breesays

[breesays]

Breesays' Favorite Songs of 2024

I make a concerted effort to listen to new music, mostly because of my job at Setlist. Thanks to Music League, this year I discovered some not-new music I loved. I was victim to the obsession of Taylor Swift's TTPD, but it didn't entrance me as hard as Fall Out Boy's SMFS did the year before. But, Tay did make the list several times, as did Glass Animals, Phantogram, Suki Waterhouse, Halsey.

I did listen to a lot of Olivia Rodrigo and Chappell Roan. Shoutout to Music League for Childish Gambino and The Veronicas on this list.

Too Much - girl in red

High in Low Places - Beach Weather

All a Mystery - Phantogram

Wonderful Nothing - Glass Animals

Who's Afraid of Little Ol' Me? - Taylor Swift

Broken Man - St. Vincent

Sorry I'm Late, I Didn't Want To Come - Wombats

Birds of a Feather - Billie Eilish

Good Luck, Babe! - Chappell Roan

Lithonia - Childish Gambino

Calling You Out - Charly Bliss

Too Sweet - Hozier

OMG - Suki Waterhouse

I Still Want To - State Champs

ATTENTION - Winona Fighter

Texas Hold 'Em - Beyoncé

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart - Taylor Swift

Take It Or Leave It- COIN

Sympathy is a knife - Charli xcx ft. Ariana Grande

$5 - Nico Vega

VULTURES (feat. PVRIS) - MisterWives

Keep Going - Taking Back Sunday

Ocean Eyes - Gaslight Anthem

Not Like Us - Kendrick Lamar

Dilemma - Green Day

Slim Pickins - Sabrina Carpenter

French Exit - Dua Lipa

Organized Chaos - MisterWives

Rat Race - Towa Bird

Wasn't Meant To Be - Phantogram

Watch The Fire - Dashboard Confessional ft. Boys Like Girls

Supersad - Suki Waterhouse

A Tear in Space (Airlock) - Glass Animals

Hell Of It - State Champs

The Architect - Kacey Musgraves

I'm Not A Machine - Bishop Briggs

Creatures in Heaven - Glass Animals

Hope - Vampire Weekend

Sunday Best - Lauren Mayberry

Navigating - Twenty One Pilots

Panic Attack - Halsey

That's How I'm Feeling - Jack White

Letting Myself Go - Børns

My Bile - Kate Nash

All In My Head - The Linda Lindas

The Bolter - Taylor Swift

Lonely Is The Muse - Halsey

Perfectly Alone (softer version) - K.Flay

U Should Not Be Doing That - Amyl and the Sniffers

Perfect - The Veronicas

Spotify link to LISTEN to this playlist - here.

Edit: Seems like tumblr is redirecting links. Text or DM me?

[breesays]

I hope this blog post finds you unwell

I have been trying to collect my thoughts, but between what MIGHT be long COVID (lol at avoiding it for 4 years) and ~gestures~ ...

I am really upset AMERICA voted for a BAD MAN. Unequivocally, unquestionably. It wasn't even close. He is a rapist, a racist and his mental cognition is questionable at best. It's EMBARRASSING. How are you not embarrassed??! We have a spray-tanned failed businessman with "concepts of a plan" about to take the helm. Again. Comedians kept us afloat last time. This time, I don't know. Some of us might just stop swimming.

Leading up to the election, I did not feel hopeful. I know I did my part, but maybe not enough work. I did not think Kamala was going to win by "a landslide" but I did think it would be close. Our first woman president!

It feels gross right now. I felt full-body grief from the minute those election results started coming in. People kept saying, it's a red mirage, it could turn around, but I was already crying.

The past few days I have been salvation-scrolling. I have been so desperately looking for information that will make this make sense. But I care about science, and facts, so my side (there are sides) is not interested in serving up tales of wit and whimsy.

I guess we have work to do, but more than anything, I want to understand. I will stand in your shoes, walk in your shoes - but when I offer you better ones, would you take them? Or do you just want everyone to feel as bad as you do?

