My teeth have been deteriorating nearly my entire adut life. Except for the possibility of inheriting my mom’s poor enamel, I not entirely sure why. I did not build the best dental hygiene as a child, but I corrected most of it by college. Apparently, that was too late. Imagine such a torturous life due …
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my quantum existence
There is a type of experience in my life that I refer to as my quantum selves. It doesn’t happen terribly often, but it is consistently connected to physically traumatizing events. Especially medical events. As I sit in my trauma, but of me splits off into other past moments, reliving various related events simultaneously with …
a closer inspection
I came across a familiar quote today, by Alexander Leon: “Queer people don’t grow up as ourselves, we grow up playing a version of ourselves that sacrifices authenticity to minimise humiliation and prejudice. The massive task of our adult lives is to unpick which parts of ourselves are truly us and which parts we’ve created …
an unbearable pause
It is profound what can be found in the tiniest of silly things. I have joined TikTok and it is peeling away my armor and exposing the heap of trauma responses masquerading as an out and proud queer. Yesterday, I received a notification that I have access to the new three minute feature, not that …
the breaking off a fragment
I have spent most of my adult life mourning bits of me as they were broken off and left behind on the trail of my life. Eventually, I learned from She-who-is-never-not-broken that I can find my power here, in these broken moments. Today is a different sort of shattering apart: my heart is cracking to …
my lost extrovert
I’m not even sure when it happened. It is more than the effects of social distancing through a global pandemic: I have lost my social butterfly. Small talk is nearly impossible, and borders on painful. I am consoled by the current state of not going out in public, of not socializing. I miss my friends, …
the forgotten maker
This self has never really splintered off, nor has he had the spotlight as prime in this lifetime. A brief glimmer perhaps. My jewelry maker. I made a lot of things growing up. My brain buzzed non-stop and making with my hands was the only satisfying option I found to thrive through the noise. My …
my over-the-top pansy-poker
In a previous life, before surviving cancer and chemo forced “grown-up” choices that included company provided healthcare, I was an award-winning, top-notch, out-of-the-box floral designer. And, frankly, I miss it to fuck and back right about now. Both in Ohio and Arizona, I had the best times of my life poking pansies into vases and …
no splinter, just me: on the lump’s anniversary
Last week, on Christmas Eve, the cycle of my cancer story renewed. This will be the seventeenth play-through. Last month, the death of a brilliant and talented woman that I barely knew generated a round of survivor’s guilt unlike I’ve experienced in some time. I started this post, intending to make it about losing the …
Continue reading “no splinter, just me: on the lump’s anniversary”
the death of my musician:
I used to sing, and boy-oh-boy it lifted my heart to do so, but I wasn’t really any good. Not really. I was at best convenient. I didn’t get any solos. Ever. Except two solo and ensemble contests, but Luther picked those solos for who he wanted me to be, not who I was. Who …
quantum man 