Resenting Rachel Greene

Yes, we’re talking about ER again. No, I have no regrets. 

Rachel Greene, daughter of Mark Greene and his first wife, Jen, is a brat. That’s all I have to say. I know she’s a fictional character but she’s a brat. But watching Rachel grow up, at times, with me during my own childhood and seeing how she reacted to stressful situations as both a child and an adult with my own heavy emotional burden and doing my best to work through my trauma: mostly thanks to the assistance of medication and therapy. But looking at Rachel’s character made me feel something I haven’t felt for a fictional character in a while: resentment. 

Rachel Greene is first seen in ER as a child in the middle of a less than kind divorce between her parents. Jen is tired of Mark working too hard being a literal damn doctor and Jen wants to be a lawyer for some reason. Of course their daughter is caught in the middle of the messy divorce as Jen moves to Milwaukee and uproots her daughter’s whole life so she can go be independent, I guess.  Rachel doesn’t take the divorce well, no kid can, really. She misses her dad, her school and her life in Chicago. 


Mark isn’t guiltless; he’s forgetful, scattered and constantly overworked being a literal damn doctor. He forgets her engagements, doesn’t know her new friends and is fairly out of touch in her life due to the divorce and trying to move on with his life. Rachel feigns illness once saying that her dad’s patients were the only ones that got his full attention. It’s a biting line but also, very true: Mark’s attention never fully belongs to anyone but his patients; it makes him a fantastic doctor but a less than great lover and parent. 

By the time we see Rachel again, she’s a teenager and she is horrible. I guess because my teen years were relatively quiet and I never went through a seriously outward rebellious stage thanks to being clever enough to hide my indiscretions on internet forums and LiveJournal posts. She was hanging out with the wrong kind of boys, doing drugs, listening to obnoxious music (okay, same but not the point) and was back in Chicago with her dad, his new wife: Elizabeth (played by the badass Alex Kingston) and their new daughter, Ella. Mark finally found love and is dealing with the last parts of having brain cancer and has most of his family together. Nope, Rachel ruins a lot of that by just being an impudent teen. Her rebellion ends up with her baby half-sister nearly dying when the toddler finds Rachel’s drugs and is poisoned. 

She gets what is effectively a slap on the wrist for nearly killing a baby and almost ruining her father’s second marriage because…you know…baby almost died. She continues to be a brat and gets her normal life as much as possible while everyone else has to deal with the fallout of her actions. 

Fast forward and Mark’s cancer is back and he has precious little time. Rachel deals with it the way I’m assuming most normal teenagers would and she continues to be selfish until she is spirited away to Hawaii, where her father is from, to spend his final days together learning about their family history and legacy. And how does Rachel respond to this? By ignoring her father, stealing his medication that may I remind you he needs for his brain cancer, drinking, listening to more obnoxious emo music and sulking. The episode is called On the Beach and it’s a masterclass in making you hate a character. Towards the end, Elizabeth, who by this point in the series has no reason to even acknowledge that Rachel exists after almost killing her child, finally sits down with her and says she has to grow up and that it’s unfair her father is dying but to take the time she has. 

That’s where the resentment came into play. You see, I didn’t get the chance to watch my father go quietly into that good sweet night. My father died alone, unceremoniously in the middle of the night patiently waiting for an ambulance outside of our apartment door as to not wake his family when he started feeling funny. I was woken up by my aunts who already knew the news but didn’t want to shatter my 12 year old world just yet. I was allowed to do something fun, to play the game like this was just a slightly less than normal day and then later I would be filled in properly on the events. I was told by my grieving mother that my father died and that my life was never going to be the same. I didn’t get the luxury of watching my father fade away on his own terms with dignity like Rachel did. And if I had the chance, I’d do anything to get the time she did with her father, knowing that he was dying, to tell stories, make memories and spend more time together than they ever would be able to if both were to go about their normal lives. 