I don't think we should educate LESS. I don't think we should take away rights. We are ALL IMMIGRANTS. If you utter the words "deep state" or "legacy media" I will mute you. Stop being ridiculous. Stop entertaining conspiracy theories.

We're living out a dystopian novel. How do I get to be a final girl? I'm mixing genres, but still. A question worth asking.

[breesays]

Just to watch the fire

This post is for future me, when I want to know WHAT WAS MY LIFE LIKE in October of 2024?

For starters, I caught COVID at the top of the month. For the first time! I thought I was SPECIAL. I don't even know how I got it, because my germy 5-year-old tested negative and was promptly whisked away by his Dad to keep him healthy. It felt just like a cold, but losing my sense of taste was a trip. It wasn't completely gone, just... dulled. I ate a lot of protein bars (low effort) and mandarin oranges. I've been negative for a week but I STILL have a scratchy throat.

I've been toying with TikTok but I HATE EDITING VIDEOS so if I don't nail it within the first few tries, I just trash it.

Music League gets a lot of my time and attention.

Listening to

Phantogram just put out a new album and the second track, "It Wasn't Meant To Be" reminds me of an MTV interstitial that used to air in the wee hours back in the '00s. Does anyone know the one I'm talking about?

The Allo and Ace podcast

Reading

Amanda Montei's Mad Woman on Substack, she wrote the book Touched Out.

Tracy Clark Flory's newsletter on Substack

Men Yell at Me by Lyz Lenz, who wrote This American Ex Wife

The Honest Broker by Ted Gioia

I've read 70ish books (a few DNFs in there) and I think The Wedding People is a contender for my favorite of the year.

Consuming

I tried Dua Lipa's Diet Coke+pickle juice+jalapeno juice drink and I LOVE IT.

I also tried Dirty Soda (Diet Coke + coffee creamer) and it was OK.

Desmond's favorite song is Hot To Go and he's made me listen to it for 45 minutes straight on a car ride.

Shows

I went to NFG's Catalyst Anniversary tour and it was wonderful. I kinda wish it was crowd-surfable, but it was awesome being in the pit at The Wiltern. I don't think I could've done anything but the pit for NFG.

I am not at WWWY this year because EXPENSIVE.

But I am going to buy a Warped Pass for LB when it goes on sale.

Last year the first concert ticket I bought was for K.Flay - this year, the first concert ticket I bought for next year is K.Flay.

It's Ace Awareness Week so I'll probably write or attempt a TikTok about that.

[breesays]

Better better better

I've not been happy with how I look for a bit now, and finally came to the conclusion that doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results was... insanity.

On a Monday morning two weeks ago after I had assigned articles and edited blogs, I ran out to a gym I had frequented pre-pandemic. There was some math involved. The gym is a 6 minute drive from my place and the workouts are 45 minutes - adding a minute or two for parking, I could get this done in a tight lunch hour.

I've been doing Jillian Michaels workouts on my own for months now, but I don't push myself enough, I get distracted and gyms are more fun because the equipment is so varied. It's a grown up playground. Believe me, I have acquired a lot of my own playthings - bosu ball, walking pad, kettle bells, resistance bands - but I do better, try harder when someone else designs the workout. I do things outside my comfort zone, moves I even actively hate (bicycles, burpees). I LIKE it when I feel like I'm going to die but then the trainer gets on the bike next to me, gives me an elbow bump and I burn out for the next 30 seconds. I like hearing the weird club version of Panic! at the Disco and Sia and actually the same mix I learned a routine to when I taught a TurboKick class at AGE TWENTY.

This may change nothing. This may change everything. All I know is I paused all my clothing rentals because I just want to look and feel good in what I already have. I tried to embrace body positivity but I also want to be strong and live a long, healthy life. I want to feel alert and excited and I want those endorphins. Being athletic is part of my identity, even if I'm not GOOD at anything. Also have you ever hit an early workout and then just crashed out on the couch in the sun afterward? The kind of nap where your body temp just plummets and you are OUT? If I ever write a book about napping, this kind will be a highlight. Reminds me of high school cross country practice during the summer, except then I used to slice a watermelon in half a devour it before the nap took me. I think I know what my plans are for next week.

