Summer walks

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One of the items on my 2024 summer bucket list was “go for more—and longer—walks” (meaning: “longer than the one-mile zig-zag that I sometimes do through my neighborhood”). And that I did. Beginning June 1 through September 15—my arbitrary “start of summer” and “end of summer” dates for this project—I walked about 215 miles.

While I did track roughly how many miles I walked out of curiosity, I wasn’t concerned with—and didn’t track—how many steps I took each day (I don’t even own a device that would do this) or how often I walked. This wasn’t an exercise goal for me. The idea behind this summer bucket list item was to spend more time outside, see more of Portland, and, for very predictable reasons (pollution, gas prices, maintenance costs), cut back on driving. And the fantasy of it was that I’d magically make friends and/or meet-cute the love of my life while out walking. I definitely spent more time outside and cut back on driving. I definitely didn’t magically make friends or meet-cute the love of my life. Sad!

I ran (heh) many of my errands this summer by walking: I walked to the library, to the pharmacy, to the post office, to the grocery store, to doctor appointments, to a haircut, to (and through!) parks and gardens and bookstores and cute shops full of things I both want and can’t afford. Some of those errands were less than a mile round-trip, others were closer to (or further than) ten. Many evenings I finished my day with a short two-mile loop around my neighborhood. Like many autistics, I struggle with transitions, even when they’re expected, planned, and/or wanted. I’ve found that walking a mile or two is a really good transition activity for my brain, especially at the end of the day.

I didn’t see as much of Portland via these walks as I’d hoped, in large part because I’m an extremely anxious and burnt-out autistic with very low and sensitive social and sensory batteries and tend to stick to what I know and what I know is my neighborhood and those immediately surrounding it.

My favorite part of these walks was finding little treasures along the way. Most of the things I found were on the ground. A few of them were hanging onto a telephone pole or wall by their last thread. I collected them all in a document box. I’m not yet sure what to do with it all aside from take a few flat-lay photos. Maybe a photo zine/book/album?

I really enjoyed this summer bucket list item. While I didn’t see as much of the city as I’d hoped, I did accomplish my goals of spending more time outside and cutting back on driving. Do I plan to keep at it? Absolutely. Will I walk as frequently or as far during the cold and wet months? Absolutely not. I don’t anticipate going on regular walks, and certainly not longer ones, until next spring.

(As much as I enjoyed my walks this summer, I would’ve rather spent the season hiking in the Gorge or the Coastal Range than walking in the city. I didn’t because I (1) prefer to hike alone, (2) had a few pretty intense and scary mental illness episodes while hiking alone throughout the 2022 season (the last time I went hiking) and haven’t felt safe hiking alone since, and (3) don’t know anyone to hike with while. Walking around the city, where I’m never very far from home and have plenty of people around to ask for help if I need it, seemed like a smart compromise.)

Truthfully, I’d like to graduate to biking around the city next year and, mental stability pending, save the walking for the hiking trails. Is it likely I’ll be mentally stable enough to return to hiking? Doubt. Do I have a bike? No. Do I know anyone I could borrow one from? Also no. Do I have the money to buy one? Definitely no. Did they just remove the BIKETOWN station that was inches from my apartment and with it some of the motivation and convenience to rent a bike? They did. Do I know how to ride a bike? I do. Do I know how to ride a bike in traffic? Absolutely not. Am I legitimately scared to try? Yes. Will I let any of those things stop me from trying? Almost certainly. We’ll have to wait till next year to find out.

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Although I’m wearing running shoes in the photo at the top of the post, I walked almost all of this summer’s 215 miles in a pair of Birks that I wore to the bone.

Could I buy a “better” shoe that’s specifically designed for walking? For sure. Do I want to? Hard no. I love my Arizonas. And of all the pairs I have (I have multiple pairs, some for wearing inside and some for wearing outside; they’re sensory heaven for my feet), I especially love this pair. I love that all the miles I walked in them and all the love I have for them is clearly evident with even the briefest glance at them.

Currently: September 2024

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Back in the olden days of the internet, “currently” and “around here” posts were popular with us personal bloggers. Many of us published one (or both) of these posts once every month or two. Sometimes these posts were used as filler when we didn’t have anything else to blog about at the moment, or when a more meaty blog post wasn’t ready yet.

A fresh, beautiful, end-of summer bouquet of pink, orange, and white dahlias and snapdragons and lots of green filler plants.

A lot of us also used “currently” and “around here” posts to document the details of our daily life at that point in time—many of us were moms with babies and toddlers and used our blogs as a creative outlet and a documenting/memorykeeping tool. These posts were also a way to connect with each other and share things we were excited about or inspired by before social media and influencing took over and diluted the experience.

I loved reading other bloggers’ “currently” and “around here” posts, and I loved sharing my own. Now that I’m back to personal blogging à la the olden days of the internet, I figured it’s time to reintroduce the “currently” genre/series here. Here are some things currently happening in my life.

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COUNTING down the days (210) till season two of Severance. 

DELIGHTING in a Lindt LINDOR dark chocolate truffle before bed every night. 

DREAMING of living in a home that has laundry and a dishwasher and an HVAC system. Or even just one of those things. Imagine how much money and time and how many (metaphorical) spoons I’d save if I didn’t have to (1) wake up before sunrise every Sunday to make sure I get to the laundromat early enough to snag a washer and dryer and (2) fork over $10.25 per a load of laundry. Or if I didn’t have to wash every fucking dish and utensil by hand. Or if my home had heat and/or air in every room instead of only one (heat (which have only in the living room) or none (AC). A DREAM.

ENJOYING the few weeks of regular weather and temperatures Portland will get after a scorching-hot summer and before it turns wet and cloudy and cold for months and months on end. (For those who are unfamiliar: the 11 seasons of Oregon.)

EXPERIMENTING with drying bouquets. The internet told me to tie the stems tightly with twine (check) and hang the bouquet upside-down (check) in a dark space (check). The dark space, the internet says, is essential to keeping color. This bouquet is one I made at a flower arranging class over the summer. I tied it tightly with twine and hung it upside-down in our very dark and very tiny coat closet that’s home to many things, none of which are coats. This photo was taken several weeks later. I love how vibrant the colors still are.

A dried bouquet of flowers being held upside down by yours truly. The reds, pinks, oranges, and yellows of the flowers have retained their color pretty well after weeks of drying in a dark coat closet.