Watching that episode, watching Rachel waste time left me seething with hatred: if only I had that chance, if only I could, what I’d give and before I knew it I was angry at a fictional character. When at the end of the day, there’s no promise of what I’d do if I did have that time with my father. I can’t promise that at 12 I’d have the maturity to spend the time I so wish I had now at 30. I don’t know if I’d be better than Rachel; my resentment comes with the luxury of  having decades of hindsight. 

We see Rachel again a few times in the series before the end, she’s older and heading towards college. She’s still alternative in some ways, making all the choices a young adult with a less than stellar childhood does but she’s mellowed out and matured. 

I’ve made my mistakes during my teen years, my young adults years and even now; I’m still learning and growing. My resentment and anger at Rachel is really resentment at myself and others. There’s a joke in my friend group that if trauma and having a less than great childhood is an excuse for bad behavior that we all deserve a Purge-style hunt once a year. I’ve been very strict in my approach to separate my bad behavior from my trauma. If I am excessively flirtatious or bad with men, I don’t blame my father’s death: that’s on me. If I am sullen and weepy: I don’t blame that on the insecure attachment of a child that had to parent their parents; I blame the current flavor of depression that day. And the way Rachel Greene is written, constantly using her less than great circumstances as an excuse for poor behavior; I just can’t stand it. Maybe it’s the white privilege that allows her to openly rebel and feel so outwardly when I was never given that chance; maybe it’s just jealousy, maybe it’s just grief but I learned so much about myself and how much I still have grow when I began to examine my feelings about the very fictional Rachel Greene.

I’ll end this post with Dr. Greene’s final coherent words to his daughter, words I hold in my heart since I couldn’t get meaningful last words from my father: be generous; be generous with your time and your love and your life. Just be generous. 

Unfortunately, Required Reading: Episode 43- The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Welcome to Spooky Season with our first Spooky Story of the year. Let’s talk Robert Louis Stevenson’s famous novella The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Lost Potential

I’ve had a lot of time to sit down and listen to music recently. Music keeps my work days flowing and with a pace that makes it easy to write to. My taste in music hasn’t changed much over the years, I still listen to a lot of EDM and techno. But with my recent transition away from Google Play Music to Youtube Music, a botched transition to say the least, has given me access to a pretty intuitive endless radio stream based on my tastes and artists I already like and have listened to. 

And while that means exposing me to plenty of new music like that of Porter Robinson and more Zedd than I like admitting it’s also given me access to a discography of an artist that I thought I knew but apparently I had much more to learn. 

I still remember the day I found out Avicii died. I was driving with some coworkers to a work function in another city none of us wanted to go to. We blasted Wake Me Up while driving too fast down the highway and lamented the loss of a human being while badly dancing in a car too small for all of us to fit in on a journey none of us asked to be part of. It didn’t matter to us why Avicii died; just that he was gone. And while many spent a lot of time discussing his mental health and the factors that led up to such a bright and young shining star dying; I mostly just processed the loss as I would have the death of any celebrity: sad for the loss of human life but that this was clearly more complicated beyond my comprehension with factors that would perpetually remain to be seen and with demons that were not privy to anyone; yet alone a nameless mass of fans. That’s the nature of DJs, really. Many obscure their faces, few use their real names. There is the DJ and the man. Madeon may be Hugo but they are not the same person. There’s a perpetual wall built between DJs and their fans built physically by their equipment and metaphorically by their oftentimes larger than life personas that make them almost more like characters in a pantheon rather than men and women like the rest of us. 

His death wasn’t as personal to me as Anthony Bourdain, who I looked up to and admired in a way that felt so intimate so his death resulted in friends checking in on me in the same they had after my mother died. I felt like I knew Tony, I felt like I lost a friend with Tony. That’s just who Anthony Bourdain was. He wasn’t an edifice or a persona, he was authentic; painfully so. He was always him and we were able to, as fans, believe that he was right there with us; sharing a meal, telling an off-color joke, being vulnerable to discuss his mental health or addictions and of course, making us smile and more importantly, think. 

Avicii wasn’t a close friend or mentor; he was a DJ. A DJ I liked, sure. A DJ I wouldn’t pass over if I got one of his songs on an endless shuffle mix. Hell, I may even pay to see him in concert if given the opportunity.  And one I didn’t think I’d miss so much. 