On Sundays, I've been hitting the farmers market on the way home from the gym. Normally, I hate that I have to walk SO FAR from my parking spot but if I'm already sweating, it's sort of like an extended cool down from the workout. Here's a truth: farmer's market food tastes better. I mostly shop at Trader Joe's (because cheapest) but the carrots, the tomatoes, the apples, the broccoli, the everything from the farmer's market just taste infinitely better.

Better better better.

I'm also having this new experience, having a kid who loves math and who just absorbs equations and concepts like they're elements. I've always found expressing myself through writing so easy, but because I never learned THE RULES, I never felt equipped to tutor. I know what sounds good, sounds right. Des is like the mathematical version of me. He can add, subtract, divide, multiply in the cloud above his little head. What a fucking wonder. Sometimes he even explains to me how he arrived at the solution, and it's not always the same method, the same path. Last week I showed him how to add by stacking numbers, and doing the carrying thing - he looked at me and said, Mama, I think you ARE really good at math. I'm not, but his math-enthusiasm is a bit like exposure therapy for my number anxiety.

He starts Kindergarten in one week!

[breesays]

DATE is a four-letter word

I've long had a problem with sex treated as either precious and revered or just animalistic expression - what "makes us human." I didn't have the desire, the drive, so it MUST BE precious to me, right? (NO.) I think (romantic) relationships are seen in the same kind of limited, binary way - you're dating (that makes it official or serious or whatever) or else there's hooking up / friends with benefits. There's such pressure to define it, to legitimize it. To attach it to some well-worn track.

What if you just want to do a trial run to see how well a person fits into your life, and how well you fit into theirs?

What I hate about dating is it feels like an audition, and I don't want to perform. There's also a pre-determined cultural script that I always feel compelled to buck against, even if I am HAVING A GOOD TIME.

Would you like to join me on this experience that I find enjoyable? I would do it with or without you, but maybe if we do it together we could talk about it, laugh about it?

I fear that many of the dates I have been on, have been in the name of "content creation bliss." I wanted to have a story to tell. I didn't date before I had readers, followers. Or, I did, but for rides, social buffers -- the intent was never coupledom. Or social capital -- look, I TRIED. I am PARTICIPATING.

One time a musician friend told me there was a rumor we were dating.

"Oh," I said, "Have you taken me anywhere nice?"

"No, I'm an asshole."

I didn't want to date him, though, and I certainly didn't start the rumor. I kissed him a few times and that was nice, but was it because we weren't sleeping together, the only other option available to gossipers was dating? The description suffered from a lack of creativity.

I've told this story a few times, but on the first day of junior high, the motley crew who had, through no strategy or loyalty, assembled at a six-seater picnic bench after acquiring corn-nuts or fro-yo or whatever else we were passing as "lunch" had a topic of discussion. Who, Karen (real name) wanted to know, was going to get a boyfriend first? It was a betting situation, even though all of us already spent our lunch money.

They unanimously decided it was me, which I deduced could only be because of my physical appearance (blond hair, blue eyes, white) and not my sparkling personality. I felt weird about it because I didn't WANT a boyfriend, but they acted like it was something that would just HAPPEN to me.

I did not "get" a boyfriend until I was 23. Or 25. But Karen was right, it just happened to me.

[breesays]

Strong Female Character

My writing is influenced by what I'm reading more than I care to admit. Or, I'm admitting it now and the last novel I read had sort of a concussion-lens to it so all my alpha readers had to deal with the word vomit that was my introduction. It was a lot. If i was a college professor I would've sent it back like WTF is your thesis and what is the support, try again and don't waste my time.

I got really good guidance from one of my writer friends, then started reading Fern Brady's "Strong Female Character."

I came across Fern Brady because I follow Netflix on Instagram and they promoted part of her standup special. I watched that (Autistic Bikini Queen), then her previous special "Power and Chaos" on Prime Video. Then I found out she wrote a book! A book! My favorite medium.

