I always feel like somebody’s watching me …

Which is actually not at all true, but I can’t help thinking about that song right now.

Turns out, there are at least seven different people from my job who have been reading and commenting here. Seven. And there may be others who have just chosen not to contact me after reading last night’s post. I have seven different emails to respond to after yesterday, and included among them is one from the person I was actually thinking about when I wrote that post.

To be clear, no one is cyber-stalking me or bullying me or anything like that. I have just felt odd about some of the comments and odd about the fact that the person (and now, I realize, a bunch of people) was reading here but not letting me know they were reading here.

This discovery that my tiny little audience a) is bigger than I thought and b) includes people who are at least tangentially connected to me in the real world reinforces for me the importance of what I wrote yesterday. I can’t let any of that make a difference in what I write here, in whether or not I write here. These seven people know me/know about me in a very particular way. I fit into a certain set of boxes. If they are reading back through this blog, they will learn …

  • That I am often really angry
  • That I write and think about racism a LOT
  • That I have a lot to say about living while fat
  • That I am incredibly and unashamedly vain
  • That I’ve had some really ugly experiences in my life
  • That I’ve had some really fabulous experiences in my life
  • That I’m older than they might have thought

And sure, plenty of other things, too. Is it weird to learn these things about me and not actually try to meet me when we work for the same institution? A little, I guess. But it’s okay, too. I put all this stuff out there with the idea that it will be read — and read, quite specifically, by strangers. So I can’t really fuss when people do exactly what I hope people will do.

So I’ll keep posting in my Queen of Oversharing fashion. Maybe I’ll even post some of the things I wrote last year but didn’t share here. We’ll see.


It’s the 14th annual Slice of Life Story Challenge!
Head on over to Two Writing Teachers
and see what the rest of this year’s slicers are up to!

Original Slicer - GirlGriot

And this is why we can’t have nice things.

I continue to participate in the #52Essays challenge, the challenge to write an essay a week for the year. I’ve been attempting to meet that goal each year since taking on the challenge in 2017. Last year was my least successful year. And yes, I could say that was because of Covid, but that would just be an easy cover. I mean, I did write less last year than I usually do, but I still wrote quite a lot. I posted 12 essays last year — half the number I posted in 2019 — but I wrote many more essays than that. Covid was part of what kept me away from this space, but it wasn’t the main thing.

I jokingly call myself the Queen of Oversharing. It’s only sometimes true. I talk a lot, and can definitely talk too much, but I don’t always share the deep stuff, expose my tender underbelly. Except on this page. For whatever reason, I often share things here that I haven’t found a way to talk about with the people I am close with.

Most of the people who read here don’t know me in person. Some of my friends and family read here, too, however. So do a few of my coworkers. And that’s fine. And it’s also strange sometimes. Strangest of all when lines blur and someone who falls into the surprise category of “strangers I know” starts reading here, starts interacting here.

And that’s what happened last year. Someone I’ve never met but to whom I am connected started reading here, started interacting here in a way that felt judgmental and mocking. And I was trying to manage being in quarantine and found that I couldn’t also manage even a quiet confrontation — couldn’t or just didn’t want to spend the energy on turning a conversation I didn’t want to have into something that wasn’t a confrontation. Instead, I chose to leave this space dormant for the better part of the year.

Which pissed me off. And made me sad. This page is one of my preferred release valves. Shutting it down because someone I didn’t want to see walked into the room wasn’t the best self-care I’ve ever practiced. If ever I needed a proven release valve, I needed one last year.

Last night I posted about my history of not settling in the places I’ve lived, posted about the fact that I am not settled in the place I currently live. And today the name of that “stranger I know” dropped into the inbox of my work email. And I had a stomach ache for the rest of the day. I don’t know if they are still reading here. But I am annoyed to find that I am still made uncomfortable by the possibility that they are.