The endless mix of songs that’s given rhythm and life to my blended together days has given me a lot of Avicii; a DJ I mentioned to Youtube’s algorithm that I liked because of a few songs I had saved on my old Google Play Music Player and in a stroke of genius and the algorithm for once getting something right, almost every song I’ve gotten from the DJ has been a new and unexpected hit that I had never heard before. I thought that I was a fan by knowing literally 3 or 4 songs but there are so many tracks I just hadn’t heard before and each one just showed more and more skill and diversity that I just didn’t expect from the young DJ. I didn’t think Trouble would hit so hard or that Dear Boy would nearly bring me to tears. I didn’t think that Broken Arrows or Heaven would be so easy to dance to. I thought I knew Avicii but I was so so wrong. I’m glad now, for once, to have been corrected. 

But a theme emerged as I continued to listen deeper into his discography, a feeling of emptiness and loss. I suddenly found myself mourning all over again: not just for the young life snuffed out too soon but also for the loss of talent that he took with him to his eternal rest. 

It’s a complicated relationship that fans have with creators that have passed on. Many of us lament the time taken from us as fans as if we are owed creation. Many of us wish for just one more book, just one more song, just one more when really; that’s usually far from what we want. We selfishly wish for more time that death has so cruelly taken from us as avid fans and dedicated listeners while willfully shunning the fact that more time does not always lead to genius. We had many years with Harper Lee, only to be bitterly disappointed by the treasure that time can bring. But with Avicii as I continue to listen to each song he crafted, I can’t help but feel that familiar pang in my chest of “what if”.

What if he was given more time? What if he had one more set? One more studio album. One more single. What would he be making now? What would his style be? Would he dabble in tropical house again? Would he partner with DJs that I also admire? Whose vocals would he use next? What would his sound be like as he gained skill and matured? What songs that are out now or ones out before would he sample or experiment with? 

What would Avicii be doing now?

 I lament the loss of potential now, with Avicii’s death. And while of course, I mourn Tim as a person, I just wonder what we could have now if he was still with us. 

What I’ve Purchased During the Pandemic- Part 2: The Frivolous Purchases

It was actually a comment on the previous post that got me to consider. Most of my purchases were pretty utilitarian and in fact, it was a comment on my restraint that got me thinking: I have bought silly things during this pandemic. It’s always weird talking about the things you buy because it either feels like an aggressive flex or just wrong in a world where so much economic inequality exists. Well, I’m willing to put away some of my angst for the sake of not looking so damn beatific. I am human. I make mistakes. I make silly purchases. 

A Plague Doctor Plushie

I saw this little darling floating around the social internet early into the pandemic. It had become quite the meme that the pandemic meant the return of plague doctors with all the people wearing masks around both at home and in public spaces. The plague doctor is one that has had a curious history in the Western world. The visage of the plague doctor has been with us since the Black Death when masked doctors would visit patients and hoped that simply covering their faces would protect them and their patients from the illness but since they have no comprehension of germ theory; they were only half right. They did protect themselves but not their patients. Needless to say, when Squishable opened up pre-orders for what I can only say is the cutest little plague doctor plushie: I immediately hit the pre-order button. I can’t wait for the little guy to arrive. 

A Limited Edition Blu-Ray

I have always been very careful with my purchases when it comes to anime and manga. I try to limit what I get and when I get it. I tend to keep most of my splurges for convention weekends. I also, due to a fluke of just how I collect anime and manga, am incredibly selective due to the limited nature of finite space that comes with shelving units. I don’t just buy often: I tend to only pick up volumes of manga that are missing or volumes or series DVDs that are particularly of note. I have a real soft spot for physical media because I am old and I like owning my media. Internet connections can be fickle: my DVD copy of Fullmetal Alchemist has never failed me. Twittering Birds Never Fly is a series I have been following for years. It’s near and dear to my heart. I immediately fell in love with the characters, storytelling and the drama that inherently comes with a bodyguard falling in love with a yakuza boss. When I earlier mentioned an anime adaptation on this blog I was nearly euphoric. Well, the movie was a hit in Japan and has earned more DVD releases of the popular yaoi series but there wasn’t at the time a huge likelihood of an American license. In Japan, to commemorate the release of the film: a limited edition blu-ray and DVD was released with keychains and prints. And dear reader, after literally months of agonizing, waiting, deciding and undeciding: I did it. I ordered it. I ordered the limited edition blu-ray on the last possible day for pre-order.  It took awhile for the disc itself to arrive but once it did, the regret I had over the cost, the shipping, the implications of spending so much on plastic vanished. I was happy. I was thrilled to have the keychain set, the print, the thing in my hands. 

