It's been a bit of a ratchet time.
What a month. We've reached its end, and although events within the past two years have been pretty aggressive, this month still feels like a car crash.
I've been gone; I believe it's been a month since I uploaded anything on here. Maybe you can all remember how things were going the last time I disappeared—not great. Granted, that lasted for over a year. This definitely wasn't that, thank God, but again, we all remember. It's not like there wasn't content in my knapsack—no, the drafts are flourishing—but I was taking life one step at a time. I'd write up a post or three and journal every other day, but there was no pressure to release anything.
We'll examine the existential crises, strategic mourning, and the like eventually, but I want to do a side-show events rundown today. I'd have to fully scrutinize the important stuff first before I word vomit them onto this platform.
Austin Butler's Lord Works Harder.
I see Austin Butler. I see what they—the machine—are doing. Yeah, he's having a hard time shaking off the Elvis...okay...of course. Give us more sultry eye shots. Give us more gyrating clips. Give us his sometimes smooth-like-honey, deep-voiced, California-Tenessee speech pattern. Watch him stare into all the interviewers' souls—especially Kelly Clarkson, bless her.
If he doesn't get the Oscar, he will, at least, get thi—
Life Begins at Inception Now.
And your pregnant body and brains are borrowed vessels. Well, at least until further notice. This situation is much more nuanced than a lot of people are making it out to be. It sort of reminds me of people making Breonna Taylor memes for justice reasons—messy, fickle outrage, if you will.
I don't even know what to say. I get lost in figuring out what we're fighting for here, and this quandary is for all the pro-lifers. I grew up, myself, in very pro-life upbringings. It just wasn't a question; you give birth. However, as I've grown, I've come to realize that not everyone here was a welcomed—or compatible—presence in their parents' lives, and the signs are sometimes in the outcomes.
Forgive my brashness. They can turn out a beautiful success story, thank God for that, but then it can also be an absolute mess that we then have to figure out until they're dead.
I just cannot grasp how you're going to force someone to house another human—it's just weird. Say we're trying to rescue the next potential Einstein or something, that would entail that we all have glowing destinies encapsulated in floral arrangements. That, unfortunately, isn't the case. We're asking many children—and parents—to beat the odds here.
All I'm saying is that we can't all be here. We're barely even all here and it's already a raging disaster. If we don't have a plan in place to house all these people adequately and healthily, what are we doing forcefully bringing them in then?
Just live your life, adhere to your morals and birth your kids if you want to, but mind your business. It's not your life, and it's not your potential kid. Why the need for chaos?
Happy Father's Day to Ben Affleck.
J-Lo is a gem; one that I take for granted, but a gem all the same. I just admire how in her relationships she is. As in, as soon as it starts, she's in it. Does that make any sense? Anyway, Happy Father's Day to only Ben Affleck.
So, so many sidenotes underneath this umbrella:
I watched Halftime; I did that.
I watched Deep Water; I did that.
I watched Jersey Girl; a thing that I also did.
Halftime did work in the sense that I think I value J-Lo's performing ability and dedication a little more. I also appreciate that Ben Affleck stopped by to remind us that he is now a part of her life again—Oh...hi...nice to see you here...with your two cents???
Love it. I've never stanned(?)—stood?—a more giving couple than this one. I am team Bennifer, and every month they remind me why.
Summer Induces Seasonal Affective Disorder.
I said what I said. I know that it is technically considered the minority inducer, but I have never been one to dismiss minorities. A problem is a problem, and I will advocate for them whether the majority agrees or not.
There are many reasons to be severely despondent in the summer. All the things you hate come out to play. All of them. The light and temperatures are a scalding reminder.
"Till My Babyyyy's Born!"
This, right here. I hope that link never gets broken, and if it does, I will continue to fix it.
I don't know what ruins me more: the pure, dedicated effort on Ray J's end or the disrespectful adlibs happening from his competitors in the background.
I Am Now One of the Fitness Girls.
Ugh. God. Make it stop.
I decided that every day—if I can—I will engage in at least one workout session. Maybe this is the reason I disappeared for a month—because I'm suffering.
I made that decision on behalf of my future self—the eighty-year-old one—who would wonder, in the alternate circumstance, why I did nothing to aid her. I enlisted one of my fitness friends as my accountability person and definitely did not tell my dad because he will not let me have a single day off. He doesn't read this blog so he still has no clue.
I've Been Inhaling Pesto, Curry & Donuts.
So that fitness journey is now a necessity.
No, seriously:
Happy Pride.
I don't take well to cheesy, repetitive affirmations, but for whatever it's worth, this Pride month, I say to anyone who feels invalidated, that I support you. Your identity and experiences are—and have always been—valid.
I hope you remember in the more harrowing moments that there's a community that identifies with you, is fighting for you, stands with you, and is proud of you.
Until next time,
xoxo. Love and... light.