Has anyone ever thought about how much of life we spend simply waiting? Waiting for class to start, for that uber to arrive, waiting in line for a drive-thru… these minutes add up. We may never count them, but waiting will always be something that we spend a significant, cumulative amount of time doing. So as I wait for my plane to depart from Baltimore to Chicago, I wanted to take time to reflect on a few things I’ve been waiting on recently.

I’ve been waiting to get a tattoo for years now. It’s not even fear keeping me waiting. I’ve been waiting for what that perfect stamp of permanence should be, and I don’t know that I own enough long sleeves to hide it every time I see my parents.

I’ve been waiting for what feels like an eternity for that day the light switch would flip for me to get back to baseline. My brain is beautifully fragile as you may know. But what if baseline is meant to change as time goes by? I’d be standing in the dark for a long, long time. Perhaps baseline is a temporary state of being, until one breaks the barrier inside that believes you’re meant to return to being that exact same person you once were. If you don’t believe in a baseline, it leaves opportunity to be better than your before.

I’ve been waiting for that job that brings me to cloud nine again. I’ve been there more than once now. I can’t pinpoint where my passion stems from: could be the people I work with, the brand I work for, the type of work that I do; or a combination of each. Perhaps it’s just a part of my persona. But as I’ve learned first-hand: work will not love you back. You could be in love with your job and be the highest performing colleague, yet brands will still exploit you even – especially – when you’re most vulnerable.

I’ve been waiting to be accepted by my family as a queer woman. I’ve been trying to remind them that my sexuality is not a sin. I finally am confident in who I’ve become: a loyal partner, a kind friend, a little bit of a goof, an empathetic daughter…. That said, I feel happy and most protected when I’m with the people that choose to accept me.

You shouldn’t have to wait on anything forever. And so, I look forward to my first tattoo, even if that means flaunting it to those that want to criticize me for it. I look forward to crafting a new baseline that looks different than in years past and being okay with whatever it ends up looking like. I look forward to accepting work as a means of paying the bills instead of a love in life. Finally, I look forward to spending as much time as possible with chosen family. While I’ll never be able to avoid it completely, I want to minimize the amount of time spent waiting and maximize the amount of time doing things that make life fulfilling and worthwhile.

the warmth of a cat in your lap.

receiving a Christmas card.

reading a memoir you relate to.

the scent of a candle from your BFF.

small talk with strangers.

your partner waking up at 6am just to have coffee with you.

bonding with neighbors as you shovel.

a simple “i miss you.”

a job that respects & rewards your well-being & your work ethic.

the magic of dry shampoo.

dancing awkwardly.

placing the last piece of a puzzle.

supporting local businesses.

climbing into flannel sheets when it’s cold out.

cooking & baking with bae.

making bracelets.

someday by kygo.

friends reaching out on your birthday.

the convenience of rideshare & public transit.

❤️to❤️s.

therapy & psychiatry.

playing board games.

binging the L-word.

coffee pick-me-ups.

access to heating & air conditioning.

watering plants & watching them grow.

hearing birds chirp.

eating lots of chocolate.

releasing endorphins via exercise.

catching a snowflake.

watching sunrise & sunsets.

the power of a hug.

karaoke with friends.

listening to podcasts.

writing out your thoughts & feels.

——-

A friend asked me how I found happiness again.

It’s many little things, each chipping away slowly at the hard shell my grief had built around the warmth and joy within.

My sincerest apologies, friends, Hawaiian Princess has clearly been on hiatus. Since the pandemic, I’ve been seriously lacking content to write about. Life’s been different and I think I stooped real low considering one of the few things I look forward to most these days is Bachelor Mondays. SPOILER: Did y’all hear that Dale and Claire broke up? And that Chris Harrison is stepping down? Anyway, I digress…

Taking a deep breath in.

2020:

The first 1.75 months I was living the dream.

