#I drew this 6 months ago and forgot to post it anywhere

[ponettedefeu]

Late night talks

[oh-no-whoopsie]

reasons I love kip!! (aka @ghostsingold) 

(making this post bc they deserve all the love and my meds have kicked in so im able to be productive today. thanks long-acting adderall!!) 

kip I love you for so many reasons and as I fill out college applications im gonna list them out <3 no special occasion its just! you make me happy and I wanted to share that with you and since I have a teeny blog no one will see this but you <3 

1.) this response to a post I made on my old blog. it was one of my first positive interactions on Tumblr and this tiny piece of writing made that entire week easier. it was a tiny start to a friendship and it was also a stranger caring for me, which at that time I didn’t think was possible. 

2.) every single time that they have been a part of the Brown Eye Stan Club and hyped up brown eyes,,,,dude I can’t you’ve been such a big part of the journey to accept my brown eyes. it means so much to me that you just? say it!! you’re proud of the fact you love brown eyes! hell yeah dude! thank you!

3a.) for sending me songs that remind you of me??? to have someone think of me?? MY HEART?? I- I can’t express how much it means to me I just,, hnnhhh you even made me a fucking playlist (which I listen to CONSTANTLY) (here is the playlist ) just. dude. I love you 

4.) one of those songs is Glitter & Gloss by Skott and 

          a) this song makes me feel like a fucking badass 

          b) made me feel so appreciated and loved because it was the first time someone had said “this song reminds me of you!” 

          c). when I was stalking your blog trying to find my old posts I found this post about that song and?? sunbeams through Spanish moss? trees? pretty?? is this how you see me?? im in love????? also this ask I sent you where you describe your love for the sun <3 the implication that I am even a little bit like the sun to you makes me wanna cry happiness 

5.) Your taste in music is SUPERB. IMPECCABLE. A DELIGHT. 

6.) Someday I will have the strength to do naniwrimo with you and that will be a glorious month (and next September we should be able to be writing buddies!!!!! because now I have meds for attention span so I can write again >:) ) 

7.) A long time ago (old blog) I asked for people to give me nicknames because I never got cute nicknames and because I could only ever insult myself. for the longest time I forgot what you said but I remembered!!!! it was birdie!!

          a). even though now most people call me doe cuz of bumblebee, you were the first person to reply to that post and just because milk suggested fawn/doe and it stuck doesn’t mean I love birdie any less 

          b.) it means a lot that you suggested it in the first place and while I was finding links for this post I came across this ask where you call me birdie :> p.s. you still mean a lot to me and I hope you’re okay <3 

8.) every single time you sent me a picture of a frog :),, also that one post about taking fake shots of water still sends me but I can’t find it to link it,, and also everything you listed on this post including the fact that it is inspired by my post

9.) when you agreed to talk to people for me when I was panicking thinking they were going to die but had to go to sleep. that means so much that you would take that role on and dude I am so so sorry I ever asked that of you. 

10). you made me find magic in the sunlight and not just the moonlight, you helped me find that balance and accept that piece of me and it sounds stupid but its really important ok also im just gonna say it: your voice is perfection it is comfort it is warm and all things good in this world. ive only heard you speak like twice but I could listen to you for the rest of my life

11.) sometimes you send me posts that r like “thinking of you!!” and THEY MAKE MY DAY omfg 

12.) when you drew me!!! 

          a.) bc holy shit you are an amazing artist if you let me I want to post that drawing of me on my blog

          b.) I was supposed to draw you in return I am sorry I did not,, I still plan on doing it tho 

          c.) we drew ourselves as fairies and that was pretty fun 

          d.) you made me see beauty in myself I- 

13.) for never once encouraging my ed or bad habits. you were ready to call me tf out and I appreciate that so much dude? you were never subtley pro you also seem ready to stab anyone who opposes you. hell you post callouts against pr0-ana shit and m**nspo and f*tspo and photoshop and all of it. I admire you so much 

14.) for letting me ramble on about hermes and offerings and spirituality! 

