The Non-Definitive Guide To Life

If you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with rain" - Dolly Parton

Posts for SNAIL MAIL Category

Big Thoughts & Feels About Abortion, Systemic Racism, Social Media, and a dash of Guns | Imperfect Analysis

SNAIL MAIL - June 26, 2022

12 – 13 min read.

Forward: I started the process for this piece on May 7th. I am closing it out on June 24th. Like my Sophomore English teacher wrote in the graded margin of my short story, “the ending is a little rushed.” But I’m done, I’ve said what I want to say, and there aren’t enough hours in my lifetime to refine and clarify my thoughts to my satisfaction. So here we are.

“What are you doing this weekend? Want to attend a protest against the abortion clinic?” 

I can’t say these were the exact words of the plucky, intelligent and deeply caring junior high friend who asked me to join her and the group organizing this protest, but that was the impression it left me. And I can’t recall my exact words back to her, but I likely stuttered and declined – not challenging her desire to protest abortion and now exploring my ideas about her and why it felt wrong to attend. We were 14, maybe 15. I remember being thrown off by the proposal. I had been raised Catholic; she might have known that and assumed I was in line with her thinking. But unbeknownst to her, I had already begun deconstructing my feelings around the church, and I couldn’t co-sign being pro-life. I also had an interest in possibly pursuing social work within the foster care system or child protective services. My early exposure to the horrendous acts of child abuse through the book “A Child Called It” and watching Lifetime movies about runaways – made it known to me that there were people out there that needed a support system and a safe space to turn. But my growing awareness that the system was filled with red tape and left people behind let me know it wasn’t perfect. In my teenage brain, the math wasn’t adding up. Why should women who are incapable of caring for a child be forced to carry their pregnancy? Adoption doesn’t always work out for the child. The foster care system is strained and is another area for bad actors to hide. The idea of eliminating the option for abortion only led me to ask more questions about the support system for the children.

So on May 2nd, 2022 when Politico’s article “Supreme Court has voted to overturn abortion rights, draft opinion shows” breaks and the fallout is plastered across the headlines and social media with the same talking points my teenage brain had been working through twenty years ago – I was fired up. I wanted to understand the whole picture and the arguments on both sides. Dissect the flawed logic in the pro-life view and counter with stats that eviscerated the notion that giving states power to determine abortion access wouldn’t be incredibly damaging to society.

A piece that would first highlight the long-term health implications for people due to OBGYNs and medical physicians being ill-equipped to perform procedures for people who are experiencing a miscarriage or have a life-threatening pregnancy. The essential need for body autonomy in a medical space. Present that the argument “abortion is used as birth control” completely negates the fact that it’s a difficult choice for any person to make and one that most don’t take lightly but are thankful for the option. An unwanted pregnancy isn’t out of an act of irresponsibility, and a child shouldn’t be born as a “consequence of one’s action” like a character-building punishment. Limiting access based on the viability of life, a philosophical debate that excludes quality of life, vilifies the <1% who have to make that choice at 21+ weeks. The late-stage abortion is a likely indicator that something has gone terribly wrong with the pregnancy and the choice should be received with support, love, and grace in this devastating time. Abortion was never in the plan, but now they find themselves at the doors of a dark decision.

Then bring up stats around adoption rates and the foster care system. Indicate the risks for those that do not have a stable family option – express the intense stressors and potential trauma that impacts one’s ability to thrive in society when they lack a healthy home environment. For example, 80% of children in foster care have significant mental health issues and 75% of girls who have been within the foster care system* are pregnant by 21, limiting their ability for upward mobility. And finally, I was going to tie up the piece with a statement from the perspective of a spiritual person who returned to Catholicism, saying if God gave us free will are we not playing God by eliminating the women’s right to choose. Pregnancy is a personal journey and should be honored as such. 

Basically, a dissertation on Abortion in America for a self-assigned Ph.D. program. The ambitious assignment ended with a thirty-six slide Powerpoint filled with notes, 15 plus links, and 7 to-be-read tabs open in Google Chrome. Each article sprouted a new branch of questions, and while chipping away at my dissertation for my inner professor, the headlines moved on, and there was a shooting in Buffalo. Ten Black people killed by a mass shooter in a grocery store located in a predominately black neighborhood. The motive — to prevent the elimination of the White race.