This space is mine. These stories are mine. That person holds no power over me, and I refuse to give them the power to silence me again. If they’re reading here, they are. If they choose to share my stories with their coworkers, that’s just what will happen. All of the ways that I am ugly and flawed here are all of the ways that I am ugly and flawed in real life. Keeping myself away from this space, not posting the pieces I’ve written expressly for this space … that’s like writing lies in my diary to protect myself against someone else reading it.

Saying all of that out loud is a good reminder to me to keep standing in my truth and holding my space and, really, to hell with anyone who chooses to mock or judge me for any of it.

And this is why I will have nice things.


It’s the 14th annual Slice of Life Story Challenge!
Head on over to Two Writing Teachers
and see what the rest of this year’s slicers are up to!

Original Slicer - GirlGriot

Grading on the Curve

My no-longer-so-new job is the largest job I’ve ever had. It’s a job I wanted for several years before the opportunity to apply for it came along. I had some ideas about what the job would include, the kinds of work I’d be doing. And I figured there’d be a world of other things I hadn’t imagined. And I knew I’d have a lot to learn.

Right on all counts. Even the familiar things and the things I figured would be part of the job have presented plenty of mountains to climb in the need-to-learn category. I’ve spent the last 18 months on a learning curve with a broader, more sweeping arc than anything I’ve ever taken on.

All that learning, all that needing to learn, has made lots of room for La Impostora to stride in and get all up in my business. (If you are new to this page, La Impostora is my pet name for and personification of impostor syndrome. She and I have a long and unpleasant history.) And she has been riding shotgun with me since the day I accepted this job.

There is a large piece of my job that has been particularly difficult for me. It involves: 1) learning and understanding two sets of rules, 2) overlaying those rules on some moving parts that tend to move in completely non-complementary ways, 3) fitting the whole swirling chaos into a governing system the logic of which I am only made aware of when a) catastrophe is about to strike or b) catastrophe has already been precipitated by me. This piece of my job impacts every other piece of my job. This is where La Impostora comes to play.

This part of the work stresses me out and calls up all my doubts and fears, so of course it’s La Impostora’s favorite place to be. She has done a great job of reminding me of all the ways I don’t understand this critical piece of my job and how I am more likely to burn everything to the ground before actually learning how to do one part of it even passably well. (You can see why La Impostora is not exactly my favorite imaginary friend.)

This week, however, I tackled this aspect of my job in a way that bordered on capable. Because sometimes I can see La Impostora coming and I can shunt her off into a side room and bar the door. I can remember all the things I came into this job knowing and all the things I’ve learned since I got here. I can actually work through messy problems and find solutions and make disparate pieces function as parts of a whole. This week has surprised and pleased me by being full of moments like that, most particularly in this one super-stressful aspect of the work. I didn’t see it coming at the start of the week, and wouldn’t have guessed that it would keep up for the whole week, but here we are.

I have so much to learn in this job (I mean, SO MUCH), and not everything this week went swimmingly. But it always feels good to be able to turn down La Impostora’s loud, resonant voice, to be able to listen to my own voice. It feels good to see that I have been learning all this time, that I’m moving further in and farther up … that I’m on a curve, not a hamster wheel.


It’s the 14th annual Slice of Life Story Challenge!
Head on over to Two Writing Teachers
and see what the rest of this year’s slicers are up to!

Original Slicer - GirlGriot

And the List Goes on: The Brighter Side of Quarantine

I was amused by last night’s post, by my list of the ways you can tell how the pandemic is going in my house. That post inspired a handful of emails and a couple of texts, however, folks checking to make sure I’m okay.

Let me be very, very clear: I am okay.

