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For a full explanation of the Cinema Syllabus, see this post!

Part Two of the Cinema Syllabus Blurbs and Opinions! TWO!!!! New favorites in this chunk, which was wildly unexpected!!!

Movies are rated on the following scale:
1. Big Nope
2. Dislike It
3. Full of Meh
4. WTF, Mate?
5. Iiiiiinteresting
6. Like It
7. Love It
8. New Favorite

Cabaret: 5;
This one made it onto the full list before I made the Musical Review list, so it stayed. Besides, the big list needed at least one musical! I ended up watching this and All That Jazz on the same night, which was a weird combo pack. I liked Liza Mineli (who looks so much like Anne Hathaway in this movie??), but I didn’t like the movie itself. But the last 20 minutes kind of saved it in a weird way. I'm not sure I can explain. Very slice-of-life, and to be honest, it’s hard to actually classify it as a musical, since the songs don’t advance the plot—but they do make veeeerryy interesting commentary on what little plot there is and on the sociopolitical landscape of 1930s Berlin. Also the drawn parallels between being a gay man and a Jewish man in said 1930s Berlin...was devastating and very interesting. So I'm glad I watched it, but it's not a new fave.

Sunset Boulevard: 6;
Huh. What an odd love letter to Hollywood while simultaneously ripping the entire movie industry a new one, viciously and without remorse. I love that it was in black and white. I love the narration and the way it was punctuated by Joe narrating what was happening on screen AS it was happening (down to shit like ‘she turned her face toward me’). It’s an incredible feat of film. And it’s also a horrifying peek into abusive situationships, wow. This is hovering between “interesting” and “like it.” Not sure where it tilts more, but I'll throw it into "like it" for the glamour of the costuming alone. It's a very beautiful movie and that wins it points.

Blade: 4;
This one was on here as part of El's and my earlier project, Year of the Vampire--we're watching as much vampire media as we can get our eyeballs on this year! And this definitely counts. A weird one, for sure!!! Very dumb, very fun, very insane. I miss when superhero movies didn’t take themselves so seriously. Also, I think they just let the villain add “fucking” to any of his lines he felt like, and it was BRILLIANT, what a prissy little bitch of a character. And Wesley Snipes was so cool. I loved it. But also, very much: WTF, mate??!!!? :D

Big Fish: 4;
Another weird one. A Tim Burton movie that does not feel like a Tim Burton movie. Like--Tim Burton movies are weird, and this movie was weird, but it wasn't weird in the way one expects Tim Burton movies to be weird. You know? I think it was trying to say interesting things about truth vs story and how we see ourselves and how that’s more important than how we actually are, but it felt a little bit clumsy and stuck on the father/son disconnect without really explaining why the son was so adamant about The Truth. I don’t know. I didn’t dislike it, but I feel like I missed something. Also the casting was questionable: Ewan McGregor would never grow up into Albert Finney, and Billy Crudup does not look like he could possibly be the son of either of them. I'm disappointed, because I put this one on here for me thinking it would be a slam dunk to loving it, but. I just didn't.

The Philadelphia Story: 7;
“Nothing ever possibly in the least ever happens here!” Ooh, I’m mad I loved this movie. Nothing happens! It’s a whole lot of much ado for it to end up right back where it started! It’s ridiculous! But Katherine Hepburn is a force to be reckoned with and the change in how her character wishes to be seen—and how she just really wishes to be seen—made my heart ache. And I thought it was all set up for Princesses Do Marry Kitchen Boys, one of my very favorite romance tropes, but ALAS. At the last minute! But it's ok...I’d probably pick Cary Grant, too.

Thelma & Louise: 5;
Lisa and I watched this together and we both agreed the best word for it was Interesting. We're very glad we watched it, but we wouldn't watch it again. We were especially impressed by how much we hated both women at the start of the movie and then loved them by the end—the more they committed to the crime, the more we liked them! I think this movie had tons of interesting things to say about sexism and rape, the violence of men, even if they are “good guys”, and the distrust women have in the justice system. And fascinating commentary on the way women’s agency is taken from them--the main cop spent the whole movie trying to save these two women from themselves, mostly by trying to convince them they either didn't make the decisions they did, or their decisions were somehow meaningless (it wasn't really their fault they killed a guy, he made them do it, they weren't thinking, etc). As a woman--that resonated. So I don’t know that I liked this movie, but it’s definitely a lot to think about. Deeper than it seems.

Out of Africa: 6;
We watched this movie with Lisa's mom, and got interrupted several times by the dog and making dinner, so I feel like I didn't quite get the full experience of watching this movie that I wanted. So it's at a 6, but if I watch it again, it might end up as a 7. I liked this very much, but I think without interruptions and with subtitles, I could love it. It’s a gorgeous movie; Meryl Streep can do anything. And I loved how much this movie was hers even though Robert Redford was there and had top billing. He was so secondary to her; it was awesome. It was a little bit too slice-of-life for me to fall completely in love with—I wanted just a hint more plot. But since it was a memoir, not a story, it made sense. Just lovely. Would watch again.

The Thin Man: 8;
A delight. This is the first one of this list I might actually buy a dvd of. I love a crazy mystery, and Nick and Nora’s relationship just made me happy. I love them, and I love how much they love each other. It’s so unusual, especially in an old movie, for the drama to come from outside the main relationship, so that was refreshing and wonderful. Also I love a good parlor-room scene, and this one was fantastic. 10/10, would watch again, many times, even knowing whodunit!

12 Angry Men: 8;
Holy shit, that’s a good movie. Interesting things to say about justice and truth and the impossibility of being fully impartial. I was fully expecting it to be boring--it's just 12 guys yelling at each other!--but it wasn't. It was tense and intense and I was actually fist-pumping each time someone changed their vote. The slow reveal of information through each conversational boss fight was so cool, such a good way to tell you about the trial and the crime without just...telling you. And so many interesting things happened with camera angles and close-ups, as well as blocking—especially since the whole thing happened in one small room. And I love that the movie is not actually about Guilty vs Not Guilty. Because that's not what the justice system is about. It's about not knowing if someone is guilty. Not knowing fully and irrevocably. It's about doubt--the shadow of a doubt--and watching each man realize that whether or not the kid was actually guilty doesn't matter was... *cheffkiss*. Didn't quite make me want to sit on a jury, but it did make me have feelings about the jury system. What a damn good movie.

For a full explanation of the Cinema Syllabus, see this post!

Part One of the Cinema Syllabus Blurbs and Opinions! I watched 7 movies in June, which--considering I finalized the list on, like...the 20th? is pretty good.

Movies are rated on the following scale:
1. Big Nope
2. Dislike It
3. Full of Meh
4. WTF, Mate?
5. Iiiiiinteresting
6. Like It
7. Love It
8. New Favorite

Fight Club: 5;
This is one of the two movies that kicked off this project. El and I were talking about it and she was like, "It actually makes sense you haven't seen it," and I was like, "ok, but whhyyy" and so this became the beginning of the Cinema Syllabus. And I’m mad about how much this movie made me think. I think the dudebros who have latched onto it are too stupid to understand what it is actually saying, which is a scathing commentary on white male rage and an interesting look into toxic community. Extremely well-acted by everyone, especially Brad Pitt and Ed Norton. I want to see a version of this movie that does not have Brad Pitt, because I want to actually see how crazy Ed Norton looks talking to himself. Fascinating stuff.

Burn After Reading: 3;
Watched by myself at two in the morning, and it was extremely stupid, but it did make me laugh way more than I thought it would. Zagged hard when I thought it would zig, in such a startling way that it was very funny. I know now where That One Brad Pitt Gif comes from!! Watching George Clooney go slowly insane was kind of a delight. Not my jam, but fun.

Splash: 6;
Adorable. Got some good, old-fashioned “I’m the man, so my hurt feelings are valid”, but that’s to be expected of a rom-com from the 80s. I hate the mc’s brother so much. Fun fact: Madison was not really used as a first name until this movie came out and the mermaid chose it to be her name! Which is such a cool little tidbit! This movie has one of the weirdest endings and it felt a bit rushed, but it really was cute.

LA Story: 7;
This one was on the list because it's El's favorite rom-com. I'm going to make her watch my favorite (10 Things I Hate About You), so it was only fair that I watch hers! And it. is. Fantastic. Steve Martin is not my go-to casting for a romantic lead, but he was a delight. So nice to have a rom-com about older people. And the slight magical realism vibes are wacky and kind of great. Genuine and sweet. Would watch again.

High Plains Drifter: 1;
NOPE. Didn’t need that. Obnoxious that this is on all the lists but the Dollars series are WAAAAYYY better movies. I kept waiting for a twist but nope. It’s just boring revenge and literally everyone are assholes. And I know it’s a Western, generally everyone are assholes but. Oof. This was to an extreme. It wasn’t even good revenge! For revenge to be interesting, someone has to be a good person!!!! or else it's just assholes killing assholes for being assholes, which is just BORING. Suffice it to say that there are MUCH better westerns and MUCH better westerns that have Clint Eastwood in them, but WHATEVER, put this one on the top 100 lists I GUESS.
(out of spite, I then watched:) Fistful of Dollars: 6;
infinitely better: actual plot, better acting, he’s an asshole but there’s juuuuust enough good in him to make you care. I'd say I'm biased by childhood nostalgia, but I'm not, this is just better.

the Karate Kid: 7;
One Lisa recommended because she loves it, and I already had it on the list! I've been meaning to watch this movie for years, and I was not disappointed. I want Mr. Miyagi for president. The 80s were an INSANE time to be a kid, apparently, and I cannot believe how many times the bullies tried to straight up kill Daniel, but it was so sweet and fun. Intergenerational friendship for the win!

Highlander: 4;
El and I watched this very late at night after our first Vampire session and...what a way to experience this movie. This movie is insane. It was Bad but I kind of loved it???? I completely understand how it grew to cult-fave, and it’s nice to know where the broody-man katana love came from. Clancy Brown chewing scenery is a DELIGHT. The lore makes no sense and I have so many questions--I have so many questions. What a strange movie.

So, I've gotten really tired of people talking about movies and me saying, "Oh, I've never seen that one!" and people going, "what??? how??????" so I've decided to do something about it. That something is what I have dubbed The Cinema Syllabus.

This is not a definitive critic's choice list, nor is it the most comprehensive list. It's a collation of a little bit of research, some strong recommendations, and everything I could remember people being shocked I hadn't seen. I'm sure there are ones I'm missing, but I had to cut it off somewhere, so I cut it off at 200 (and yes, there is already an Addendum list...). And some things that people would expect to be on here are not simply by dint of me having seen them already--so if you're looking at this and you're like, "HOW is Casablanca not on here!!??"--fret not! I have seen more than my fair share of the American Canon's greatest hits already. But I wanted a list that reflected the pop culture subconscious and the film industry's innovation--movies that are interesting because everyone knows them or because they have something to say about film. Movies that stuff comes from--memes, tropes, unique techniques or vibes that ballooned into movements or defined genres or themes. Movies that I know about but haven't seen, or movies that I don't know about, but I should.

The other rule I imposed was that the movies had to be from before 2016--anything that has come out in the last decade is on a different list, since we don't really know the staying power or cultural significance of anything newer. I'm sure some people will argue that some things can already be added to the American Canon, but I wanted to stick to older, more established things. Things people are surprised I haven't seen.

So, the three rules are: 1. Movie must have cultural significance. 2. Only things I have not seen. 3. Nothing from after 2016.

I went through five different "Top 100 Movies to See Before You Die" lists and collated which movies showed up the most on those. Then I took that list to El, Lisa, my mom, and Ryan. My mom and Ryan are proper movie buffs and can actually speak to what's important in pop culture and film, so their suggestions were filling in different directors or film trends who define cinema. El knows a lot about the zeitgeist of various decades and helped with suggesting more pop culture candidates. And Lisa, god bless her, made sure I added on movies that were maybe not following Rule 1, but were personally important to her, me, and El so we could have a few that were for us.