Again, social media is a flutter, but this time not as loud. Because although I follow Black creators and friends on my Instagram, accounts that are active in highlighting when White supremacy rears its ugly head and people who publicly engage in the act of bearing witness to the heartbreak in the world – it’s not the majority of accounts I follow. In my algorithmic bubble, Buffalo did not receive story after story of reposted content. The inescapable rhetoric only occurs when something directly impacts the majority. Emotionally driven to cry out the injustice, this incident didn’t hit my bubbles threshold for mass dissemination. One could analyze the reasons for this shift in behavior. Is it an indicator of the desensitization around the violence towards Black Americans or simply the result of burnout from the Roe v. Wade passion posting? I’m not judging people based on a social media observation. Measuring the whole of a person based on their social activity is today’s version of “judging the book by the cover,” you can get an idea, a good curated synopsis, maybe even cliff notes, but we don’t know the person line by line – we miss most of the nuance. There is no rule book for expressing oneself around the horror of our human existence. The idea of “doing enough” is a bottomless pit that guilt and shame love to attach themselves to – do not allow social media behavior to feed those feelings.

I didn’t repost the words of someone else’s outrage. I didn’t reach out and check on my Black friends. However, I listened to what they were saying and will always stop to listen to their thoughts and experience. The Buffalo Supermarket shooting is another reminder of the deep systemic issues around race that plague society. A malware humming in the background. The human psyche normalizes or finds ways to cope with ongoing anxiety, so I understand what the disruptive, ice-cold water of reality race-based tragedy can feel like. It shakes one out of the cocoon of mental safety and brings the pain right back up to the surface.

Humanity has used othering as a form of survival from the dawn of time. It’s a survival instinct. Othering can be based on various factors, but it’s a us vs. them as there is safety in numbers. When I drove across the South in 2014, a dream road trip through a part of the country I’d always been fascinated with due to early exposure to “Gone With the Wind” and heroic stories of people within the civil rights movement. I toyed with the idea of dying my hair turquoise but decided against it because I knew having my normal brown hair would make life easier. Not knowing the prejudice I might encounter cause of alt-colored hair, in a territory known for its propensity to “other people,” I choose to avoid it as a way to simplify the adventure. I made a biased decision against the people of the South around something I could control. I was exercising a privilege I know other BIPOC individuals can’t easily make. 

I understand there is resistance around the conversation of privilege and White supremacy. It baffles me, cause to me it’s simple. However, I am aware that the ideas are politicized and characters have agendas that cause people to tune out. I don’t want someone to tune out. So the following is expressed to simply illustrate why to me it’s clear as day that it exists; cause we all have it (privilege) and live under or amongst it (White supremacy). Whatever small advantage you have had above someone else, in any particular situation, is when your privilege has shown. And every time you felt your features or behavior didn’t fit some Eurocentric idea of perfection, that’s a form of White supremacy. Our country, and other European colonized countries, are founded on White supremacy because of the ideas and values of White Europeans that shaped it to where we are today. And there has been opposition, thankfully, that has fostered the diversity and expansion of our culture and emotional intelligence. There have also been good Whites along the way, but White supremacy exists, and I hope one day it will become so minute it will be like when the flat earth society only had two members. However, due to the ever-growing feeling of lack and fear, fighting each other over a metaphorical space to lay our heads down and protect our families. I’m not sure what progress we will make – I’m optimistic. But then the flat earth society has 225,108 followers on Facebook, and sadly, I don’t think it’s a majority of hate follows.

It’s insanity. We live in a maddening world that forces us to question everything and ourselves. In the search for answers we latch onto data, comforting conspiracy theories, spiritual beliefs, you name it, and combine our favorite pieces of information into a gooey healing balm for our psyche and say it’s going to get better. But then it doesn’t, cause we’ll have another affliction to swallow, but this time its children – 19 innocent children (and two adults).

