i write in many places. lists in notebooks. on my iphone. in my journal. the current trending place to write: substack (apparently it’s owned by a yahtzee - reader: please confirm and do research on your end). the sticky notes on my desktop. actual sticky notes. i feel as though this corner of my website is just another place.

blogs are interesting because we historically treat them like diaries, except i have an audience. but i’m unsure who that exact audience is. most of them i know are friends.

it’s a less formal place of self-expression (even though i can decide that my substack can be that too, if i so choose). there’s something about this location where i can feel as though i can let my metaphorical hair down. feels like i can have fun with the insight of my process. i like when things can be clunky. as someone that self-identifies with a.d.d., i have very much leaned into mess. i don’t know. i’m also always experimenting to see what sticks.

i recall one of the first blogs i was introduced to (outside of my friends, and my brother’s diaryland) - “i am a japanese school teacher.”

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there are so many moments i have with myself… i think it’s grief. i’m missing someone. i’m missing a feeling. i think of a memory. i want to chase a thing. i want a reset. i want a change. it’s discomfort. a spiritual edge. it’s feeling into the collective - that in itself can be uncomfortable. i’m tired. i want freedom (this statement always means something a little different every time i say it to myself, it takes a different shape even though it remains steady).

to be specific, there are days like today, when my former partner comes to mind. it felt like one of the most special, magical relationships to me. i know that some people say “all of that specialness and magic was you bringing yourself into it.” but/and a connection between two people is its own consciousness, its own piece of art, its own thing. {pause 3:37pm}