The resulting 200 movies are a wild mix of a little bit of everything. The oldest movie on here is from 1926. The years with the most movies are 1984 and 1988, tied with nine (1976 and 1990 coming in second with seven each). There are straight-up comedies and serious Oscar winners and more than a few sci-fi shenanigans. I've got good movies and bad movies and great movies and boring movies and movies that everyone agrees are masterpieces but also no one really actually likes. And the hardest part so far has been finding where to watch some of these--you'd be surprised at which ones stream and which ones are just no where to be found.

All this to say, I've been watching more movies since June than I've watched in the last five years combined and it is GREAT. I am having such a good time, even when I hate the movies. And I've started keeping a log with--I hesitate to say reviews--blurbs? blurbs and opinions. And I want to share those, so I'm going to post them monthly because what is the internet for if not for being wrong about movies out loud?

I do have a few addendums! El and I are working on the 007 Seminar, which is all the James Bond movies in order. A great project, highly recommend. We've been having a blast, even with the really, really terrible ones (looking at you, Roger Moore...). And I've made myself a Musical Review, a list of movie-musicals or Broadway adaptations I've never seen. And Lisa and I are planning on the Star Trek Symposium, where we'll watch all the feature-length Star Treks in order (and El will probably join us, 'cause she can't resist Trek!). Those will all get their own blurb-and-opinion posts when I've worked through them.

I'll post the whole list here, in alphabetical order, for record-keeping purposes, and in case anyone's interested in seeing the whole thing. Each title will be linked to the Blurb post it's in; obviously that will be a slow process as I watch. And I'm not watching them in any particular order--mostly I've just been picking whatever sounds interesting on any given day and then hoping I can find it online, heheheh. But if anyone wants to join in, the list is as follows:

( The Cinema Syllabus Full List )

Insane to me that I started my new journal with a spread of the Farscape quote, "You just gotta wait for the wheel." And then. And then--

Sometimes the universe has a sense of humor. Sometimes I think the universe is just messing with me. I think this might be both. Anyway, apparently, 2026 is the year of the Wheel.

.....

2025 was the year of Judgement. And I stand by what I said last year: I never draw Judgement and I still really don't know what it means. Did I experience much rebirth in my 2025? I don't think so. Was there any harsh judgement? Not that I can recall. I want to be okay with that, and just say, "eh, life did not follow the cards, it's not like they mean anything without me giving them meaning anyway!" but honestly? I feel kind of cheated. 2023 (Ace of Pentacles) and 2024 (Death) both felt very On Brand for their cards. I DID experience security and abundance in 2023--abundance of time, wealth, love. And I DID transition heavily in 2024--into a much fuller and more secure version of myself. But if anything, the rebirth was in 2024 when I figured out the whole poly thing. Last year, the closet I got was getting my gallbladder removed, and that was less of a rebirth and more of a necessity.

I don't know. I guess the cards were less magical than I like them to be last year. Which is fine, but. Looking back on last year, it really could have used a little more magic. It was pretty dim. Bright points, of course, but...pretty dim. But not super judgy. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ what can ya do?

.....

So now, the Wheel. Oh, the Wheel. Here we go. (Oh, I positioned January wrong, so everything's shifted over one. OH WELL. I suppose I could shift my reading of them, but I'm going with my intention, so January is at the top, and that's fine.)

0. Center, focus: The Wheel. Turning points. And boy, isn't it. Looking ahead at my plans for the year, at decisions I want to actually make instead of just sitting on them, looking at directions I can take myself and my life and what those choices will mean for my mental and physical well-being... Yeah. Ups and downs ahead. If I do this correctly. I want to be better. I want to do better. But damn, if I'm not well aware that there will be worse bits before the better arrives.

1. January: Queen of Pentacles (who also showed up in my month spread for January, sooo...). I love this as the beginning of the year--nurture the new ideas, support the big plans that I want to make, care for myself as I prepare to decide how I want to continue my life. I love this. I love this reminder that I need to be kind to myself, that I need to take my time and go as slowly and carefully as I need to with as much support as I can get. I will try to take it to heart.

2. February: Three of Cups. Celebration! In February!!! Sounds fake!!!!! Yeah, not sure what such a bright, happy card is doing in the worst month of the year, but hopefully it means that I can rely on my friends and lovers and community to make it through the dark times.

3. March: Two of Pentacles. Juggling, juggling, always juggling in spring. In 2023, it was April. In 2024, it was March. In 2025, it was April again. So of course, we're back to juggling in March. I hope I can embrace being flexible.

4. April: Knight of Swords. Well, I suppose if I can keep up with the juggling, I can keep up with the Knight of Swords and his insatiable need to Go Forth. God, I hope I can keep up. But hopefully, I can take this energy and use it, take action on some of the things I've been stagnant on, move forward on some decisions that have been paralyzing. Right now, from the sloth of winter, the depression makes it seem improbable that I'll have the energy to chase the Knight. But maybe, by the time April rolls around, I'll be ready.

5. May: the Hermit. An odd placement, honestly--May is usually much more outgoing for me. Waking up from the long sleep and the seasonal depression. But maybe it's not a bad thing to pause after the Two Coins and the Knight of Advancement and take a moment to sit in quiet introspection and think about where I'm at. Maybe it will be very important to remember that I'm allowed to pause.

6. June: the Moon. I still really don't know what to do with the Moon--traditionally, it's about anxiety and illusion. In happier readings, it's about intuition and seeing things for how they really are. But honestly, I just think of the Moon as the Elliot Card. My nocturnal beloved, my brilliant moonlight guide. My light in dark places, when all other lights go out.

7. July: Five of Cups. I so rarely draw Cups, and so of course, when I do pull one, it has to be the Five. (I know, I pulled the Three earlier, the Five's polar opposite, but STILL.) I don't want grief and sorrow and loss. Especially not in summer. Honestly? Not this year. Can I have a year off from grief and sorrow and loss? sigh.

8. August: Ace of Swords. Hello, Clarity, my old friend. How is it that the Ace of Swords is the card I pull more often than any other card? (I looked, I know this is true.) I don't know that it's actually any good at giving me any clarity, but I like when it pops up and reminds me that I should be looking.

9. September: Page of Pentacles. Diligence goes well in September--it's when I start to get tired of the year and need some help pushing through. Hopefully the Page will serve me well this year.

10. October: Queen of Swords. She's still my least-favorite Queen. I like honest, but I'm not terribly good at directness. Or direction. I don't know. Maybe I can learn some of her strength by the time autumn rolls around. The plan is for this year to be about not making myself quite so small. I don't think the Queen of Swords knows the meaning of the word. Maybe this means that by October, I will have learned how to sing.

11. November: Temperance. I do tend to need patience to make it through Thanksgiving.

12. December: Knight of Wands. Not a knight who talks to me often--we all know I'm a hobbit at heart, so the Knight of change and impulsive adventure is, uh. Not my thing. But I don't know. Bilbo had fun on his adventure. Maybe I can find one I'll enjoy, too.

Overall thoughts: Yeah--the Wheel. Ups and downs. Periods of movement and periods of rest. Cards I know well and cards I rarely see. Reminders and aspirations. Hopefully, this year will feel a little more magical, even if that magic comes in goods and bads. Maybe this is the year that the wheel will turn--and lift me out of the stagnation and into the light. Maybe I can make the wheel turn, if I try hard enough. I think I'd be okay with that.

.....

"My grandmother used to say, that... life is... a great wheel. Sometimes it grinds you down into the mud, and other times it lifts you up into the light." "Are we strapped to this wheel?" "That's a given. Point is, is that most times you get a second chance -- you just gotta wait for the wheel."

things you still need to do even though your friend is alone in a hospital, dying:

eat.
they are no longer the shape of themself
they have always been lanky but now they are ~~thin~~
shrunken shriveled starved
skin (thin and papery like an old person they will never get to be)
and bones (you should never get to see)
there is not enough of them left
but they are still, always themself, enough.

sleep.
they are no longer the shape of themself
they have always been tired but now they are ~~empty~~
flagging fatigued finished
run (they sat up on their own for the last time today)
ragged (you are watching them fade away)
there is not enough of them left
but they are still, always themself, enough.

breathe.
they are no longer the shape of themself
they have always been quiet, but now they are ~~gone~~
speechless soundless silent
between one breath (don't think about how few of those we get)
and the next (and the next and the next and the next and the--)
there is not enough of them left
but they are still, always themself, enough.

live.
they are no longer the shape of themself
they have always been brave, but they are not scared
fearful frightened afraid
I am
but
I am also alive
and I remember them and miss them and love them and keep them here in my heart
and maybe
that's enough.

Current Mood: sad

Somehow it is already autumn, which is just mean, at this point. But that's ok.

So, fun facts, my decks are back to shouting at me with majors and I feel very called out, so thanks!! Pretty art nouveau deck that I bought for the gorgeous art, soft colors, and autumnal vibes!!!! Thanks!!!!!!!! I'm listening! I promise!

1. Reflection: Events currently influencing me the most - the Moon

I flipped this over and let out this noise that might have been laughter but might have also been the start of a crying jag. Yes: Anxiety has been influencing me the most. My anxiety, other people's anxiety. I am uncertain about a lot of everything right now. I feel very frozen right now, with a lot of indecision and fear holding me in place. A lot of anxiety about a lot of different things. (At least she's pretty.)

2. Pause: Where I can harvest comfort - Four of Pentacles

What a strange place for this card to turn up. This is the money card. I mean, a lot of Coin cards are money cards, but the Four has always felt like The Money Card to me. And yes, I do draw comfort from financial security. Maybe this is telling me to trust that instinct, to let some of my financial anxiety go? I know I'm more financially secure than I feel (I had a whole therapy session (with homework!!) about how I am more financially secure than I feel), so maybe this is a reminder of that?

3. Balance: How I can harvest balance & wellness - the Star

My favorite card in any deck. I've been struggling with hope recently. She wasn't actually the card that was next to be pulled in my deck; she fell out of the middle somewhere and just felt right. So here she is. I'm not sure how to listen to her right now, or how to find balance in hope. Nothing feels very hopeful right now. Hm.

4.Blessings: Something to be thankful for - Five of Swords

Ok, being thankful for conflict and discord seems very counterintuitive. I'm really not sure what to make of this or how to read it. (El, I welcome your thoughts.)

5. Community: Relationship that needs tending - the Wheel

What does it look like, to have a relationship with Change that needs tending? I mean, I suppose I'm afraid of change, in my core. I'm a creature of habit and routine. When things mess up my routine, I get anxious and weird. But I do acknowledge that sometimes you need a change more than anything. Maybe I need to be more comfortable with that. Accept it with more grace? Ugh, I don't want to. I think I know what this is about (Pl) and I don't want to. I want to be whiny and depressed about it, I want to be sad about it, and I really don't want it to change. I don't want the change. Ah. I see. Okay. Yes, I suppose that does need some tending.

6. Sensitivity: Where to harvest magic - the Hanged Man

Seriously, the majors are loud in this spread. And they're all next to each other. You'd think I hadn't shuffled, but I shuffled for a solid ten minutes before I felt brave enough to start pulling. Anyway--there is magic in new perspectives. And yes, there are a fair few things I could use some new perspectives on. Some things that, perhaps, I need to accept are changing, even if I don't want them to. It's hard to see magic in that, but... maybe I can find some.

7.Transition: Where I will see change this season - the Sun

(I admit, the diagonal here for Sun, Moon, Star is DEEPLY satisfying.) Honestly, I welcome a change to my energy and my confidence. I've been feeling so depressed lately, and so tired. Turning the Sun over always makes me smile--here's hoping she can bring me a few more smiles as the season runs on.

8. Mastery: Something I should focus on this season - Six of Swords

Passage and moving forward? Yeah. That feels real.

9. Abundance: Where I will prosper this season - King of Wands

Ironic, since I definitely don't have a clear vision of where I want to go, and I have no confidence that I am able to lead people there. Not sure what to make of this guy.