FINISHING up my first-ever block of conjugate training. Given how incredibly boring I generally find powerlifting to be, I’m surprised by how much I’m enjoying. I think the variability and the novelty that it adds are keeping me interested.

LISTENING (again) to the podcast I Said No Gifts, which might just be my all-time favorite podcast, from the beginning. Bridger is so fucking funny.

LOOKING for a local shop to buy an old-school (and functional!) Walkman from. It’s the only thing my ninth-grader asked for for his birthday—I can’t not come through. (I’m also looking for at least one local repair shop that would be able to fix the thing if it broke.)

LOVING the end-of-summer bouquet I bought myself this week. (The flowers in this bouquet were grown and arranged by the same flower farmer and florist who grew and arranged the flowers in the gorgeous bouquet I brought to the Howells a few weeks ago. (Yes, I plan to dry this bouquet, too.)

The same fresh, beautiful, end-of summer bouquet of pink, orange, and white dahlias and snapdragons and lots of green filler plants featured above, just from a different angle.

MISSING running and hiking. Still/always. I recently found all my old race bibs while digging through boxes looking for something else, and I’ve been working on finishing up a hiking-related memorykeeping project, so that feeling has been especially acute lately.

MOURNING the hours of daylight fall has stolen (stolen!!!) from us (me, personally!!!). 

PREPARING to add weightlifting back into my training beginning Monday. I’m so goddamn excited. (This means I’ll have six barbell sessions a week—four powerlifting sessions and two weightlifting sessions. Mondays and Thursdays will have both a powerlifting and a weightlifting session. Tuesdays and Fridays will be just powerlifting.)

REALIZING that bouldering is much more challenging and difficult than I thought it was going to be. Am I even cut out for it? TBD.

Kelsey climbing up an easy route on an indoor bouldering wall.

STRESSING about—what else?—the election. 

TAKING photos for a new project I’ve dreamt up that was inspired by two different projects by two fellow local Redditors.

TRYING to get back into a regular memorykeeping routine with a weekly-ish Project Life album. 

WAITING (very impatiently!) for the two rolls of film I dropped off last week to be developed. Both rolls were from disposable cameras—one from nearly 20 years ago when my oldest was a toddler (the waterproof one) and another shot by my youngest a few summers ago. Will any of the photos on the oldest roll turn out? Who knows! I can’t wait to find out.

Holding two disposable cameras in my hand outside a local shop that still develops film on-site.

WANTING to visit Hopscotch Portland. 

WONDERING who will headline Warped Tour 2025. My vote always and forever is for blink-182. 

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Of the bloggers I used to follow and admire and find inspiration from, Elise is the only one who’s kept her blog up, though she no longer blogs (she fully quit the internet last year). To get a better idea of these types of posts, you can browse through her old “currently” and “around here” posts here (click or tap “older posts” at the bottom of the page to keep browsing).

A bunch of exercise and fitness stuff I want to try

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Because I’m a weirdo who genuinely loves/needs physical activity (I’m a big proponent of Type II Fun; for the last 11.5 years CrossFit (I know, and I’m sorry) and weightlifting† have been my Type II Fun of choice), I have a list of exercise-y and fitness-y things I want to try. Because I’m very bad at being a beginner (I have no confidence and do not wish to be perceived by anyone ever, especially when learning how to do a new thing), I haven’t yet tried any of the activities on this list. Because I don’t want to wither my life away being unconfident and stressmaxxing about not being perfect at things I’ve never done before, I’m posting this list here with the hope that doing so will kick-start my ass into getting the fuck on with it all already.

The activities on this list fall into one of two categories: those that I want to do just because/for fun, and those that I want to do to get better at the two sports I love the most, CrossFit and weightlifting.

†Whenever I refer to weightlifting, I’m always referring to the sport of weightlifting. The sport of weightlifting is also known as Olympic weightlifting and consists of two lifts: the snatch and the clean and jerk (it’s the jerk you see in the photo above). If you’re not training the Olympic lifts, you’re not weightlifting. You’re weight training or lifting weights. Not to be all pedantic and autistic about it or anything (this is one of the few things I’m extremely pedantic and autistic about).

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Things I want to do just because/for fun

Archery. I’ve been obsessed with the idea of learning archery since sleep-away summer camp as a kid. I recently learned about a weekly outdoor archery meetup on one of the Portland subreddits. It’s free and beginners are welcome and, bonus, the organizer has extra equipment for and provides a lesson to first-timers. The main thing holding me back from doing this is my concern about how I might be treated as someone who still masks, even outdoors.

Backpacking. I like hiking. I like camping. I’m pretty sure I’d like combining the two. A few problems: I prefer to hike alone and feel like I’d prefer to backpack alone; I don’t have the knowledge, experience, skills, or equipment to backpack alone; I don’t have any friends who are into backpacking who I could do a backpacking trip or two with to learn from (and I’m not going with strangers!). One of these days…

Barre. I’m not actually sure that I’d enjoy this. I’m intrigued enough to want to try at least one class anyway.

Figure skating. Do I possess the balance, coordination, and grace for this? Absolutely not. Do I still want to try? Absolutely yes.

Hyrox. There’s a joke/diss that Hyrox is for CrossFitters who are bad at Olympic lifting and gymnastics (domains that make up at least 2/3 of CrossFit workouts) and, lol, that’s exactly the reason Hyrox appeals to me. I LOVE CrossFit and weightlifting and also I’m not very good at either (it’s the autism). I don’t want to “get into” Hyrox. I do think it’d be fun to do a Hyrox competition just because/for fun.

Orange Theory. I think an Orange Theory class would be so fun. That’s all.

Skateboarding. I mean, come on. How cool would it be to know how to skateboard?

Tennis. I’ve wanted to learn how to play tennis since I was four years old. The park at the end of the cul-de-sac we lived on had A BUNCH of tennis courts and many weekends it was full of kids taking lessons. For years, I begged my parents to sign me up. My dad refused. Decades later I still dream of knowing how to play tennis well enough to head to the park and hold my own.

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Things I want to do to get better at CrossFit and weightlifting

Bouldering. Of all the activities on this list, this is the one that I most want to try (it feels to me like the exercise version of jigsaw puzzles, you know?). It’s also one of two activities on this list that I think has the potential to overtake/replace CrossFit and weightlifting for me. To be clear, I’m not looking to replace CrossFit or weightlifting—I’m looking to improve at both—and, based off about 43 seconds of exposure to it literally one time about a year and a half ago, I also think that there’s real potential for it to. Anyway, bouldering would help with grip strength and endurance, upper body and core strength, and hip mobility. So if I want to try it so badly why haven’t I? The thing that appeals to me about it (can do it alone) is also the thing holding me back from getting started (have no one to do it with). Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes.