Her memoir is about being a late-diagnosed female autistic, and all the complications it brings. I have never read another book like it, and at one point she says:

“It's 2022 as I write this and I'm still waiting to find someone I respect to speak openly and in detail about meltdowns. I'm really annoyed that I have to be the one to do this.”

Ohmygod, it's me. That's me. That's why I'm writing. And it set me back on a furious path.

ICYMI, I'm writing a book about navigating relationships as an unknowing asexual. There is no better term for it. I was not closeted, and once I realized my identity, everyone was trying to get IN my closet to disprove it, anyway.

Fern brings humor to her hardships, which I'm trying to do, too. I think that's the only way to make it accessible. But it's also painful and awful and I wish I could unwind some of those relationships into something simple. I love you, don't touch me. You're the best, let's see each other once a month.

It's not that I didn't love them, IN MY WAY. It's just that the whole relationship was powered by me loving that they loved me.

Every logical assembly in my body says: hold out. Give them time to think. Also: spill your guts, let it fertilize the ground.

[breesays]

"Playing" Coachella

Des wanted to spend a weekend with me, and the rain ruined all of my original plans (Underwood Farms and Huntington) so we played Coachella. How does one PLAY Coachella/Couchella? Glad you asked. You fire up the livestream on your TV. You put on your dancing clothes. You build a tent in your living room and put some LED lights in Balloons. You dance around to Sabrina Carpenter and Bleachers. You veto Blur for Jon Bastiste. You get a little bored during a DJ set and just eat popcorn in your tent.

"The Neighbor Tent"

I actually have a reverse parenting hack for you. I told Des we were staying up late to catch No Doubt's set - that's why we set up a bed fort in the living room. But we were already laying down by the time they came on stage. Des made it through like three songs before he passed out. Once he said, "Mama? I thought you were tired?" And I said yes yes, I'm going to sleep soon. Two songs later he grumbled at me, "Mamaaaa, go to sleep." I watched to the end of the set. Oli destroyed our fort in the middle of the night. But a curious thing happened LAST night. His Hatch white noise machine turns on at 8pm, but usually he is still eating SNACKS. Last night he was already bathed and his teeth were brushed. He retrieves his twenty minute timer from his play area and brings it into the bedroom. He puts it between us. "What's that for?" I ask. "It's our wind-down timer," he says. Ah. We read Bluey stories and when the timer goes off, he winds it again. "Now what's that one for," I ask. "It's the LAY DOWN timer."

I stay up late ONE night to watch a band that hasn't played together in NINE years and suddenly we have a role reversal? Anyway, it was kind of adorable.

Another funny gesture happened when we were eating dinner - I made lemon parmesan orzo because we love lemony foods. He took a few bites, chewed thoughtfully, then turned to me and opened his arms. Look, we give good night hugs and hello hugs and goodbye hugs but dinner hugs? So I said, "What?" He said, "I'm giving you a hug." While I was in the throes of said hug he explained: "This is so yummy and I'm so glad it's real."

I bought us tickets for Glass Animals in September

But I might take him to a show on Wednesday, unless someone can watch him for 2 hours!

[breesays]

Des Almost 5

This is kind of like his baby book, right? We're very modern.

He'a almost 5 and the songs he likes the most are:

"Now I'm In It" by HAIM (he calls them "the three sisters")

"Cupid's Chokehold" by Gym Class Heroes ("the picture in my wallet song")

"It's Nice To Have a Friend" by Taylor Swift

These are all songs I have a on a "chill" playlist for him, because most of the time he prefers to listen to OK Go. I bought him a CD player specifically for those OK Go CDs, and that is probably how he will learn swear words.

In this last month or so is the first time he expressed MISSING me, which makes me squishy inside. The first time was just a shift in routine, his Dad had picked him up the night before so I could go to a show. When I picked him up the next morning he shouted "I'm so happy today is the day we're back together!" It'd been less than 12 hours, but you know what? I'll take it.

The second time was this weekend, the beginning of his spring break. He got to spend an extra longer weekend with Dad and had his first snow trip. I'm so happy he got to see it FALL FROM THE SKY. I'm glad Tim took pictures of the unbridled delight on his face.