Headlines stitched together from keywords “school shooting” and “Uvalde, Texas”. A disturbed 18-year-old purchased two AR platform riles from a federally licensed gun store and 375 rounds of 5.56 caliber ammunition a few days after his birthday. In the school he enters to commit murder, the police will stand outside the active shooter situation for 45 mins while a mother runs into the school to find her children. Matthew McConaughey becomes the voice of reason for gun control.

The Word doc for this article is titled “big piece” because I had the spark to write something, and then as the weeks unfolded, the objective, the voice, and the purpose morphed and evolved. As the tedium of everyday life disrupts the creative process, so did the traumatic events that fueled the words on the page. Outlines in the form of early morning word vomit in my journal, trying to deconstruct and understand the world through my thoughts and experiences.

Today, Roe v. Wade has been overturned. I don’t like hyperbole or emotional manipulation when it comes to politics, but it’s hard not to look at a map of the United States with trigger laws on abortion in place and not think – this is how the dystopian America that the movies warned us about begins. And yet, it can’t be ignored that many in this country have already been living in a dystopian nightmare of restricted access to fundamental rights and needs, this is just what happens when it knocks on the doors of “safe” middle-class neighborhoods. The attacks on personhood from the government to civilians is and has always been constant, perhaps the only difference is the rate and our consumption of the trauma.

I’m scared about what happens next. I don’t like what I see, but I refuse to turn a blind eye. And I’m privileged (currently) with financial stability and the freedoms awarded to me because I was born, raised, and currently still reside in California – and when you have privilege, you use it to help others.

Donating monthly to the Abortion Fund Network and ACLU, as behind them are individuals who are invested in the work day to day.


Fighting a low-grade depression for months now, and it coming to a head while crafting this babble; I have a sense I won’t want to continue to write about current events. My off-hours bliss is not found in being an argumentative mouthpiece or writing a thoroughly researched persuasive argument. The anxiety knowing that there are angles of the tesseract that I have excluded gnaw at me. I have an awareness of the neverending wheel of horrors, home and abroad, and consistent commentary or speculation isn’t my aim. Also, I can’t keep up. I am the slow kid finishing the mile run, coming in huffing and puffing, wheezing as I bend over in pain from the knowledge that this will all happen again and again and again and again. All the hate, pain, suffering, death, violence and whatever other adjectives that describe the dark low vibrational frequency of existence is the same coin different side to joy, elation, love, pleasure, comfort, and subsequent adjectives that describe a bright light higher vibrational state. A utopia doesn’t exist outside of us but within us, and we influence the world by doing whatever in our power to create that utopia outside of us. Collectively a shared vision is lovely but impossible, as everyone will have some altering view – but if we can sign off on respect, support, and openness to being our guardrails, I think we can get closer.

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Celebrating Americana This 4th

SNAIL MAIL - July 4, 2021

Audio Recording of Article:

Estimated Reading Time: 5 min

This 4th of July I’m celebrating Americana, cause I’ve got some issues with America.

America’s a hot mess that talks a big game but can never seem to really get their shit together. I need to set boundaries with America, or else they will suck me dry of any spirit or joy. An emotional vampire, toxic environment, straight-up infuriating devil I know. So, yeah, America – we have issues, and I don’t want you to think that my eating BBQ, watching colorful explosives, and enjoying my federal holiday off of work is because we’re friends.

No – I’m celebrating in the name of Americana.

I am celebrating the culture of my home country and place of origin. As a biracial person in America, I’ve reflected on the fact I have no other country. The roots of my family tree trace back to islands in the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. So, I drank the “melting pot” Kool-Aid of the 90s cause it affirmed I had a place in this world. Before I knew to be critical of America, I had already fallen in love with the mythology of Americana. I carry a sense of pride over the ideology behind our nation and belief that all men are created equal and endowed with certain inalienable rights, which among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Men being shorthand for human beings. Men being an antiquated generalized pronoun placeholder representing all people regardless of race, gender or gender identity, and sexual orientation.  

