It’s Time for Me to Talk About My Chemical Romance

As a young teenager, I used to get up early in the morning to finish my homework before school.  In order to actually get out of bed before the sun had even thought about rising, I set my radio alarm clock on the other side of the room, so that I had to climb down the ladder of my loft bed and walk over to turn it off.

I don’t remember why I chose the local alternative rock station to wake me up — maybe because the noise of it helped motivate me, maybe just because on my inexpensive radio clock, it was the only station that came in clearly.

Whatever the case, all of a sudden, a specific song began to wake me every morning, played by the DJ at the same time of day — around 5:30 AM — more or less every single day for weeks.  I started to pay attention to it.  I was in middle school, and while this song lacked a certain degree of subtlety, it seemed to be saying something that no one else had said to me up until then, something that really resonated with my hormone-addled brain.

That song was “I’m Not Okay” by then up-and-coming band My Chemical Romance.

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Portland Pride 2019

This past weekend was Pride weekend here in Portland, Maine. In the past, I haven’t traditionally taken part in many of the Pride celebrations around town. I had never before been to the parade, and I’d only once gone to the festival, and then only for a couple hours. I’ve always known that I belong at Pride, but along with that knowledge there’s come a significant portion of insecurity: I didn’t know if other people felt that I belonged there.

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On Mentors, the Cold of Singularity, and Giving Gifts to One’s Self

I’m sitting in a local coffee shop, a new book in my hands and on my my hidden tongue, behind my teeth, moving with the rhythm of the words as I speak them in my head.  Beside me, a cup of yerba mate steams against the cold from the window, and a arm buttermilk biscuit sits on a plate with one little bowl of butter and one of raspberry jam.

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A Casual Blog Post

Sometimes I think about the particular nature of blog posts: how they are utterly their own thing, a little egg of thought, so small you can carry it in the palm of your hand.  Sometimes I find myself wanting to write one even when I don’t have any good blog post ideas.  So that’s what I’m making today, because a blog post is what I want to make, it’s what my hands and my mind feel like creating: a casual blog post.

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Basics for White People

Out of a deep desire to do literally anything at all that might be remotely useful, I’ve done A Thing. I created this document. I call it “Basics for White People” and it is basically a crash course on the things I see white people seem to constantly struggle with understanding: our own privilege, the impossibility of reverse racism, the Black Lives Matter movement, and why it’s important that we educate ourselves (and each other) on these things rather than asking (or, for the love of god, expecting) people of color to do that work for us.

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Magic and Storytelling

A few months ago, I went to Walt Disney World with my beautiful darling.  We’ve been together for about two years now, and this was the first real trip we’ve gone on.  We had an absolutely beautiful time (and we looked adorable).

However, as much as we loved hurtling through mountains and flipping upside with Aerosmith screaming in our ears, as much fun as we had stumbling around Epcot and watching all the animals at Animal Kingdom, we still are who we are, and so we got to talking – a conversation we dropped in favor of rides and fireworks and picked up again when we saw something that reminded us of it.

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Meet Me at the Fair

This weekend, my love and I went to the fair!  I’m not sure how common they are in other parts of the country (or the world, for that matter) but here in New England, fairs are a pretty big deal.  We have a lot of them here in Maine, but the Fryeburg Fair is the biggest and most popular.  We braved the traffic and went to spend our day among the sheep and the fried dough.

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