I recently found myself reflecting on the sweet things I’ve accomplished in life, all thanks to my Archrival (aka opponent by definition, hopefully turned future teammate, if you catch my drift). So, I kicked off my morning today by infusing my coffee with Califia Farms’ Pumpkin Spice creamer and by pushing my writer’s block aside to manifest Major Sweet Energy (MSE).

First thing’s first: I think “sweet” can take on multiple meanings. (1) sweet as in cool, like witnessing an alley-oop buzzer beater and saying, “that was sweet, bro,” or as the kids would say, “sick, bro.” (2) Sweet as in kind, like remembering your friend’s half birthday and hearing them go, “aww, that was so sweet of you.” And of course, (3) sweet in the literal sense, like that pumpkin spice goodness that graced my coffee this morning.

With these definitions in mind, it’s safe to say I’ve pulled off some seriously sweet moves in life. From penning heartfelt love letters to my pals on Thanksgiving, to breaking the ice by bringing Sudoku on a (nerve-wracking!) first date with Katie since she was catching a flight the next day (and feelings, am I right?!). From virtually hanging out with Obama and nearly making it to the Olympics, to witnessing the Chicago Sky become WNBA champions. From guzzling countless Starbucks’ Iced Caramel Macchiatos in college to enduring those dreaded 7:30am dentist appointments, all while blaming my insatiable daily “sweet tooth.”

As we step into my favorite season of the year, I think we could all use a little more sweetness in our lives. Here are some thoughts to consider:

1. Relish in the opportunity of Reconnection. Reach out to that high school bestie you still low-key stalk on the ‘gram. Revisit an old hobby that’s been gathering dust. Reconnecting is the epitome of cool, in my opinion. Channel your MSE by nurturing those reconnections.

2. Strive for more Spontaneity. Buy those concert tickets or book those plane tickets without overthinking it – even if that means going on your own. Solo adventures are bomb, y’all. Channel your MSE by splurging on some well-deserved spontaneity every now and then.

3. Become a champion for Change. I recently had someone confess to me that they’ve been stuck in the same job for over seven years out of fear of change. Yes, change can be intimidating, but guess what? Change can also be sweet. Take risks and channel your MSE by wholeheartedly embracing change.

While I’ve had my fair share of let downs lately, I genuinely believe that positivity is on its way. Will that mean relocating to a place like Portland or adding an extra dollop of pumpkin spice to my fall bevs? Who knows. While I can’t predict the future, I can confidently declare this: We’ve got one life. One incredibly sweet, sweet life. So, “Just make it f’n awesome,” my friends.

I’m 30 years old.

Parker is my chosen middle name.

I’m 5’5”. On a really good day.

I was the tallest kid in my class in middle school and I’m shorter than I wish I was.

I have exactly one, soon-to-be two tattoos.

This year, I had a birthday party where there was a mountain built of crab rangoons.

The two things I can actually cook are vegan chili and Kraft Mac & Cheese.

I am not vegan. I am queer.

I hate that we gender clothing, but I prefer to wear men’s.

I don’t understand why we as women still feel the need to hide tampons up our sleeves when we walk to the bathroom.

I believe that there are two types of people in this world: ones who pee in the shower and liars.

My high school basketball coach was also the disciplinary dude and thankfully, I never found myself in detention.

I went to an “elite institution.” My college Dean approved all of my finals extension requests when I entered my sad girl era junior year.

I’m the daughter of a woman who cleans houses for a living. She cooks every meal at home and the one time we took her out for sushi, she mistook wasabi for avocado. If I had a penny for every time she said “I love you,” I could pay down all our family loans. I can’t say “I love you” back.

I’m the daughter of a man who is a creature of habit. He eats oatmeal for breakfast every single morning. If I had a penny for every pill he’s had to swallow in his life, I could make retirement feel within arm’s reach.

I reach for God’s hand. He does not help me. I’m am not religious anymore but recently my chosen family has led me to believe that maybe we don’t have to die to experience heaven. Hell, I’d die for all of them in a heartbeat. Maybe I don’t need a God. Maybe I just need my gay friends and a good therapist.