To me, Americana is Chuck Berry and the birth of rock n roll. Two immigrants, Levis Strauss and Jacob Youphes coming together to create modern jeans/denim. Mr. Rodgers, Charlie Brown, the work of American puppeteer Jim Henson. Hamburgers, coca cola, and route 66. Disco and large shopping malls. Hollywood glamour and apple pie wholesomeness. All the elements that influence and inform a unique cutural experience and blossomed while America fluctuated between getting it right and horribly wrong. Since my experience on this planet is geographically from an American perspective, I’m curious about the cultural nuances that will be picked up and woven into the tapestry of Americana in another hundred years.   

My Bachan’s birthday is July 4th, so growing up, the 4th always had this extra special place in my heart. After birthday cake, we would break out lawn chairs and settle in to watch my Dad and Uncle take turns setting off a box of legal fireworks purchased from a church parking lot. And I would rock a red, white, and blue ensemble for the occasion. After my Bachan passed away, going up to her grave for a picnic became the 4th of July ritual. 

At eighteen and the start of her adult life, when one gains a sense of freedom and grows into their autonomy, she was sent to live behind barbed wire in a Japanese Internment Camp by her country. Like me, she was born in America, but since she was of Japanese descent, her freedoms as an American citizen were violated. The trauma my Bachan experienced is not easily healed, and she never discussed her experience. After the war, she wanted to stay in America but was forced to move to Japan by her father. An American woman in a foreign country, it would take her eight years to get back home.

At the end of the day, this hot mess called America is my country and home. I’m rooting for you and hold onto hope that with each decade you’ll progressive forward in a more positive manner than negative. Americana is the sugar that helps one swallow America. It’s what my Bachan loved and celebrated every 4th, the fireworks clearly going off just for her. As a woman, she appreciated that American culture afforded her more opportunities. And her husband, a fellow American she met in Japan, loved country music, westerns, and baseball. Two Americans of Japanese descent writing their own great American story. I spent every 4th with my side of the family that looked a lot different than the homogenous American family sold to us. Still, we couldn’t have been more made in the USA than the manufacturing label on the American Dream.

Happy 4th of July. I hope you’re able to enjoy your slice of whatever Americana means to you.

And remember, unless your Native American, you’re a visitor on this land – so have some respect.

It’s no surprise that the expansion and building of America was done by some well-meaning people and some really heinous people. We can’t change the past; and if it was changed, I don’t know where that leaves me. But it doesn’t hurt to acknowledge our f*d up colonial background, so be humble, and let’s try to right the wrongs of the past. Know better, do better – it’s that simple.  

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Charging Waves & Tetris Games


I’ve been struggling to hold on to a sense of myself outside of over-working and burnout. On weekends I find myself lost and aimless on how to navigate the unstructured time—struggling to prioritize myself over the boxes that line up next to my professional to-do list like a Level 10 Tetris screen.

Should I rest? Watch Netflix? Clean? Organize? Write? Create? What am I trying to achieve? What do I like? Who am I? What do I do first? What time is it? How is it already 8 pm? Damn, the sun is a mind f*ck.

Compound the existential crisis with trying to get in the swing of socializing after a year of living my best hermit life, and I’m like – not awesome. I’m not terrible, but I’m not awesome.

I’m growing at an incredibly rapid rate, and I feel like I have a spiritual camel-toe high-water situation happening. Grateful for the lessons and challenges that I’m experiencing. Each day feels like I’m charging wave after wave in an endless ocean of possibilities riding a tide that seems not to be taking me any closer to the shore.

When I was about 11 years old, I had gone through a growth spurt and, unbeknownst to me, packed a bathing suit that was too small for a pool party. Excited to go swimming, I put on the teeny weeny one piece that wedged up my bum with straps pulled taught like the end of a slingshot determined to make the poly-blend work for me. I’m not exactly sure who recognized or saved me from public embarrassment, but I was set up with an old bathing suit from my older cousin to wear instead. At the moment, I was uncomfortable with wearing a suit that wasn’t mine, but it was made clear to me that I had outgrown the suit I had brought.

Growth is uncomfortable and brings on more discomfort.

Guess that’s just where I’m at, the uncomfortable state of growing into a new person and figuring out what fits.


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It’s 2021, let’s catch up!

