DEAR READER
Claire Keane
Cosmic Funnies
Love Begins
pixel skylines
★
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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todays bird
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
trying on a metaphor
noise dept.
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Discoholic 🪩
Keni
we're not kids anymore.
Kaledo Art
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
seen from Germany
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seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Germany
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seen from Malaysia
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seen from United Kingdom
seen from Poland
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Czechia
seen from United Kingdom
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seen from Iraq
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@doingtheutmost
Managing your tone. Your face. Your reactions. Pretending to care in the exact right way. Pretending not to care in the exact right way. Absorbing other people’s moods and responding in a way that keeps everything smooth. That is a performance. And I am tired of it.
I’ve been talking a lot about burnout and healing, but there’s something I haven’t said out loud. This isn’t new for me. I’ve been trying to unlearn over-functioning in small, quiet ways for a while now. Saying no here. Pulling back there. Testing what happens when I’m not being “useful.”
Women have always known. Not just that men can be dangerous—but that the most dangerous ones don’t look like it. They’re trusted. Vetted. Loved. Chosen. So what does “choose better” even mean when some men are skilled enough to build entire lives as cover stories? At what point do we stop asking
When I first heard Folded, it irritated me to no end. Every time I got in my car, it seemed to be playing on the radio. When I opened Instagram, it was stitched into reel after reel. This piece comes from a year where avoidance stopped being something I could intellectualize and started being...
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When I first heard Folded, it irritated me to no end. Every time I got in my car, it seemed to be playing on the radio. When I opened Instagram, it was stitched into reel after reel. This piece comes from a year where avoidance stopped being something I could intellectualize and started being...
View On WordPress
The Nine of Cups: Embracing Contentment in Everyday Life
There are so many things blocking me from being productive today. Let’s start with this morning: driving to work on practically deserted roads, pulling into a mostly empty parking garage, and walking into an office that feels like it’s holding its breath. The building is quiet. The phones are silent. And despite getting the best sleep I’ve had in ages last night, I still find myself tired. The…
Manifest Monday: What Are We Manifesting When the Boomers Clock Out?
This morning, half-dressed and half-awake, I was talking with a friend about the shared misery of participating in capitalism before coffee. Somewhere between mascara and mutual complaints, I said it out loud: “I’ll be glad when the Boomers are out of the power seat.” And suddenly, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Every major headache I’ve had at work? Boomers involved. Not all, obviously—but…
10 Things I No Longer Care About During Perimenopause
Perimenopause wasn’t something that was actively on my radar when it hit. If I’m being honest, I didn’t even know it was a thing before I found myself deep in the throes of the hormonal chaos it rained down on me. I thought menopause was it.That somewhere around 50 I’d buckle up for a wild ride, white-knuckle it for a few years, and then move on with my life. Nobody told me this was coming. And…
Unlearning Survival - A Slower Way of Arriving
I’ve felt pretty good today. Not euphoric. Not fixed. Just noticeably better. The kind of better that’s easy to overlook if you’re not paying attention. It’s been happening slowly, day by day, and I think it started the first night I slept for ten uninterrupted hours. Lately, I’ve been falling asleep early — seven or eight in the evening — and waking up around six. Deep, unbroken rest. The kind…
Perimenopause, Itching, and the Slow Death of My Patience
I’ve believed in reincarnation for most of my life. And whenever the topic comes up — casually, philosophically, half-jokingly — I’ve always said the same thing: I want to come back as a Black woman again. Lately, however, as I find myself deep in the trenches of perimenopause, I would like to formally revise that statement. Coming back as a man now feels like the smarter, more efficient…
Youth Death Vitality and the Lack Thereof
I’ve officially reached the age where the celebrities and cultural figures of my time are starting to die, and it’s messing with my head. We all know Instagram’s algorithm tailors itself to our interests, but lately, mine feels like a death march. Diane Keaton. Malcolm-Jamal Warner. Angie Stone. D’Angelo. James Earl Jones. Every scroll feels like another goodbye. And when it’s not death, it’s…
TPS Reports, Hormones, and the Rise of My Crone Self
I almost let work make me forget who I am becoming and what my priorities are — until corporate, in its infinite wisdom, reminded me exactly why I was here. So I deliberately stepped back into corporate life. Not for promotions, not for recognition, not for clout or applause. I intentionally went for a role below my experience and value — a bridge job. My goal? Mindless clerical work, a…
Volume Control
I open my laptop.Type.Delete.Type.Delete. Unmoved.Uninterested.Uninspired. I want to writebut the pagerefuses to want me back. Women feel like noise lately—a chorus of moods and motion,impossible to tune. I see myself hardening,turning into the kind of womanwho watches her move about the roomwhose energy doesn’t enter it. The voice beside meis a faucet left running.Every word a drip.Every…
Youth Death Vitality and the Lack Thereof
I’ve officially reached the age where the celebrities and cultural figures of my time are starting to die, and it’s messing with my head. We all know Instagram’s algorithm tailors itself to our interests, but lately, mine feels like a death march. Diane Keaton. Malcolm-Jamal Warner. Angie Stone. D’Angelo. James Earl Jones. Every scroll feels like another goodbye. And when it’s not death, it’s…
You're so smart
So this post might feel a little scattered, because my brain is doing two different things at once—but let’s start with the first train of thought. I get told that I’m smart… a lot. At least once a week, someone says it to me. When I was younger, I wore it like a badge of honor. Teachers recommended I skip grades, and by 15, I had taken every class my high school offered. In my twenties, being…
Lip Gloss, Deadlines, and a Kodak Moment
Some days feel like a string of tiny nothings that somehow add up to something worth remembering. Today was one of those days. It started with makeup. Just a little bit, nothing dramatic. I hadn’t done that in ages, but we had a meeting in a posh neighborhood, and I didn’t want to risk wandering from a distant parking spot looking like I rolled out of bed. You never know who you’ll bump into out…
I thought
Welp, the long day that has been Tuesday is officially over — as far as I’m concerned, it can pack its bags and leave. Work was too long, even though I didn’t actually do much besides yawn and crave sugar like it was oxygen. The only silver lining was leaving about half an hour early, which felt like winning the corporate lottery. I raced home thinking I’d catch my girlfriend pulling up at the…