Social media “feed”

Not to sound like someone who is chronically online, but if I think too long and hard about the word “feed” in the social media context it gives me the ick. (Which, by the way, is a phrase I hate).

But I also don’t have a better way to describe it. I get this nauseating visual of info-media on a conveyor belt being force fed into an open mouth.

Think about that word – feed. Like, cattle feed.

The purpose of food is to fuel the body. What does social media feed do?

What is it nurturing in us, really? What content in your feed is truly fueling anything in your life, and what content is turning into cancer?

Anyway, I told you. I can’t think about it too long because it freaks me out. K bye.

Books that made me cry recently

With no context

• Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
• Warrior Cats #3
• Out of the Woods (actually don’t read this unless you want your life ruined forever)

The next room

My dog died yesterday. From 11 years of constant companionship to a massive void shaped just like her…it doesn’t hurt as much as it aches and echos.

She was 15 and in congestive heart failure. We knew her time was all borrowed. It doesn’t make it hurt less.

And, at the end of it all, she left me with an incredible gift (here’s where things get weird and woo-woo). In the early morning hours of her passing, I had a dream. In the dream, I was in my bedroom when suddenly I heard a commotion in the room next door.

Naturally, I went to investigate the noise and found myself in a room of the other dogs that had passed before her; dogs she’d known and loved but that had come to us old. I was overcome with emotion; they were just as pleased to see me as I was to see them. A joyous reunion ensued.

And then…I heard the little click clacking paws of my girl behind me. She stopped, looked at me, and then ran to them, tail wagging – long awaited hellos. In that moment, I knew. I knew she had departed and had joined her friends on the other side.

When I awoke, I went to find her – and sure enough – she’d slipped away from one room to the next.

And that’s the gift. This insight that maybe that’s all death really is…walking from one room to another filled with everyone who has already gone before you….and a knowing that no one is really, truly gone. Just waiting.

Bring back word vomit.

Remember the Xanga and Livejournal days where we endlessly vomited words across the internet and all of it was storytelling and art? And we weren’t brands, we were just people? And there was no AI and no one cared about being the best – only themselves?

Can we bring that back?

Like, I miss the days where it was all stream-of-consciousness and not carefully curated personal marketing. Can we go back to cracking open our skulls and liberating our inner thoughts…please?

And I’m not talking about whatever is happening on Threads because that’s – um…well, it’s certainly something.

Warrior Cats

So, my niece has been reading the Warrior Cats series and because I want to be cool and relevant, I picked them up as well. Little did I know I was about to be transported back into my childhood self and cry harder over fictional characters than I have for real people in the last…2 decades.

These books are a literary delight. The character development is fantastic. The twist and turns are genuinely unforeseen (for the most part; some are *will he really do this* and then he does or doesn’t) and scratch that itch in the brain in just the right way – even when you’re sobbing and screaming about whatever twist or turn it may be.

The politics of this feline world are well organized and so interesting. The side characters are more like supporting characters, everyone plays a part – just like in their clan.

I find the context clues around clan territories and what they are in the human world to be fascinating. The feral-feline perception of humans is fun to immerse yourself into as well.

Anyway, if you’re looking for something new to read…these are a treat. Yes, it’s YA, but it’s masterful YA. Pick it up, read it! Let me know what you think.

This space belongs to me.

I got a little shell shock after being cyber-stalked. I fell right into the trap: fell back, stayed quiet. How embarrassing for me.

But, every year, poetry month rolls around and reminds me that this space has, primarily, been for that. And it’s mine. It belongs to me. So much has changed since my last share in this space and much (and little) has been written.

If you’re here choosing to read it, then that’s on you. If something bugs you about it, that’s a you problem. If you don’t like this space, stay away from it. No one is requiring you to be here.

I repeat: this space belongs to *me.*

And with that – enjoy a new poem:

Grace was never mine to know,  
mercy a seed I’d ever sow.  

When others speak of sparing foes,  
I long instead for the ruin I’d impose.

I curse my enemies with every breath-  
illness, starvation, a slow dance with death.  

Let poverty waste them to the bone,  
let despair ensure they die alone.

I want them to lose all they cherish and crave,  
to wander this world as their own living grave.  

I wish them a suffering – twisted, possessed 
that even Hell would refuse them rest.

May they decay in their torment, year after year,  
and when they die, let me be near-  

A face in the shadows, grinning wide,  
ready to drag them to where light has died.

Let them know no peace, no rest, no light,  
only endless terror in the dead of night.  