A Plague Nurse Plushie 

You didn’t think I wasn’t going to get her, did you? You didn’t think I’d leave my darling little plague doctor alone and without a partner. She’s darling, isn’t it? Even though plague nurses never existed in this form and most of the early models of fanart and costumes were based off of a St. Lucia outfit, more traditionally Scandivian in design, the Squishables design is exactly what a plague nurse would look like. She’s delightful and her lantern glows and I can’t wait for her to arrive and be the perfect partner for my little doctor. 

 A Fanzine 

Okay, I admit it. I am a tsundere. So, I have been indulging in some content based around and relating to My Hero Academy despite how much I rail against it in my panels. It’s…serviceable. I just happened to find a few characters I don’t hate. Listen, the storytelling is still mostly boring and if I have to focus on Deku as the main character, I’ll throw up. Give me Cheers but with the LOV and I’m set. Needless to say, when a fanzine was announced with a pairing that I quite like; I preordered and jumped at the chance to firstly, support some artists that I really like and secondly, indulge in a pairing I think is just the best and quickly entered my OTP list. Redacted Wings is a DabiHawks (don’t you dare judge me, this should be very much expected) fanzine with some fantastic talent behind it and two characters I shouldn’t love as much as I do but do so much. And it may be this…ingestion of materials that is leading me to look at red wings on Amazon…but that’s for another blog post. 

Those are the things I’ve purchased that are a little less utilitarian than a ring light and a new microphone. I’m shockingly miserly when it comes to spending because I come from a long line of women with bad spending habits. Because of this, I put almost all of my purchases under nearly impossible to stand up to scrutiny. Many things just don’t make the cut but the pandemic’s stress has forced me to loosen up a little and try and find simple pleasure in little things, like a fanzine where two disaster characters you like a lot do some smooching. It’s been a struggle to “let loose” and spend on frivolous things but it’s also been rewarding to see things that aren’t bills arrive in the mail. 

Stay well and stay safe, dear reader. 

Thanks for reading. 

What I’ve Been Wearing During the Pandemic

Wow, we sure are still doing this, aren’t we? It’s been about 6 months now since we were ordered to work from home and avoid unnecessary travel and have our lives uprooted by the pandemic. Working from home has presented a number of challenges for many people and one of those challenges has been what exactly should one wear? I admit it feels weird wearing a dress to make the long walk from my sofa to my dining area (where I have set up shop to work in a sad and sisyphean attempt to separate work from home when I work at home) but it also feels equally wrong to lounge around in my pajamas all day. Working from home often means video calls; that means looking at least somewhat presentable to human society. I’ve been more rigid with my style choices while working from home than some of my friends (no shade, they have said so.) and because of that, I’ve been thinking: maybe I should let you all know what I’ve been wearing during the pandemic. 

Velvet Leggings

You know good and damn well I am absolutely the kind of person to own a pair of velvet leggings. Well, I own more than just one pair. I own 7 at last count. I have them in two colors: green and black and they are effortlessly stylish. It takes a certain kind of boujee to wear velvet pants and despite the obvious luxury of having velvet cover your butt; they’re shockingly comfortable. Wearing something on my lower half does have its advantages: I can run out and pick up lunch without any guilt or worry about having to put on pants. Maximum luxury for minimum effort. 