Calisthenics. Imagine having that solid of a mind/muscle connection and that much muscular strength and endurance, and joint strength and stability. A dream.

Kettlebells. A lot of the kettlebell workouts I see focus on unilateral work and emphasize joint stability and strength (and in a more controlled way than a lot of other activities), which I would really benefit from.

Pole dancing. There’s not a rhythmic or graceful bone in my body so there’s no potential for me to be good at this in any meaningful way. I do think it’d be a great way to build upper body and core strength that would transfer especially well to the gymnastics elements of CrossFit, which I desperately need help with.

Pilates. Like I said above re: calisthenics: Imagine having that solid of a mind/muscle connection and that much muscular strength and endurance, and joint strength and stability. A dream. (Imagine, too, having enough money to afford a monthly Pilates membership. If you think CrossFit is expensive look up how much Pilates costs. Holy FUCK.)

Rowing/sculling. Along with indoor bouldering, this is something I can see potentially overtaking/replacing CrossFit and weightlifting for me. Through CrossFit, I have lots of experience rowing on a row erg. I also have lots of room for improvement to become a stronger, faster, and more efficient and technically proficient rower. The good news is, I live near a stretch of a river that’s home to number of rowing clubs that offer beginner classes.

Swimming. Adding swimming to my training would greatly improve my overall fitness, as well as my performance in CrossFit (and running!) in particular. Can’t swim in a mask, though, and I don’t have access to a private pool so this one is on the back burner for the foreseeable future. 

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Bonus! Things I used to do that I love and miss and want to start doing regularly again

Hiking. For mental illness reasons, I haven’t hiked since the close of the 2022 season. I had a few very intense and scary episodes on the trail that season and haven’t felt comfortable going back out since. I’ve started making a list (shocker) of Oregon and Washington hikes I want to do whenever I feel okay enough to get back out there.

Running. Before I was a CrossFitter and weightlifter, I was a runner. I LOVE running. For a long time—for years—I ran about seven miles a day, in all sorts of weather and through two pregnancies (right up till I gave birth!). I haven’t run regularly since mid-2020 and I miss it. A lot. Of everything on this list, this is the activity with the lowest barrier to entry for me. I already have everything I need to do it—apparel, shoes, knowledge, experience, miles and miles of roadway, (free) access to a track. I tried a few times during the summer to get back into it. I just… The thing is: (1) I’m so sick of wearing a mask all the goddamn time and (2) the safest way for me to run without wearing a mask is to get up super fucking early before the rest of the world which (a) wasn’t sustainable for me when I tried during the summer and (b) is a particularly not-safe time for me, a single woman, to run.

Spin class. When I joined a gym for the first time when I was 19, I immediately signed up for spin class and LOVED it. The intensity and music are extremely my shit (see also: CrossFit). Before running took over, this was my go-to workout. I’d love to regularly take a spin class two or three times a week just for fun. I have no interest in doing a spin class in a mask, though, so this one won’t be happening any time soon.

Pandemic Puzzles: a mini album

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Years and years ago when the kids were very young and little, my then-partner and I did a lot of at-home date nights after the kids went to bed. Sometimes we’d sit out front and listen to random police scanners while eating dinner or sharing a six-pack. Sometimes we’d buy teeny bopper magazines and do all the quizzes in them while cuddled together on the couch. Sometimes we’d do “Puzzles and Podcasts Night,” which quickly became my favorite at-home date night activity and was exactly what it sounds like: We listened to podcasts while doing a puzzle together.

(Fun fact #1: The first podcast both of us ever listened to was season one of Serial—which had just been released and was a local-ish case (we were working in DC and living in the DC suburbs at the time)—and we listened to it while doing our first-ever puzzle together (Crowd Pleasers by Jan van Haasteren, no longer in print).)

Overhead view of a mostly unpuzzled 1,000-piece puzzle, with pieces arranged on two sheets of poster board on a carpeted floor. The box of the puzzle is on the floor between the two sheets of poster board.

A few years later we broke up and as the kids got older life became more hectic for me—a newly single parent—and I stopped doing puzzles. I simply didn’t have the time or the brain space.

And then the pandemic hit.

Since the start of the pandemic I’ve done 23 puzzles. Twenty-one of them are documented in this mini album. I don’t have any photos of the first one I completed during the pandemic (which my then-roommate and I completed as a distraction from the cold during a combination snow storm/power outage rather than as a leisurely activity for fun), and the most recent one I did, I just completed the other day, weeks after I ordered this first batch of photos; once I complete at least nine more puzzles I’ll order another batch of photos and keep adding to this little album.

The front cover of my "pandemic puzzles" mini album, face up on a wood table.

I titled this project/album “Pandemic Puzzles.” Right now the album includes only a title page and photos of the puzzles in the order that I completed them. I plan to eventually add a puzzle log at either the beginning or the end, and if I can find numerical stickers or stamps that I like I’ll number each puzzle in the center of each left-hand page (and each numbered puzzle will correspond to an entry on the log). Technically that means this project is still incomplete. Whatever! I decided to post it because I don’t know if it will ever be properly finished and I’m trying very hard to (1) get back my memorykeeping mojo and (2) not let perfect be the enemy of good.

The title page is just the phrase “pandemic puzzles” typed directly onto vellum (yes, typed with an actual typewriter), which is overlaid on top of repurposed cream card stock. I had a handful of other ideas for the cover and ultimately decided on this very simple design (“design”) because all the pages inside are pretty visually heavy and busy. A simple title page feels like a good visual balance to me. If I ever change my mind on the title and/or the title page, it’s easy enough to change.

The title page of my "pandemic puzzles" album, open face up on a wooden table.

Alright. Let’s get this show on the road.

Puzzle details are in each photo’s caption. While I bought most of these puzzles from local stores within walking distance of my apartment, I linked each puzzle below directly to the brand or a puzzle seller. Many of these puzzles are probably available on Amazon for less than their list price. When possible, I encourage you to shop local or buy directly from the brand rather than Amazon.