Then it became the year my life got flipped turned upside down. The most unforgettable year in my 27 years of life. The most traumatic year since 2014. The year I learned more about myself than when I came out of the closet. The year my brain was on fire. The year I truly experienced grief for the first time. The year pain replaced passion. The year I learned that loving something wholeheartedly means risking hurting more than ever before. The year I learned that when crises comes, I have so many people that care. The year I’m low-key grateful for.

I promise I’m not just saying that in an attempt to paint sunshine and rainbows in what was a stormy dark year. I needed 2020 on a personal level. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t need nor want a literal global pandemic. The only kind of nice thing that I took away from that was perfecting the smize for pictures while guarded with a mask. Pandemic aside, I needed 2020 to learn to live in the present and to let go of the past.

The past only holds the power that you give it. When you hold onto it too tightly, you’ll find yourself drowning not only in the could’ve, should’ves, but also in the “almosts.”

I almost made that shot.

I almost ran away.

I almost bought that beer.

It was Wednesday, February 19th 2020. I had an appointment set for Monday. I almost made it… but that’s beside the point.

2021:

I blinked twice and it’s already February 2021. I’m a year older. The fear, the grief, the regret, they’re all a part of my past now. Believe it or not, the present also holds the power that you give it.

I’m so happy. We’re literally 6 days out from February 19th, 2021. Just when I thought I’d need a distraction for the traumatic-versary, Grief transformed into fate and I’m grateful. I’m so grateful (follow me @gaylygratitude). I’m grateful 2020 happened (I lived and I learned) and I’m even more grateful to be here in 2021.

We’re still in a pandemic and I still miss a lot of things prior to it: raging at Roscoe’s, working from coffee shops, being able to drink water in public when someone’s less than 6 feet away ..

At the same time, I’m relishing the present moment. Right now, I’m sitting on a futon in a cabin in Watervliet, Michigan while my girlfriend naps, gazing out the windows where the trees are bare and burrowed in snow, the river is icy and a few cars pass by in the distance. It feels like I’m putting in the last piece of a 5000 piece puzzle. I feel overjoyed. I feel complete. I feel so loved. Heck, if my friends making me a 36 minute birthday video isn’t a testament of how incredibly loved I feel today and everyday, I don’t know what is. My friends, Hawaiian Princess is back.

Taking a deep breath out.

This year couldn’t have gone any worse. I struggle to believe it even happened. If I could have any superpower, it’d be to rewind time. For real though, I feel like I’m paying the price for being passionate. For caring about people and the work that I do. For giving all I have in me. That said, time (and therapy) heals all. This year has come with a lot of mixed feelings: the highs of happiness and the lows of sadness. And so, I present to you letters to and from Happiness and Sadness. The first is written by my Sidebraid sister, Lena. I couldn’t have done 2020 without her. I cry everytime I read what’s to follow:

Dear Friend,

You asked if you will ever be me again one day. The truth is you never were me, and you never will be me. You can feel me, dance with me, confuse me for that person in your selfie camera even. But to be me? That’s just not possible.

And why would you want to be me when you can be so much more? You are grit and patience and a rainbow before the storm even begins. You are every little damn thing when you feel like nothing. You are the first breath of fresh air when you step out of hell. You are sad and frustrated and more alive than I’ll ever be. 

You are not me because you are so much more than me. You are the reason I exist. Without you, there is no me. You are exactly what this world needs. Don’t you see, your friends and family — they don’t need me. They need you. That’s all they’ll ever need. That’s all you’ll ever need.

So while you’re questioning whether or not you will ever be me again one day, here I am right in front of you, looking for you. I am feeling you and dancing with you. I think about you when I play Someday by Kygo. I want to be you. I want to be you so freakin’ badly. I want to be you for a second, a minute, an hour, a day…I know I cannot be you for a lifetime. Only you can do that. But I am willing to spend a lifetime fighting like hell to be with you in as many moments as possible.

To my friend — my gritty, beautiful, loving, inspiring, irreplaceable friend: take your time. Let it pour. Give this place the most beautiful storm it has ever seen. And when you’re ready, I’ll come find you.