Way back in 2020, I decided that I was going to watch every Disney animated theatrical release in order of release date. Disney+ was new and shiny and I was feeling depressed, overwhelmed, and in desperate need of comfort, so I thought, hey! Disney movies! the obvious choice of comfort food, but with a little spice thrown in--all of them, regardless of quality, just to see how it goes. I got a little more than halfway through, and then Lisa was like, "Wait, I want to watch these with you!" and I was like, "heck yeah!" and then......we...never watched them. Got distracted by other things. Which was fine! But I've had this Unfinished Project Itch since then, so this summer I sat down and decided to start over and actually finish this time.

And as of yesterday, I have! 57 movies, from Snow White to Wish, from 1937 to 2023. Some were amazing, some were truly terrible, some were bad but I love them anyway. It was absolutely fascinating to see the progression of animation techniques (Disney has been great at water since day 1; I miss 2D; their 3D facial proportions need help) and the deep ups and downs of the story writing. I was surprised by which old faves held up to the test of time and nostalgia and which ones...didn't, and I felt vindicated about several of the movies I have historically disliked. It was great.

Here are my definitive rankings, from personal favorite to personal least favorite. I did this just for me, so if you don't agree, you can make your own list.

S-Tier: Favorites

Tangled -- What, like it’s MY fault that they built Flynn specifically for me? It’s been 14 years and I still get goosebumps from this movie. I only wish they had proportioned Rapunzel’s face correctly.
Sleeping Beauty -- The art is unique and stylized and just absolutely beautiful, Maleficent is the most dramatic bitch and I adore her, and Phillip is, objectively, the best prince. And Aurora still gives me unrealistic hair goals.
Pocahontas -- The backgrounds are gorgeous; the water, mist, and smoke animation is unearthly amazing; and I am such a damn sucker for a forbidden romance. But also like hooo boy can you be more problematic? yikes.
Treasure Planet -- I love everything about this movie except the stupid robot.
Mulan -- Everything about this movie is so good, the music, the character designs, the voice acting—listen, Eddie Murphy was kind of an inspired casting decision—the whole everything in the Imperial City. Just a banger of a movie.
Raya and the Last Dragon -- I don’t know why this movie resonates with me so much, but it does. I just love it. It’s beautiful, Awkwafina is an inspired casting choice, and I know it’s broken but I still love it.
Aladdin -- Great characters, beautiful animation, wonderful music, magic carpet, the unparalleled Robin Williams… what’s not to love?
Moana -- This movie is just so beautiful and the music is great and the voice acting is amazing and one day I will make it through without crying, but today is not that day.
Robin Hood -- Always, always one of my favorites. Great character designs, really fun sequences—episodic but not completely vignette-y—and an actually decent Robin Hood adaptation, too. Not enough Merry Men, though.
Lion King -- This has lost some luster for me (I may have seen it too many times, also dead dad), but is still beloved. Particularly, I love the facial animations, the music, and Jeremy Irons.
Big Hero 6 -- A movie that just feels special. I love everything about it (except Fred).
Zootopia -- The best children’s movie about prejudice ever, also I love a hot fox con man, that is not my fault.

A-Tier: Yes, Thanks!

Beauty and the Beast -- Huge nostalgia for this one both because it is Mom’s favorite and because of the musical. I recognize the many, many problems, but I still just love it.
Peter Pan -- I know it is offensive, but, god, I love this story. Tink is great, Peter is such a little shit, and I am such a sucker for both of the duels.
Emperor’s New Groove -- My only complaint is that I can never see this movie for the first time again, because it is still one of the funniest things ever but it was screamingly funny the first time.
101 Dalmatians -- Extremely charming opening credits, sketchy art that feels very casual and fun, and a wonderfully coherent story line. Love Sgt Tibs and the Colonel.
Aristocats -- Negative points for racism and unfinished-looking art; bonus points for cute kitties (minus Marie), both parts with Edgar and the dogs, Eva Gabor, and me still just loving this dumb movie.
Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh -- Utterly charming, clever playing around with animation and the book motif, absolutely classic and comforting. Perfect whimsy.
Great Mouse Detective -- Charming and fun, by far my favorite take on Holmes and Watson, although I do have several questions about mouse society. Rattigan remains one of my favorite Disney villains, and the whole fight in Big Ben is one of my favorite sequences.
Cinderella -- I think I will always love this movie, especially the romance of it. More mice content than I recall, but I love the mice, so I’m not mad about it.

B-Tier: Solid

Wreck-It-Ralph -- Solid, fun, so colorful and sweet, and they clearly had fun making all the different video game references and animations. A delight.
Princess and the Frog -- I adore Tiana but her movie is a mess with a very confused message about working hard for your dreams. Naveen’s voice actor can stay forever.
Bolt -- Okay, that was just adorable. Loses points for John Travolta, idk what to say. Gets lots of points for Mittens.
Wish -- Just plain Odd. Veery meta, the songs aren’t particularly catchy or singable, and they got so caught up in getting their easter eggs in that they forgot to make a solid story. But I love Star so much, so points for him.
Encanto -- I think I bounce off of this movie for the same reasons so many people love it and relate to it. I like Mirabel, but I find it really horrible to watch everyone be mean to her for an hour and a half.
Brother Bear -- My desire to hug bears is not helped by this movie, which is a solid, decent offering with questionable musical choices. Kenai is obnoxious. Love everyone else.
Lilo and Stitch -- Honestly, this movie is spectacular and should probably go higher on this list, but every time I watch it, I just Like it, I don’t Love it, so here it is.
Fantasia -- a nostalgia-fave, my favorite part is still the Greco-Roman bit and I have not been missing anything by skipping Night on Bald Mountain for the last 25 years.

C-Tier: Full of Meh

Frozen -- [Loosely] Inspired by [an overheard, third-hand retelling of] the Snow Queen [in a crowded room]. It’s perfectly Fine until Olaf shows up, and then everything, including the plot, derails. I still have big Sister feels about it, though.
Fantasia 2000 -- Firebird makes the rest of that worth it.
Hunchback of Notre Dame -- Points for Esmerelda in general, but I just can’t with the tonal shifts. The gargoyles don’t belong in this movie for so many reasons.
Little Mermaid -- points for being the first Menken/Ashman team up, though I remain robbed of the rest of Fathoms Below. I’d like this movie more if Scuttle were not in it. A lot of the faces are just slightly off? Ursula slays.
Atlantis -- A little too white-savior-y for me, but I do love all the side-characters a lot.
Hercules -- Almost painfully stylized art, everyone is kind of ugly, and while I’m not mad they cleaned up mythology for kids, I’m a little miffed that it’s…so, so wrong. BUT! Meg. What can I say? I’m gay.
Ralph Breaks the Internet -- Extremely funny and so very meta, but a little cringe in places because it was maybe too meta? Idk. Slaughter Race is amazing and I want to play it.
Jungle Book -- I have a lot of nostalgia for this one, and I like most of the songs, but yeah it needs a plot. To be fair, the book doesn’t have a plot, either.
Lady and the Tramp -- a fun romp.
Frozen 2 -- Okay, this movie is Not Good, but 1. I have big Sister feelings, and 2. the water animation is really, really pretty.
Oliver & Company -- The definition of Meh. Why are stories about New York always Like That? It’s obnoxious. But I am a sucker for an adorable kitty.
Strange World -- It definitely feels like they made this movie just to show off their jelly physics and electricity effects and everything else was very secondary to the “Stunning Visuals.”

D-Tier: Nah, Thanks

Tarzan -- Eh, it’s just…fine? It’s fine. Points for there being enough time passing that the love story makes sense, negative points for everything about Clayton and uh… Phil Collins. Why.
Sword in the Stone -- It’s not bad, it’s just… not good? Pacing is questionable, transitions are non-existent, and it’s not really very much about Arthur, is it? Points because I love Merlin.
The Rescuers -- I have so many questions about mouse society, the rules of Disney animals, and who thought this movie was for children. Also, now I’m sad.
Rescuers Down Under -- I have SO MANY QUESTIONS, but the theme music is a banger.
Fox and the Hound -- I’m not opposed to a sad movie, but like damn I feel bad for the old lady. What the fuck. And boy do I not care about the birds and the caterpillar. At least Disney seems to have taken an anti-trophy hunting stance, at the very least.
Bambi -- bonus points for having absolutely gorgeous environments and backgrounds. negative points for nothing happening and bad transitions.
Meet the Robinsons -- Kind of insane, and definitely a strange departure towards Dreamworks’ territory, but the ending was very sweet so. Points for that.
Winnie the Pooh -- It’s not just that the art is bad and the songs are bad and the story is bad, it’s that they did all that and made everyone incredibly, offensively stupid. And I know why the voices are wrong, but ughhh the voices are wrong.

F-Tier: Big Nope!

Ichabod and Mr Toad -- more fun than I ever expected, but why they tried to shoehorn these two stories together is a mystery to me.
Snow White -- so much more dwarf content than I remember, and the pacing is startlingly bad.
Alice in Wonderland -- things happen to Alice, but she doesn’t get to do much. This movie has never made much sense, and I know that’s the point, but. Not my jam.
Black Cauldron -- Weird, dark, too much going on for there to be any real emotion or heart, and the plot is choppy and full of holes. Deeply not my jam.
Three Caballeros -- the music is fun, Donald Duck is obnoxious, it all goes downhill after Brazil.
Dumbo -- wildly more offensive than I remember, but just as disturbing as I remember.
Home on the Range -- Inexplicably, Cuba Gooding Jr and Judi Dench have been in a movie together. Isn’t that insane? That’s insane.
Chicken Little -- No but what the actual fuck was that? Why baseball? WHY ALIENS? WHAT?
Pinocchio -- big huge Nope from me; didn’t like it as a kid, still don’t like it now. It’s weirdly scary and boring at the same time.

Telling anyone about how I read tarot is a little bit like explaining to a frog how to breathe with lungs. It just...doesn't really work because I am incapable of putting words together to make it understandable to someone else. It's like trying to write a paper about poetry or describe why a Bernini statue makes me feel things. It's all about vibes, and they are inexplicable vibes.

Lisa has asked me if I use the cards for "actual divination"-- "Is it like...they tell you what's going to happen? Doesn't that get self-fulfilling?"
To which, I answered, "No, it's more about vibes to focus on." And couldn't really go deeper than that.

To me, the cards aren't telling me, "hey, here's the Ace of Swords, you will be struck by a sudden breakthrough in the coming month, keep at eye out for that!" It's more that they are... poking me in the right direction? Like a little guidepost saying, "ok, here's the Ace of Swords, if you want to focus on clarity this month, that might be a great place to start." Or, "here's the Tower; that doesn't necessarily mean there WILL be a disaster, but like...take a sec to think about what could be disastrous and what to do about it." They're not warnings or prophecies, they are nudges in directions that might help me better use my time. They help me take chaos brain and quiet it down a little. Give me something to focus on. But it's not always exactly what the card "means", sometimes, it's just... the vibe.

Like I said, explaining it is hard. It's a art form, and I'm still practicing it.

I love talking to El about tarot, though. She's got a ton more experience than I do, and has been pulling regularly a lot longer, so she's got her vibes down. And I think she's much better at interpreting what cards mean in context--I tend to focus on each one individually and pluck at their separate meanings like I'm tuning a lute. El's done with tuning; she just plays, and so she gets the whole song. Possibly this metaphor has gotten away from me, but whatever.

What I'm saying is that I love to poke at my initial vibes and gut feelings and then I like to send my spreads to El and hear what she thinks, because it's always helpful, even if I don't agree with it or it goes counter to my vibes. (She made me feel infinitely better about my January spread with one sentence.)

All that to say: hey El, when you read this, please feel free to weigh in. :D

.....