All of the supplies I used to make this mini album are listed and linked at the bottom of the post. Again, when possible, when shopping for craft supplies I encourage you to shop local or from any retailer that isn’t Amazon or Hobby Lobby.

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Spread #1. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of a bunch of colorful pencils.
Vintage Pencils by Galison. 1,000 pieces. $17.99
Spread #2. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of astrological signs.
Cosmos Astrology by Galison. 1,000 pieces. $17.99
Spread #3. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of various colorful plant leaves in a realistic style.
Troy Litten Houseplant Jungle by Galison. 1,000 pieces. $16.99
Spread #4. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of various colorful plants in a very stylized manner.
Fantasy Garden #7 by Apostrophe Puzzles. 1,000 pieces. $36.00
Spread #5. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of various colorful desert plants in a very stylized manner.
Gabriella Laruccia Terra Viva by Jiggy Puzzles. 1,000 pieces. $49.00

These next five were picked out by and completed with two of my kids. My youngest is a big fan of the SpongeBob one and regularly checks in with me to make sure I haven’t gotten rid of it (I haven’t (I haven’t gotten rid of any of these puzzles)).

Spread #6. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of a kitten sitting on a slice of pizza hurtling through space. A slice of pizza hangs from the kitten's mouth and rainbow lasers are shooting out of its eyes and into the distance. Burritos and tacos are floating around the kitten in space.
Cat Pizza by AQUARIUS Puzzles @ Puzzle Warehouse. 500 pieces. $17.99
Spread #7. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of very small and colorful illustrations of the entire cast of SpongeBob.
SpongeBob SquarePants Cast by AQUARIUS @ Puzzle Warehouse. 1,000 pieces. $20.99
Spread #8. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of various tropical flora and fauna.
Tropicale 1,000 Piece Jigsaw Puzzle by Cavallini & Co. @ Puzzledly, $25.00
Spread #9. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of a Black woman posing as Rosie the Riveter, with her sleeve rolled up and her bicep flexed.
Rosie #1 by Apostrophe Puzzles. 1,000 pieces. $36.00
Spread #10. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of stylized illustrations of flowers, birds, and bunnies.
Genna Blackburn Birds & Bloom by Jiggy Puzzles. 500 pieces. $40.00

This mash-up of The Great Wave and Starry Night is one of the two most difficult and frustrating puzzles I’ve ever done. Most puzzles take me a day, maybe a weekend. This one took me months. I kept starting it and then shoving it under the couch for weeks at a time. Once, I even broke it down and put it back in the box (and the box in the back of the closet) after starting and stalling on it, which is not something I’d ever done before. I finished it out of spite.

Spread #11. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of a mash-up of Hokusai's The Great Wave and van Gogh's Starry Night.
Starry Wave by Blue Kazoo. 1,000 pieces. $25.00

To top it all off (!!!), it was missing a piece. I reached out to the company and they weren’t able to send me just a replacement piece. They sent me an entire other puzzle and I had to dig through all the pieces to find the missing one and, lol, because of how the pieces are cut, it didn’t even fit!!! What an experience (derogatory).

A close-up of the final piece of the Great Wave puzzle, which didn't fit.

These next two were panoramic puzzles and, sadly, I had to crop out a decent chunk of the finished product to get them to fit on the page. The FANFUCKINGTASTIC one pairs well with this SHITSHOW one. The Sistine Chapel Ceiling one is a personal favorite.

Spread #12. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of large, colorful letters spelling out FAN FUCKING TASTIC.
FANFUCKINTASTIC by Fred. 1,000 pieces. $22.00
Spread #13. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel ceiling.
The Sistine Chapel Ceiling by Eurographics Puzzles. 1,000 pieces. $19.99
Spread #14. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of stylized Corgis painted as subjects in famous paintings.
Museum of the Corgi by Galison. 1,000 pieces. $17.99

Fun fact #2: I bought this boobs puzzle to do while recovering from getting a boob job in February 2022 (the irony of doing a “you’re perfect” puzzle while recovering from cosmetic surgery, I KNOW). I started it two days after surgery right as news broke that Russia invaded Ukraine. I listened to the news while I completed it, which felt like a full circle “puzzles and podcasts” moment of sorts.

Spread #15. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of stylized illustrations of different pairs of boobs. The phrase "you're perfect!" is hand-lettered twice in whitespace between the boobs.
You’re Perfect by The Found @ Got Beauty. 500 pieces. $28.00
Spread #16. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of millennial lotería cards.
Millennial Lotería El Puzzle by Millennial Lotería. 1,000 pieces. $22.95

This LEGO faces one was easier than expected.

Spread #17. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of a bunch of tiny LEGO faces.
Minifigure Faces by LEGO. 1,000 pieces. $17.99

This next puzzle is the first one I completed this summer and it’s the one I counted as the “puzzle” item on my sad girl summer 2024 summer bucket list. I walked to Puddletown, a local game and puzzle shop a few miles from my apartment, to buy it, and, fun fact #3, that walk was the first one I counted toward my “go for more—and longer—walks” summer bucket list item.

Spread #18. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of a stylized illustration of scenes from The Great Gatsby.
The World of The Great Gatsby by Laurence King Publishing @ Puzzledly. 1,000 pieces. $22.00
Spread #19. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of a stylized illustration of a map of Portland with various points of interest represented with fun illustrations.
Portland by Birdie Puzzles. 1,000 pieces. $32.00

I have a whole thing about Marian iconography (it’s the autism), so this Virgin of Guadalupe puzzle is another personal favorite.

Spread #20. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of a the Virgin of Guadalupe.
The Virgin of Guadalupe by Gibbs Smith. 1,000 pieces. $21.99

It reminds me of the Marian art at the El Paso Museum of Art, especially that framed image on the top left, which, sadly, I didn’t take a full photo of, I’m sorry!!

A small figure of the Virgin of Guadalupe surrounded by small framed images of the same Virgin, on display at the El Paso Museum of Art, May 2022.

I love the imagery and creativity behind this parody puzzle. It’s by a local artist, Courtney Hiersche, who paints new scenes into existing paintings. I found it at Portland Night Market back in July. Along with the puzzle of the mash-up of The Great Wave and Starry Night, this is one of the two most difficult and frustrating puzzles I’ve ever done. It didn’t take me nearly as long as the Starry Wave puzzle but, just like with the mash-up puzzle, I absolutely did start it, then break it down and put it away before restarting and finishing it, which, just like with Starry Wave, I did out of spite.