Love, 

Happiness

Dear Happiness, 

You’re not all you’re cracked out to be. I mean, why is it that people flaunt you and hide me. Just check any social media, you get all the attention. It’s not that I’m jealous, it’s just that to be me and to make me the center of attention, requires vulnerability. And so often, makes people feel guilty. 

Everybody wants to be you. I wish I had that effect on people. And I don’t think folks realize that at times, we’re opposite sides of the same coin. Sometimes people laugh so hard they cry; sometimes people cry so hard they end up laughing. I’ve been crying a lot lately and it’s because I’m me – not you. 

Look, life is unfair, and I feel like you got the better deal here. One might assume that extroverts can’t feel me but joke’s on them – I will find you when you least expect it. It’s not like people require a trip to the pharmacy every time you creep up on them. With you, it’s piñatas, karaoke machines, carnivals and beers; it’s friends, and French fries and lottery wins. But you know what, I’m here too. I’m here for you. I’m here for happy people too. Because there’s a little bit of me in all of us; I just hit some people harder than others. I’m here because you need me to heal. You will become hopeful, not in spite of me, but because of me. 

I’m glad I exist. Because without me, it’d be all sunshine and rainbows all the time, and there’s beauty within the storms too. There’s beauty within me. There’s a reason all of y’all weather the storm. You wouldn’t be able to do it without me! 

At the end of the day, even though I’m me more than you most of the time these days, I can’t wait to just be you again. You without me – or just a tiny little dab of me. There I said it. You win. I’ve been me but in overdrive and I miss you. 2020. Enough said. Nonetheless, you’re within reach. I just know it. So let’s agree on one thing: in sickness and in health, there’s a way to strike a balance between both of us. It’s okay for us to be friends; you’ll just always be the cooler one who looks better on Instagram. 

Your friend, 

Sadness

I consider myself an extrovert. A people-person you could say. And even so, there are times that I enter an introverted bubble. To be honest, it’s not completely by choice. It’s just that life has given my the highest of highs and the lowest of lows and I bounce back & forth – introvert to ex – in & out, in the latter most of the time, until I find a comfortable middle ground. Thank you, meds!

Covid. What a time to be alive, am I right? I’ve pushed my own pause button, partially because everything else – all of what allows my extroverted excursions to enter – is also paused or postponed. And as I walk around with my mask on, my people-person norm off, it’s really forced me to reflect on how I want to re-enter the “real world” once that long-awaited vaccine makes its way to the world.

I love meeting new people. It’s pretty much my all-time favorite hobby on the regular. In these times of covid – coinciding with a time of reflecting and recovery for myself – I found myself reconsidering how I want my favorite hobby to makes its new debut once I come out of this introvert, covid-times shell. Keep in mind: behind those masks, we don’t know the struggles and hardships that a person could be hiding.

So, here we are in this really bizarre time, in this slow-moving still beautiful time, and I found myself learning a lot… not only about myself but how I want to be a better people-meeter when I’m back in my (more-me) people-person self. The other day I found myself at a party full of strangers. This type of scene is typically the type of scene when I’m in my element. And yet, the timing is tough. So when strangers’ first ice-breaker to me was: What do you do? I froze. I read, I write, I juggle (mostly brain-enhancing tasks), I cook, I clean, I color. I know that’s not the answer they’re looking for. My brand is #awkwardMartha and let me tell you, I felt extra awkward then. Remember, we don’t know what burdens are hidden behind those masks.

What do you do? If you would’ve asked “old me” that question I would’ve been on cloud 9. My job was a part of my identity. My passion. I lacked a work-life balance though and it affected my well-being. By a lot. I found myself having to create a “new me”. What’s going to become an #awkwarderMartha, a more memorable Martha, one that’s more aware of creating healthy boundaries. And I promise my people-person self that I will never use the ice breaker question, “What do you do?” again, because not everyone’s brand is #awkward. There are so many other ice-breaker questions like: Where are you from? What do you like to do for fun these days? What are your favorite foods? Ditch the discomfort you could create for people by ditching the “What do you do?”