15.) for lighting a candle for Catherine and talking with me that night

(I have the entire conversation copied into a google doc on my phone because it needed to be saved. the things you said are beautiful. it is so touching and breathtaking and if I could hug you I would and  I promise not to forget if you won’t forget. )

16.) holy shit dude P O E T R Y, both for being so good at it and for reading mine. 

17.) helping validate my arospec questioning and enby questioning,,, it was actually through your blog that I realized oh shit! I might be aro!! and having someone to talk about gender issues and arospec stuff is SO AMAZING and I love you <3 and thank you for talking with me and for helping me and for validating me 

18) validating my anger!! or at least helping to do so! you point out when things are unfair! you genuinely want my life to improve! you helped me realize some of my friends are shitty! you helped me accept things! 

19.) I love your vibes. I can’t say this enough but somehow you are just so wonderful to me,,, you are amazing I can’t describe it. you are ethereal and terrific and your features could be anywhere from beautiful to cryptic to solid to handsome but I promise you that there is something unique about you. a bit of mystery and magic left over from the days when fairytales were real. you have all the power of the sun and light and fire in both the life giving and the destructive aspects. you are so perfect and wonderful thank you 

20.) because you told me “you do not deserve to be traumatized” and in all honesty that slapped me into reality. if i still had my old Tumblr I probably would’ve screenshotted it so I could get the exact quote but I do not know how to make you understand How Much That Helped me 

all in all,,,, I must end the list here because I need to go be productive. alas.there is more I didn’t even BEGIN to mention,,, but kip, you are my rae of sunshine. someday we are going to go be cryptic authors in Scotland who disappear into the woods, perhaps to hunt with the faeries, perhaps no, who knows. we will become part of the local lore,, independent and happy and spooky. 

I love you so much!  also sorry I went through your archive to find all this,,,, to be fair I already did it once to find my posts <3 

I would never say that just one person “saved me”. thats too big of a responsibility to share. but kip, you helped save me, in ways I can’t explain, from myself and from death and from an abyss of numbness. you saved me from a thousand tiny deaths and gave me a thousand new pieces of life and I would not be the person I am today without you. I love and appreciate you so much and you bring me sunlight and joy and peace and connection. you are a true friend to me. thank you for being here. you deserve the world and so much more. 

[pretty-volatile]

Friday, March 13, 2020 2:21 am

Heeyyyy, i'm still alive I swear! I haven't posted an actual journal entry in a while. Don't know what I should cover really. Um I do remember that February 21 was the last time I saw my therapist. I was supposed to see her later today, but because I missed the bus for my psychiatrist appointment back on February 28, I had to reschedule that which ended up be at literally the exact same time as my therapy appointment would have been. It's more important that I see my psychiatrist though right now because of medications and stuff.

I got back onto my meds consistently from the 21 through the 28ish. The 28th though I ran out of my Lamictal and keep putting off/not having time to go pick it up. Then from the 28th through March 6 I still made sure to consistently take my other two, Fluvoxamine and Wellbutrin, for a whole week. Then I ran out of my Fluvoxamine, so I took my Wellbutrin by itself for a couple days. Then Monday of this week, I forgot to take it (cause I had shit going on for class) and since then I just have been accidentally (?) missing it. But again, I see my psychiatrist tomorrow. I did place refills on my other two meds and I can pick those up once I'm actually outside of the house. Hopefully will get that stuff today. But uh yeah

It's been weird. I can tell that these meds are probably a good combo, when I remember to take them. I'm not feeling as bad as I thought I would, given the missing the medication stuff. I've had some moments where I have that totally unnecessary explosion of anger from something small, but I cooled down pretty easy or at least like I dropped it. It wasn't worth spending all that energy.

Um eating disorder stuff is better. I'm actually eating, more than before at least. Sometimes I feel bad about how much I've been eating or how I feel big/bloated, but my partner says I still look thinnish (relatively speaking, I'm overweight but thanks to weight distribution and all that jazz ya know).