I believe that every scar comes with a short story that’s meant to be heard.

I believe that strong listening skills should be listed on my life’s resume.

I believe that my work resume is a work in progress. Either that or I already peaked professionally years ago.

I want to start something and I don’t know where to start. I want to finish writing this piece and I don’t know where to end it.

if grief is the cousin of love,

maybe the world becomes a whole lot grayer after we lose someone we love. washed; completely devoid of color.

if grief is the cousin of love,

maybe the air in the spaces spent together becomes a whole lot heavier; as if the molecules in the atmosphere are now weighed down by the memories we can no longer make together.

if grief is the cousin of love,

maybe the hurt in a friend’s eyes is a pain we must feel too. if only our pain can somehow turn a switch to alleviate theirs.

how do we go on? how do we get used to the permanent fixture of this new world? we adjust. we somehow adjust to the new normal. we add back the color.

if grief is the cousin of love,

maybe our lives have been forever colored by the memories they left behind and the memories we will continue to make as we move forward.

if grief is the cousin of love,

maybe amongst the condolences in this now lesser, a little more lonelier world, is a cause for celebration.

if grief is the cousin of love,

maybe we experience each head on, together. grief is the cousin of love – they are family in the end.

I know nothing about Aries season other than we’re in it, and everything seems to be shaking: romantic relationships, friendships, work statuses, moods, my ass at Flannel Fridays…

Spring is here, y’all, and in the wise words of cleaning-connoisseur Marie Kondo, we must throw away anything that doesn’t spark joy. It’s not meant to be easy. After all, I can barely detach myself from the sentimental value of even the most miniscule things that should be thrown away: like, how do I part with even one of my way too many hawaiian shirts when (1) they are a part of my Hawaiian Princess identity and (2) they come with distinct memories from that one time I wore each one? Throwing things out signifies the end of an era and suggests an end to the sweet, sweet indulgence of memories that come with them. Thankfully, it also signifies the beginning of a new era, whatever that is for you. Whatever era you’re in, embrace it. Recently at a bonfire with friends, I came to the conclusion that I’m at the beginning of my “make plans every second of every day era.” To my GCal: glow up bby. 

Spring is the season of reevaluation. It provides us time to reflect on why we bought or brought certain items or people into our lives, detach ourselves from those that don’t bring us joy or provide any value, and decide how to move forward. Spring cleaning erases the clutter, the drama, the unnecessary stressors and it reinforces what’s actually important and meaningful in life. 

Believe it or not, spring cleaning the people in your life is probably the most pivotal cleanse you should do. Perhaps a good way to make it fun is to turn it into a classic game of fuck, marry, and kill. But to keep it more socially acceptable, let’s rephrase that into: keep, change, and ditch. 

The sorting of relationships can go something like this: 

1. The keep pile: this is reserved for the best of the best, the people that check all the boxes. Are they empathetic? Are they genuine? Generous and kind? Do they reciprocate the energy you pour into planning dates and hangs together? Name three specific reasons you’re grateful to have them in your life. Can’t name three reasons? Maybe there’s no reason to keep them in your keep pile. 
2. The change pile: this is reserved for the people you find yourself defending to your friends; the ones where you find yourself saying: “I promise they can change!” Let’s be real, if you find yourself saying this time and time again, the change is unlikely. Maybe they take four days to respond to your text but you’re convinced it’s because they’re super busy. Maybe the person is extra vanilla but you’re willing to do the whole therapizing thing to help them “grow.” Maybe, just maybe it’s time for a reality check, but in the meantime, you’re willing to give them another chance. You’re willing to keep them in this happy medium – between the keep and the ditch piles – at least until the next reevaluation season. 
3. The discard pile: this pile is reserved for the walking red flags. The people that you know you’d be better without. The ones that selfishly don’t think about anyone but themselves. The ones that you find yourself bitching about nine times out of ten. As hard as it may seem, it’s important to take inventory of what you need out of your relationships, to redefine your expectations, and ultimately, to inch towards a less stressful future by ditching the people that actually leave more damage in your life, despite you trying to constantly swiffer up their mess. As my Sidebraid Sister would say: “Let go.” Life will feel that much more precious when you get rid of toxic people. 