The ridiculous thing is how much time I still spend on him when he's not here. Maybe not ridiculous. Maybe... unexpected? Yes, I put my running shoes on and dash out the door during a thunderstorm. Yes I eat popcorn with jalapenos for dinner. But I also fix up his art cart and find printable scavenger hunt pages and laminate them. I log into shutterfly and order prints and glue his selfies into his baby book. This space is yours this history is yours.

[breesays]

New Year, new idea, same stuff

My new year's idea - experiment (not resolution, at that sort of adheres to a pass/fail attitude) is to use what I have.

I think the STUFF we collect becomes more obvious, more questionable when we move from place (Los Feliz) to place (North Hollywood) to place (Studio City). I'm not a minimalist by any means - nor a hoarder. But the best way for me to use what I have is to have those things be visible. For some categories, this is easy - my hand weights, my yoga mat, my kettle bell, my foam roller are all in the living room. My planner is open, pen usually uncapped. Books are bookmarked on the dining table, recipes taped to cupboards, all my favorite clothes piled in my yellow butterfly chair.The abundance of counter space where we live now allows me to have the blender, instant pot, air fryer at the ready. I used all of them a ton in 2023. I even became one of those assholes who makes their own refried beans because they taste better. It would be insufferable, if I had told anyone about it.

The use-it challenge comes in food, ingredients. I bought a tub of couscous, so what am I going to DO with it? I can't really keep cans of coconut milk, diced tomatoes visible. Or, I don't want to. All the aspirational dry goods have to be put to use this year.

Pinterest used to have a "tried it" check box. I liked that. Made the pins actionable rather than wishful. No matter, I do it on my own now. I pull up my "work out" board after I finish Jillian Michaels and try a few of the tiktok pins.

Hoping to teach myself how to make planters out of glass jars, candles out of wine bottles. Seeing things not for just what they are, but what they could be. Part of this is inspired by Des, of course, who uses Amazon boxes as boats, sleds, playpens, you name it -- he always finds new ways to play with things. He still has orange paper cups leftover from his 2nd birthday that he plays with regularly.

There's also the library, Buy Nothing, craigslist.

I watched FIVE movies yesterday, while my COVID booster coursed through my body and made me twinge with pain every so often. The Olivia Experiment (an "Ace" movie but didn't love it), Saltburn (traumatized by it, thanks), Elemental (heart-warming), Orphan (delightfully horrific) and I started the Hunger Games prequel but didn't finish.

To close 2023, here were some of my favorites

Book: Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt

Song: Fake Out by Fall Out Boy

Band I hadn't heard of before this year: The Beaches

Show: Yellowcard @ YouTube Theater

Hike: Mount Baden-Powell

Addition to my life: Music League

Food: Lobster Bisque and the Butter Lettuce salad kit from Trader Joes

New icon: Olivia Rodrigo

Game: Just One (aff link) https://amzn.to/3RoKPjC

Tiny delight: Propagating succulents

Milk: Chobani extra creamy oat milk

Instagrammer: Welcome to Heidi

[breesays]

We are what we consume

What an honor it is to parent this little one. An honor? A delight. A task. A challenge. An experience that constantly melts me and reshapes me.

"Mama, I want BROSH."

You want what?

"BROSH"

What is BROSH? BRO-SHURE?

"No, BROSH."

I need a category. I need context. What do you do with BROSH?

"You eat it, mama, it's soft."

BRIOCHE? The bread?

"Yes, I want bree-OSH. And Hawaiian bread."

Only one bread, pick a bread.

"Ok, BROSH."

Like those paw-print sprinkled bumper stickers that say "who rescued who?!" Who is teaching who, here.

My therapist said, in our last meeting, that despite my anxieties, none seem centered around being a good parent. I am not worried about making the wrong choices, of passing down my traumas. "I'm here, aren't I?" I already know I'm imperfect, and I am always doing the work. There's no sense of being worried about it IN GENERAL.

The way I see it, he just needs to hear as many stories as possible. Not all of them, all at once - but a landscape of stories he can stumble through, at his own pace.