As far as recovery shit, I'm low-key finding it easier to just exist than to worry about being in recovery. I don't know how to say it. Obviously recovery is the end goal and it's what I want/strive for, but I feel like for a brief time I was putting all this pressure and stress on myself that I have to keep working hard and to keep getting better and keep going forward and blah blah blah. But I feel like that made me or could have lead me to relapse. It felt like I wasn't going anywhere. Like I wasn't doing anything right. I kept pretending to be in recovery or at least trying to and I just felt stuck. I stress myself out every time I think about how I have to deal with this shit for the rest of my life. I stress out every time I repeat a mistake or when things don't change. I stress out when things change too. I was trying so hard to pretend that I was working at recovery, that once things got really tough this quarter, it was hard to get back up. It still is, but now I'm not having as much anxiety, not as much "voices" (read here: inner monologue/conscience/if anxiety had a voice, not hallucinations) keeping me up at night. I'm just trying to exist. I'm not worried about recovery. I'm just trying to exist day to day, in the situations I am given, and while I'm not super excited or anything like for the future or whatever, I'm certainly not dreadful like I was just a week or two ago. I just had to let it go. Recovery will be something I do as I go, NOT figuring shit out as I go while in recovery. I don't know how to describe it. It's like I was putting recovery as this giant neon sign above me which just like drew attention to me from other or from myself, which really just left me feeling exposed and vulnerable. But now recovery is like this worry stone that I can carry in my pocket for when I remember that it's there to help me. Rather than recovery being the focus, it's instead a skill that I'm still trying to pick up as I go. I guess you could say that is technically recovery? Or maybe like quasi-recovery? Like my partner mentioned? I had a real legitimate reason that I needed to relapse those times I did. It was an old comfort in times of new/extending trauma and bad feelings. A way to control the pain I was going through. I chose to do it. That's not recovery, to choose something you know is harmful to yourself. But now, right now I don't have that burning itch. I don't have that feeling of looking for a good enough reason to do it. I don't know if I'll do it again. I won't say I hope I don't, but rather, I hope I don't have a reason to. Because ultimately I did cut down on my self harming by a lot the past 5 years (er I should say at least the kind that I get scars from, there's lots of things considered as self harm but for this purpose I'm talking about something I struggled with since I was 13/14, for reference I'm 22 going on 23 in July). So I don't know. I just. I just need to exist. I can't, I can't stress myself with having such high expectations. I most certainly don't want to hurt myself or others and of course I'm continuing to work on making sure that doesn't happen and/or doing damage control if I does happen. But I just, I just want to wake up each day, figure out what I gotta do for that day, try my hardest to get it done, go to bed, and then start over again. Given the kind of mental shit I've got, for me it's very hard to make plans or to look at "what am I doing in a year" or other questions like that. I literally have to take it day by day or week by week or month by month. One day I'd like to take it year by year, and keep working up. But right now? Day by day, week by week. I am a fluid situation, a complex rotation, an unending carousel of ups and downs. But for now, that's okay. I just want my life, my life with my partner, our life to be the best that we can make of it even when our best doesn't seem like the "best" to others, but rather for ourselves

[grantfieldgrove]

Your friends want you to fail.

It’s true.

It’s true and it sucks.

But the sooner you realize this, the better off you’ll be. You can set yourself on the course for success while leaving them behind.

That’s exactly what your friends don’t want, but you have the capability to make it happen.

I’m not trying to be negative, but I’ve learned this the hard way.

Let me back up a bit.

Ten years ago I was working a dead end job at a grocery store. I hated it. The pay was crap. The work was crap. Most of the customers were crap. But I had friends!

I was miserable. I had a temper, I was angry about everything. I was bitter that I worked this job I didn’t like when I knew I should be doing better. I was all over social media, posting about everything, even belittling people I didn’t even know by snapping pictures of them and posting them, then enjoying a laugh at their expense.

That’s bottom of the barrel, self-esteem wise.

I would fight with people who held different political beliefs than me, different opinions about religion, or even movies. I was the loud mouth Fred Flintstone type, but I always got laughs. At least some.