LISTEN, SNAIL MAIL - March 1, 2021

A quick status report of where I’m at today, and 2021 thus far…

Feel free to read it all or scroll to the section of maximum interest.


Back in September 2020, after an innocent conversation I was having with a friend over Instagram voice messages caused me to spiral into a full-blown panic attack, I realized I should hire an expert in emotions to help me move past some major blocks I had been experiencing. At the top of 2020, before the pan dulce, I was extremely agitated when I’d sit down to set goals and have to push through the extraneous stress to even open up my imagination for envisioning a life I’d want to cultivate. I’ve always been a “figure it out as you go type of person” because, at some point in my past, that was what I learned for survival. My emotional brain has struggled to evolve past immediate needs and into being capable of working toward defining my own vision of success, especially when associated with my creative aspirations. In my perspective, my ambitions have thrived more professionally than personally because professions equate to income and stability. But even in that department, I’ve had my fair share of struggles. Since connecting with a professional life navigator, I’ve been able to shift and remove a few of my mental blocks. Allowing my brain to see new pathways for professional and personal fulfillment. I’m genuinely excited for this next chapter because I feel like I just may be equipped to achieve my idea of success for the first time. It doesn’t mean I don’t shake in my brocade boots or that the mean girls in my mind are in detention – but I’m able to acknowledge them and return to the yellow brick road laid in front of me.

Not ready to publicly share my specific goals and ambitions, but to those paying attention, you might start to see them manifest.


The start of this year has been a little trying on my mental and physical health. Due to an overly ambitious holiday card project, I didn’t have time to set 2021 goals or make a 2021 vision board. Basically, apply all the great knowledge and insight I’d gained by doing the self-work I’d alluded to above. Seemingly innocent, except my inner critic would not let up how this lack of goal setting was a reflection of my self-worth. I fought back the mental bully while finishing up 30+ hand-painted ornament for friends and family. In addition to putting Christmas décor away because, after January 6th, formally cute turns to chaos and raises my cortisol levels.  Then the weekend, I’m finally getting everything wrapped up, Christmas tree is being deconstructed, and only six more holiday ornament packages need to be sent out – I come down with the rona. The panna cotta hit home. My husband works at a grocery store, and with the surge occurring in Los Angeles, everyone in his store eventually caught the virus. If you’re curious, I shared the full story on my Instagram the first weekend I felt recovered and saved it as a highlight labeled “storytime“. It’s a little all over the place, but you’ll get the gist.

My husband and I feel very fortunate that neither of us had to go to the hospital and are mostly back to normal. But we’re still experiencing some effects of Covid-19, like being easy to fatigue, and I have increased inflammation in my body, triggering a skin rash all over my abdomen.


After Covid-19 robbed me of my sense of taste and smell for about a week, I came out of the darkness with a fire in my belly, ready to indulge in all my favorites. Plus, it was my birthday, so I kicked off the top of February with cupcakes, pasta, Japanese fried chicken, ramen, sushi, and the decadence did not stop. My taste buds traveled to several countries from the comfort of my home. I don’t regret a single bite, but the excess and richness exacerbated my post-rona inflammation. Although cute, I’m not trying to have a skin suit that resembles a speckled robin’s egg for the rest of my life. Plus, who knows what damage the long-term inflammation can have on my body in the future, especially as I have a history of rheumatoid arthritis in my family.

So, I’m working on cutting out refined sugar (anything above >1% on the label), dairy, and most meats from my diet. Fortunately, I’ve been using Daily Harvest for a few months now as a quick meal solution on busy days. With this shift in my diet, I’ll be leaning harder on Daily Harvest as my Monday through Thursday breakfast, lunch, and dinner solution. I want to eliminate the window of opportunity for my brain to go, I’m not sure what to eat, or we don’t have anything to eat – so let’s get french fries and chicken strips. My goal here is to set myself up for success, which means knowing my weaknesses and countering them with fool-proof solutions. DH also helps manage food-waste in my home. A DH meal never goes to waste.  However, the fresh produce I purchased due to unrealistic expectations for myself cooking it before it spoils is an expensive and wasteful delusion.