So, last year, I did a one-card-a-month spread that helped me kind of decide what to focus on for the year, and it worked fairly well, I think. Last year's overall theme was Abundance, and in hindsight, that feels correct. I had an abundance of time and love and space, an abundance of wealth and security, an abundance of emotions. And I used that abundance of time and security to really sit with the emotions and work a lot of stuff out. It's still in progress, of course, but there were some realizations last year that were very important to make, and I wouldn't have been able to make them without giving myself the space to explore them. I allowed myself to have an abundance--and it was extremely difficult at times, because I'm so used to having scarcity, and oftentimes I struggled with capitalism's desire for me to give up my abundance--but I let it happen, I took the time I needed, even when I felt I didn't deserve it, and it helped. It really did help. This year was a much needed rest from previous years.

And it is tempting to take this rest and say, "all right, done with that, time to dive back in!" It's very hard for me to turn off the part of my brain that's saying, "everyone else is working really hard, everyone else is miserable, you should be too," but I'm trying to turn that off. I'm trying to take things slowly, to hold on to the rest I granted myself and take that forward. To move forward with purpose. To do things deliberately and well instead of hurriedly and because I "should." I am trying to shed Should and go with the flow. Let my own vibes and flow guide me, instead of doing what I think others think I should be doing.

God, just writing that made my brain have a moment of, "ah yes, you selfish bitch." But it is NOT selfish to take care of myself. It's not.

Gotta keep saying that until I believe it.

.....

So, I picked flow for 2024's theme. It felt right. And when I pulled Death for both my January spread and my year-long theme, it felt even more correct. Transition. Transformation. Letting the river carry me to a new place. And ending, so that there can be a new beginning. I'll take it.

I used the faery deck for no reason other than it Felt Right. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

2024:

0. Center, focus: Death. Transition, transformation, the journey. This card has never scared me they way it does for some people; I never see it as an omen. (I reserve all my superstitious fear for the Tower.) So I'm kind of excited to see this in the center. Let's see where it takes me.

1. January: Ace of Swords. I pull this card surprisingly often, and it always seems to pop up when I most need it. I've felt a little muddled and stagnant for the end of the year, so here's hoping that some Clarity can spark up through January and shine some light.

2. February: Five of Wands. Obstacles and conflict. Hm. I mean, it is February, and February always sucks. But obstacles aren't always insurmountable.

3. March: Ten of Wands. Burdens and responsibility. This isn't super surprising, considering the whole bookstore plan, but I'm hoping to avoid the "overwhelming" part of this card.

4. April: Justice. Hm. I don't think I've ever pulled this major. It is not one of the cards that comes up regularly to yell at me. I honestly don't really know what to do with it.

5. May: Nine of Pentacles. I am genuinely surprised that this is the only Pentacle I pulled. I take the Self-Sufficiency card in the year of bookstore planning as a good omen, though.

6. June: the High Priestess. Also not a major I pull often, if ever. Honestly, this whole pull was full of stuff I don't normally pull and don't quite know what to make of. But I like the High Priestess. I like that she's about intuition and wisdom, especially when I am quite terrible at following my intuition and that's one of the things I'm trying to be better at this year.

7. July: Queen of Swords. Clarity, directness, honesty. She's the queen who has always felt the most distant to me, the one I never really connect with. The Queen of Pentacles is the me card, so this just feels deeply opposite. Who is she.

8. August: Three of Swords. Not gonna lie, I pulled this spread three times--the first time, all of my least favorite cards came up, and my hands started shaking, so I decided to shuffle again until I felt calmer and in a better headspace. But no matter what, the three of swords came up in the back half of the year. It doesn't scare me in the same way as the Tower does, but it definitely makes me feel some kind of way.

9. September: Two of Swords. Kind of wild to me how many swords I pulled? I do pull swords often, but it was strange to see 1, 2, and 3 all up at the same time. Anyway, I'm well-acquainted with the two; avoidance has been a historical problem of mine.

10. October: Nine of Cups. I like this card. He kind of looks like an Aragorn to me, and that's very satisfying. And I always love when the Contentment card comes up. Especially since Lisa and I are planning a trip for October that should make me very extremely content.

11. November: Knight of Cups. My favorite knight. He follows his heart, and that is what I want to try to be better at this year. Always a good vibe for the birthday month.

12. December: Judgement. And we round this out with yet another major I've almost never seen before. Hm.

Overall, just a lot of HMM. Not quite sure what to do with most of this, but I've decided to let it stand. Gonna sit with it and feel the vibes and see what happens. I have hopes for this year, but not too many expectations. I'm trying to keep everything easy-going, not put too much pressure on myself--go with the flow. Fingers crossed.

Current Mood: hopeful

if twitter is dead then you get my tweet-sized personal breakdowns
the status updates no one cares about
but I have to post somewhere because I need to get them
out of my head
off of my tongue
out of my heart
the little yells into the void that don't mean anything
only everything
but just to me
the tiny complaints I have to make
before I suck it up and do the thing
whatever thing (adulting things)
the little posts that used to fit in 280 characters
that never needed to be public
but that we all got used to seeing in public
suffering in public
in community
that little shout that echoed back to tell us we are not alone

an animated character who looks nothing like me
turns to her animated father and says
"you're in this to help people, aren't you?"
an animated character who looks nothing like my father
turns to his animated daughter and says
"you're the best thing I've ever done"
he listens to her
he quits his job for her
he knows that she's amazing
and he lets her be herself
even though it hurts him
even though it might hurt her
he lets her
he listens
he listens

even though he's never done that before

a character in a tv show who looks nothing like my father
runs toward his son
across the front lawn
the tails of his shirt flapping
his uniform shirt
untucked, unbuttoned, unkempt
it's summer
the son who looks nothing like me
hugs his father
his father hugs him back
they hug

even though it's a flashback

a character in a book who is nothing like me
receives a phone call from her mother
too late at night
too early in the morning
and she stops breathing for just a moment
because her dad is dead
it wasn't a surprise
but it was unexpected
and she goes home
immediately
uncomfortable on a plane because
everything is different for her now
but it's the same for everyone else
she goes home
she goes home

even though she doesn't want to

a character in a book who is nothing like me
turns to her father who is nothing like mine and says
"why did you never tell me that you loved me?"
a character in a book who is nothing like my father
turns to his daughter and says
"because you weren't floundering"
"you never needed to hear"
"you were supposed to know"
and she yells back
louder than thunder
louder than shattering glass
louder than a broken heart
"how could I know if you never told me?"
and she breaks his heart

even though she didn't want to

even though he broke hers first

Ok, so the good news is that I did not have to walk on Lisa's fragile eggshells for the whole rest of the trip. That second day was absolutely miserable, since it turns out it was not heat exhaustion but a quick norovirus coming for a visit. We collectively threw up three times (guess who got to go twice) and were shaking like leaves for the whole afternoon, but when a very late morning rolled around, we both felt much better. Gotta love a 24-hour stomach bug. Sigh.

But, after that, honestly, the trip was almost perfect. Mexico is beautiful and May was the perfect time of year to be there. I love spring, but it was already summer that far south, and I was blossoming. God, I love sea level. My lungs work at sea level. It's so nice to not have to worry about breathing. And my hair sure does love the humidity. Stepped back out into Colordao dryness was a let down. And Lisa was basically crowing with happiness. Opposite climate lovers, here in Apartment Skyhold. Alas. But really, it is good to be back. The cat is happy, and that's the real win here. (lol)

I am deeply glad to be back to normal routine. As much as I love my sister, having her visit right before we left for vacation was kind of hellish in that I had two full weeks of Disruptions. I'm a hobbit--a creature of habit. Always have been. And my heart has been aching for normalcy and comfort zone and routine for a few days now. Today was kind of weird, too, but tomorrow, things should go back to normal. And I am very excited.

I want to take my time getting up, not have to worry about if I'll be too late for breakfast. I want to read my morning newsfeeds and messages without getting out of bed. I want to cherish the sound of Lisa working in the next room, her voice all professional and competent. I want to eat a sandwich. I want to spend my afternoon however I need to, and hang out with Lisa in the evening. I want to watch dumb tv with her while we eat dinner and read together afterward with the cat sitting on me. I want to log in and do some quests with K before she goes to bed. I want my quiet alone time at night, after Lisa's gone to bed and Vela is sitting on her, and I can just hang out in my room with the lights on low and work on projects, make art, dick around on my phone if I want. I want to let El know my wordle score and accidentally fall into a two hour conversation with her about clones. I want to go to game and eat noodles and hang out in space for a few hours. I want to go to bed and not have to worry about tomorrow being different. I am perfectly happy with all my days being the same.

Pastoral? sure. Boring? definitely. But here's a thing I've discovered over the last two weeks: I like my very boring life. Very much. And I'd be content with 90% of my days shaking out to be much the same. Throw in the occasional live theatre performance, museum trip, or board game night, a monthly foray into any bookstore, and weekly dice rolls, and I'm good. Give me all the time in the night to work on art of some kind, afternoons and evenings with my girls, and I'm good. I don't want to do anything else.

And if that makes me boring, I'm not sure I care. I crave the ease of routine, the comfort of repetition, the security of stability. Vacations are nice! But give me a sweet, normal day any time, and I'm here for it.

Of course, I say all this knowing that I'm going to have to start job hunting in earnest now that I'm back from vacation. As much as I want to slip into a bohemian arts-and-crafts stupor and play video games for three weeks straight, the lack of reliable income is starting to gnaw at my stomach. So, I'm going to cherish these last few weeks of blissful routine, of comforting normalcy, before normal changes. Before I have to add new steps to the routine. That's a whole different gnaw in my stomach I need to brace for, but I'm going to do my best to just settle into my comfort zone for as long as I can. As long as I'm allowed. And I'm trying to be ok with that being enough.

Really not sure what to do with this, so I’m doing this. I guess. Sigh.

We’re finally on vacation. We made it. After four misfires last year, four attempts to go out of town that got canceled, we have put all our karmic mojo into Mexico, and we made it. We are here. It is beautiful, the ocean is making colors on the horizon, the water is cool, and the breeze is lovely. We have successfully put ourselves in the terrarium and we are letting other people take care of us. It’s weird and kind of awkward sometimes, but it’s so good. So good to not have to cook or clean or do dishes. Sleep however long we want and whenever we want. Eat as much as we want without guilt or worrying about grocery shopping.

And water. There is water. I came to be immersed in water, and I am succeeding. Just floating in the pool is all I could have asked for. There is nothing else going on, and it is blissful.

Yesterday was absolutely brilliant.

Today, we went to breakfast, and Lisa almost couldn’t eat. She was sweating and dizzy and I was worried. I pumped cold water into her and took her back to our room. Closed the balcony door and cranked up the AC. I’ve seen heat exhaustion. I know what it looks like and it fucking sucks. I though she was going to faint. I got her onto the bed, made her lay down, and told her to nap in the cold. I rescheduled our massages, the only thing we have scheduled. I put on the single sweater I brought for the plane and laid down next to her, so she could see me, so I’d be right there if she needed me. Half an hour later, she sat up in an attempt to get to the bathroom, and threw up all over her side of the bed. Gross, but not unexpected. That’s how heat exhaustion works. You feel like shit, you puke, you feel better. It fucking sucks, but it’s how it goes. I called housekeeping, they’re remaking the bed as I type, and it’s fine.

And Lisa is hiding in the bathroom because she’s embarrassed. And I don’t know how to tell her there is no need to be embarrassed. That is not the feeling she needs right now. But she’s freaking out and she’s a mess and I keep waiting for her to cry, but she won’t. Because that’s embarrassing. She won’t stop apologizing. And I don’t know how to make her understand that there is nothing, nothing for her to apologize for.

This is something that happens. It sucks. We deal. Honestly, I’m happy it happened in Mexico and not at home. Means I didn’t have to clean it up!

But I know now that she’s going to be fragile for the rest of the trip. She’s going to be embarrassed and quiet and depressed for the rest of the time we’re here. She’s going to be anxious about it happening again. She’s going to be Worried that She’s Caused Problems, and her worrying is going to be the problem.

I’m not mad. It sucks, but it happens! But I was. Really, really looking forward to not having to do any emotional labor on this trip, and now I’m going to have to step carefully on her eggshells for the next several days.