It didn’t take long after my son was born to realize that something wasn’t quite right with him. He was extremely delayed and obviously autistic. I blew it off and didn’t believe it, making excuses as to why he was so behind.

We had to enroll him in a special school at age 2. The bitterness grew.

One day I decided to buy an iPad. Just because.

I took it home, unboxed it, and sat on my floor to play with it. But instead of playing games, I started writing.

I literally started writing a novel out of nowhere. It was a hoot. I started carrying a little notebook around work, thinking of plot points. It was great, because when you carry a notebook and pen around while working, people assume you’re working really hard!

Before I knew it, I had a book. I didn’t know what the hell to do with it, but I had one.

I found out you can self-publish books on Amazon, so that’s exactly what I did. I gave it a once or twice over, figured out how to format it, and it was published. And wow, did it have a lot of typos. The story was good, though. Some people bought it and it actually got good reviews. Some friends even bought it, though I doubt many of them read it. But still, it felt good. So I started the second book and finished it in record time. This one was even funnier and I liked it a lot, although, once again, I skimped on the editing.

Shortly before the release of that book, I had a falling out with most of my friends. I had planned a big party in Las Vegas, everyone was going to attend, but it was just a disaster. We had a suite at the Aria, but none of my friends even stayed in the hotel. Not a problem, but they stayed way down the strip at Paris. Then got so drunk at the pool, not a single person showed up. So yeah, I was pissed. And the party wasn’t just for fun, it was a special occasion for my wife. And every one of them let me down. So that’s that. We left first thing in the morning, leaving them all in the dust.

Nothing was really the same after that.

All of this is just specific backstory that doesn’t pertain to you, but the basic elements could. The moral of the story remains the same.

Cut to ten years after I first sat down to write that novel. I now have 11 books, including the first ever murder mystery series for kids, which even, somehow, became the runner up for some award I already forgot the name of. Three of my books have been produced into audiobooks and two have advanced to the semi finals in an Amazon-sponsored fiction contest where out of 10,000, 400 advanced. I’ve gotten positive reviews from Kirkus, and a few other publications.

These are facts that I am proud of. I share these from time to time on social media, although I am still not comfortable with talking about myself.

But, now my friends don’t buy my books. Maybe one or two, not even my “Facebook friends” who were on board at the beginning. The last book published is my favorite. I’m so happy with it and proud of it. I literally tried to give away copies to people I know. I didn’t have a single taker.

I would promote the book being free on Kindle during a particular day or weekend, or whatever, and not a single person would respond to it. I tried to give away Audible audiobooks. Not a single taker.

It’s so bizarre.

Why?

I could understand if the books were garbage. There are a lot of genuinely bad books out there, especially since self publishing has gotten so popular and easy to do. But my books aren’t those books.

I started a small publishing services company, just as a side job to help people out. People who were lost like me when I first started.

My friends didn’t care.

Granted, it’s not very exciting, and with the emergence of “multi-level marketing,” starting a business isn’t that impressive, apparently. (Remind me to tell you about this amazing magical wrap thing! Kidding.)

One thing I forgot to mention earlier, is that I went without Facebook for about a year and a half. I hated it. I hated the fakeness of it. And I was bitter. Bitter that I was trying to better my life, to branch out from a dead end job and try to make something of myself, and I never got any good feedback from it.

My son is severely autistic, he’s ten now and still completely non-verbal. We don’t have a typical life. We have to adapt to whatever life throws at us, and that’s what I was trying to do. My son hated when I had to go to work. He didn’t understand why I had to leave, often in the middle of the night. So I tried to change things.

And still I got nothing. So, bye bye Facebook. Good riddance.

It was weird at first. I still had this urge to let everyone know what I was doing. Like, them knowing would someone validate me doing it. If your Facebook friends don’t know what you do, are you really even doing it?

While I’m typing this, my Facebook is back. But there is a reason. Over the summer, while I was doodling on my iPad, I had an idea. I could put these things on tshirts. I would totally wear them.