Tonight he ate a whole mango, skin and all. "Hey Google," we asked, "are mango skins edible?" Google said yes, it has lots of nutrients. Edible, but unnecessary. I went to the bathroom to floss mango flesh out of my teeth while he yelled, "hey mama, have you tried the skin?" Yes, I said, and I don't like it. "But it has NUTRIENTS" he said, nailing a word he'd learned about 2 minutes earlier.

I don't know if I would have what I finally feel like is a normal relationship with food if it wasn't for Des. I am still peripherally enticed by hacks, intermittent fasting, restriction. But I also have BUTTER in my fridge right now, and full-fat cream cheese. Me, who would for years only buy the lowest lightest skimmest barely there version of itself foods. It isn't dangerous, or taboo. It's for recipes, for baking, for taste and I do sample nearly everything I feed Des at least once. Food is an adventure, an experiment. Energy. Not the enemy.

He's a skinny preschooler, but admirably adventurous when it comes to eating. He pops cherry tomatoes like candy. We had tiny tuna wraps with nori, tuna, rice, avocado and cucumber last night. He will sample Flamin Hot Cheetos with curiosity but not destroy a whole bag. True, he has also dipped seaweed snacks into oatmilk "just to try it" but for the most part he is a paragon of intuitive eating.

Also true that I have to remind him to eat more often than not because he gets distracted, gets an idea or decides to start a project. But that's a lesson in inspiration, too. It is my job to interject before we hit HANGRY, and also my job to occasionally make meals interesting. I let him choose a couple nights a week, he often requests salmon. He's learning to chop, grate, grow, savor.

We do not forbid much, but we pay attention to what certain foods do to our bodies, our minds. Chili mangoes are not a bedtime snack. Actually, we've been tuning into what things -besides food- that we consume do to our bodies, our moods, our disposition. Videos, music, movement, how we talk.

I am learning so much.

[breesays]

Me in a mosh pit

Me, tapping average-sized guy I happen to be next to on the shoulder: Hi

Guy: Hey

Me: Can you put me up? *gestures*

Guy: Looks me up and down

Me: Are you trying to guess my weight? Am I too heavy?

Guy: Oh, no, you're just really hot

Me: Oh, ok, thank you. Can you put me up now?

Guy: Does what I ask

Me: Crowdsurfs

MxPx @ the Palladium - 1/6/24

[breesays]

All of those selves that you tried / Wasn't one of 'em good enough?

I went back into my LiveJournal to verify a few relationship timelines but I got distracted by all my imported tweets where I documented who I watched every day on 2008 Warped Tour (mostly Against Me, All Time Low, Katy Perry, The Academy Is..). And then a bunch of other shows that year - MxPx, Paramore, Panic at the Disco.

One of PJ's hugest slights to me should've been a bigger deal, but I was so happy I got to attend three of the Get Up Kids final* shows that I kind of glossed over it.

Desmond has been into OK Go lately and I'm having the time of my life hearing him learn the words and asking if we can learn the dance to "A Million Ways."

Having something to look forward to is important to my mental health and usually that thing is a show or three.

I'm still working my way through 2009 and beyond but very much letting myself get sidetracked to make sure I account for all the shows I attended. Funny thing is, it also counts as work for a project I hope to spearhead next year.

I only have 5 more years of LJ to sort through, as I migrated to Tumblr in 2015. It's kind of crazy to me that LJ had so many security features, and I had some entries that only three chosen people could read. Then I went to Tumblr and started spilling my guts to the entire world. I don't even know who's reading. Maybe that's for the best.

[breesays]

all your little dooms

I'm OK. I feel like the storm of mourning has passed. I still want to make sense of it, make a lesson of it - I just don't know how. Yet.

Maybe I've already said this, written this but - it's hard for me to accept he doesn't EXIST anywhere now. My Dad lives in his art and his home and my aunt lives on in her traditions and I know PJ was a tangential figure but he was young, still. I am so fortunate to have never lost anyone below the age of 70 before this. Except little Olivia. That was hard, too.

I centered myself by saying: Focus on what you DO have.