Spread #21. The left-hand page is a photo of the puzzle's unpuzzled pieces. The right-hand page is a photo of the completed puzzle of an old painting of wealthy women and one man in 1800s-style clothing seated at a table playing Connect Four and surrounded by other modern-day games, like Uno and Twister.
Game Night by Courtney Hiersche. 1,000 pieces. $35.00

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Supplies

  • Album: Limited edition acrylic album, no longer available (I bought a few different colors and sizes of these acrylic albums YEARS ago)
  • Binder rings: 8-count assorted pack from Target. ~$2.00 regardless of where you buy
  • Crop-a-dile hole puncher. ~$20.00 regardless of where you buy
  • Photos: 4 x 5.33-inch photographic prints from Persnickety Prints (janky website, unparalleled quality and customer service). $0.49 per (when you order less than 10), $0.44 per (when you order 10-19), $0.39 per (when you order 20 or more), plus $8.99 standard shipping (unless you live in or near Orem, UT, and can pick your photos up in person)
  • Photo adhesive: Tombow Mono Permanent Adhesive (used to adhere the backs of photos together to create pages). ~$10.00 regardless of where you buy

Sad girl summer: my summer 2024 summer bucket list

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At the end of May I made a summer bucket list. I was feeling sad about how empty and flat and lonely my life feels as (1) an autistic person who (2) still takes COVID seriously (it is extremely lonely out here) and hoped that making a list of autism-friendly and COVID-safer things to do around town, and then working my way through the list, would help me feel more alive and less lonely and sad.

The back of a street sign in Portland, Oregon, with a white circular sticker that says "SAD GRL" in bubblegum pink.

My list ended up with 18 items on it. I completed (or completed-ish) 13 of them and plan to complete another one tomorrow, so I’m counting it as completed in the list below. Completed items are bolded. Completed-ish items are bolded and italicized.

  1. Archery
  2. Bouldering
  3. Bowling
  4. Cinnabon
  5. Farmer’s market, flea market, or estate sale
  6. Finish an art/craft/creative project
  7. Flower arranging class
  8. Go for more—and longer—walks
  9. Ice cream
  10. Local bookstore I haven’t been to yet
  11. Mini golf
  12. Museum
  13. Photo booth
  14. Photograph street art
  15. Pizza in the park
  16. Puzzle
  17. Sport/athletic activity I haven’t tried
  18. Tropical Smoothie

I also ended up doing/trying a few things that I didn’t know about when I first made the list: I stopped by an outdoor comedy night held at a park near my apartment, and, on a different evening at the same park, an original practice Shakespeare performance of A Midsommer Nights Dreame; I spent a couple hours at the Adult Soapbox Derby, a well-known Portland summer event held each year at a different park near my apartment; I went to the first night of Portland Night Market in July.

A view of the first few minutes of Portland Night Market in July 2024, as seen from above. A handful of tables with various goods such as clothing, jewelry, and baked goods are set up in the space and a few people are walking around.

Another main idea behind making this list was to not sit and spiral in my apartment all summer. Last summer was incredibly rough for me, in very large part because of (1) a health issue that triggered the most severe and prolonged flare of my most disabling mental illnesses that I’ve ever experienced (it’s been more than a year and I still haven’t recovered to baseline), and (2) the extreme heat, which prolonged and intensified that flare (extreme temps are one of my most reliable triggers for these particular mental illnesses). That whole episode—the health issue, the mental illness flare, the extreme heat—bled into other concurrent situations/experiences, which led to me becoming suicidal and, ultimately, quitting my job. That was my first (and hopefully only) experience with suicidality and I HATED being in that headspace. It was uncomfortable and scary and unsustainable.

I didn’t want a repeat this summer of how I felt last summer, so I made this list of things to do to help me get myself out of my head—and apartment!—when my brain started braining too frequently and/or intensely. In that regard, this list was a success.

A typical English garden front yard of a SE Portland home on a sunny, clear-sky day with a variety of brightly colored flowers and plants, some of which are crawling on a trellis fence.

I made it a point to think of this list as a menu of options of stuff to do when I had the time/money/spoons rather than a to-do list of items that all had to be checked off. I knew it was more likely than not that I wouldn’t complete the entire list and I didn’t want to feel bad about that or like I failed (or like I was the failure). I also steered clear of adding anything to the list that was primarily or exclusively about productivity (ew) or organizing/volunteering/advocating (things I do a lot of already). I wanted the list to be full of side quests that prioritized social, emotional, and/or intellectual sustenance—things that filled my cup more than they emptied it.

I hoped these little side quests would infuse some fun and joy into my life. Sometimes they did, though not as much or as often as I hoped they would. Honestly, as the summer went on, I became more angry and sad and full of grief about COVID and the parts of my life I’ve lost to it, and about how hard it is to be autistic, especially when everyone around you dismisses you as “high functioning” so you don’t get the help or support you need. By July I felt lonelier than I did at the start of summer a month earlier.

Reservoir #5 at the top of Mt. Tabor Park in Portland, Oregon, featuring a very blue sky and very green trees and grass. The reflection of the sky and trees in the water makes it appear a rich blue-green.

A lot of the stuff I did this summer, I did alone. While I’m used to and often enjoy doing things alone, it can feel really depressing sometimes when doing things alone is your only or primary option. So many of the things on this list would’ve been so much more enjoyable and fun and nourishing with a friend or a small group of friends. How, though? (Rhetorical.) It’s hard enough to make friends as an adult for people who aren’t autistic and/or who don’t still take COVID seriously. It feels impossible as someone who’s both.

A hopscotch and the sentence "It isn't all that bad." with a heart at the end, written in chalk on a neighborhood sidewalk. Spotted during one of my end-of-summer evening walks.

As shitty as I felt at times, the summer wasn’t a bust. Making and then tackling this list accomplished the goal of getting me out of my head—and my apartment!—and into the world, which helped mitigate the frequency and intensity of my mental illness flares.

Overall, I’m happy I did this project and I wish I had more—and local!—people in my life to share experiences and make memories with. Thanks to all the walks I went on this summer, I learned about a few still-COVIDing spaces and events in the city that I didn’t previously know about, which makes the idea of finding those people feel a little less impossible. We’ll see where fall takes me.