So I looked it into. I saw that the possibilities were seemingly endless. Why stop at tshirts when you can make leggings? Why stop at leggings when you can make backpacks?

It goes on like this.

So I went all in. And I mean, ALL IN!

I had quit my job at the supermarket a few months prior. I had enough money to survive for a while while I explored new paths. So I sunk everything into this little venture. I was going to make horror related clothes. The horror market is severely underused. There are, of course, some major players in the horror game, but they all had to start at the bottom, too. So I went for it. I made a website. I made an Instagram and a Facebook. And after a week of the site being up, I made a sale. And then another sale.

Turning a profit is tricky, though. I needed word of mouth. I needed friends.

So I got back on my personal Facebook page after a year and a half, and let everyone know what I had been up to while I was gone.

It landed with a thud.

Nobody cared.

In the time I was gone I had a kid’s book, and novel, and this clothing company all launch.

I got nothing.

I started booking comic cons and would post pictures.

Nothing.

I have a little booth downtown, with all my stuff displayed, where you can walk in, buy something, and help support me and my family, by buying small, staying local.

I’ve had one friend visit it.

One.

It’s been there for six months.

I posted a few pictures of horror-celebrities wearing or showing off something I created.

Nothing.

I drew posters for a few events, movie screenings, even a stage play. I posted them. The most recent one I posted got 6 likes.

I have 590 Facebook friends and 6 of them liked a poster I did for a Scream 2 screening.

I have a family member whose daughter wanted “something Michael Myers” for Christmas. I have tons of Myers stuff. Stuff I poured my heart and soul into. Stuff you can’t find anywhere else.

This person did not buy from me. She bought a generic Myers t-shirt from a major store and probably spent more than she would have with me.

Right now, through luck and hopefully hard work, my work is in the processing of being officially licensed. Which means, with a little more work and a whole lot more hustle, it could end up in stores like Hot Topic, etc.

And then what?

I don’t know. I like to daydream. And I would like someone to be proud of it, someone who doesn’t live with me.

But, there comes a time when you have to let that go. Your friends won’t be proud of you. They will belittle you. They will find something to nitpick about what you’re doing.

And it sucks.

Strangers will support you. Your friends will not.

The sooner you know this, the better. You can delete your personal Facebook, you can shrug your shoulders at all the people holding you back and making you feel bad about leaving your comfort zone and taking a risk.

There is no law that you must remain friends with the people you were once friends with. Cut em loose.

This is about you. It’s about your dreams. Your life. Not theirs.

If they don’t want to follow you on your journey or cheer you on, cut them loose. Release that anchor from around your neck and push full-speed ahead.

You’ll be amazed at what you can accomplish when you stop worrying about what so-called friends think and start realizing that no matter what you do, there will be someone who admires you and looks up to you, just as you’ve looked up to someone else when you started your self-fulfilling journey.

Be the person you would want to look up to.

You can do it.

Start today.

Two months ago I had to attend a wedding where all of these people would be, all these “friends.”

All I heard were complaints. Whoever we struck up a conversation with, complained.

Complain complain complain.

I understood what was wrong.

We didn’t complain. My wife and I, we only told positive stories.

Our complaining days are over. We’ve moved on. We seemed out the positives from our lives and choose to focus on that.

All this did was draw out more complaining from the wedding guests.

So tone deaf and these people we’ve left behind, they were complaining about students (the teachers we knew) that are very similar to our son.

Like, really?! This is our life. You go home at 3. We live with this. And we still don’t complain.

So far back these people are, I had to hear outdated and cringeworthy jokes, I had to hear casual sexual harassment, breasts referred to as fun bags, in front of the girl they were talking to, and the groom’s nieces. They still use the R word to describe anything, despite knowing my son is extreme special needs.

Once you realize that you don’t want to live in the world these people still inhabit, the sooner you can progress to where you want to be.

You’ll never be happier leaving them, and their outdated thinking, and their complaints, and everything else that makes you miserable to hear about, behind.