My verbose little 4-year-old, telling me who was "struggling" and what things were "spooky" to him.

Fall Out Boy, with the best album of their career, and songs that pierced my very soul.

Friends, and a view, and a 20lb cat who will ground me in a very literal sense. Panic surrenders to purring.

I didn't see the glass as already broken. I checked the cupboard and because I found one sparkling example, I expected more of the same. Or maybe chips, chinks, flaws - but still a whole I could worship momentarily, pay tribute to with a pause. Something I could grasp, refract the light.

There have been so many think pieces, lately, on millennial motherhood-dread. Really, what's not to fear? I waited for a person, a position and I made sacrifices. I'm always happy for the first announcement - it's hard to create a thing, right? For some of us, more than others.

I've even thought, in all honesty - I should have two because what if some tragic fate befalls my only? But that's not, I know now, how grief works. There's no hierarchy, or tiers, or safety net. You feel what you feel regardless of any plans delicately laid in place.

I feel weird about 3s and 4s - you're gambling with fate and stability and well maybe it's just easier for those who are drawn to each other, who don't try to excuse themselves after one project has taken on literal legs of his own.

Focus on what you do have.

You don't get to decide what or who bears more weight. You'll think you can make educated guesses but I don't think this knowledge comes from your brain, your intellect. It's in your body, in your bones. You might be the lift in a butterfly wing that changes history.

I tell friends: Being small doesn't serve you. But really, size is irrelevant to experience. Time is irrelevant. You'll spend half your life trying to make sense of it.

[breesays]

This will be our year --

Moving and transitioning and ending and searching. Spicy popcorn and texts just to check in. K.Flay and drawing with the right pens and making up words. Fizzy water and Lorde and ace community immersion. Thinking of the worst responses possible and keeping them to myself. Anna Banana workouts and binge reading and lemon gum trees. Yellowcard's "end" lasting exactly as long as my marriage. The Crane Wife and roles and relationships. Done lists over to-do lists and taking back nostalgia and seaweed snacks. The trivial and monumental, interwoven. Fall Out Boy's best album and again feeling like I NEED to be at certain shows. Hearing "Space" at WWWY. Watching lives fall apart and be stitched back together again. Realizing I have so many more questions than the ones I am asking - how can I be the next Barbara Walters? Planks and patio projects and tingling in my toes when the gummies hit just right. Facing the Instant Pot and failing a little but also making it work, a few times. Glass Animals and Goldfinger for Des and counterspace after the downstairs neighbors that gave me PTSD. Book club(s) and 6 pack of peaks and having friends to send sad text messages to. My 20-lb cat sleeping on my chest and framing mantras and having a few morning dance parties with Des. From "I made the mistake of reading your blog" to scrivener to hold my hand while we fall asleep. Booking The Warning and listening to Nosebleeds and feeling sleepy at The Hollywood Bowl during DCFC. To groupchats and moms club(s) and buying a dining table. Olivia Rodrigo and Paramore and Kesha and also wasn't 2008 a great year?

When I wrote this: It's my birthday. I'm celebrating but still also kind of mourning and my kid had a winter show today where he performed 3 songs from Grease (which is maybe the most I've ever seen of Grease) and it was the cutest thing I've ever seen and then got my friends into a show I didn't care to see but wanted to be out, doing something. I also knew there were words, sentences bubbling up inside of me. Eat a grilled cheese, talk about life, get home before you spill over. Too bad we couldn't find the warm floor of an abandoned basketball court to watch for shooting stars. In this smog? Well, we're optimists.

I've embarked on a personal project to go through all of my 3200+ LiveJournal entries. It's self-indulgent, I know. It's not without purpose. I'm writing a book about all the relationships I've navigated while not (really) knowing I'm Ace and I wanted to make sure I got the timeline and the sentiments correct. It's easy to be a badass in retrospect - but I don't want to lie to make myself look better. I've loved with my whole heart, with one ankle bearing the pressure of a door plenty of people had try to -end scene- me with.

Two things can be true? Actually, ten things can be true.

Can you believe how many lives we've already lived, inside of this one?