I also picked up this SUPER cute Poketo Food Planner. It was sold out on Poketo’s website, but I found it on I’ll be using it to plan what Daily Harvest meals I’ll be eating each day and what anti-inflammatory meals I want to cook for my legally bound life partner and me on the weekends. 


HBOMax has been showing up with the light-hearted, feel-good content I’ve needed to escape the weight of 2021 thus far.

Selena + Chef

I’m a pretty big Selena Gomez fan, not going to go into it right now, but let’s just say if I need to stay awake on a long drive home – Selena is one of my go-to sing-a-long artists. I love the girl, so it surprising that it took so long to start watching Selena + Chef. But it was the perfect show to binge when I felt like absolute crap and needed some comfort television, consuming delicious episode after episode with talented chefs and Selena’s sweet determination to learn to cook. The tension is real; in one episode she came out wearing a sweater I thought was awful for cooking in (sleeves for days, kitchen hazard 101 – no loose sleeves), she never lit a sleeve on fire, BUT lots of other shenanigans go down.  For foodies and novice chefs, this is a fun show. I’ve been using the French omelet technique to cook eggs since watching episode 1.

Full Bloom

It’s a wholesome reality competition involving flowers. The contestants and judges were entertaining, but I was there mostly for the floral executions and occasional takeaway tips on playing with flowers at home. This reminds me, I want to pick up some tulips from Trader Joes this week.

Honorable Mentions:

The Great (Hulu)

Fun period piece, drama/comedy, featuring the occasionally true story of Katherine The Great. Costumes are opulent and gorgeous, and watching Katherine (Elle Fanning) navigate assimilation and rise to power in Russia is fascinating, although 99.9% fictional in its depiction. Discard the need for historical accuracy and go for the ride.

Crack (Netflix)

A fascinating documentary about the crack epidemic that is heartbreaking and blood-boiling, but I’m a firm believer in consuming content that expands one’s understanding of our society, country, and how the world operates. Documentaries allow for our continued education, helping us to paint a richer picture of our reality and the reality of those who do not have our same experiences.


I love fun-size candy and travel-size skincare. Skincare can be so expensive, so I rarely buy a full bottle of something if I can try it out first in a value/gift pack or travel size version.

Here is what I’ve explored recently all as travel sizes:

Sunday Riley

Good, I like it, nothing offensive – not sure if it’s doing anything, but might purchase cause it MAY be doing something just needs more time.

Love it, will definitely be purchasing full-size product


Also, while in a corona-fueled moment of cabin fever, I bought the Les Mieux’s Skin Perfecter, which is a $200* exfoliation tool. I really like it, and it’s totally satisfying for anyone that enjoys seeing gunk come out of their pores.

LISTEN [ Hyperlinks go to Spotify]


Still making playlists, this year’s start has been light in development hitting around 40 – 45 mins for both monthly mixtapes.

2021 January Playlist

2021 February Playlist

This radio station has been my go to for the workday –

Mista Izm Radio


Good Word with Kirk Franklin  –  so far, he’s interviewed Pharrell Williams, H.E.R., and Chance the Rapper. Each conversation has provided nuggets of insight around the human experience, reflection on our relationship with God, faith, or church. Chance the Rapper educated me on Chicago’s segregation issues that added colors and context to the conversation around black on black crime. Great podcast – looking forward to more episodes.

Thanks for catching up with me! What have you’ve been eating, watching, listening to, or adding to cart? How have you been hustling and flowing? No winners or losers here, only wins and lessons – got any you want to get off your chest? Let me know in the comments.

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Tracking Towards That

SNAIL MAIL - December 16, 2020

📷: November 1, 2020 & December 1, 2020 – Self Portrait
My end goal of every year is to come out of it a little wiser than I entered.

Roses & Thorns:

  • Legit don’t remember and need to keep better track in 2021

Two big brown button eyes are staring up at me, and I keep being gently smacked in the face with a paw. Lou would like me to get out of bed and attend to her needs now. But like all good parents, I am teaching her a lesson in patience. She is awake too early, and as she doesn’t have a concept of time, it’s very difficult to communicate this point to her.