Which is most of all what I didn’t want to do this week.

Genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, I would rather be here with Lisa feeling miserable than be here alone. But I’d just stopped feeling tired for the first time in three years. And now I’m exhausted again.

…

EDIT: whoops, there I go too. Must be something we ate? sigh.

Current Mood: Tired

Don't get me wrong, I am deeply grateful to my sister for being willing and able to take the bus from the train station in D up to the transit center here. It means I have to be awake enough to drive at 8.30 instead of 5.30. I'll take it. And I will be eternally grateful to her. But I still have to be awake at 8.30. (Arguably, I have to be awake at 7, which is when the train arrives and I will have to be at least conscious of text updates from K.) And that there is Prime Sleeping Hours.

And there comes a point in any night like this, every night when I have to be awake in the morning, where I look at the clock and count on my fingers how many hours of sleep are Possible at this juncture, minus the time it will take me to actually fall asleep, and I stare at the clock and just kind of go, "fuck it."

...

I survived the entirety of high school on five or less hour of sleep.

Bear in mind, of course, that teenagers are supposed to get the most sleep of all the age groups other than literal babies because growing and developing, blah, blah, blah, and my body spent four years protesting loudly about the fact that it wanted ten hours of sleep and was only getting a regular four or five. And I fully own the fact that I did not handle it well. I was a cranky, tired bitch in the mornings and no one liked me before third period. I didn't like me before third period. But orchestra was at 7, which meant I had to leave to drive to school by 6:20, which meant I had to be awake by 5:30. And rehearsal (or volleyball, or tech, or WYSE, or what-the-fuck-ever I stretched myself too thin for so that I could stay at school longer) didn't let out until either 5 or 6. Which meant I didn't eat dinner until 7, and then still had to do all that goddamned AP homework. My goal was to be in bed by 11. I was lucky if I got to sleep by midnight. And god forbid I have to squeeze a shower in there somewhere. Or laundry or dishes or any other chores.

In short, I was an absolute mess for all of high school. But the only time a teacher took me aside for a Serious Chat, it was the orchestra director who told me that the other girls had complained that I was mean to them in the mornings. To which I looked at him and just laughed.

"Yeah, I suck in the mornings," I said, "but there is literally nothing I can do about it."
"To put it bluntly, the flute section hates you."
"Well, if they'd shut up and play when you tell them to, I'd be way less inclined to glare at them. I just want to play music. They just want to talk. If they don't want to be here, they can leave."
"You know, if you don't want to be here, you can also leave."

Listen, I was very good friends with my music teacher. He wasn't perfect, and good lord did he play favorites, but he was gentle and kind and genuinely cared about his students and the music he got to lead us through. So even though a lot of my childhood memories are very hazy and fogged up with sleep deprivation, I clearly, clearly remember the time that he told me that if I couldn't get my shit together and sleep more, I would have to quit orchestra. "You need to sleep later, and I can't reschedule the whole orchestra for you. Or you need to be nicer."

That is the one and only time anyone in my entire life has told me to be nicer.

Everyone is a little bit of an asshole, yeah, but I've always managed to keep my assholery in check. Private. On the inside. So everyone thinks I'm infinitely nicer and sweeter than I actually am. And--I am nice and sweet. I would much rather be kind to people than anything else. It's so much easier for me to be kind. But there is a little rotten corner of me that's a cranky, whiny bitch. I manage to keep her hidden and quiet most of the time, but the more tired I am, the less energy I have to contain her. And I am always deeply. Deeply. tired in the mornings.

So yeah, the choir loved me, because that was, like, sixth period, but most of the girls in the orchestra hated my guts, and I do not blame them.

...

I really don't know where I'm going with this. I think it's just Story Time because I won't fall asleep until 5. To be fair, not all blog posts need to have a destination. They can, in fact, just be Story Time.

...

I got better at containing my inner bitch in college. I was mega-depressed--dangerously so--but I had to keep doing adult things, like go to class and write papers and eat food. I mostly had to because other people made me--my sister, my roommate, my best friend. My favorite two professors. Despite how godawful I felt all of the time, despite how tired and drained I was, despite how very much I did not want to be There Anymore, a larger, more aggressive part of me didn't want to let any of those people down. I didn't want to disappoint them. And I didn't want anyone to say that I couldn't hack it. So I dragged my ass around campus like a stoned zombie, but I did it. And every time I had to interact with other humans, what little dignity still resided in a dusty corner of my brain screamed at me that the other humans couldn't KNOW I was a stoned zombie. they had to think I was also a human being!!

So I got really good at pretending.

Pretending I wasn't depressed, pretending I wasn't cranky, pretending I wasn't tired, pretending I wasn't that little bit of a bitch.

There's all this...discourse online, all these posts, about how if you tell yourself something enough times, you start to change your thought patterns and they become true. Fake it 'til you make it, but an actual mindfulness practice for mental illness management. If you make fewer "jokes" about wanting to die, you are less likely to want to die. If you say nice things about yourself, you are more likely to have higher self-esteem. These are proven things that happen, you can rewire your brain with enough effort. And, often, anti-depressants and therapy.

That never happened to me. Probably because I didn't have the anti-depressants or the therapy. I didn't have the conjunction of aids and modern medicine, I just had the bullshit mindfulness, faking it until I made it, but one out of three ain't good. It ain't bad, but it ain't good. So I was pretending and pretending as hard as I could, I was masking and acting 100%, all out, every time I was with other people. Other people included my roommate. Which meant I was On Stage pretty much constantly, and the only time I got to drop my mask was a.) in the shower, b.) walking alone around campus, and c.) at night after my roommate went to sleep but before I did.

So I stayed up way too late because I treasured that extremely precious time when I didn't have to be acting. And I wanted to extend it as long as possible. To the detriment of my sleep. Which, of course, fed into the depression and the exhaustion. So the less sleep I got, the harder I had to act, and the more I didn't sleep because I was trying to squeeze in time that I didn't have to act, which meant I was sleeping less, which meant---

It was a really bad cycle. An ouroboros of awful. I was constantly eating my own tail and smiling around the mouthfuls with my teeth clamped shut so no one would notice.

But! I did get really good at acting like nothing was wrong. (This has historically been counted as The Only Positive Side Effect of College, but more recent research is emerging to prove it is: Unhealthy.) (Listen, when I say I Did College Wrong, this is what I'm talking about. I mean, I'm also talking about studying the wrong things and going to the wrong school, but mostly this.)

And because I was so good at acting like nothing was wrong, all-nighters became the default.

And my brain hated me. And it's really only in the last few years (hi, anti-depressants!) that I've started making a very conscious effort to pretend less. It feels a lot like ripping off my own scalp with my broken fingernails or carving out my own innards with a rusty spoon, but I'm doing it. I really, really am trying. And I do think I'm getting better at it. It helps that I've been feeling less Terrible and therefore have less to pretend about. (again, hi, anti-depressants! I love you!)

But every once in a while, I find myself staring down the barrel of an all-nighter (sometimes on accident, sometimes on purpose. Sometimes because it's just easier to Not Sleep than it is to try to get two broken hours before my alarm rips though my consciousness.) and I remember that there's a little bitch inside me that I can't lose control of. And I pull the mask back on and get into character and I get up on stage and I stand there, under the lights, trying to be nicer, trying not to complain, trying to be my normal, afternoon, enough-sleep self, and I just... regress to college and slip into it easy as breathing.

...

Lisa and Katie are both really bad at all-nighters, or even just less sleep than they normally get. They get hella cranky, anxious about everything, and lose the ability to function at their normal capacity. They are tired and everyone knows it. They can't get anything done. Work is a chore. They are unproductive. They leave the chores for tomorrow.

You know, the sort of things that happen to normal people who don't get enough sleep.

Meanwhile, even if I've only gotten an hour (or none), I'm still trying my best to be my peppy, normal, productive self. I might be quieter or say "I'm tired" more out loud than I normally do, but I generally succeed in pretending that nothing is wrong. I've had a lot of practice. I'm very good at it. Lisa has commented that she can only tell I haven't gotten enough sleep because I look a little droopier. She told me once that she's impressed that I can still function on so little sleep, when she gets leveled like a building by anything less than her solid, glorious eight hours.

I don't think it's impressive. I think it's sad.

The thing is that no one should have to function like normal when they haven't gotten enough sleep. That shouldn't be a requirement! No one should be out here trying to go through their normal high-energy day when they've only had three hours of sleep! There should be exceptions, there should be protocols in place, we should have built in fucking nap time like the Spanish for anyone who crashes after lunch. But capitalism. We have to be productive all the time. We can't have a single day where we're a stoned zombie. We have to be a human being every day.

And I think it's really depressing that I've learned how to do that.

I faked it until I made it, I guess, but I think I learned the wrong lesson. I faked the wrong thing. And unlearning it all is a bitch.

...

Anyway, all this to say that I have to be awake in three hours and driving in four(ish), and I'm not even worried. I know that I will be fine. I will be completely normal. I will yawn a few more times and look a little droopier, but I'll be totally, 100% fine. On less than three hours of sleep.

No one should have to do that. No one should have learned that skill--that's not a skill, that's a shittyass coping mechanism that is not healthy.

But here I am.

Current Mood: restless

So, I've been on the new meds for a few days now and the good news is that I've actually felt like I've had focus and energy! the bad news is that I 100% forgot to eat today, so. There is that.

Anyway, I don't want to jinx it, but I think I've come unstuck.

The newspaper FINALLY get me my proof of publication last Friday (three full weeks after it was published), and I dropped it off at the courthouse immediately, and now we're cooking with fire. I've gotten my certified copies, I've updated social security, I went to the DMV (god, I really, really hate Temporary IDs, like, I know this sheet of paper is just as valid as the slightly thicker plastic version, but. Oof.). I'm now waiting on my license to come in the mail, but this waiting feels more chill. Maybe because I'm done with the courthouse? I've moved on from the quest hub! I don't have to go back! Now I've got the fun, running around in the wilderness doing fetch quests portion of the quest line, and that, I can handle.

Also, the abovementioned new meds. (and wasn't getting them a treat? two pharmacies telling me they can't fill the prescription only to have both of them fill it and now have the Too Many Pills they were all worried about me having. I feel as if I've done something illicit. It's ridiculous.) It's only been three days, so I can't say with any certainty that they are Better or Worse, but I mean. Today was the first day in about three months where I didn't take a nap at dinnertime, or at least want to. So that's got to count for something. I'm feeling slightly more awake, and even if that's just the high of "oh my doctor listened" and isn't anything kicked in yet, I'll take it.

I painted for four hours straight and it was the first time in forever that I've felt the urge for creativity, the energy for it, and the focus to actually do it.

(Vanilla Bean is staring at me and wants to know why I am not providing a lap right now. She is glaring at me. It's adorable.)

I still haven't updated my resume, though--and I know me, so I'll be doing that on Tuesday afternoon, right before therapy. Deadlines and I have a tight relationship. But even if I haven't managed that, I've been managing other stuff. Painting, reading, getting stuff ready for vacation. And I finally splurged and bought myself an ipad, so I've been dicking around with Procreate, practicing drawing while lying around in bed (the perfect combo), and playing silly games that make me happy. Should I have spent almost 900$ yesterday? Probably not. But I realized the other day that literally the only thing I've bought with my inheritance was vacation, and it's ok to give myself nice things that are tangible and lasting, too. I am allowed objects as well as experiences. Especially when that object lets me draw while lying down.

It also helps that Lisa gave me "permission" to not do job hunting until we get back from vacation. Not that I needed it, but anxiety brain is stupid, so, I'm grateful that she did. I feel like I'm just now, just finally starting to get my feet back under me, and that's why I've been dragging them on the job front. I just don't want to yet. I finally have the energy to paint! I don't want to waste it looking for a job. So, I'm giving myself a little more time.

I still feel a little bit stuck, but it's definitely less than it was. on the upward swing, I hope. We'll see, but I've got fingers crossed.