The sun is peeking in through the clouds and spring is here. Keep only the piles you care deeply about – the ones that fill you with joy and provide you energy to keep moving forward.

I started as an altar kid in the 5th grade. I was so ready for it, too. After all, unlike most kids who play pretend – pretend house, pretend doctor, pretend teacher – my brother Matt and I always played pretend church. I shit you not. It was our idea of a good time at the time. And after years of practice playing pretend, I was so confident that I’d be an all-star Alter Kid. Also unlike most kids, who dream about becoming President one day, I was convinced I would be the first woman Priest of the Catholic Church one day. And obviously, being an Alter Kid would do me well on my resume towards priesthood.

I don’t know which part I was most excited about: having another excuse to spend time with Angie, the 7th grade basketball prodigy at St. Ferdinand who in retrospect, I definitely had a major crunch on, or being able to earn the occasional $10-$25 tip “working” weddings and funerals. And so I prayed. I prayed for more straight people to get married and at the same time, for more deaths, and I was desperate to be paired to altar serve with Angie at any opportunity. Naturally, it was really cool hangin’ with a 7th grader.

My resume read something like this:

Altar Kid, Chicago, 2003-2005

⁃ Carried heavy cross down the aisle, resulting in stronger affinity towards the guy nailed to it (and simultaneously strengthened my arm muscles)

⁃ Held the Bible up for the priest, maintaining perfect posture

⁃ Assisted Priest and nuns as needed; for example, that one time when the Blood of Christ spilled

⁃ Provided excellent customer service for all church goers

What can I say? I was just your basic Catholic school girl: one who wore an embarrassing, plaid skort everyday with a white polo. Except one day a week (my favorite day of the week) when I got to wear sweats and a t-shirt for gym class. (In the timeless words of Princess Nokia, “Who that is ho? That girl is a tomboy.”) Maybe that’s why I made it a career goal to become a priest vs. a nun at the time – I’ve always been a little boy(ish) at heart.

Thankfully, my journey towards priesthood ended abruptly after just a few years when the Priest told me girls could no longer be alter servers. Jokes on you, Jesus. I’m gay and wish I were Jewish now.

I don’t know about you.. but I’m feelin’ (20)22 was a reminder that everything is going to be alright. 

Personally, my year hasn’t been full of monumental changes, yet I feel so grateful for the growth, the memories, and the miniscule changes that came my way. For example: 

• I moved down the block from one Andersonville apartment to another! I now have a really cool landlord and a really huge TV and a decorative mantle and a living room that can fit a 9-foot Christmas tree and a guest room and so much space for two monster kittens to run around when they get the zoomies and I can take baths! My lovely girlfriend and I built a lovely home that feels so homey, which makes me happy.
• I started a new job and kept it for (nearly) a full year! Imagine that… I actually learned that I don’t live to work and that work is not my identity nor the love of my life. It is an important part of my life, only because it takes up the most time in my life, and [money] is what will ultimately help me have a more financially comfy future. But that’s it.
• I went down on one of my many meds by the tiniest bit! Abilify gives me the ability to be a fully functioning, stable human, and I went from taking 1.5 tablets to 1. Is it because I complained about having to chop one in half every other day? Maybe.. But look, I feel like the more I distance myself from 2020 (thank goodness that’s with every minute that passes), the more I come closer to returning to “myself” as I said back then. I’m happy with how far I’ve come and I’m happy with how happy I feel most every day.
• I now have bleach blonde hair that just so happens to look just like Betty Who’s! Not to rub it in for those that didn’t join me, but I went to the AT&T National Coming Out Day celebration where Betty Who performed. Not only was I standing front row, but she also took my hand as we slowly fell in love… (sorry Katie!) and said, “I like your hair. It looks a lot like mine.” Then we took a picture together, (siblings or dating am I right?). And it looks like I’ll have to stay a blondie forever now. Or at least for as long as my new BFF Betty is.
• I started climbing and played beach volleyball and purchased a ping pong table! Plot twist: I have hobbies now.
• I started mismatching my earrings! Edgy.
• I got my first tattoo! Also, edgy. The tattoo was a great first tattoo and means a lot to me. Accepting suggestions for my next ones.
• I made new friends and strengthened relationships with old ones! If you know me at all, you should know that my favorite hobby is making friends at queer events around the city. So thank you queer events and queer places! Thank you slo’mo, Flannel Friday, Fletcher, Nobody’s Darling, Late Night Chicks, etc. etc. Thank you to my new friends who actually weren’t freaked out by my awkward platonic pick-up line: “Hey, we should be friends!” More importantly though, my best friends became bestier by day. I’d be a mashed potato without my friends, whatever that means.. Thank you to my friends, for keeping me smiling non-stop. I have a hard time not smiling when with friends, even when I’m trying my best to be mad for whatever reason.