What do you think?

 

Chicago’s weather goes a little something like this:

• 70 degrees and sunny today.
• 32 degrees and subtle snowflakes tomorrow.
• Two days later, 61 degrees perfect for my flannel fashion [gay still, remember?]
• Three days pass, and it’s the polar vortex again, -55 degrees Fahrenheit where you could toss hot water in the air and you could be the one to make snowflakes this time.
• 23 days later, enjoy your last snow angel, because the next season is ready.
• 24th day, spring is here.

Okay, weather. I see you & feel you. But also, can you just make up your mind?

 

 

Dear Basketball,

Wow. You’re a babe. The stud of all sports you could say. At the same time, I wish I didn’t try to suck-up to every coach I ever had the pleasure to play for. ‘Cuz Lord knows I kinda suck now. Well suck is probably too strong of a word to describe someone who’s not too shabby at most sports.

But damn, something sure shattered my confidence that prevented me from becoming the player I had the potential to become. Maybe I was just shaken up too much as a child. So why do schools schedule practice literally every single day of the week instead of scattering some classroom sessions for kids teaching a class called: Learning Potential of the Player You Could One Day Become? What if a child’s parents aren’t wealthy or educated enough to afford or teach their kid how to get recruited in the first place?

I still sit and think on that one time I got caught with a copy of a gym key while playing basketball with some friends ~freshman year of high school at my elementary school gym. I can’t say that religion club was the best way to punish the kid in me when religion as a rugrat was clearly something forced on me since I wasn’t yet educated on any other religions at my Catholic grade school. This really makes me question society and the lack of freedom for students to explore, so they could eventually soar wherever their strengths lie.

So why is it that Chemistry was a strength of mine in high school, yet I was too scared to even attempt it at Yale? And why is it that Sex-Ed is only taught around 7th/8th grade in a super conservative fashion where they didn’t even touch on sex for a queer human?

So maybe it’s time to shift gears. Shake up the broken education systems. Allow those failing to recognize the shattered glass in classrooms to step down. Because students are innocently singing Miley Cyrus’ “It’s the Climb” down the hallways. Adults should securely hold a ladder in place for their children and allow their studious children to challenge their creativity – one step at a time – as they climb their way to the top.

 

 

Do you believe in magic in a young girl’s heart?

Yo, I don’t even know. Young me used to prefer the name Martha yet grown me chooses to go by Parker sometimes. But is there really anything wrong with just being Martha Parker when I didn’t even have a middle name in the first place? And maybe… just maybe, MPG could be a dope acronym people could use to call me by. I mean, if MJ could do it, why can’t MPG? Sure, MJ could play every position, but MPG – standing a loud & proud at 5”4.25ish – was a phenomenal point guard playing the same game. Call it magic if you want it, I call it whole ‘lotta heart.    🏀🧡

Happy December 26th y’all. Never have I ever thought I’d witness a December 26th in Chicago, where the sun’s blazin’ and it’s a literal 60 degrees fahrenheit outside. Yet here we are.  Good ol’ global warming – what a sexy, dangerous beast you are. 

So, obviously, the day before yesterday was December 24th and yesterday was December 25th, or what some may prefer to call “Christmas Eve” and “Christmas Day,” respectively. This year, I on the other hand, preferred to call them “Emotionally-taxing AF Days.” In an intentional effort not to re-trigger any unnecessary trauma, I won’t be diving into the ‘whys’ of that last sentence. However, I did want to give a special shoutout to my sidebraid-wearing sister, who showed me that we really don’t need Biology to form Family.  