Joggers

I never thought I’d see the day I’d own more than one pair of joggers but dammit they are comfortable. I got a pair for Christmas from my aunts during a very fun Costco run and they have very deep pockets, make my butt look phenomenal and mean that if I have to rush to the door; I am still technically wearing pants.  

Solid Color and Patterned T-Shirts

Listen, just because I’m working doesn’t mean that I have to dress up all the time. Sometimes a v-neck t-shirt in a tasteful pattern or color is all it takes to get the job done. If I have a client meeting or a big boss call, time to throw on a cardigan. Otherwise, just looking put together enough from the waist up is a solid start. Luckily, since my preppy youth, I’ve kept a small army of v-neck, crew cut, solid, striped, spotted and fruity t-shirts that can help me look just the legal definition of put together. 

Velvet leggings aside and t-shirts aside, this is an absolute departure from the dresses and tights and flats I’m used to wearing for work. If I had a client meeting or not, I took a ton of pride in how I dressed for work. Sure, I rarely wore makeup but I would never wear graphic t-shirts or sweatpants to work. What’s telling in how I’ve been dressing during the pandemic I think is what has been absent still: I’m still not wearing a ton of makeup and I’ve traded athletic socks for stockings. I’ve abandoned jeans, but they do still fit. I try to do my hair every morning I work even if I don’t put heat to my hair to keep it curled under or perfectly just; just to make it go in a direction that makes sense usually via lazy swipes of a paddle brush. I don’t wear earrings unless I have a client meeting now. Overall, I just dress like a more casual version of myself; albeit a version of myself that doesn’t have to wear shoes while working. 

It’s been very important to me not to slip into wearing pajamas or leaving my bonnet on because of how much routine matters to me. I still have to do all the pageantry of work to feel like I’m going to work even if my commute now is just from the sofa to the dining area. If I don’t go through all the steps of getting ready: showering, having breakfast, getting dressed, doing my hair, taking my medicine in the morning I don’t know if I’d have the mental fortitude to get on with the work day. I need structure and routine and I just don’t think I could be one of those people that rolls out of bed 30 minutes before my shift begins and drag my laptop into my lap and still have anything that resembles a productive day. 

I have recently missed having a reason to wear casual clothes. Typically my jeans, joggers, sweats and more were a reprieve from tights, dresses and nicer blouses but when every day is basically a day at home: casual versus dressy just doesn’t seem to matter. I did treat myself to a few new v-neck shirts to spice up my wardrobe and add to the rotation but as I add more t-shirts to my closet, I can’t help but look at all the dresses that have been neglected since there’s nowhere to go. But the new wardrobe additions have helped me feel a little less sad when it comes to getting dressed even if there isn’t always someone to compliment me on my outfit. 

The pandemic has changed every facet of my day to day life and by making sure that I keep the delineation between work time and not work time has been just one of the ways I’ve been able to try and stay sane. Making sure that each morning I work that I get dressed and look even a fraction of what is considered presentable has been a vital part of keeping up the routine that helps me focus on all that needs to be done during my work day. 

I hope you all are staying safe out there. I know this is a trying time; it has been for all of us. 

Fingers crossed, things will improve soon. 

Unfortuntaely, Required Reading: Episode 42- Flowers for Algernon

Join hosts Amanda and Tori on a journey through junior trauma and cover Flowers for Algernon: a book that Amanda does not understand why is given to children.

Tune here in or wherever you listen to podcasts.

How I Got Back to Writing Fanfic

It’s a love affair that started when I was at the tender age of 12. I started writing fanfiction of the series that meant a lot to me as a way to escape my tenuous reality and to further interact with the shows I had nearly encyclopedic knowledge of even at a young age. For the uninitiated, fanfic or fanfiction are works of fiction written by fans based on a popular series like a manga/anime, TV show or book series. You can write fanfic to anything and trust me, there is fanfic of it even if you think whatever show or series you’re into isn’t popular. For many, fanfic is a way to either self-insert into a narrative or right the wrongs established by canon. For many writers, writing fanfic can become a way to explore kink, sexuality and even gender; I know it did for me. I was able to self-insert and live out fantasies beyond my wildest dreams even if it was something outlandish as dating the main fictional character or having my own power fantasy. It was a love affair I kept up through high school even doing commissions for friends and patrons to make their favorite ships and scenarios happen. If you wanted a lemon slash fic with your OC and an MC: I was your smut peddler. I loved sharing with the audience I had, the friends I had and I loved reading other fanfic of pairings I liked. I cannot impress upon you enough how social early fanfic was back in the day. It was all about sharing, commenting and more.