And you can do it.

You can do it right now!

Log out of Facebook and get to work.

Find people to look up to and follow them. Do your own thing. People will begin to follow you.

I’m not saying it will be easy. I’m just giving you a heads up of what’s to come.

You can sidestep it completely.

You just need to realize that your friends want you to fail.

Prove them wrong.

Don’t even tell them.

Start now.

Go.

[rilenerocks]

Here’s a selfie I took this morning, me wearing my favorite mask. As I believe this pandemic is going to last a long time, I’m collecting a variety of them. How very strange. Of the many things I’ve done in my life that seemed unimaginable, wearing a mask daily ranks near the top of that list. I remember having lots of conversations with people about how if time travel was possible, as portrayed in films like The Time Machine or Back to the Future, I’d never have chosen to go forward, to see what was waiting for me down the road. I still feel the same way.

I didn’t realize I’d accidentally taken this photo of my hair today, some time when I was out in the garden, looking for my newest blooms or insects on the wing. I thought it was both funny and oddly artistic. My garden, along with my funny little kiddie pool, are my salvation during these seemingly endless repetitive days of social distancing. I know that because my country’s response to the coronavirus has been so abysmal, I’m likely to be occupying this unexpected peculiar life for many months so I’d better make good use of whatever breaks the monotony. Outside I go, absent intolerable weather, to hunt for what nature has to offer daily, a beautiful little transient moment that I can freeze in time. Here are some of today’s little treasures.

I have lots more photos from today and many other days. They’re easier for ne to edit and publish than a post I’ve  been grappling with for a week. It’s chapter 11 of my small book about the years of Michael’s cancer and death – Be 278. I knew I needed to write that narrative, even when Michael was still alive. I thought it would not only help me come to terms with those challenging years, but also help others whose lives are upended  by a terrible diagnosis. I’m at the part when Michael has risen from the proverbial ashes, rescued from what we thought was imminent death, by a drug that for him, was essentially a miracle. This chapter is about remission which I thought would be easier to describe than some of the more painful moments. But it isn’t. I still get overwhelmed. I take breaks, going outside to see what the birds are doing, and other winged creatures or random garden visitors as well.

This is all great distraction. I give myself a break for being undisciplined about writing all that hard stuff because living it all over again is really brutal. I remember a lot of it, vividly, even after five years which in reality, is only a little time. But I also have my journals, pages and pages of feelings and descriptions, of ugly moments and painful beauty. I get involved with reading them to the point where I’m so exhausted that when I’m finished, I can’t write a word. That’s when I go outside, or read a book, or splash my feet in my little pool and watch the clouds go by while I listen to music on my ridiculously large headphones. I think it’s good to know yourself well enough to listen when your mind tells you to take a step back.

This evening I was immersed in the journals again, trying to establish a sequence of events, having gotten almost 1400 words squeezed out of my head that for the most part, seem coherent. While flipping the pages, I came to a number of them that I wrote in the fall of 2015, at a time when Michael was still in his exceptional response to treatment and I felt safe enough to venture back into the non-medical world to do something for myself. I took a creative writing class. I remember how great it felt to be participating in a normal retirement activity, doing something I’d always wanted to do, years before I initiated this blog. I didn’t remember all that much about what I wrote though. I liked my teacher and distinctly recall an ego-boosting moment when she read what she felt were the greatest first sentences in fiction and I could identify every single book. I felt like this part of my brain that I’d forgotten was abruptly, back up front, away from cancer studies and clinical articles. I even remember the first sentence she read: “Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.” One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, which happened to be my favorite novel.

After that class, our assignment was to write ten sentences that we thought would be engaging starters to a story or novel. What I found tonight in my journal was what I wrote for that assignment. I was fascinated by them but I never had time to go back and use them to go any further. Michael was still living and when he was at his strongest, I wanted to experience as much time together as possible. And when remission ended, and we walked those last months to his death, I forgot about creative writing. After he was gone, I took more classes, mostly about science and genetics, with jazz thrown in on the side. I started this blog about 6 months after Michael’s death, committed more to memoir than fiction. But now my interest is piqued. I don’t know whether I’ll pick these up and go anywhere with them. Regardless of what I’ll do, here are my 10 opening sentences, written five years ago.

