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My First MRA.
No, not Magnetic Resonance Angiography. I’ve actually had an MRI, done a few years ago when I collapsed in my bathroom and thought I may have sustained a concussion. It was a pretty uneventful experience, if not entirely peaceful. I’m talking about a Men’s Rights Activist. I know they’re out there. It’s well-known that they’re…
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Of Final Things: Death and Burial in Mark Brandenburg, 1500 – 1800
I‘ve been a bit preoccupied by Life this past week, and I’m really doing my best to churn out some writing, but it’s been a challenge. In the midst of some family matters, some external concerns, and some priorities being shuffled around, I have to say that focusing on output has not been an easy…
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You mean, this precise moment?
Well, WordPress bot, I guess I should answer this immediately, because my feelings might change after I quaff this big home-brewed iced coffee. And I am pleased you didn’t ask me, “What are you thinking right now?” That wouldn’t be appropriate, and my thoughts would have changed by time I finished typing the sentence. Right…
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Excitement!
Don’t mind if I do, WordPress bot… The last thing I got excited about was learning how to effectively block people online in every conceivable way, including on this blog of mine. The amount of stress and anger I used to experience has diminished massively. Oh, that, and the spicy agedashi tofu I made two…
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THE FINALE: Tap-tap-tapping on heaven’s floor (I finish what I start, I really do)
My second year of being in tap lessons. There we were. The “Tap” promotional campaign that involved–oddly enough–tap, and I had made it to the Saturday finals. My rivals were many; their talents were intimidating. I had only been slapping my shoes against hardwood for three years; they had been doing this since they were…
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Tap-tap-tapping on heaven’s floor
Yes. That is me after winning a musical theatre award for some number called “Vaudeville.” I was about eleven here. This year of our antichrist, 2024–one of the most challenging but transformative epochs to date–marks the 45th anniversary of Coquitlam Centre. What’s that, you may ask with soaring ignorance? Why, it’s exactly what it sounds…
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“A nest for birds, there ain’t no words, for the beauty and the splendour and the wonder of my–“
…hair, which once again I’m going to have to lop off. I am the last chick to spend any time on a blog post (or any piece of writing at all) talking about her mop, but once again it’s aggravating me so much that I am tempted to grab my kitchen scissors and Gillette leg…
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Was today typical?
Sure. Now, please define “typical” for me. I’m not ever going to share intense details of my personal life, I’m not going to talk about my struggles, I’m not going to brag about my small victories, and I’m not going to give details about what I ate, thought, or did. This is a stoopid writing…
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Saudade: Sweaters, leather boots, and hot lentil stews
I don’t have much in this life, but I do have cleavage. Smoke ’em if you got ’em. This summer feels as though it’s been carrying on for months now, and it’s not even August. I’m not sure why this is, since the year overall feels like it was strapped to a rocket and launched…
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I Know Liberty, And It Is This Caftan.
This wouldn’t even be close to a gunpoint-at-head scenario; it would be sweet relief and freedom. I purchased that caftan–an item of clothing I had never considered owning, never mind wearing, in my entire life–back in the summer of 2020. Along with all of the other atrocities and grotesqueries the world was forced to submit…
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