Fanfic was and still is an important part of building your fanon and defending your ship in the fan world and being able to bolster your fic with canon and headcanons became a currency to fans. While many were worried about building shipping manifestos, others were more focused on just indulging in a world entirely built on making their dreams come true through fiction. I don’t really remember what it was that got me to stop publishing fanfic. Maybe it was the sites I used to love going down or just gaining a different friend group but steadily one day I just stopped sharing the fic I worked on. But the funny thing was that college and sites going down didn’t stop me from writing fanfic. I continued on, just not really sharing my work with anyone. Even after graduation and moving into my own place I kept on writing fanfic; sharing with at the time a very eager audience of one: my then girlfriend. She was a huge source of inspiration to keep writing, to keep going, to keep creating and even though I was sure that the works I was making would never see other eyes: each chapter I finished was another little love token I could give her and I was content to continue to share. When she broke up with me, for a while, I lost my reason to write. It took a year or two after the breakup to keep going but I did and I went back to writing in solitude, mostly out of spite. I finished a work I started in high school only to continue on writing in the same universe and I was able to indulge every desire I ever had for that work and in my life.

I kept my ability to create OCs and write both the vanilla and smutty arts: it truly is a skill that needs to be honed. All the while I roleplayed and edited and continued to work in fiction and toting my ability to write fiction but still was afraid to show all the years of work that I had hoarded away like a dragon protecting its gold. 

As sensibility changed I got scared of publishing because indeed the times are no longer what they were. In the early days of fanfic the word “problematic” didn’t exist and we reveled in just how much we could push the envelope or shock a reader with smut, filth, or just obscenity. It was rarely ever gratuitous: it always did serve the narrative but we cared very little for trigger or content warnings or for protecting readers from things that may be shocking or unsettling. The newer crowd is sensitive to those things and while I can empathize with wanting to be warned for things that could offend certain sensibilities I was worried that maybe, just maybe I should just go off into that good night; keep my work to myself and age out of fandom like all the new kids on the block assume I should. 

To be honest, I wasn’t sure what possessed me to publish again. Maybe it was the influx of fanfic I’ve been reading as a means to pass the time during the pandemic. Maybe it was just the desire to share this part of myself again. Maybe, just maybe it was a desire for feedback and praise. I don’t know what it was that got me to do it: but I did it. And so far, I have no regrets. It’s wonderful getting comments on my work again, being seen again, and being out there again. Each new moment of praise spurs me on to keep going and while it is a little daunting to potentially have a fanfic schedule again as I did in my youth I am also excited to have a burgeoning little audience that seems to like my work. It’s like exercising a muscle that I had let atrophy and writing fiction once more has become social rather than selfish. I haven’t had to sacrifice anything that I want, I get to be myself and share what I’m passionate about with other people that are passionate about the same thing. 

That inherent social nature of fanfic is what drew me into this world decades ago and I didn’t realize how much I missed it when I took my years away to find myself. But the fanfic community has once more welcomed me back like an old friend and damn, it feels good to be home. 

Unfortunately, Required Reading: Episode 41- The Giver

We’re back and Welcome to Our Junior High Trauma Month! Let’s talk about a book that neither of us wanted to read during a pandemic and time of intense social unrest and racial inequality.

What I’ve Purchased During the Pandemic

To say that the pandemic has put a near end to my impulse shopping is an understatement but that doesn’t mean that my bad habit has been entirely snuffed out. I have purchased new things during the pandemic but I think that there’s something curious about this recent slate of purchases more so than the usual impulse buys I pick up in hopes of temporarily satiating my anxiety. 

