The other day, I walked around Sunset Cliffs and people-watched. Here are some of the thoughts I had while I was there.
These people on the rocks were jumping in then somehow getting back up on the rocks. I wouldn’t jump in but I watched in awe from afar at those who felt brave enough to try. Everyone I saw jump in the water successfully made it back up.
Walking down here requires a trust in one’s own balance. I do not have that trust,
The people far out on those rocks looked like they were having a good time. I was worried they would slip. But the path to get down there was really steep so it seemed like they willing to take that risk.
People watching a sail boat in the distance while hanging their feet off the edge.
Talking to chickens like they are people. Asking a neighbor to help deal with a bee. Flinging bees out of a pool, hoping they're dead. Sitting on the deck with a tea and a book. Cloudy days. Weekends Saturday smoothies. Marks on my cheeks from face masks. FaceTiming with friends. FaceTiming with my cat. FaceTiming with my mom and dad. Missing my cat. Reading books. Giving up on books. Realizing rereading some books takes away the magic I felt when I read them for the first time. Falling asleep to the sound of Netflix or Friends. Watching film and tv shows about women writers who could be gay in the 1800s. Buying more crystals. Browsing bookstores, leaving empty-handed. Blocking Instagram. Having an idea. Writing it down. Not writing it down. Watching YouTube instead. Writing poetry. Submitting poetry. Enjoying my own company. Remembering to drink water. Remembering to wear sunscreen. Remembering to reapply sunscreen. Taking a different highway home. Driving down roads with palm tress on both sides never gets old.
- New Yorker – Sally Rooney on Labor and Desire
- This tweet from Sparknotes that transported me back to English class in high school.
- Demi Lovato’s interview with Jojo Siwa
- Kate Beckinsale’s conversation on Armchair Expert
- Good Trade – I Just Need To Stop Saying “Just”…Right?
- This adorable photo of a kitten.
- Ashley C. Ford’s Powerful Memoir, Somebody’s Daughter
- USA Today – How we have failed Millie Bobby Brown
- Ed Vebell, 1950’s.
- In case you need to hear it tonight:
I wear sunglasses at night it's too early to go to sleep my eyes are on fire and there's nothing I can do. I've learned frustration only leads to defeat and I won't feel bad about something I have no control over. I sit on the bed with the lights off waiting for my eyes to stop crying. It takes a few minutes but slowly they begin to calm in the dark. I know eye drops make my eyes freak out more, rubbing them isn't an option, and light makes them itchy. It's an itch I cannot scratch, a fire that only goes out with time. I watch, make do, adjust, stay calm, breathe, and remember this isn't the first or last time this will happen. And this fire won't burn forever. I patiently wait for it to pass.
- The New York Times – For June Jordan and Muriel Rukeyser, the Arc of Moral Verse Bent Toward Justice
- Far Out – The songs Bob Dylan has played live the most
- Twitter – This beautiful summer sunset.
- The New York Times – He Couldn’t Remember That We Broke Up
- Twitter – Reminder
- Podcast – We Can Do Hard Things with Glennon Doyle – QUEER FREEDOM: How can we be both held and free?
- The New York Times – Overlooked No More: Eve Adams, Writer Who Gave Lesbians a Voice
- Twitter – #FRIENDS ONCE SCREAMED
- Book – Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi
- Poem – Born. Living. Will. Die. by Camonghne Felix
The sun has zapped all of my energy. I’m a shell of a human being. Where did I go? To sleep in my thoughts while my body leans against a couch, staring at nothing in particular, wondering what time it is with no way to check. Only the simple questions remain, emotions have been drained from the my body, leaving every interaction feeling less than fantastic, it’s something I will regret after I say leave for the night, unsure if the impression I left was the one I wanted..
For so many years, I lived in fear of what other people have to say. I was always afraid of what could happen if I spoke my truth. If I shared something, what would people think? What would they say? What would the inevitable response be? Recently, I realized it doesn't matter what other people think. If they support me, they support me and I appreciate the love. If they don't, it says more about them than it does it about me. Letting go of the boundary I had created out of fear gave me more love and support than I ever thought was possible. I learned that telling my truth isn't as scary as my anxiety tells me it is. I can put myself out there, still have anxiety, and feel extraordinarily grateful all that the same time. I can take down the boundary, do the thing I'm scared to do while feeling the fear, and appreciate the beautiful view. Both things can be true.