May their every thought be consumed by dread,  
forever haunted by the curse on their head.

A constant reminder of the fear they bear,  
that I am my father’s feral heir—  

A spectre that can be neither escaped nor endured,  
a nightmare’s echo, harsh. Obscure.

Bloom

Born from a gust of wind,
I plant my roots in this place.

We were once told that despite what we believed,
we were rootless.
Belonging nowhere.

I disagreed.
I disagree.

We were born from a gust of wind like new dandelions,
floating
landing
rooting
blooming.

We leave behind us trails of
happy, bright imprints.
We were here.
We where there.
We are here.
We are there.

We are rooted everywhere.
We have bloomed everywhere.
We have thrived everywhere.

We go where the wind takes us,
and I plant my roots.

Poetry month is back

I have been ignoring the blog, yes. But Poetry Month means trying to write a poem a day, and I do that here. I wrote one yesterday which I will kickstart poetry-month-eve with.

When we first met,
I was a freshly hatched butterfly –
wings crumples and wet,
vulnerable under a sun that seemed to
never dry them.

I had undergone a traumatic
metamorphosis and was unsure how to
be a butterfly when I had spent years as a grub.
Benign,
Silent.

When we first met, I met the sun.
You had only just been hiding behind a cloud
waiting for me.

Thirty things I learned in my 20s

1. Eventually, you’re going to have to call and make a doctors appointment yourself. Your mom really won’t do that for you forever.
2. You are never stuck in a toxic situation. You CAN leave and it won’t kill you.
3. If you are presented with the opportunity to go to grad school, take it.
4. You can CHOOSE to be happy when things are shitty.
5. You don’t owe anyone any explanations for the decisions you make (unless you like decide to rob a bank or something).
6. Experiences > things
7. Disagreeing with someone just means you’re different, not enemies.
8. Never go through customs in Miami. It’s a pit from hell and you will miss your connecting flight.
9. Sometimes, money actually can be irrelevant.
10. Almost every belief exists on a spectrum. Something you align with today may not be something you align with tomorrow.
11. You are never too old to learn something new.
12. Acne doesn’t actually ever go away forever. That’s a lie parents tell their kids to get them to stop crying about their face.
13. You never outgrow Harry Potter. You just don’t. Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home!
14. Universal Studios > Disney
15. There is always space for one more pet.
16. The only person you should blame for your failures is yourself.
17. Siblings keep you eternally young.
18. Spur the moment road trips are always worth it.
19. You can almost always deescalate a situation by being nice.
20. You can plan things down to the detail and something will still go wrong. As my grandpa liked to say, it’s part of the adventure. Embrace it.
21. If an opportunity to help or serve others is presented to you, take it. You will never be upset you took the time to support someone in need.
22. Learn to be independent, even in a partnership. You are not a half!
23. Being able to treat your parents is one of the most fun things you can do. If you can, you should!
24. Emergency preparedness seems like a joke until an 8.2 earthquake hits your house. Have a 72 hour kit or an emergency preparedness backpack. (You can buy them premade.)
25. Stove pop your popcorn.
26. Audiobooks can get you through even the longest, worst workout on earth. Music is for lightweights. Audiobooks. You’re welcome.
27. Put your phone down and enjoy things (like concerts) without watching it through a camera. It’s okay to be present in the world.
28. People will laugh at you because you drive a hybrid until they realize you can drive 22 hours straight and only need to fill your tank 1.5 times. Let them laugh!
29. Don’t be afraid to ask for help when you need it.
30. You are capable of handling so much more than you ever thought possible.

Round and Round

You guys. I totally dropped the ball on writing. I failed at my haiku a day which isn’t even that hard, and then I skated through poetry month like it wasn’t even happening. Who am I?! How dare I!?

The good news is, it’s not like I’ve been over here idling. Since my last post I have run a half marathon and various other races. I have brought on a new dog to our refuge. I have gotten married. I have lost a loved one (my grandpa died).

So, there’s been plenty to distract me from the world of WordPress. Not like you noticed, though 😉 I am very much aware that most of what I write goes into the void, unread. It’s cool. We are supposed to write for ourselves, that’s what makes our writing authentic. Once you start writing for an audience, you start to feel like you have to censor and edit yourself.

Anyway, I just came by with an intention of writing a post about body image but instead I’m just gonna leave it like this. Life is life. It’s busy. It’s great. We can’t always be running to our blogs with an update, and that’s okay.