1) When the sun broke through her bedroom blinds, Belle pulled the comforter down far enough to peek over it with one eye and register dismay that she was in the same room where she’d fallen asleep the previous night.

2) No matter how hard Jack squeezed and twisted the nightgown, his face pressed against the slinky cotton, no scent of Emily remained.

3) Goldfinches swayed on the pampas grass, denuding the plumes of their seed bounty in the brisk November wind.

4) Low tide, the edge of the beach covered in the former homes of sea creatures who had made a splendid snack for the inevitable predator.

5) The house appeared to be average for the neighborhood, effectively concealing the emotional disarray behind the sturdy wood door.

6) Every time Claire drew closer to Chicago, the sky’s subtle transition from blue to a sickly yellow color was a reminder of why she’d left so many years ago.

7) Although a distant geology class had provided the reason for the change in the color of the earth, the brilliant orange ground never failed to stun him.

8) “Keep your head down and don’t make eye contact with anyone or we’ll never get out of here.”

9) When they walked to the lake that morning, neither one imagined that this particular day would provide sanctuary for them through all life’s agonies, small and large.

10) Impossibly, a fountain pen with green ink and a piece of damask paper was enough to blot out the disappointment of last night’s dismal sexual failure.

So, there they are. Ten beginnings. I still like most of them and have a fair idea where I’d go with them. We’ll see. Tomorrow, I go back to the remission chapter. Time only allows for the occasional step back at my age.

A Step Back Here’s a selfie I took this morning, me wearing my favorite mask. As I believe this pandemic is going to last a long time, I’m collecting a variety of them.

[life-of-lizbet]

celebrity spotting!!!!

