Joining the X-Files

Dreamt I got the weekend off, but for whatever reason Aaron didn't. So Emil took me to his family's cabin in the mountains. Then we immediately had a misadventure.

While collecting fire wood, we found a body in the river. I realize the guy is still alive but trapped, so Emil frees him. No sooner than he does, the stranger tries to kill us, so we run back to the cabin with him chasing us.

Once inside I pull out what is possibly the world's oldest functioning gun from an old WW2 crate and shoot the guy dead. Emil then, without question or hesitation, dissects the body in the basin tub so that we can hide it. 

When an old woman unexpectedly shows up having heard a commotion, we explain away the blood we had yet a chance to clean up as a canning accident. "We were making our own tomato paste, you see." She buys it.

We spend the weekend drinking away the fact we killed a man. By Monday people think we had an affair when really we were just closer because we almost died and then expertly concealed a murder together. Quite a bonding experience.

Later, because of these events, I go on to join the fbi working on the X-Files. ??? Emil becomes a mountain hermit and my greatest source of intel. ???

The Big One

I wish the news would stop saying that the Pacific Northwest is going to have The Big One™ any day now, as if the entire state of California will be sloughed off into the sea tomorrow by an earthquake so great we can’t even measure it. The messages I’ve been getting from worried people are out of hand (which to clarify is not their fault, it’s the freaking media instigating panic for views).

First of all The Big One™ just means 8.0 or so. Which, let’s be clear, is a really big earthquake and nothing to laugh at but there are fault lines capable of much more powerful earthquakes. It would be bad, it would be less bad than Fukushima.

Furthermore scientists suspect ‘any day now’ will actually be 'sometime within the next 30 years.’ There’s no way to really know until right before it starts, so there’s no use living in constant fear of it. Be prepared, urge your loved ones to be prepared, but don’t dwell on it like you/they may not wake up tomorrow. People have survived much worse natural disasters.

Also? California isn’t going to fall into the ocean like America got butterfingers and couldn’t hold onto it anymore. Eventually the movement of the plates will probably slide the entirety of the west coast northwards, but it won’t simply cease to exist because of a single earthquake. Climate change stands a better chance of drowning the west coast (and wiping out Florida entirely), actually – so maybe less listening to the media and more investing in clean energy?

Lastly, just to be clear, where I live is nowhere near the epicenter of this quake. I do not live on the fault line. We’d probably feel it, if it was really big, but it wouldn’t be catastrophic here. So while I am absolutely terrified of earthquakes, I do not feel compelled to flee the state under the cloak of night tonight. I am in far more danger from wild fires exacerbated by the exceptional drought we’re experiencing. So… maybe also conserve water? Don’t buy bottled from California (Aquafina, Dasani, Arrowhead, Niagra)? Please?

The natural disaster we’re actually having RIGHT NOW is more important than one that might happen by 2045.

Why I Am Compelled to Write

I have never met my grandmother. She died at a mere 26 years of age leaving behind 3 children too young to really remember her. Shortly before her unexpected death she had begun keeping a journal. It was small, written in pencil, her handwriting looked a lot like mine. Her entries were glimpses into her day-to-day thoughts. However, pencil doesn't stand up well to the passage of time.

By the time my mother and her siblings were old enough to really understand the journal entries, to get a glimpse of who their mother had been, much of the writing had faded and been smudged. Those parts of her would never be recovered. Entire pages were illegible. Despite how much she must have written, no one could read it. Had she been happy? Sad? Frustrated? My grandfather was a handful back then, I can only imagine her opinions about him sometimes.

From other people's memories of her I knew she was a kind, forgiving woman who never held a grudge. I knew she was beautiful and a stay at home mom. That she was the love of my grandfather's life, and he'd never remarry because of that. But that's honestly about it. Usually people's stories of her were centered around them, as is to be expected.

I read the journal in my 20's, wondering if I would outlive her, much as I'm sure my mother had wondered in her 20's. The more pages I couldn't decipher, the more I worried that if I were to die there' would be little to remember who I had been. I've long been content with the fact that life is finite, that I too would someday die. The thought, however, that I may put others in the same position my mother and uncles had been in though? That sat like a heavy stone in my stomach.

I refused to be reduced to anecdotal stories told from other people's perspectives. I wanted people to be able to look back and read about my life through my own words. Even if they were frivolous at times. I wrote my first blog post just days after finishing my grandmother's journal. Though it was written elsewhere, many moons ago, you can find that post here. I was 22. I made sure to transfer it over, whenever I moved to a new host for my writing, regardless of how well it was written or whether or not I had said anything embarrassing or worthwhile.