Let’s go over some of the things I’ve bought during the pandemic. 


A Yeti Nano Microphone

I run two podcasts with two friends and oh boy has audio quality always been a struggle. On top of that, I have had virtual conventions to muddle through and my videos have never been the best quality. I started some freelance work early into the pandemic and that left me with a little extra cash and after agonizing for days over what kind of mic I should get and what mic would best suit my needs I settled on the Yeti Nano. It’s good sound quality, not super expensive and it’s petite: like me. My audio quality has improved, I feel more professional and it was absolutely worthwhile to save up for the new tech.


An Anthony Bourdain Novena Candle 

Longtime readers of the blog and those close to me will know just how much Anthony Bourdain means to me. I still remember the day I found out that he died. A friend reached out to me asking if I was okay as if I had lost someone very close to me. The loss felt close; it still feels close. That’s why when my friend reached out to me showing me a novena candle with Anthony Bourdain on it depicted as a Saint: well, I had to buy it

It now sits on my bookshelf in my bedroom next to my incense, a few family photos and my degree: a contact reminder to keep living as I would and to do so decadently. 


 A Ring Light 

Remember how I mentioned that I got a new mic? Well, since I was focusing on being the best I could be when it comes to my video production and presentation? Well, I bought the secret trick used by models, “models” e-girls, cosplayers and “cosplayers” all around the world: a ring light. A friend of mine who cosplays mentioned that the ring light she used was on sale and I happened to have some Amazon gift card money to spend and thus arrived a few days later a ring light that has really done wonders of making me look alive and vibrant while being on livestreams and while recording videos. 


A Pageant Gown

Shocking development: I entered a beauty pageant earlier in the year. It was mostly at the behest of a friend. Earlier in the year, I didn’t think there’d be a pandemic so I had to continue on as if the event was happening this year. I have started and stopped with this pageant for weeks and waited until what would have been the last minute to order a gown before the coordinators finally gave up the ghost and moved the event to next year. Well, I still have the dress and now I’m not sure if I’m going to be in the pageant. I suppose now I’ll have to find an event worthy of what may be the nicest gown I own currently. 


You may have noticed a theme here. I have been fortunate enough to be able to take my time and money and be able to reinvest in my hobbies this pandemic. I’m very aware that not everyone is this fortunate. I’ve spent this pandemic either saving money or trying desperately to find coping skills that don’t involve going to the mall to avoid my racing thoughts. I’ve filled the void with many things over the years: books, clothes, fabric, costume supplies to costumes I’ll never use but having to sit and be alone with my thoughts has been trying. I didn’t realize how destructive my shopping had become until the option to do so just didn’t exist as it normally did. I was never a huge on online shopping. Probably the part of me that subconsciously knows that I would develop a habit if I fully realized that with a few button clicks that things could arrive at my apartment like magic. By removing the ability to stop at “just one more store” or pick up “well I may need it” kind of purchases, I’ve had no choice but to really take a good hard look at my spending and my desire to acquire. 

The pandemic made my shopping more intentional and for better or worse made me realize that I need other coping skills. And to be honest, I’m glad it did. It’s never fun having to take a look at a bad habit by organizing books, trading cards and clothes. It’s been trying, hell. It’s also been shocking to realize the pure amount of privilege I have to even shop during this pandemic. That guilt may also have been what’s driving my desire to consume less. Being at home means now I’m even more aware of all that it takes to get me what I want. It isn’t just walking into a store and grabbing a pair of velvet leggings. It’s having to price shop and look and find shipping prices that make sense and knowing that someone is packing that order and making sure it gets to me. It wasn’t that such awareness didn’t exist before but I am more cognizant of it now. 

I feel almost guilty for consuming. I know that I shouldn’t, that’s the comfortable lie that capitalism tells me. But when the world is on fire, there are just plenty of times where I don’t feel like adding to the system of consumerism. It’s been remarkably difficult to look up from where I am sometimes to buy frivolous things. Realistically, the things I purchased either were to reinvest in things I’ve been doing for years or ended up being a need. 

That is, if sparkly ball gowns count as a need.