Really. Yes, there are things that suck, Yes, there are ways I’m not exactly living my best life. In addition to all of that, however, I am also okay. And here’s a list to illustrate that:

  • I have put so many miles on my super-cheap stationary bike that I’ve ridden it into the ground and have just had to buy a new one.
  • I’ve started knitting gifts for myself and others.
  • I get up every morning.
  • I finally started cooking for myself after living on fruit and snacks for months.
    • I had a piece published that’s all about the magical recipe that got me to start cooking again.
  • I’ve been in a handful of excellent readings on zoom, including a bookend event for the Brooklyn Book Festival.
  • I have more than a dozen new and excellent fountain pens, including six of my favorite vintage pocket pens by Pilot, Platinum, and Sailor.
  • I have four pretty, blue, manual typewriters!
  • Covid pushed me to pull out my sewing machine for the first time since moving to this apartment, sort through my fabric stash and make myself some masks … and then to make masks for some of my neighbors, for a really nice Lyft driver and his family, and for some strangers I chatted up online.
  • I’ve organized the pieces of a book project I’ve been teasing myself about and discovered that I have much more written than I’d realized and there might actually be a book in there when I’m done.
  • I’ve discovered a surprise interest in blacksmithing — maybe not such a surprise, really, given my discovery of my natural welding talent a few years ago. What is blacksmithing if not playing with fire and metal? Same “craft” family as welding, though will many added skills to learn!

(Unsurprisingly, some items from yesterday’s list appear here, too. Blessings and curses are often comingled for me. I’ve learned to just go with it.)

There’s plenty more. These are ones that fit neatly into a brief-ish sentence. Maybe I’ll write about the others during the Slice of Life Challenge next month. The point is, I am fine. For all the ways the pandemic has been awful, I’ve been very lucky. I get to work at home, and I have always been really good at spending time alone in my house. I’ve hit more than a few walls these last couple of months, and that’s been hard. I’m managing, though. Regular contact with family and friends, deep wells of binge-worthy nonsense online, and knitting. It adds up to sanity while staying safe.

I hope you’re finding sanity and safety, too. ❤

Yes, totally fine.

How’s my pandemic going? The tl;dr? I have become the human embodiment of that crazy-eyed cartoon dog in the flaming room. Fine. Totally, totally fine.

Let the list below be more than an iceberg-tip of an answer. I’ve reached the phase of the pandemic where …

  • I have placed my first Drizly order.
  • I started planning my second Drizly order before I uncorked the first bottle of the first order.
  • I have given up all the I’m-stuck-at-home-but-I’m-totally-handling-this-lockdown-like-a-boss things I’d kept up for the whole of last year.
  • I am no longer comforted by chocolate.
  • I have added more than a dozen fountain pens to my already outsized collection.
  • With the exception of graphic novels, I have gone all-audio-books-all-the-time. The attention and energy required to hold a book, to turn page after page has become far too much.
  • I have proven to myself that yes, I can eat a quart of ice cream in a day … or, to be most exact: I can eat two of the no-longer-a-full-pint containers that ice cream makers sell now and charge more for than they used to charge for a pint and act as if we won’t notice the difference.
  • I have purchased not one, not two … but four manual typewriters.
  • I have binged every episode of Forged in Fire on Netflix. Yes, the reality show/competition for blacksmiths. And that’s because I’d already gone through both seasons of Blown Away, the glass-blowing reality show/competition.

Again, to be most exact: Forged in Fire is about bladesmithing. The contestants spend all of their time making various knives, spears and other killing tools, the testing of their weapons involves a lot of fake blood and a judge who grins and offers the reassurance that their tools, “will kill.” It’s a weird-ass show. And I have already searched “blacksmith training near me” and found two different forges that offer classes. I don’t need a new craft, a new hobby. And certainly not one that could cause serious bodily harm. But I also need skills to carry into the post-apocalypse that are more useful than being the crotchety old lady shouting for kids to get off her lawn.

We’re closing in on a year of lockdown. It’s hard to believe. It feels both longer and shorter, feels both impossible and obvious. And realizing that the one-year mark is about to come up also made me realize that March is practically here, which means back-to-back months of daily blogging for Slice of Life and National Poetry Month. When I’ve been doing almost no writing for a year. It has taken me over an hour to scrape this bit of fluff together. And I’m supposed to post 61 days in a row? Wishing me luck!