My portrait of this Snail Mail is a mix of November and December. The months have run together in a blur of end of year wrap up assignments, an attempt at a CDC guideline approved social life, and online shopping. Zoom brunches where I can. A backyard hangout distanced six feet apart. Relentless fourteen-hour workdays to prove my value and worth. Shopping to comfort the emotional burn out that is 2020. I did a little “one for you, one for me” action while taking advantage of Black Friday deals to populate presents under the Christmas tree.

I’ve had years where the Christmas spirit has felt absent. But I don’t feel that this year. Despite the fact we are in a global pandemic that has impacted the ability to safely gather for Christmas with all my loved ones ( a reasonable sacrifice given hospitals are being overrun with Covid-cases on top of the common physical ailments that impact our fragile human bodies in otherwise “normal times”) the other special nuances of the season seem to be turned up for me. Like when a person loses their sight, so their hearing becomes supersonic. Hot cocoa is extra cozy and decadent. Inflatable lawn décor is mini art installations embodying the feeling of joy during the holiday season, or for me – the joy of Christmas.

Mid-December, I optimistically barrel forward until I drag my tired bones over the threshold into “holiday” territory. A two-week respite where the collective understanding is that new day-job demands are reserved for FY21. I’m looking forward to half days, end of year organizing (although there isn’t much considering I’ve been doing it bit by bit every weekend this year), working on the painting that I only work on once a year, and a little healthy goal planning for the year ahead.

As for a quick November recap, well, after a year of struggling with my imposter syndrome, I had a few professional wins that serve as evidence for my brain to say, “Hey, you’re not a con-artist; you have earned your spot at this table.” First, I helped contribute strategic insight for a new business proposal, and I dusted off my stage training as I hosted my first official webinar. I love presenting, and it was a fun webinar to host. Afterward, I was given kudos and informed it was the best webinar that the audience had attended. Woot woot!

I’ve learned and grown a lot this year. My end goal of every year is to come out of it a little wiser than I entered. I think I’m tracking towards that

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Married a Warrior

SNAIL MAIL - November 2, 2020

📷: October 1, 2020 – Self Portrait

He advocates for my health and mental-wellbeing to the inner critic, and I’m beyond grateful for the warrior I married.

Roses & Thorns


  • Spending more time reading than watching TV
  • Road trip to Arizona and Nevada with my favorite human
  • Stumbling across an incredible view at Bellrock in Sedona


  • Working on day-job projects till 11 pm and on weekends
  • My anxiety manifesting in new and intense ways
  • Not skateboarding enough.

Earlier today, I found reasons to procrastinate on this post like “my nails are far too long to type a blog post, I need a DIY manicure first” or “let’s enjoy another biscuit with a warmed up cup of coffee, before playing catch up.”

My nails are freshly painted. I’ve eaten two and a half biscuits today. And I watched two episodes of the Netflix show “UnWell.” Now, Brene Brown: The Call to Courage is paused behind the word doc in which I’m drafting this letter. I can’t procrastinate any longer.

Here is what’s been going on with me…

Pages: 1 2

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Force Quit for Now

SNAIL MAIL - September 13, 2020

📷 : September 1, 2020 – Self Portrait

Blanket Fort Adventures is like a software that is always open and running in the background.

Here I am again, writing my monthly Snail Mail, aka Editor’s Letter for Blanket Fort Adventures. I almost wasn’t going to write this letter reflecting on the past month. Not because the past month was exceptionally bad or boring. I just feel called to focus my energy-elsewhere, but I can’t shake this feeling that I’m not upholding my commitments. And I don’t want to be ok with accepting that feeling anymore. When it comes to committing to a personal goal or being consistent with something outside the realm of my career, I am terrible. I am the first one to let myself down. But I’ve been actively trying to break that this year, and even have a life coach developed mission statement that opens with, “my purpose is to honor myself through the commitments I keep.”

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Existential Peace Treaty

SNAIL MAIL - August 9, 2020

📷: August 1, 2020 – Self Portrait

Joy isn’t a truth that should be censored.