There is a certain inexplicable quality to the darkness
when you are lying awake
missing someone.

It hungers.

just a little bit
just enough for you to notice
that something is not quite right
that you are not quite right
that the world is not quite right
that your world is not quite right
without someone in it

The darkness doesn’t stare at you when you stare at it
it doesn’t care enough and that’s ok
it is much bigger than you are

Grief doesn’t look you in the eye either
It is much bigger than you are
it doesn’t care enough that you care too much
and that’s ok

it hurts to notice when the someone you are missing
is someone who no longer exists
she changed when you weren’t looking
when you weren’t there
when you left her behind
she is different now and you miss her
and you miss her
and you miss who she used to be
and you worry
that you will never stop missing her
and that in missing her
you will miss—her. As she is now.

she asks you if this is how you feel all the time and your heart breaks
because you never lie to her
and now she knows what you feel
and you can’t take it away from her
you can’t take it away for her
you can’t take it for her even though you know what to do with it
And she does not
she asks you how you live like this
she says she’s sorry
she says she’s sorry she didn’t understand
and your heart breaks because
you never wanted her to understand

you never wanted her to have to understand

the darkness sits with you
you sit in the darkness
and it is as vast as your grief
and as small.

The darkness has been your friend for so long
you sometimes forget to miss the sun
but
she misses the sun
and you miss it for her
and you miss her
and you miss what the light looked like on her face
and you missed the moment she stepped into shadow
and she’s the one who says she’s sorry.

no.

You take the pills for sleeping.
you stare at the darkness
and carve out the shape of your grief in the shadows
and it has the same profile as her face
and you are tired
so tired
so tired of missing.
you miss the moon.
you miss when you didn’t feel like this
you miss when she didn’t feel like this
you miss it for her
you miss her
and you’re just supposed to sleep.

the pills are just.
supposed to make you sleep.
but they can’t make you stop missing her
and you can’t sleep until then.

So last night, as I was driving down to El's house, I had: An Idea. It stemmed from a deep missing in me, and I kind of thought it was a joke, but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted it. I told El about it, and she didn't laugh--she thought it was a good idea and had had similar ones. I set it aside and had a really good night of hanging out and watching very stupid movies and just chilling.

But when I woke up this morning, the Idea was still there. So I told Lisa about it. She also thought it was a good idea and talk through some points of interest with me, pros and cons. Refined the idea with that logic-mind of hers (thank fuck--she balances me so well. I'm all wild, loud emotions screaming up to eleven and what ifs and she's just there being rational and looking for actual possibilities. I love her so much.) And told me I wasn't crazy.

In both conversations, the same negative point to this idea came up--it won't be profitable. There's no way. But the answer I had immediately ready for myself, El, and Lisa was: But it will probably make me happy, and doesn't that count for more?

I had a great day today. Lisa and I went out on a book-shopping date and chilled. I read a whole romance novel. We ate leftovers and watched Men Hit Hot Metal (Forged in Fire, the surprisingly wholesome blacksmithing competition show). I called my mom and told her about the Idea because I wanted to know what she thought about it. I...don't tell my mom about all my wild and insane ideas because most of them are insane. But I wanted to tell her about it. And she also also thinks it's a good idea. She was supportive. She made a solid point about a very positive part of it.

I haven't talked to K about it, but honestly, of my four Table Legs, K is the one most likely to not have an opinion on this Idea, and I'm ok with that. I'll get her opinion tomorrow or Tuesday, but in the meantime, I've got three votes for Think About It, It's Not a Bad Idea, and I'm... sitting with that.

It feels--hm. How do I explain this? All of my best ideas come out of nowhere, possess me for a chunk of time, and then turn out happily in the long run. I don't have these flashes of inspiration often, but whenever I do, it turns out good. And usually these ideas come out of nowhere, completely unexpected, taking me by surprise. They are things I've been weighing in the back of my brain, possibilities that are deeply vague and unconnected, and then something kicks at the fire and it flares and suddenly, I have a very spontaneous idea. Example? I had been thinking for years about getting a tattoo, had tossed a few ideas around in my head, nebulously, had a moment of brilliance and spontaneously went to get my tattoo the next day. Twice. And I love both of them with my whole heart.

This feels like that. On a much larger scale, definitely, but. It has that spontaneity and that bubble of absolute wild certainty that IF I do this, it will make me happy. There's this little bubble in my chest that's just...lifting. It's a rare feeling, very rare. But a welcome one. One that I love, deeply.

There is absolutely no forward movement on the Idea yet--there can't be. It's a HUGE step in a very profound and unexpected direction, and it relies heavily on other people and their decisions (most notably El). It is not something to be spontaneous about. And I'm not. I thinking about it deeply, I am mulling over pros and cons, I am debating with myself if it's even something I want. It's kind of the opposite of what I was planning on looking for this year. And it's something that doesn't have to happen now, if it happens at all! It could happen in ten years, honestly, but I'd still come back to this moment, driving in the dark and thinking about my favorite thing to do as a kid and I just... There would be happy.

I keep circling back and back to that question. This would not be, in any way, profitable, and it would probably cause us a ton of stress and anxiety and it would be difficult and confusing and it's totally insane to contemplate. But. I genuinely think it would make me happy. And isn't that more important?

I don't know. Like I said, there are absolutely NO decisions right now--this is something that must be slept on, sat with, pondered from every angle. This requires many conversations with many people, hashing out details before we even think about implementing it. But now that it's there, I keep thinking about it. And I know from past experience that it's going to keep niggling at me. Something clicked, and now I can't turn off that light. So we'll see. There is no rush and no pressure, but my wild, loud up-to-eleven what-ifs are out here yelling and I know that's a good sign. It always has been in the past.

---

And because I've been sitting with this for a full 30 hours now, and because whenever I get this excited and terrified bubble in my chest, I look at my cards, I...looked at my cards. And they made me laugh. Honestly, they made me full-body laugh.

I started with a "How to Get Unstuck" spread. This made me stare at the cards and just blink rapidly and chuckle.

1. Where are you stuck right now? The Queen of Pentacles. The This Bitch Was Made for Me Card. She nurtures, she supports, she cares so much. And yeah, that's me. I care so much I sometimes care too much. And I like that about myself, honestly, I do--I love how gigantic my heart is. But damn if it doesn't sometimes feel like that's all there is to me, and I don't know what to do with it. What do I do with that big, giant heart?
2. What is the underlying cause? Frikkin pentacles. I swear to god. the 8 is not one that comes up often for me, Patience and the Practical Application of Skills. But sure. The underlying cause of my stuckness on not knowing what to do with my big heart is not knowing where where to apply it, what to do with it. What skills do I have and how can I apply them for myself, to make myself happier? This card couldn't be louder if it tried.
3. How can you get unstuck? Strength. My very good friend who yells at me constantly. I honestly think that my cards are weighted like cheater's dice to pull Strength. And yeah--she is how I get unstuck. She is what I need to learn to better rely on. Hey girl--I'll try.

---

And I did I "Career Change" spread, too, just to see if they meshed, and this--this is what made me just dissolve into laughter. Because OF COURSE.

1. Essence of the career change. Nine of Cups. Satisfaction. Yes--that IS what I'm looking for with this. That's 100% what I've been searching for since I started job hunting the very first time. I mean, sure, it's kind of what everyone is looking for in their career, but I've never really known for sure what that means for me. And every time I've quit a job it's because something has been...unsatisfactory. Sometimes it's little things, sometimes bigger ones, but on the whole--my jobs have been Fine and I've been looking for something more. So yeah, in essence, this is absolutely 100% the reason for this career shift (I hesitate to call it a full change; I'm not swapping industries here).
2. what is holding me back? The Magician. I love her, and was deeply surprised to see her here, but... yeah. My own skill and willpower--or lack of confidence in them--are absolutely holding me back. Always.
3. parts of myself to nurture through this change. Nine of Wands: inner strength and preparation. Ha. yes. I will need a shitton of both of those if this Idea is going to stand up.
4. parts of myself to protect through this change. King of Wands. Visions and leadership. Two things I tend to self-deprecate about. Not things I consider myself very good at and things that are definitely vulnerable points, sore points that people have poked, prodded, and bruised in the past.
5. how to learn from any early efforts. And there she is. The Moon. I flipped her over and could not stop laughing. Learn from my anxieties? Sure. But here's the thing I've been sort of thinking about a lot in the last few months: the Moon is the anxiety card, sure, but honestly, for me it's been morphing into the El Card for a while now. It's not even because of the anxiety association, not at all. It's just...the Moon. El's got Moon energy. That's her card. So how to learn? From El. Yeah. Absolutely. Always. Learn from her strength and persistence, learn from her passion and deliberate thoughtfulness, learn from her and the way she pauses to think things through? Yes. Absolutely.

Thanks, universe.

I'm listening.

There's still a lot to think about. Everything is deeply nebulous and vague and just an absolute glimmer of an idea. But when I turned over one more card for shits and giggles and the Wheel of Fortune showed up... I laughed. Turning points.
Yeah. No kidding.

Stealing El's idea and doing a one-a-month spread for 2023, now that I'm in a slightly better headspace (I was right--I did feel better after sleeping, it just wasn't last night's sleeping, it was a weird nap at 8pm tonight. Idk, man, I just live here). I'm still feeling very low and depressed, but I've had some good chats with K and Lisa and I allowed myself some time to wallow in my misery. And I got up out of bed and Did a Thing (it was play video games, but it counts) and that helped. Doing Something always helps. I think a lot of this funk is flu-related--I'm really struggling with being sick, especially with being sick this week, and everything about it is just kicking my ass and keeping me down. New Year's is usually a very quiet, calm day for me, where I get to sort of set the stage for the year and think about what I want out of the upcoming months, but this year all of that good juju got absolutely swallowed and I was left with. Well. You read last night's post.

I'm resolved to leave my apartment tomorrow, even if it's just to go check the mail and take the trash out, and honestly, I think that will help immensely. Being cooped up and ill for a week has really just worn me to withering.

I've also reminded myself that nothing is actually constrained by the seasons, and I can, in fact, listen to the Nutcracker whenever I want to, so I'm doing that while I'm typing and that's making me feel so much better. I love so many things about this music.

I pulled my heart/mind/body for January first and that was a laugh (ok, 8 of swords, I see you, now leave me alone), but I wanted to steal El's spread so I did. And I'm feeling....some kind of way about it.

(I could have picked a better background to lay those cards against, huh?)

0. Middle card, the Focus: Ace of Pentacles. First off, I simply ADORE this card, it is one of my absolute favorites in this deck El made me, and I feel a huge sense of calm and relief every time I turn it over (which is not often). I do pull pentacles with a baffling regularity, though, and it seems appropriate that I start with the Ace. I know pentacles is all about material and financial, technically, but I learned a long time ago that when I pull them, they mean more than that. So Abundance and Security as a theme for 2023? Sure, I look forward to financial security, but I also want to pull that focus in all the other directions, too. Security in health, wealth, creativity? God, I can only hope so.

1. January: Nine of Swords: Also appropriate, since I pull swords more than any other suit except the majors (all my cards like to yell at me in majors), but like. Oof. The nine? thanks. I like that El found me a card labeled Dedication. It feels deeply optimistic compared to my usual reading of the card which is, "ah, yes, the Nightmare Card." To be fair, I do think I'm going to be spending a lot of January recovering from The Horrors (ie: 2022), so as soon as I flipped it, I was like "Lol yeah, depression seems correct." But the thing about my depression is that I am deeply, deeply dedicated to taking it gently by the hand and reminding it that it's not the boss of me anymore. I've made a lot of progress in fighting my depression over these last few years, and so there is something comforting about this card turning up and saying, "I know you are dedicated to this fight. Keep going."

2. February: the Hanged Man: Not one of the majors who usually yells at me, but hey bro. New perspectives. Surrender and acceptance. Considering that February is going to hit the One Year Without Dad marker, yeah, this feels prophetic.

