pact with God, and work that I’m more than ready to do.

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Lunar Eclipse: Villainy, Backlash, and Joy

Lunar eclipses are a good time for emancipation from old things, cleansing. Unfortunately, it’s not always easy to initiate cleanses in your life. People on the other side of it may read your step forward as a blow their ego, leaving you to feel like the villain. But trust your own process, because after the backlash comes joy, which means that sometimes, it’s totally worth it to play the villain for awhile.

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Parallel Universe Pt. 1: Love, Superstitions, and a Little Black Book

The first weeks of spring were marked by cold and rainy days, so when the sun came out in full force, my friends and I decided to bask in it. I called my little sister (AKA “Patron Saint of Planning Shit”), slicked my hair into ponytail with styled edges, and jumped into a backless romper with tall heels. When I walked into the house her boyfriend shares with his two friends, I was stoked to find all there there punting around ideas about how to best take in some sun. Everyone was smiling and laughing. Someone put out a spread of wings. Another paired their phone to a large speaker. For the first time that week, I felt relaxed.

And then I saw him.

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He bounded down the stairs in a floral hoodie and grey joggers and we just stared at each other. Stared and stared until we finally talked to each other. Then we exchanged numbers and, to my disbelief, texted and called each other every day after that. Finally, he did the one thing that no one else had done in the three years I was single: he asked me how I felt about him, and if I could see myself being with him. And the craziest part was, I actually could. Read More