* * *

It would’ve made much more sense to post this list at the start of summer and then drop in with little updates here and there throughout the summer, I KNOW. Oh well. My plan is to share more details about some of the activities on the list that I completed (or completed-ish) in the coming weeks. And yes, I’m already working on a similar list ahead of the colder months so I can avoid as much temperature-induced spiraling year-round as I can.

Things Like That Don’t Happen Here: an unfinished project

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CW: rape, sexual assault

I have a lot of ideas for creative projects that I don’t follow through on for one reason or another. Mostly because I have no confidence. And also because I often lack the knowledge, technical skills, and/or network (and requisite networking skills) needed to produce the projects I’ve dreamt up. This is one of those projects.

I call it Things Like That Don’t Happen Here. It’s the beginning of a collection of photos of places at which I’ve been raped and otherwise sexually assaulted—all very normal, regular, everyday places where “things like that,” people like to say and think and believe, don’t happen. Below are the first four photos I took for the project. (Unfortunately, and likely unsurprising to many, I’ve been raped and otherwise sexually assaulted at far more than these four places.)

Four Instax/Polaroid photos face up on a wooden desk. They're arranged in two rows of two photos each. Two photos depict the exterior of different apartment buildings. One photo depicts the inside cap of a pickup truck. The final photo depicts the inside of a public restroom.

I was inspired to create this project almost a decade ago (!!) by the touring art exhibit What Were You Wearing, which displays different outfits—all very normal, regular, everyday outfits—that people were wearing when they were sexually assaulted. “The exhibit is meant to challenge the idea that provocative clothing is the cause of the sexual assault, a stereotype used for victim blaming.” I wanted this project to do something similar. I still want that.

My vision is for this project to be ongoing and community-sourced—an always-accessible, online collection of photos (and maybe accompanying vignettes?) contributed (anonymously, of course) by anyone who wants to share the story of their own sexual assault(s) in this way. I have no idea how to organize or curate or fund such a project. Here’s hoping that publishing this post will help jump start the momentum/motivate me to figure it the hell out.

Flowers for the Howells

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In June 2021 I happened upon a page-a-day diary from 1923 at a local antique shop. Because I’m both a nosey (curious) bitch and a sucker for the quotidian, I bought it ($28), brought it home, and worked on and off for the next two and a half years to transcribe every entry, making note as I went of the people, places, and events the diarist documented. Earlier this year I finally finished the task of transcribing and began the work of piecing together context clues to figure out the identity of the diarist.

A small, hardcover diary from 1923. The diary is covered in a darker-ish red linen. "Date Book for 1923" is debossed in the center.

While every page of the diary is thoroughly filled (and most days include a brief weather report at the top of the page), it contains no direct information about the identity of who wrote it: the diarist didn’t write their name anywhere in it, nor did they acknowledge their birthday or provide any other direct clues about their identity. They did, however, include plenty of information about their husband’s identity: his name, his profession, his birthday, and their wedding anniversary. She—given the time and the information available to me, I correctly assumed that the diarist was a woman—also named a few relatives who lived nearby and with whom she and her husband spent much time, as well as her husband’s business partner. This was plenty of information for me to easily and quickly figure out who she was. Or, rather, to figure out her name: Marie Howell (née Cline).

The diary lies open on a wood desk. It's open to the pages documenting Thursday, May 10, 1923, and Friday, May 11, 1923. Both pages are completely filled with cursive in ink faded to green.

When I first found the diary, my plan was to transcribe the entire thing before the end of 2022 and then, to mark its centennial, post a page a day on one social media platform or another beginning January 1, 2023. Then life happened and my plan…didn’t.

When I picked this project back up at the start of this year and finally figured out the name of the diarist, I did so by cross-referencing a handful of different records and documents—including the diarist’s and her husband’s death certificates, which list each other as each other’s spouses (shout out to my library card and the extremely free access it provides me to Ancestry Library Edition, HeritageQuest, and Oregon newspaper archives dating back to the 1850s). And that’s how I learned the diarist and her husband—Marie and Dwight Howell—are entombed together at an historic Portland mausoleum not far from my apartment. (Let’s be real. Portland is small. Basically everything is ~not far from my apartment.~)

View of a portion of the exterior of Wilhelm's, looking up toward the very clear and blue sky.

Transcribing Marie’s diary and researching the people, places, and events documented in it has been one of the most enjoyable endeavors I’ve undertaken. It’s sent me on so many side quests and down so many research rabbit holes (two of my favorite activities!). I’ve learned an incredible amount of information about how to research, about what city life was like for a white woman married to a white man with a white-collar job in Portland in the early twentieth century, about urban planning and how land is surveyed and mapped (and why Sandy Boulevard cuts diagonal like that), about what Portland used to look like and how it used to function, and about the early history of the Willamette Valley (as we know it today) as settlers began to arrive and stake claims to land that didn’t belong to them.

Stumbling upon this diary truly turned out to be such an unexpected and special gift—it’s always so exciting and humbling to be reminded of how much I still have to learn—and I wanted to do something for Marie to express my gratitude. So, I brought her (and Dwight) some flowers.

Straight-on view of the tombs/niches of Dwight O. Howell (1877-1946) and Marie C. Howell (1877-1961), with a beautiful bouquet of red dahlias in the affixed vase.

Marie wrote several times in her diary that year about her and Dwight’s dahlias. Twice she mentioned red dahlias specifically.

Sunday, June 17, 1923. “We arose for all day at 8. Cold baths. Eats at 9:15. At 9:30 Clayton phoned that Gladys has a tooth-ache. They came over. In mean time Dwight & I had made the house look pretty good. After they arrived Dwight & Clayton trimmed & weeded the dahlias.”

Tuesday, July 24, 1923. “We were up at 5:30. Mush and started on our way at 7. Some sun-of-a-gun picked our fancy dahlias that were only half bloomed yesterday.”

Tuesday, Sept. 4, 1923. “Breakfast at 7. Then cut the most wonderful bunch of red dahlias.”

Thursday, Sept. 6, 1923. “Up at 6:30. Left home at 8:15. Picked dahlias before leaving.”

Friday, Sept. 7, 1923. “We arose at 6. Cold baths & breakfast. Had sprinkler going until we started to city. Dwight cut a few dahlias, did up our dishes, left home at 7:45.”

Thursday, Oct. 18, 1923. “We were up at 6. Eats 7:15. Office at 8. Took a nice bunch of red dahlias.”

Friday, Oct. 19, 1923. “We were about ready to start but went into yard & tied up 3 bunches of dahlias the wind had blow over.”