3. March: Five of Pentacles: Just sort of quietly flicking my eyes between this one and my little mouse friend repeatedly, trying to figure out why the opposites are both here in this spread. I am not a fan of this card. I have Endured enough.

4. April: Two of Pentacles: See what I mean when I say I pull a disproportionate number of pentacles? It's weird. I like the two though. Juggling and flexibility are two things that I have trained myself to be good at over time. While I do wish I could maybe take a break from multitasking, it's nice to know that spring will be manageable.

5. May: Temperance: also not a major that usually yells at me. I think I've drawn her n-once in the last two years? She knows I'm bad at self-restraint and she stays away from me. This is one of my absolute favorite card designs I have in this deck, though, so. There's that.

6. June: Ace of Swords: a good friend of mine, this card. Clarity. This card always seems to show up exactly when I need it to, so here's hoping that holds true.

(I'm realizing that this Nutcracker I have in my itunes is like. a brass-focused orchestra, so like. it's a little weird. don't really like it. should have just listened to the usual one on youtube I've got bookmarked. alas.).

7. July: The Fool: There she is! My oldest, deepest friend, the Fool! New beginnings! I love her! July is a long way off, but I'll be looking forward to her.

8. August: the Queen of Cups: Right so. Cups. I never pull cups. My emotions are usually loud enough on their own that they don't need the cards to talk to me. But the Queen of Imagination is my favorite Queen in the deck (not the one I am--oh dear god, I have infinitely too much Queen of Pentacles in me, it's a problem), so I always like to see her turn up. She means a lot to me.

9. September: Ten of Wands: You know, I'm shocked there aren't more wands in this pull. But the Ten sort of...if I had to have one wands, why'd it have to be this one?

10. October: Four of Wands: ...Oh wait, there is another wand, and hey look, it's the best one there is! Celebration! I'm a little glad it's slotted in after the overwhelming responsibility...

11. November: The Tower: hahahahahahahahaha. yeah. Listen, I always try really hard not to see the Tower as a negative. Upheaval and disruption can sometimes be good--change can be good. Sometimes, you have to break so that you can mend. But after a year full of Towers and looking ahead and knowing there are several possible Towers in my future, I can't help seeing Catastrophe and wishing it was in any other month. Not my birthday, universe. Please? Sometimes I think I should take this card out of my deck entirely, because every time I turn it over, I just get: Dread. but there's a sick little part of me that would rather know. Forewarned, forearmed and all that.

12. December: Strength: one of the majors who yells at me a lot. If she has to be here, I'm glad she's at the end. Courage and resolve to see me through the last.

Five majors and mostly pentacles...seems usual. I'm surprised there aren't more court cards, honestly? I seem to usually get court cards when I do big overviews like this. But still... half the year is yelling at me and I'm not sure I like what it's yelling.

I know that 2023 is going to be hard. As evidenced by my breakdown last night as the clock ticked over, there's a lot going on. There is the possibility of great, deep sorrow and it's hard to see any slight chance of joy around that, but I'm squinting into the train light and trying to see the sun. I'm trying. It's a little funny to see my security mouse out there surrounded by all these generally negative or at least not particularly optimistic cards. I'm going to hold on to him for dear life.

I am pissed off at the universe, having severe depression about The End of the Year and how I didn't get to do all the things I meant to do, both this year generally and this week specifically, and having screaming anxiety about 2023 being Just As Bad a 2022, so.

Happy new year.

My sister tells me that her therapist told her last week that one of the major trauma responses is "waiting for the other shoe to drop" anxiety and LOL HI YES I'm 100000% exactly there.

I don't think it would be very healthy for me to list out everything that I meant to get done this year that got extremely put on hold by, uh. This year. And I know for a fact it will just make me pissed off to list out everything I was hoping to get done this week that got completely borked by my very favorite Christmas present I've ever receive, the flu. But there is a sad little masochistic part of me that wants to list it all out anyway, just to see how very much this year got fucked up. Because honestly, I really don't feel like I failed this year. I feel very much like this year failed me.

I grumped at Lisa for a sold half an hour earlier this evening, and she made the very reasonable and matter-of-fact point that I "seem very caught up on the arbitrary delineation of the year." Yes. Yes, I am. And I know that her ADHD means her sense of time is truly borked, but like. yeah. I am very stuck on this arbitrary mile-marker, this universally acknowledged doorway that's celebrated as a slate-cleaning literally around the entire world. I wonder why I might be stuck on that. hm.

I'm not really mad at Lisa, and the tone of that last paragraph isn't fair, but I'm too tired to edit it.

I know that my therapist will tell me next week to look on the bright side and find things in 2023 to look forward to, but honestly? I'm looking ahead, and I'm just seeing more of the same shit from 2022. I'm trying really hard not to. I'm trying really, really hard to be positive and find silver linings, to focus on good things. I'm trying to point out the good things to myself. But it's really fucking hard not to look ahead and know that there's going to be some fucking shit in 2023 and I don't have the energy for it. I'm tired. I'm so fucking tired.

All I can see right now are missed goalposts and future sorrows. and yeah, that's the depression and the trauma talking. but I can't hear anything else right now.

I have a deep secret that, as a retail worker and an ex-Catholic, I hate admitting, especially in a public forum, but hear me out: it's become relevant this year.

I really like Christmas carols. Especially the religious ones.

And I always have.

My many years in retail have sort of gutted the sheer, utter joy I used to feel for Christmas music, because--you know, retail. Playing the same damn secular songs over and over again from the middle of November on is just unbearable. (Looking at you, Mariah Carey. You know what you did.) And a lot of the more modern carols have absolutely lost their shine for me. How could they not? And there was a while there, right after I finished my last of twelve years in Catholic school that I really was exhausted of the non-secular ones, too. I loved my choir desperately, but there are only so many Christmas concerts during which you can sing O Holy Night. A girl needs a break. But there's a deep, childlike joy in me that can't shake my love of Christmas, and that includes the music.

Of course it includes the music. I am an absolute simp for music. Music is magic.

Christmas music is Christmas magic.

Anyway, this is all context. Let me give you the background. Then we can dive into the shit I should probably talk to my therapist about in the new year.

So, background:
Thanksgiving is our family's favorite holiday. Straight up. That is not in question. But my favorite holiday is Christmas. It lasts for two days, I get presents (I do love receiving objects. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE giving them, too, but damn I do love receiving an object), and there are twinkly lights. That's all this girl needs. I am simple and greedy. It's a tragic flaw.

Thanksgiving in my family is An Affair--there are people from both sides of the family, it's sheer chaos, my mom and I cook everything except the sweet potatoes and I really do mean everything, there is Jell-O, Dad brings up politics for no reason other than to Start Something, we mute the football, my Aunt and I swap a year's worth of book recs, and I eat an entire casserole dish of stuffing. I love Thanksgiving. It's absolute madness. (It was...not like that this year, but that's. a different post that I didn't write because it hurt me too much. Don't worry about it; it's not super relevant.)

Christmas, on the other hand, has always been divided. Christmas Eve is Dad's side of the family; Christmas Day is Mom's side. The whole time I lived in Chicago, the day determined which grandmothers' house we drove to. Christmas Eve was late afternoon, dinner, and presents at Grandma's, followed by coming home to stay up late and watch White Christmas. Christmas Day was brunch and presents at home, afternoon watch of the Nutcracker and dinner at Oma's. There was a system. I loved it. (It changed in later years, after Opa died and Oma moved to the condo, but like. Same rules still applied. We hung out with dad's side of the family on Eve and mom's side on Day.) I liked both equally. That's really not a lie, like, I know we all have favorites, but no, I genuinely liked both halves of Christmas equally.

And one of the best parts was that, on Christmas Eve, after dinner, in between presents and dessert, we would all just sit around the living room and sing carols. (I told you the context up there would be relevant.)

I'm not saying we were any good at it. You've got my grandma, an ancient little old Polish lady who was only loud when she was hugging you; my uncle, who tended to fall asleep at inopportune moments; my dad who #Tried and at least knew all the words; my Aunt who used to be in choir in high school but forgot everything she knew about singing sometime after her daughters were born; my other uncle who never learned the words despite us having little paper packets with them all printed in them; my sister who can't carry a tune in a bucket; my two cousins who were less than enthusiastic because it was ~embarrassing; and me. Who is actually damn good at singing, loved every minute of it, and had no inside voice.

Let me just say, with all the love from the very bottom of my heart: I absolutely carried those carol sessions for years.

But it was one of the few things my dad and I agreed on. We both really, desperately loved Christmas music and loved singing it, and loved singing it badly with our family. It was part of the tradition and it was a part of the tradition that we unconditionally loved. My aunt was always the one who brought up, "It's time for carols!" when we were working on getting dessert served, but my dad and I were by far the most enthusiastic. And we liked the same ones--the old standards and the weird, haunting religious ones that don't feel like Christmas songs because they're in a minor key (O Come, O Come, Emmanuel just owns my damn soul). We did a solid duet for Good King Wenceslas every year because we were the only two people who knew all five verses.

All right. Now you have context and now you have background. Let's do some therapy.

Yesterday was my first Christmas without my dad. Like--I've done Christmas in Colorado since I moved here, because traveling at Christmas is a hell dimension all its own and I always spent my days off on Thanksgiving, but he was still there. We texted. He called. We talked about carols even if we didn't sing them together anymore. It was still A Thing. But I didn't really notice, honestly, because it was just A Thing. It was part of the thing, it was part of Christmas, it's just what we did. I made a much bigger deal out of needing to watch White Christmas, because I was deep in retail hell and that movie is a bright spot of joy. I was determined to hate carols because I was so exhausted of hearing them at work that, yeah, I missed singing with my family, but honestly, there were other parts of the tradition that felt way more important.

Until yesterday. When Christie put on a CD while we were eating dinner and O Come All Ye Faithful just exploded in my chest like a goddamn land mine, tearing into me like a thousand knives.

O Come All Ye Faithful was Dad's favorite. Bar none. He knew all three verses in Latin and would solo them before or after we did the full family English rendition. I can't actually listen to that song without hearing it in his voice.

But I spent three months absolutely freaking out that I was going to breakdown and not be able to watch White Christmas this year because that was Our Thing that we did together, that was Our Tradition, and I was absolutely batshit panicked that him dying had ruined that movie for me. We watched it at the tail end of Thanksgiving with mom to make sure we could watch it (and it was fine), I saw the live stage production (and it was fine) and I watched it again on my own on Christmas Eve when tradition dictated I do so (and it was fine). I was sad, but I didn't full-body sob about it. Turns out, I can't really be sad while watching that movie.

So I was absolutely, completely, totally, deeply blindsided by O Come All Ye Faithful. I braced for Bing and Rosemary and Danny and Vera. When I got through it mostly unscathed, I relaxed, I thought I was home free. Look at me, having the first Christmas after my dad died and not being an absolute wreck! Look at me, look how strong I am, look how far along I am in my grieving! I'm Fine! Nothing can hurt me now!

Ha. Very ha.

I made it through dinner, got into the car with Lisa, and promptly burst into full-body ugly-cry sobbing. I fogged up the windows. I got snot all over my mittens. I had an asthma attack that it took me a full three hours to recover from once we arrived home. Because of a fucking Christmas carol. That my retail-working ass was pretty sure I hated.

Turns out, I don't hate Christmas music. I hate retail Christmas music. I still have a deep affection for the songs of my childhood that we sang on Grandma's living room floor, watching the candles in the tree and hoping nothing burned down, punctuated by Uncle Rich's snores and Uncle Dan messing up the words on purpose and Dad just belting it out despite the fact that he wasn't really good at it. Turns out that even though White Christmas was a major, important part of our holiday tradition, the fucking Christmas carols came up behind me in the dark and just stabbed me straight through the lungs, repeatedly and without mercy until I just imploded. Caved in like a rockslide.

And so, instead of really enjoying my Christmas Day, I spent most of today (yeah, we did it a day late for good reasons that don't really matter) just bonkers depressed, trying not to cry again, and just sort of holding my rib cage in my shaking hands any time Christie put music on. I refused to make a big deal out of it, and besides, I wanted to listen to the damn music. It just fucking hurt me the whole time I did.