Because your life isn't all about exciting adventures or coming off as perfect/accomplished. Sometimes it's about family dinners on Sunday, waiting in line, having the flu, and losing socks in the wash; and embarrassment is a big part of life. The sooner you realize these things and truly accept them, the happier you'll be. All of this is why I write, to be remembered on my own terms. Should anything happen to me, I'd love for my son to one day read all of this and get to know me as I had been.

Heavy Content

I know my funny writing has been missed lately and I'm sorry there isn't more of it being churned out for your viewing pleasure. I just want to assure you it's not a sign of the end times or anything. I simply don't have a lot of time to write, so when I do it has been about more important topics I need to get off my chest. Because as much as I enjoy knowing you guys like reading my stuff -- writing, first and foremost, is therapeutic to me.

I promise I still laugh and smile and do hyper-embarrassing nonsense daily and that stuff will return when I find myself with more time to write about it. In the meanwhile, if reading my more personal, deeper stuff isn't your cup of tea, check out my tumblr. Lots of tomfoolery gets channeled into it because of its ease of use (read: quickness). I'm pretty sure I've mentioned it before, though perhaps not. All work and no play make Inari a something-something.

Dreaming About Mansions

Dreamt that Sean bought an enormous mansion and we all lived in it, each with our own wing. For some reason Tyson and I had to share a bathroom though. All was fine until he started stealing my eyeliner.

I confronted him about it and he tried to deny it, despite looking like Jack freaking Sparrow. He insisted that he was born with it (trademark Maybelline). I wasn't even really mad about the eyeliner except people didn't believe me that he was wearing any.

So I had to conduct a sting operation to catch him in the act. There were donuts and tactical turtlenecks and everything. Unfortunately I woke up before the final Tarantinoesque showdown. What a weird dream.

I'm A Sexuality Ninja

When I was 15 my best friend came up to me at school and said, "I have something crazy to tell you! Come over after school?" I'll admit I was a little excited about gossip so rich it couldn't be repeated on school grounds.

That afternoon when classes let out, I walked the few miles from the school to her house. When I arrived and she treated me to a soda, her giddiness to share this information was so intense it was practically another entity in the room. "You'll never guess what (name redacted) told me in homeroom!" she began, eyes gleaming with secret knowledge.

"What?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. A new crush? A new rival? Did a teacher say something racist again? Did her dad have a new girlfriend? Did she get caught smoking in the bathroom?

"She's bisexual!" my best friend exclaimed, followed immediately by fake gagging, "Like she likes dudes and chicks! YUCK!"

I already knew (name redacted) was bisexual because I was too. I shifted uncomfortably. "Wow, how weiiiiiiiiird," I exaggerated. She had no idea. No one had any idea. Best to keep it that way. And that was the day I decided not to come out. That one reaction from someone I considered my closest friend. This is why I have never made any real public declaration.

There are probably people reading this right now going, "Wait, what?!" but I'm an adult living with supportive people in a safe space and none of those small town attitudes matter to me anymore. I'm going to marry a man, which is probably why some of you will accept this information without incident, but what if I weren't? If that would bother you, we probably shouldn't be friends.

The Most Disappointing Human Interaction

It's common for a woman to have at least a dozen stories about male friends she has lost due to not wanting a romantic relationship with them. Usually, though, these friendships were at least somewhat young. Nothing but ruined potential. Rarely do they involve a friendship spanning longer than a few months. It is really disappointing to think you're making a new friend only to find out they had an ulterior motive. Why can't people (usually dudes) just accept a relationship as platonic?

Back in the early 2000's, I basically confessed all my feels to this boy who was kind of awkward and long distance but easily my best friend at the time. We had all the same interests and hobbies and got along well. After years of friendship we'd never had a single argument. Every now and then our interactions were even a little flirty. It seemed logical that we would make a great couple.

So imagine my surprise when he not only didn't reciprocate my feelings at all but actually sorta... rebuked them. I was super bummed but remained his friend, talking daily and hanging out. I got over it pretty quickly, because our friendship was ultimately more important to me than anything else, and everything went back to the way it had always been.

Then several years later he confessed to having a huge crush on me. Um, what? Unfortunately by then I had shut out all those feelings for so long that it was SUPER weird because our relationship, for me, had become so sibling-like. I had been lead to believe that it would never be anything but platonic. It was like being asked out by my brother. So I had to tell him that while I loved him a lot, I didn't love him that way and very likely never could. Of course, even though it went without saying, I made sure he knew that I would love to maintain the relationship we'd always had.

Even though I was far more gentle with his feelings than he had been with mine originally, he wasn't as gracious about it as I was. We stayed friends for about a year, though he talked to me way less frequently. Then out of the blue he vanished. Moved, changed all his screen names and email, etc. Not a word to me about it beforehand and no contact afterward. It's honestly the single strangest, disappointing interaction with another human being I've ever had. And coming from my background, that's saying a lot.

Like just... wow.