I learned a lot this year too. I learned that I like my coffee with Coffee Mate’s coconut creme creamer just as much as I like my coffee plain, with extra oat milk. I learned that my spice tolerance has gone up, and I even like Cholula hot sauce. I learned that the decision of which stickers make the cut for my giant water bottle is an important one. I learned that I will forever follow recipes to the tee, even when adding a pinch of salt is quicker than measuring a teaspoon. I learned that BeReal is still staged to an extent. I learned that my “About me” section on my blog is actually outdated. I learned that setting boundaries makes for a better, more uplifting time overall. I learned that you can never have too many doctor visits, and that maybe they’ll even eliminate a diagnosis you thought you’ve had your entire life (or find a new one..). I learned the power of vulnerability: when we feel the most fragile and unsure, we have the choice to find what’s meant to be through honest, tough conversations. I learned that most everything is temporary: jobs, sunshine, grief, flowers, family…I learned just how much friendships can evolve: some fade overtime, some strengthen. Some strangers quickly turn into lifelong friends. 

Relationships – both romantic and platonic – can require different amounts of effort at different times. I had the hardest year of my life a couple years ago, and I leaned on my friends and partner more than I wish I had to. I recognize that some very important people in my life faced life’s changes a lot more than I did this year. Whether those were good changes or challenging changes, there’s something comforting in knowing that we are there for each other through it all, whenever the time comes. This year, I cried less overall, though I cried most when seeing my friends sad or hurting.

Not to put one of the most thoughtful people I know in the spotlight but here I am. Let’s call her Goosey. Goosey (a clever pseudonym that will definitely disguise this person’s true identity) read my entire blog, start to finish, when I barely knew her real name. We’ve become better friends since then, thank heavens! One memorable ice-breaker she once asked me was: What’s something positive that has happened to you recently? I don’t know why, but that question has stuck with me. I couldn’t think of a damn thing that’s happened to me. So instead, I answered about how my friend’s recent news of getting into business school was something positive in MY life. I quickly realized how important it is seeing the success and happiness of people I care about. 

This year, I have seen so many friends taking scary leaps in life and following their happy paths. I’m excited for them, and I’m excited for me to be able to witness their successes first-hand. And that, my friends, has been my greatest joy and the most positive thing that has happened to me this year.

Throwback [Thursday] to that time my co-workers and I stumbled upon Latin Night at a bar in Philly, only to realize I was the only one who couldn’t dance (in general but especially to Latin music). Still, there was something deeply liberating about my bashful attempt to dance with two left feet. That night was a subtle reminder that mediocrity can be just as powerful as excellence. And maybe excellence isn’t exactly what we perceive it to be or what the Merriam-Webster dictionary says: eminently good – standing above others. Maybe excellence is meant to be measured by levels of happiness rather than a comparison to others.