If there’s any season that really gets my mind thinking (and perhaps over-thinking), it’s definitely the holidays. This year, I spent a ton of time thinking about what my carefully-crafted, dream Christmas would look like: 

Simplistic. Designed to include everyone, though LGBTQ+ and/or disabled a likely majority. Accessibility, needs and preferences acknowledged. a table: vegan, vegetarian, flexitarian, meat-eaters all alike. a bar cart: alcoholic and non, cheap wines, local craft brews, kiddie-cocktails, lots of bubbly beverages (i.e. LaCroix and LaChampagne). transportation talk: rides and carpools to and from, how to enter, how to navigate within. safety: driving back, getting picked up, public transit, Uber/Lyft home, an open invite for a slumber party otherwise. community creation: compassionate conversations that don’t strictly revolve around heteronormative, abled measures of success like home-ownership, fancy cars (or the ability to drive them), family, marriage, children. 

 

The invite would say something like: 

Hello, human! 🌈

You are cordially invited… 

Who: You! + any other human you know that might want to spend December 25th somewhere with a welcoming & inclusive group of folks who implicitly understand and respect each other 

What: a safe space to celebrate one another

When: December 25th, 20xx 

Where: under a radically-accepting roof @ [insert address here]

Why: do we really need a reason? 

 

If there is anything that I took away from Emotionally-taxing AF Days this year, it’s that the notion of “perfect” simply does not exist. I wholeheartedly believe that the world would be a better place if people didn’t use the term “perfect” so carelessly, and instead, consciously minimized (or even completely eliminated) the term from their vocabulary. Allow me to explain: 

All too often, people get so wound up during the holidays that they overlook the most important part of it: the chance to build (or build upon) the meaningful connection with the person(s) you’re with. Speaking from experience, I can confidently say that I could care less about spending holidays at a place that’s spotless, or has chef-quality cooking, or that’s decorated so meticulously that it’s mistaken for a Hallmark ad home. 

And this notion of “perfect is impossible” doesn’t just apply to the holidays. So many individuals spend so long looking or waiting for their “perfect person” to come around. I hate to be a dream-killer here, but there is no such thing as a perfect person. Sure, you could rationalize and reiterate that you’re dating your soulmate who is completely perfect, but guess what? When they make a mistake – even one that’s completely trivial – you’ve already convinced them that they’re perfect and therefore implied that there is zero wiggle room necessary for improvement. Dating aside, I literally cannot think of a single concept, thing, or being – tangible or intangible – that is perfect. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been equally guilty of using the word [perfect] semi-regularly myself. For example, I recently received a report back from a colleague and replied, “This is perfect!” With that response, I subconsciously meant: “I don’t see any errors.” However, I now realize that in labeling the report as ‘perfect’, I’m simultaneously omitting opportunities to challenge any concepts within it. 

Just look up and around the space you’re currently in and play the “Impossibly Perfect Game” with me: name any item you see and tell me about its imperfection(s) or defend the reason(s) why I’m wrong in my theory of perfect being impossible. 

Here’s my turn:

• Table: it’s imperfect because of its many stains, scratches and splotches 
• My phone: it’s imperfect because the speaker is broken and has a limited amount of memory space
• Pen: it’s imperfect because it runs out of ink eventually… 
• My socks: they’re imperfect because there’s a small hole already that’ll only get bigger with time 
• My water bottle: it’s imperfect because it makes water too warm in summer days and turns it into ice on winter days 

..and so on and so forth. 

The problem with “perfect” is that its application leaves zero room for error or improvement. By embracing imperfections, we can pave a way for betterment and keep learning a part of our lives.

[Breaking in a new notebook with this blog post – peep the photo].

Loving myself wholeheartedly and putting forth my whole heart into each human connection that adds value to my life is the most beautiful, most radical thing I can commit to. 