Roses & Thorns


  • Skateboarding
  • A Pinterest-worthy pandemic birthday party for my sister and niece
  • Daily Harvest ( I will need to write a review, it’s been a game-changer)


  • Two family members passed away (Not due to Covid-19)

I’ve just completed watching season two of The Umbrella Academy. It was a fun story to follow, and I enjoyed the stylized costumes and set design of the sixties. I appreciate the aesthetics of the era. I’m sitting down to write the Snail Mail letter of July, and I’m not really sure where to go. So here is a lightly edited stream of conciousness.

In July, I dived inward, but in a way that was different than June. I worked on finding and figuring out ways to grow and find a more sustainable way of navigating life. A very self-indulgent month of self-actualization, and honestly, it feels a little obnoxious to talk about my existential evolution. Still, it’s what happened. A major component of said evolution being my rediscovery of skateboarding.

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SNAIL MAIL - July 8, 2020

📷: July 1, 2020 – Self Portrait

On July 1st, I was in bed when I remembered to take my self-portrait. Fuzzy front-facing camera phone self-portrait it is what it is…

Roses & Thorns


  • Getting a necessary wakeup call & realizing I could be doing so much better
  • Learning and growing – working towards being a true ally
  • My sister’s birthday and getting her a TCO “No Bitch” mug to celebrate


  • Racism
  • Police Brutality
  • Violence Against Trans People

My last snail mail was written only two weeks ago. I don’t have a lot of new things to say or a fresh take on the monumental shift that occurred within our society and myself in June.

I talked about in May’s Snail Mail.

I explain my mental space in the intro leading up to an awesome interview with the band Draag. Thank you again to the band for being so gracious with the delay in posting their interview.

I’ve added banners to my blog that links out to Black Lives Matter and Transgender resources. I want to be a part of a solution, not perpetuate a problem. In June I received the harsh wake-up call, like many (but not enough), that my complacency was actively harming the people I love.

Yeah, not cool dude. Not cool.

Anywho, I write this snail mail to mark the start of this month on this here corner of the internet and go on to post much more interesting content. 🙂

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Different World

SNAIL MAIL - June 22, 2020

📷: June 1, 2020 – Self Portrait

A seam in the space-time continuum has burst, and we are in a new dimension.

My eyes are glazed and red from the tears. My face – puffy and pink from the crying. Our country is screaming out in pain, and this was my self-portrait for June 1, 2020.

Roses & Thorns


  • Moved our mattress into the den for a Friday night sleepover
  • Went on a beautiful long drive
  • Watched Julio Torres Zoom Fundraiser “My Sun Aquarius”


  • Watching a woman use her whiteness as a weapon on Christian Cooper
  • Watching the life drain out of George Floyd

An hour before I took this self-portrait, I had done some breathwork. The exercise triggering an avalanche of pain and gratitude to pour out of me, my face soaked with tears. I cried over the victims of police violence. I cried over the hatred that people spew. I cried over the chosen ignorance of those who refuse to recognize the system of racism in our country. I was crying because I felt guilty and filled with shame for the times I participated in a system that has oppressed black people. My intentions were good, but I wasn’t practicing anti-racism in my life. I was failing the people I love because I had grown apathetic and convinced that I could never take down our countries system of abuse – I certainly couldn’t solve this problem.

The apathy translated into a complete ignorance of our local and state governments. A total unawareness of how city budgets get allocated to departments. Asleep at the wheel focused on the federal system, instead of paying closer attention to the dumpster fire in my own backyard. I would pay attention to the props in state elections, but not the weekly city council debates. Blind to my influence over the judges who decide how to sentence non-violent criminals; probation and rehabilitation or maximum sentencing because the person fit into the box of “societal nuisance.”

I wasn’t ready to write my May Snail Mail Letter until now. Twenty-days from when I snapped the self-portrait and twenty-seven days since the death of George Floyd.

It’s hard to think about how to write a recap of May when it feels like a completely different world. A seam in the space-time continuum has burst, and we are in a new dimension. One where people are brave enough to protest amidst a deadly pandemic. All walks of life coming together to risk their health and breath to make sure no black man gasps “I CAN’T BREATHE” on camera again. The chance at a new kind of society. A new approach to equality. An end to the allowances made for the generations before us.

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