And I know this shit gets easier over time, right? I know that that's how grief works. I'm a major fan of that tumblr post about the ball and the button. (Let me explain--grief is like a rubber ball in a box with a button. The ball is everything about the dead person you love. The button causes pain when hit. At the beginning, the ball is huge, because it's new and present, so it bumps into the button constantly and everything hurts. Over time, as the grief fades and you get some perspective, the ball gets smaller, so it only hits the button sometimes. Eventually, the ball is so small that you don't notice it, but every once in a while, like a Windows screen saver miraculously hitting the corner, the ball hits the button and you're a mess.) I know that my ball will get smaller with time. I know that it will stop hitting the button all the time. Nothing can stop it from hitting the button occasionally, but it will stop being so constant.

Except I realized yesterday that there's a second, secret button labeled PRESS WHEN CAROLS and the ball becomes magnetized to that spot whenever I hear O Come All Ye Faithful or Good King Wenceslas or whatever else we sang all the time, every year, and it just floods me. And I have this terrible sinking feeling that no matter how small the ball is, it's going to get magnetized every year. At Christmas. For the rest of my life. And maybe the super special secret holiday button eventually won't cause a giant wave of pain, but it's always going to be there. It's always going to be part of Christmas. A new fucking tradition.

And I hate that.

And like I said, I know it will get better, and I know my therapist would tell me to focus on the fact that I'll have a solid, lovely reminder of some of the very few happy memories I have of my dad, and that one day, when the ball is small and the button is faded, I'll be glad that Christmas carols always, always make me think of him. I know this.

But it doesn't stop the fact that the button got good and pushed yesterday, today, and I just had the shittiest Christmas ever after the worst fucking year on record, when I very desperately needed a Good Christmas, just one good thing, one blasted lovely thing in this hellyear. But nope. Not this year.

Fuck you, 2022.

~~hey asshole~~ hey dad

I stopped knowing how to talk to you a long time ago.

it was probably around when you started drinking again, but to be honest, that whole epoch of my life is deeply hazy. you know, I've always envied people who can tell fun stories about their childhoods about all the cool shit they did and saw and what they did with their friends on the weekends when they sneaked out at night. I never really could join in, and part of that is that I never did any cool shit with any of my friends, and part of that is that I just don't remember. There are large chunks of my life that are simply blank spaces in my brain. I remember these crystalized moments, like.... like Easter breakfasts and the smell of the hallways at St. Mary's and the beanie baby zoos in Oma and Opa's basement and that one birthday K had where it was only 67F but the pool was heated, so we went swimming anyway and there were just curls of vapor everywhere. I remember very specific things. And then I think about stuff and I realize that I 100% completely forgot that I played tennis for years. I mean I played for years and then I forgot for years. I still drive past the courts every time we go to Glenview, and I could not tell you what the inside of that building looks like because my brain has simply deleted the fact that I played tennis. I remember specific volleyball games at the gym at Regina, but I don't know when we practiced at St. Mary's, or where or with whom. I remember swimming, but I couldn't tell you what any of those girls looked like. and I have pictures. I remember that I went to camp, but nothing that happened there. I remember what my shoes looked like in eighth grade, but not a single scrap of algebra. It's like something took my memory through a cheese grater and I'm left with all these little scraps, trying to piece them together without context. There are whole years of my life that are just erased.

But you know what I do remember? always? fucking constantly?
ice cream.
all the lyrics to all that 60s and 70s music.
what turpentine smells like.
the way you rubbed your eyes under your glasses because I do the same thing
the voice you did for Bilbo when we read the hobbit out loud.
your green plaid shirt.
that conversation we had about Safaya and her hijab on the way home from school sophomore year, when I had to explain to you why it wasn't oppression, it was choice of faith and we were turning off the windy street onto Touhy and you just sighed and said it didn't really matter what you thought, but it did.
when you came downstairs on the morning after the 2016 election and said it's not like anything would affect me personally, so what did it matter, but it did matter.
every time you told the story about the snake.
picking out christmas trees every year and how I always said, "It's that one" and you always said, "Let's look some more and make sure" and it was always the first one I picked, but you never believed me, you never trusted me, and I know you probably didn't mean it that way, but that's how it felt.
when you asked me if I had a crush on Leesha and you were ""joking"" but you were super relieved when I said I didn't, and I never told you I lied.
that time you picked Katie and me up from the very last day of school and we drove to the movie theater to see Prisoner of Azkaban the day it came out, and we were all sticky and gross in our school uniforms and we had to explain the whole plot of the book to you before the movie started and you listened, you actually listened, and when we got out and we were upset you understood why and we all yelled about how bad it was the whole ride home.
when you told me you were entitled to eat some of my mint meltaways because you'd bought them so they were techinically yours even though you'd given them to me as a gift for valentine's day, bow and wrapping paper and everything.
when you got really defensive about police shootings and got up and left the table instead of talking about gun control.
when you worked the world series, except the sixth games, and I wandered downstairs and got sucked into watching with you and you explained baseball to me and we both got really into it for like, two games.
watching football, back when football was good.
good king wenceslas
bookstore trips. splitting up and then meeting up two hours later with stacks of books.
the library.
when you checked out ten books on pirates to help me with my summer AP Euro paper.
minigolf. every year on the most perfect day in august. happy birthday.
sundays at Oma and Opa's. the grill, the burgers, the melted ice cream.
the scar on your beer belly where they cut you open to remove a chunk of your pancreas because it didn't work anymore.
the smell of your unwashed sheets.
our castle. (it's hanging above my desk now. I framed it. it's stupid.)
when you learned all the rules for volleyball so you could yell at the refs for bad calls at every game.
when you told me about how your dad never let you borrow the car without clearing it with him and how much it annoyed you and then how you never let me borrow the car without clearing it with you.
you never once knocked on my bedroom door. ever.
when I was really, really sick with the flu and I watched three seasons of the great british bake off in two days and you brought me doughnuts because that one technical gave me a craving.
the way you insisted that you introduced me to Star Wars when it was mom who did that.
the year you gave me the Belgariad as a christmas present and you gave Katie the Lord of the Rings and I was so jealous because hers was bigger and more famous and then you told me that you liked the ones you gave me more and I was so excited because you shared the thing you loved with me.
that one time you told me that I would never be as good of a writer as Katie and I should focus more on art and graphic design.
the sound of your radio at christmas breakfast.
screaming at you through the door to my bedroom about how now matter what I did or what I said, I was always wrong and how you said that's not true and then I came back with examples and you said you'd try to point out the times that I was right as often as you pointed out the times that I was wrong and I told you that wasn't the point but you just walked away.
white christmas. man, you were so bad at singing Snow.
how when I was really little, your footsteps used to make me feel safer and when I got older, your footsteps made me tense up and try to be invisible.
catching fireflies.
pink lemonade.
the day in college when I realized that my all caps handwriting looks the same as yours and how it made me never want to write in print ever again.
how you never used your turn signal and how every single time I turn mine on I have this moment where I think of you whether I want to or not.
when we drove Mom and Katie to the airport when they left for Ireland, and I freaked out on the way home, so you bought us chicken nuggets and sat me down on the couch and said "We are watching this movie, you will love it and it will make you feel better" and we watched the Princess Bride and I sat on your legs and bounced up and down for the whole swordfight because it was so good and you laughed so hard when I suggested that the Dread Pirate Roberts might be hiding his sixth finger in his glove and then again when Count Rugen showed us his right hand and it was amazing and you were right I did feel better.
pirate movies.
the night Opa died and mom didn't want us at their house, so you drove us home at like. 1 in the morning and we stayed up until 4am and you made us eggs because we couldn't sleep and you never once told us it was going to be all right because you knew it wouldn't be and we drove back at like. 7 after two hours of sleep and I sat on the basement stairs and just cried and you stood behind me so I could lean on your legs the whole time.
how you used to talk about gay people, which is why I never properly came out, and how I just started talking about Lisa and you just stopped talking about gay people but you never apologized.
after I did the Kyrie solo at christmas concert and you said I was Spectacular.
your favorite word was Sesquipedalian.
your shitty mostacciolli that you loved so much that was no where near as good as mom's but that I kind of miss anyway.
this!!! Is an EX!!!! PARROT!!!!! (god I just realized how many quotes from movies I'm never going to be able to say ever again without feeling some kind of way inside.)
your complete lack of understanding of emojis.
when I was 6 and you draw-two and draw-four'd me into having like. 30 cards in my hand during Uno, and I couldn't hold them all, and when I started crying you told me it was just a game.
gettysburg. (we never got to go, but you bet your ass I'm gonna someday and I'm going to stand on that hill and quote fucking General Trimble and I will cry so damn fucking hard)
that time I called you because I was lost and needed directions and you were in the middle of a hostage situation but you answered anyway and you told me how to get to JoAnns.
last Thanksgiving and how you didn't come downstairs on Friday morning.

I'm so tired.

I'm supposed to write you a letter with all the things I never told you and never got to say and never got to resolve and somehow that's supposed to be cathartic and make me feel better because I'll be letting go of the idea that any of this shit could ever have been resolved. I wrote this list instead because I don't know that there is anything I want to say to you that I didn't get to say. I tried for years. and I got tired of trying. and I'm sorry that I didn't try one more time, but it wouldn't have mattered because nothing would have changed. it would have been the same as always. I never could talk to you. I never could talk to you.

and now you are dead and I still can't fucking talk to you.

it's not that you scared me. you weren't frightening. it's not that I couldn't stand up to you, it's just that every time I did, I ended up crying. conflict and I don't get along. because every time I tried, I started crying and that was it. I hated that feeling. I hated feeling wrong all the time, feeling like I was too much--too loud, too emotional. And fuck, Dad, I was wrong, all the time. And that hurt so much. I could never win with you. I could never win. And you knew I was a sore loser. and I hate feeling stupid, I hate feeling stupid and you made me feel stupid all the time.

and I just hope you know that I'm not stupid. I'm not wrong all the time--just because I don't have every trivia fact memorized or didn't swallow the dictionary, I'm not wrong. I made mistakes, I still make mistakes, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong. no matter how many times you told me that. fuck. I'm not stupid. I'm really fucking smart, I never failed a single class, not even fucking algebra, despite all my damn tears, and it wasn't just book smarts because here's the thing--I'm just fucking clever. I am. And I'm good at what I do. I'm really fucking good at telling stories. And I'm sorry that you never understood that. I think it absolutely sucks that you will never get to read anything else I write and that every time you did read something I wrote, it was a surprise how good it was. It's not surprising--I put the damn work in, and I built that skill, and it's not a surprise that I'm good at it. You just never bothered to look at the work. You were never paying attention to the work. You were never paying attention. And that's the shittiest thing, because if you had even bothered to glance my direction, if you had paid half the attention, if you had put half as much work as I did and met me halfway, you could have seen how fucking awesome I am and we could have been friends. We could have talked. We could have talked.

but I spent years trying to learn how to speak your language and every time I got close, you slipped into your dialect and I got lost. And you never tried to give me a primer. and that sucks. it just. fucking sucks.

I don't have cool stories from my teenage years about fireworks or beach parties or whatever, because I wasn't a cool kid and because you never let me leave the damn house without your permission and that sucks. It sucks you never trusted me. but I guess it's hard to trust someone when you don't speak the same language.

I'm tired to being mad at you and I'm tried to missing you and I'm tired of trying. I'm tired of remembering all this shit. But I don't want to forget it. for some godforsaken reason, I don't.

thanks for dying early. it means hopefully I will unlearn all the garbage you taught me by the time I'm forty and then I'll have a nice long life without you and your bullshit fucking me up.

thanks for being my dad. thanks for the ice cream and the fantasy novels and the pirate movies and the minigolf.

I don't think this made me feel better. but maybe one day it will.

love,
-"it's Nicole now, get it right"

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stardustbunny

August 2026

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