 

Two feel-good stories to share with you today:

[1]

About a year and some days ago, Katie and I decided to treat ourselves to a couple of overpriced hot chocolates from Mindy’s in Wicker Park. We both had a stressful day, and let’s be real, nothing soothes life’s stressors better than a quality venting sesh with bae (and spiked hot chocolate, obvi). The candles and dimmed, romantic ambiance of the room helped us maintain reasonably calm tones while we talked, despite the rage that was boiling on the inside. We shared some laughs, shed some tears and sighs throughout – that’s how you know the venting sesh was a good one. We finished off our luxurious hot chocolates and requested the check as the night was winding down. The waiter smiled then said, “The couple that was sitting next to you took care of your bill already. They sensed that you had a bad day and wanted you to end it on a happier note.”

Pretty sure I burst out sobbing immediately after. That was so unnecessary, yet so insanely nice of them!! I barely caught a glimpse of what the couple even looked like, and I doubt they’ll ever stumble their way to this blog post to hear how much I wish I could thank them. Wow. Human decency is still out there.

[2]

About a month ago, once again in Wicker Park, at La Colombe this time, I posted up to start my Monday morning work grind. I noticed a tiny toddler – about 3 years young – being incredibly cute while eating her blueberry yogurt…

Sidebar: It’s beyond me how kids could do literally anything and look stupid cute doing it. Literally, there is nothing cute about me chomping down my Chobani.

.. Back to the tiny toddler enjoying her yogurt. We’ll call her Yogurt Youngin’. Few minutes later, in walks another tiny toddler – roughly the same age as Yogurt Youngin’ – with her dad. It was a solid two degrees fahrenheit outside, and this tiny toddler, with no gloves on to cover her tiny toddler hands, chose to hug her fluffy toy bunny rather than hide her hands inside her jacket. We’ll call her Bunny Baby.

These two toddlers, Yogurt Youngin’ and Bunny Baby, had never met before today. Yet, within minutes, they were chasing each other around La Colombe until Bunny Baby’s dad said it was time for them to go. As Bunny Baby walked out, Yogurt Youngin’ burst into tears and waved the saddest goodbye I ever had the pleasure to witness. Wow. That made my heart so warm. It took literally nothing for these two innocent toddler souls to warm up to each other. I started some small talk with Yogurt Youngin’s mom, telling her how all of us can restore any inklings of doubt we have in human decency by just watching today’s kids. That day got me thinking: why is it that, as adults, our instincts are to immediately ignore or avoid strangers while kids’ [instincts] are to find ways to connect and form friendships?

—

Seriously though, we walk the streets of this world with our heads down and headphones in, sometimes without anything even playing but with the comfort of knowing that those around you will assume you can’t hear them. We need to stop ignoring and start loving people with a depth and richness we have never loved before. It’s crazy to avoid loving someone just because you don’t agree with them — whether that be their mayoral vote, their $1000 Canada Goose jacket, or the bar they walk into. At the end of the day, aren’t we all just a bunch of walking contradictions in some way, shape, or form anyway?

The main takeaway is this:  We need to let go of our instincts of judgement and ignorance, and we need to replace them with love and intentional acts of kindness that will bring more joy into this world. Even if it’s not easy. Even if it’s something you disagree with. Even if it’s something that makes you uncomfortable. It’s something that’s a choice.

Swipe someone onto the subway. Tip your server a little extra. Buy that coworker that has been driving you crazy a cup of coffee. Reconnect with the homeless even if you don’t have a dollar to give; just take your earbuds out and say hello.

Do all of these things, even if you think they don’t deserve it.

My goals for the near future are two-fold: 

1. Enrich connections with the people I love by loving harder while remaining raw in my intentions to do so.
2. Find small acts of kindness each day that’ll make a stranger smile.

—

My mind has felt like a marathon lately, racing more than ever. With that, I remind myself that spring is here and the sun is at least attempting to realize that Chicago is a safe place for it to stay. That alone gives me reason and energy to smile more and to be a nicer person.

Loving people is going to cost you something you value, maybe even your own beliefs. But if you choose to love harder and connect deeper, it’ll be worth the sacrifice. I promise.

Yours truly,

a daughter, not seeking agreement nor approval,  just love ♥