Although we’re just inching into the season, the fall foliage is once again adding its colorful touch to the beauty around us. Amongst the beauty, I’m learning to identify and appreciate my subtle strengths, like bringing people together and embracing my awkward moves. At Latin Night, dancing alongside a duo that made “Suavemente” look suave AF, I felt happy, and with that, came excellence.

I don’t always give myself enough credit. I consistently seek to pretty up my work resume while failing to recognize that my personal resume is equally important. Finding a deeper motive in life involves identifying factors that not only bring you joy, but that also makes you jive. While I’m still figuring out the pieces to sculpt a passion unbeknownst to me, I’m practicing patience and surrounding myself with people that can already dance.

I wrote this piece when I felt I reached my creative peak. In retrospect, I want this post cemented into my blog and brain as a reminder not to give up on my wish to write a memoir one day. Perhaps I’ll title it: two minds that don’t think (nor write) alike. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this gem written circa February 2020:

I wish my parents told me
 of all their financial instability 
before I started pursuing my college degree.

—

I wish my parents told me
 that the intermittent hundred dollar deposits into my bank account were not within budget, because my teenage brain could barely mutter a thank you. Instead, my brain buried its gratitude under towers of textbooks, thinking that the only way I could ever afford to repay hundreds would be by investing them into each exam. 

_ 

I wish my parents told me 
that each time I swiped the credit card in their name I selfishly shifted any zeros that were barely even left, to the left, until all that was left was just, zero. And with each swipe, I slashed away time not knowing we didn’t have a dime to our name. How foolish was I to assume retirement as a human right.


–


I wish my parents told me
 that funding a flight to “family weekend” was a plight suffered, yet somehow paid. 
And maybe, just maybe, their daughter’s education from an institution as renowned as Yale would one day actually afford them bail from the burden reflected on their bank statements.


—


I wish my parents told me to use my two cents in determining who I was standing next to on campus. 
I wish I didn’t allow them to send me even just two cents because it made zero sense to keep stringing along this false sense of reality when I failed to recognize that legacy so often correlates with popularity and presents opportunity so insurmountable it’s actually foreign to my ancestors’ vocabulary. And maybe it was just the jealousy in me that refused to admit my 1stGen identity. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the institution’s responsibility to admit to the inherent inequity that was so felt by my family.


–


I wish my parents told me
 that money is no longer taboo.
 That I no longer had to worry about generating revenue. 
That we could press “redo.” Together. 
So we could hold conversations beyond the topic of weather.
 So I could feel family in my heart forever.


Hurricane.


–


Dad, I wish I could tell you 
that I want to take the cane that’s been your necessary sidekick for years and kick it into the water where the waves would wash away the stroke you didn’t ask for. I would then teach you the butterfly stroke, because I know if you could have any superpower it would be to fly, if you could only regain freedom to flap your wings again.


Paralyzed.


–


Mom, I wish I could tell you
 that your work ethic is something I idolized.
 That the millions of houses that your bare hands tirelessly cleaned my entire life are now all entirely spotless forever. So please don’t stress anymore. Because if I could somehow take the gay in me to win us the lottery, I know how happy we could be. And you could finally, finally, just relax.


Jackpot.


–


Mom and dad, I wish I could tell you
 that I’m thankful for everything you taught.
 That I’m indebted to the depths of your sacrifices that sought a better life for your kids.
 That I really do love you even when it’s a struggle to say aloud. 
And maybe, just maybe, one day we could all just be one again.


Family.


Welcome back, warmer days. You make me want to dance and spin around in circles amidst a terrain of tulips while singing terribly at the top of my lungs:

“Summertime summertime, crazy lazy summertime…”

Okay, maybe lazy is far from my kind of lifestyle. Crazy, on the other hand… well, just hand me a pint of a hazy IPA and I’ll tell you how I went from comically crazy to crazy cool, or so I like to think.