Monday, Oct. 22, 1923. “Up at 6. The paper came while I was lighting up, so we read for a short time while rooms were getting warm. Dwight picked a large bunch of dahlias for the office.”

Tuesday, Oct. 30, 1923. “We were up at 6:30. Eats 7:30. Left home 7:45. I gathered a few dahlias to take along.”

Sunday, Nov. 18, 1923. “After breakfast we did up our work & cleaned some [illegible] into yard and took up our dahlias. Put them in basement. Raked up leaves.”

* * *

I don’t know if dahlias in general or red ones in particular were as beloved by Marie as my brain has convinced me they were. It seems like a reasonable assumption that they were: Aside from a single mention of gladiolas, it’s the only flower she writes about, and she does so repeatedly. So, I decided to bring her a bouquet of red dahlias—a custom and stunning arrangement very graciously made by a fellow athlete at the gym where I train who is a very talented flower farmer and florist.

Close-up view of a beautiful bouquet of red dahlias.

Before brining the bouquet to Marie, I took an embarrassing number of photos and videos of it to try to capture its beauty. None of them did it any justice. This thing was STUNNING.

Close-up view of a beautiful bouquet of red dahlias.
Close-up view of a beautiful bouquet of red dahlias.
Close-up view of a beautiful bouquet of red dahlias.

I really tried my best, okay! Please excuse my dusty-ass car, okay! And yes! That’s a plastic protein shaker bottle being used as a temporary vase, leave me alone about it!

An angled view of the Howells' marble tombs/niches and the bouquet of red dahlias in the affixed vase.

Anyway. I hope Marie, who died 63 years ago today, would’ve appreciated this bouquet of red dahlias as much as I appreciate the gift she unwittingly gave me.

* * *

Shout out to the entire staff of Wilhelm’s Portland Memorial, all of whom who were so helpful, hospitable, and gracious with their time (that’s autistic for “they let me autistic monologue (infodump) their ears off”) when I stopped in earlier this week.

I DIYed a candle and it only cost me $336.76

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As noted in my previous post a mere eight months ago, I’ve wanted to DIY my own candle using the leftover wax of a bunch of candles (of the same scent) that I’ve burned to the bone over the last couple years for months and months and months now and guess what bitch I finally did it. Behold.

My disembodied hand holds against a wood table with a vase full of flowers on it a small candle that I made using the leftover wax from eight candles (of the same scent) and a decorative glass gifted to me by my former roommate.

Here’s how I did it, and you can too:

Step 1: Head down to your local Rejuvenation and fork over $39* for a candle because it’s the best-smelling candle you’ve ever smelled in your entire life (it’s also the only thing in the store you can afford).

A bright red brick wall of the exterior of a building reads "REJUVENTATION" in white paint against a clear, very blue sky.

Step 2: Burn it for about an hour almost every evening before bed until it’ll no longer light.

A candle on a nightstand burns in a dark bedroom.

Step 3: Move the burned-out candle to the back of one of your kitchen cabinets for safekeeping because you can’t bear to throw it out—it smells too good, the packaging is too pretty, it cost too much money.

Step 4: Repeat Steps 1 through 3 seven more times over the next 18-ish months.

Seven candles of the same scent, burned all the way to the bottom, stashed in the back of one of my kitchen cabinets, waiting for me to get my shit together and make a candle using the melted-down leftover wax in these eight candles.

Step 5: Quit the highest paying job you’ve ever had that provided you with the expendable income to regularly buy and burn a $39 candle.

Step 6: Intermittently grab one of the burned-out candles from your kitchen cabinet and huff it, sad to your core that you can no longer afford to regularly buy and burn a fresh replacement.

Step 7: Spend several months wondering if you have enough leftover wax from the eight burned-out candles in the back of one of your kitchen cabinets to make a candle because you can no longer afford to regularly buy and burn a fresh replacement.

Step 8: Spend several more months researching candle wicks, overwhelmed by the options and unable to make a decision about which to buy.

Step 9: Unexpectedly receive a package in the mail from your former roommate that contains the cutest little Old Fashioned glass that would make the perfect candle holder.

My disembodied hand holds a small decorative glass unexpectedly gifted to me by my former roommate. Shiny gold wrapping paper is in the background.

Step 10: Say “fuck it” and spend $24.76 (including standard shipping) on a sample pack of wicks of varying lengths, and a pack of little metal bars that holds the wick in place, so you can DIY your own candle using $312 of melted-down leftover wax from eight $39 candles and the cute little glass your former roommate sent you as a surprise gift.

An overhead view of eight candles of the same scent burned down to the bottom. The candles are on a wooden cutting board waiting for me to place them one or two at a time into a pot of boiling water to melt down the wax so I can pour it into the decorative glass gifted to me by my former roommate to make a candle.

*Due to inflation, this candle now costs $42 and the entire project will now cost you $360.76 (or $368.71 if you have to buy your own Old Fashioned glass) 🙁

Okay now that the fun part of the post is over I need to be so for real with you.

I consider myself a creative person. I absolutely do not consider myself an artistic or crafty person. My brain is good at coming up with ideas and much less good at bringing those ideas to life, especially when doing so requires using my hands in a traditionally artistic or crafty way. Drawing, painting, ceramics, knitting, sewing, needlepoint, cross-stitch, etc. I love the idea of doing those things in theory. I absolutely do not enjoy actually doing any of those things in practice. And I’ve tried! I’ve tried on my own, and I’ve tried taking classes. Hands-on making just isn’t my thing.

And yet, I still felt compelled to make this candle. It seemed like an unfuckupable project. And it was. It’s very hard to fuck up melting down wax in one container and pouring it into another.

I thought/hoped that doing a relatively simple and unfuckupable, hands-on crafty project might change how I feel about doing hands-on crafty stuff because I really do love the idea of being artsy and crafty. Unfortunately, a project being unfuckupable does not guarantee it will be fun or enjoyable. I didn’t fuck up this project, and I also didn’t have fun or enjoy doing it. I was mostly just stressed out and annoyed the entire time over how much time and space in my extremely tiny kitchen that has almost no counter space it took to melt down all the wax in eight different containers. They joy was not, as they say, in the journey; it was in the destination.

Will I do this type of project again? Maybe. If I end up with a bunch of burned-out candles of the same scent, sure. What I won’t be doing is picking up candle-making as a regular hobby, and it certainly won’t be something I try to make money from. Sorry folks, no Candles by Kelsey™ forthcoming.