Hey y'all!! I've got an exciting mid-afternoon update for y'all. I usually don't post until the end of the day so I can write about everything that happened, but this is too exciting to wait. So you're gonna get two posts outta me today. Woohoo! My mom said that Jimmy Fallon was spotted in the grocery store today! (The one that my mom and dad work at, not the other one in town.) I just asked her who saw him- if she herself spotted him, or if he came in during the morning and someone else working there saw him. Exciting stuff!! He wasn't able to come to Wolfeboro two years ago because he had a whole debacle where he managed to slice his finger with his wedding band open right before the big weekend (aka Independence Day weekend). Seriously. Here's a link where he explains what happened: https://www.google.com/amp/ew.com/article/2015/07/14/jimmy-fallon-finger-injury-tonight-show/amp/ It must have been either three or four years ago when he came in the store when I was working and I caught a glimpse of him. Just a glimpse. I was working on the first cash register, the one closest to the entrance/exit. (When you're working on the register, you're facing the entrance/exit, just for a reference.) Jimmy Fallon had just checked out and was wheeling, at a rather fast pace, his cart out the door. I literally just managed a glimpse of the dude. Oh, well. The irony of all of this (okay, not really irony, but idk what else to call it) is that four years ago today (July 1, 2013- I had just finished my junior year of high school), I posted a status on Facebook stating "Saw Ann Romney the other day at work and couldn't care less... But today Jimmy Fallon came in and I didn't see him." I kid you not. I'll post the screenshot of my status in this evenings post. (Unrelated, but hilarious nonetheless- I had posted another status that morning stating that my car battery died when I was volunteering that morning at the humane society. I managed to have my wonderful grandmother who lives next door pick me up and bring me home. I honestly can't remember who drove me to work, but I digress.) Anywho, back to the celebrity sightings. Honestly, this is what makes Wolfeboro so unique. One year my friend claims she bagged for Drew Barrymore, only she was under disguise. The guy who played the president in Ferris Beuler's Day Off is often spotted in the store, mostly by my mom. (She loves pointing out when he comes in- I couldn't tell ya why.) Last year Mitt Romney came into the store all the time. You could just tell when he was up for the week. Because I worked a lot of 6am shifts last summer, I would see him a couple of times a week. I always thought it was hilarious when I saw him as I was putting up freight at 7:30 in the morning- "Good morning!" "How are you this morning?" "Doing well, how about yourself?" "I'm well, thank you." (The conversations always went a little something like that- I never treated him like a celebrity, but always like a regular 'ole customer.) Many times he would come in around 7/8am, sometimes with one of his grandsons, and then he'd be back in the late morning, anywhere between 9-11am. Then he'd sometimes come through my line when I was on cash register. I swear his wife would just send him in to get crap they needed/forgot/what have you. He was a nice enough dude just in and around the store. So I've seen him more times than I can even recall. Anywho, Jimmy Fallon is up in good 'ole Wolfeboro, New Hampshire for the long weekend because his wife's family has a place on Lake Winnipesaukee. (So does Mitt- his place is a freakin' mansion on the lake with tennis courts. No kidding.) I can only assume that Mitt is also up for the weekend with his family. They will most likely be spotted in the store/getting ice cream downtown at Bailey's Bubble, or anywhere else in and around town, for that matter. I'll have to ask my dad if he's seen Mitt Romney yet this weekend. Two years ago, when Jimmy Fallon had his finger issue, presidential candidates were throwing their names into the hat for president of the United States. Rubio and Christie, among others, had already thrown their names in the hat and they had been campaigning. For whatever reason, presidential candidates have had a thing with Wolfeboro's Independence Day parade. I kid you not. So in 2015, Romney invited Christie and Rubio to spend the long weekend at his "summer camp" (remember when I told you it was a mansion? Yeah, it ain't no summer "camp") as they marched in the parade. That year one of my moms Facebook friends bet her $10 or something that she couldn't get a photo with Romney, Christie (or was it Rubio?) and Fallon. Lo and behold, we find out after the fact that Fallon couldn't make it because of his finger. My mom never ran into Romney because anytime he came into the store, it was well before she was scheduled to work. He'd come in at 7, 7:30 in the morning, and she wouldn't be scheduled to work until 11, 1, or even 3 in the afternoon. Go figure. However, she was able to snatch a photo with both Rubio and Christie in the parade. I took both of those photos and they're just the funniest things, ever. (I'll try to post those in my evening post, as well.) So, for the past 6 years (I honestly can't believe it's been for 6 years...) I've marched in the Independence Day parade with the Cate Park Band, the community band I'm a part of during the summer months. (I'm going through moderate withdrawal so far this summer... only three more weeks and I'll be home and back in the band.) Anyone and everyone who is in the parade lines up with their respective float/marching group/whatnot down some residential streets to North Main Street. Because the band is always the third thing in the parade, more or less, behind the veterans holding flags, and one of the veteran groups (the Navy?), we have to stand out of the way when we line up that morning for the parade. It becomes a one-way street- if people have to drop off people/stuff for the parade, they drop off what they need to, then they drive through and exit. So we stand on someone's side lawn. Oh well. Anyways, in 2015, all of us in the band are milling about, talking with one another, tuning our instruments, whatnot. Suddenly, this giant, and I mean GIANT black Suburban with all of its windows tinted, and NJ plates drives through. The band director said "Hm, I wonder who that could be?" oh so sarcastically. Of course it was the one and only Chris Christie. (Or, at least, whoever his driver is had dropped him off to march in the parade.) Somehow this post evolved from "Oh hey! Jimmy Fallon was spotted in Wolfeboro today!" to "let me tell you everything about Wolfeboro's celebrities from the past four years." While typing this, I've received a VERY pissed off text from my friend who is working at the store the whole summer with my mom, stating that she's also not happy she missed Jimmy Fallon. At least I'm not the only one who's mildly upset about this situation. She might see him because she's working the whole weekend, so we'll see who the biggest loser actually is come middle of next week. One last thing- apparently Jimmy Fallon has a mustache now, according to his Tonight Show Facebook page. So strange.