You can soon find me in my swim trunks (maybe sweatshorts) and muscle tees as I seize the days full of sunshine, showing off the baby biceps that my 3lb. peloton weights helped me build.

Hello to a spring of scribbling down notes that will somehow, someday blossom into a sea of blog posts that have been on a prudent pause, no thanks to the cold nights and COVID days and crappy moods. Goodbye, [seasonal] depression. Goodbye to the darkness that starts at 4pm. Hello to a spring of sunburns and a plethora of aloe vera. Or should I say, (H)aloe, vera nice to see the sun again and the fun that it brings.

I can’t wait to wait in all of the lines to get into upcoming summerfests, polishing up my most noticeable weakness: patience. I can’t wait to watch people happily kicking around soccer balls and swimming into the waves of Lake Michigan. I can’t wait to play beach volleyball and to learn how to stop on rollerblades without having to run full-speed into a wall. I can’t wait to become a regular at Nobody’s Darling and to hang on for dear life while on a boat again! I can’t wait to tailor each second of time in a way that encapsulates each minute and each memory.

Ahead of us is a time for beginnings, but to begin requires us to relish the moments that seep through, to feed the growth of the new. So bottom’s up, my friends. Let’s make this season the one I won’t forget even if I get my brain shocked.

Wearing white in the winter is a crime I don’t fully understand, because it beautifully blends in with the snowflakes. But I’m a not a trendsetter, so instead, I wear my white pants all summer to make up for the off-season they inevitably face. And when they come back into play, I realize I’m too broke to invest in overpriced tide-to-go pens, because I’ve been spending all my dollar bills on festivals and drinking with friends which is all good and well, until a stranger accidentally bumps into me at a fest while I’m holding Pinot Noir. Now I wholeheartedly regret not purchasing that tide-to-go pen.

Okay, maybe classifying wearing white in the winter as a crime is an exaggeration but catfishing for sure should be. I can’t think of any catfishing stories that have a happy ending (except for in the movie Love Hard – which I highly recommend watching!). I was catfished once before. I fell hard for a person that was very good with words and seemed like a kind and caring mom. I was young, naive, and loved kids so I figured I could take on a parental role too. Months passed. I loved the texts and phone calls we had. I couldn’t wait to meet her. One excuse led to another and little did I know, I would never meet her. After falling hard, I was ghosted and I wholeheartedly regret ever thinking that relationship would last.

When my mind went on a little vacation of its own, it resulted in all the irresponsible decisions that felt right at the time, but that left me in the deepest hole of regret, a hole I couldn’t dig myself out of. I overspent on multiple plane tickets, soulcycle classes, unnecessarily pricey grocery trips, generous recurring donations. I wrote a lot of erratic things I would never dare to write otherwise that I couldn’t untype after clicking send or submit. I suppose that’s the beauty and curse of having a keyboard at our fingertips at all times. I nearly ruined the relationships that were most precious to me. I wholeheartedly regretted that vacation, and I was relieved when I returned home from it. Yet the regret outweighed the relief, and now I had to face the repercussions. Reflecting back, all I can say is: I can’t believe I did that.

I wish I could wish away regret. Regret makes me feel like I made a wrong decision in my past, when at the time, I couldn’t predict what the future held. However, I could presume that each move I make just opens one of two doors: one that leads towards happiness and the other that leads towards regret. If only I could drill shut the door towards regret, so that I never had to enter its indescribable misery. That feeling of frustration that you just want to flush down the toilet along with all the shit that reminds you that you can’t get rid of regret; you can only choose to forget it exists.

Regret evokes a variety of emotions: sometimes embarrassment, sometimes anger, sometimes frustration, sometimes angst, sometimes loss. When I’m drowning in the depths of regret, I reprimand myself for not realizing the better option the first time around. Regret. We’ve all been there, felt that. That time where you can’t help but think what if, if only, how I wish I could’ve, should’ve… Re-enacting the times that later result in regret is impossible. We must recognize that regret is rooted in something you can’t change, something that’s a part of your past, but that has the potential to inform and improve your future.