Also, can I just say that I’m very happy that I didn’t pay to take a local candle-making class because I’m almost certain that I would’ve felt like that money was wasted and that I wouldn’t have enjoyed the group setting and social dynamics of the class, or the overall sensory experience of the space, because: autism.

(I know it sounds ridiculous to say I would’ve felt like taking a candle-making class was wasted money when I spent almost $350 doing this project on my own BUT I spent most of that $350-ish on the same candle with a scent I LOVE and got to enjoy for months and months and months as I burned through those eight candles. There’s no guarantee that I would like any of the available scents at an in-person candle-making class, and it’s more likely than not that my autistic brain would be overwhelmed by the assortment of available scents. And honestly, the at-home version is incredibly straightforward: melt wax (that’s already scented with a scent you love), pour into container, let sit to harden.)

Along with reinforcing my conviction that hands-on arts and crafts are not for me, this project also reinforced my appreciation and admiration for people who are good at and passionate and knowledgable about making things with their hands. I’d much rather spend my money (when I can afford to) on quality crafted goods than try to make them on my own. I want to spend my time doing things I enjoy, and I simply—and, sadly—don’t enjoy hands-on making/crafting.

Three creative projects I want to work on this year

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For the last few years I’ve had the same three creative projects on my to-do list. I’d like to make some progress on them this year. One is pretty straightforward and has a very clear “finished” end state. The other two projects are less straightforward because I don’t yet know how I want to “do” them so I don’t yet know what either will look like when they’re “finished.”

Make a candle from a bunch of old candles of the same scent

This is the most straightforward project on my list. It’s also the least expensive and requires way less time, thought, effort, and energy than the other two. And it’s exactly what it sounds like: I want to make a candle using the leftover wax from a bunch of old candles of the same scent that I have stashed away in one of my kitchen cabinets. And I want to pour the candle in a new-to-me container that I thrift.

Seven burned-out candles of the same scent stacked in two rows in one of my kitchen cabinets. The candles are LINNEA brand and "vintage" scent.

1923 daily diary transcription

A few years ago I found a “page-a-day” type diary at a local antique mall. It’s from 1923 and there’s an entry for every single day. I want to finish transcribing it and then…I don’t know. There’s at least one fun project in there. I’m just not sure what it is yet.

A page-a-day diary from 1923 opened to the entry for Saturday, January 20, 1923. The entry is written in cursive and in pen that's faded to a green-ish color.

Vintage photos

Around the same time I found the 1923 diary, I began buying vintage photos from antique malls and thrift stores. I know what I want to do with them. I don’t yet know what media format I want to use. We’ll all just have to wait and see.

A basket of vintage photos, mostly black-and-white.

Quit job, start blog

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On October 9 I wrote a list in my phone titled “Things I would do if I had the confidence, patience, time, spoons, in-person community to help/support me from day to day, etc.” There are 14 items on that list. The first two? “Quit my job” and “Start blogging again.”

Screenshot of a note in my phone titled "Things I would do if I had the confidence, patience, time, spoons, in-person community to help/support me from day to day, etc." It's time- and date-stamped October 9, 2023 at 12:58 pm. It includes the following 14 items in the following order: 1. Quit my job 2. Start blogging again 3. Learn to skateboard 4. Write the memoir I've spent the last decade wanting to write (or at least, writer a personal narrative essay collection) 5. Start doing "real" photography again 6. Learn to figure skate 7. Take pole dancing classes 8. Go rock climbing and bouldering more often 9. Archery 10. Publish a zine of photos I take of street art 11. Writer that essay about the Virgin Mary and the color blue that I've been outlining in my head for almost 4 years 12. Start memorykeeping again (like IG, but in a physical photo album) 13. Publish that essay I wrote about why blue is the color of cops 14. Finish the essay I started on Glassman, CrossFit, Conservatism, and evangelical Christianity

A month after beginning this list, on November 9, I quit my job. And now, a month after that, on December 9, at way-too-early-o’clock on a Saturday morning because of course the one day a week I don’t have to wake up to an alarm my brain decides I should be up hours before sunrise, I’m starting this blog.

Yes, I caught it: 9-9-9. No, I didn’t plan it (I actually only realized it when I sat down and started typing this out). I also didn’t plan for the first two items on my list to be the first two that I crossed off it—and in the order they’re listed, no less.

I’ve no idea where this blog will go or how frequently I’ll post or how long it’ll last. I do know that this blog will be a personal blog (a long-lost and much-missed relic of the [g]olden days of the internet), hence the title and tagline, and that I’d like to keep this thing going for as long as it feels good and fun.

That last bit is especially important. I don’t want this blog to feel like a job, and I don’t want to feel like anything/everything that I share here has to be “perfectly” crafted. I won’t be following any sort of must-do blogging formula or format (*jerk-off motion*), I won’t be optimizing my posts for SEO, I won’t be plastering this thing with pop-ups or sponsored content or other ads, and I certainly won’t be finding or creating a niche or sticking to one topic.

As was customary in pre-social media personal blogging, I imagine this blog will be a combination digital diary/scrapbook/file cabinet/to-do list/notebook, and will include all sorts of things (hence the “etc.” part of its title): photo dumps, link round-ups, book reviews, personal/creative projects I’m working on, thoughts on parenthood, my experiences as an autistic and chronically mentally ill person, people and things that inspire me, people and things that enrage me, trauma and therapy, activism and advocacy and organizing, COVID (which is still a real big, real bad thing), a record at my attempts to complete various items on my “Things I’d do…” list, etc.

What I’m saying is: I’m going to let this thing become whatever it’s meant to be. And I hope that what it’ll be is place for me to organize and quiet my chaotic brain, which, by the way, feels like this:

Screenshot of a tweet from @pappapeppapig dated December 6, 2023, and featuring an image of tons and tons of open browser tabs squished together on multiple lines and a caption that reads, "brain feels like this." This image is truly the most accurate representation of my autistic brain I've ever seen.
Truly, the most accurate representation of my autistic brain that I’ve ever seen.

I also hope this blog will help me find community (I am very lonely), and that it’ll help other people feel less alone in their thoughts and experiences, too. And as long as you’re not a fascist or bigot or other variety of asshole, I’m happy to have you along for the ride. Hello, welcome, thank you for being here, etc.