PJ already has 7000 words. He always said he said he felt small compared to me. The reason for his tall tales. I've been courted and carried and loved and weaved into the fabric of other beings and yet this shitbird from Missouri - he opens me up like its arterial. He's dead, and I'm still bleeding. I don't know what the LESSON is here. Worse - maybe there isn't one. Maybe I just feel bad until I feel better.

Overall, though - I guess this is progress. I'm feeling my feelings, even if they seem overdramatic, irrational. Future me is going to be back here, searching - so I give her this: You were sad. Your friend cup was overflowing and everyone wanted to celebrate with you, but you didn't have the energy (or money) to plan anything. You were going to a lot of shows. Reading like a fiend. Getting Desmond into OK Go. Forcing yourself to workout for the endorphins. You love where you live, in Studio City. The giant window, the patio, trees, the hummingbirds - the smallest things make the hugest impact. You have so much to look forward to.

Celebrate your friends birthdays because they are not guaranteed. Reach out, reach back, reach wherever and tell people that they matter. Spread your wings, take up space because this is it. This is it.

[breesays]

Confront all of your pain like a gift under the tree

It takes a lot of energy to keep it together. I had so much fun at Emo Nite on Friday, celebrating my birthday (early) with my best friend, singing to Fall Out Boy, Paramore, MCR, TSL and even Brand New (I've seen more spine in jellyfish / I've seen more guts in 11-year-old kids). It was exactly what I needed.

It was fun, but I felt just on the edge of losing my shit the whole time. I only cried a little, when they played "I Miss You" by blink-182, because that came out in 2004. Peak me and PJ. Oh, and "Memory" by Sugarcult. Just trickles. I am still having so much trouble with how sad I am. The grief feels physical, heavy.  The sobs suck the life out of me. This is stupid. He was just my first boyfriend. I'm just an ex-girlfriend. Worse, probably one whose timeline overlaps with several others. What I'm learning is that doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if the relationship was credible. It's not a court case, it was a formative experience.

I went out instead of staying home alone and grieving, excavating. It felt like progress, but I know I still have complicated feelings to wade through. Lots of water metaphors lately - waves, the sea, swimming.

What does it mean, that I'm having such a hard time with this?

A breakup is immediate pain, surface pain, relatable, identifiable, categorical. A hole. A changing of roles.  This was a TWENTY year old relationship. Is he haunting me? I do feel like the time I didn't know about it (almost 3 years) was kind of a gift. There is no way I could have handled this news at the top of 2021. With a kid under two, quarantine and a bubbling identity crisis?

A weird thing I tried to figure out is - what was I doing when he was dying? What was I tweeting, what was I writing, what was I thinking? We didn't have any kind of cosmic connection, that's not what this is about. (This is what I was writing)

It's hard for me to say we were friends because that feels like an insult to the friends who were good to me. Mostly we flirted, and we fought. But I did care about him, and I wrote about checking up on him a lot. Once he asked me to check his email for him while he was traveling. It was 2003, so that's not a thing we could do on our phones yet. He never changed his password after that, so I sporadically checked his email until like, 2010, when two-factor authentication appeared on the scene. This is how I knew he was a compulsive liar. This is how I knew he did NOT have "abdominal" cancer in 2009, and that it was just a ploy to get me to talk to him again.

Should I have done something? Could I have done anything?

My therapist asked, what did he make you feel? I had trouble putting it into words, called it elemental - I had such strong reactions to him, I said. "Oh," she said, "so he made you feel alive."

And that's where the gut-punch is, right?

I'm glad I wrote down everything. I saved everything. He still lives there. I was already diving into past stuff for the book I'm writing, but now I'm a little more focused on getting the timeline right. And it's all there.

That fraction of my life feels so neon-bright. So sharp. I was so unfiltered.

I can't believe I'm still feeling this. I can't believe I'm still writing about it. It feels like a little like purging, like I'm trying to exorcise it so it exists OUTSIDE of me. Wringing it out of my organs, pushing on the bruise again and again and again until the pain is base level.

"What makes you feel alive now?" she asked.

Music.