the white lighter
In less subtle language, a few of the things you might see here: coffee/barista nerdery, androgyny and gender-fucking, gender studies in general, feminist theory, sex-positive imagery, fat people, photography and art of varying medium and subject, cat-related anything as well as my own feline friend, owls, tattoos, self-portraiture, nakedness, intermittent music of the people I love, writing, books, flea markets and thrift stores, Frida Kahlo, Patti Smith, anything related to my city of Philadelphia, me attempting to be less racist, and the sporadic, enjoyable internet meme I cannot resist. But I'll try to keep that last one to a minimum.
I seek to post only items which are credited to the originator, be it fine art, photography, tattoos, or writing. If you see something uncredited, do feel free to point it out to me. Also: ask anything. Call me out if I fuck up. Give props if you feel like it. Ask questions. I like internet interaction.
We are all going to the Outer Banks in mere days. Days. I have never so needed a vacation in my life. We’ll be down there in a house with my mom, David (my mom’s partner), my brother, Becca (my brother’s partner), Keiko (my mom’s dog), and, of course, bad Kaya. Kevin is nervous because he knows that at some point there will be a blow up between my mother and I concerning the dog. Kaya is good, but she is far from perfect, and if I feel judged or undermined by my mother it’s a surefire blow up. That said, I am almost 30 fucking years old and I know this about myself so I hope to handle it as much like an adult as I am able. We have options: we can leave the house, we can put her in her crate with a toy/Kong, we can do something that I know Kaya can do successfully and just remove the stress. I can grab a pile of kibble and do some training. We can go outside with a tug toy. We just spent the last 20 minutes doing some serious tugging and now she’s so beat that she found her pillow in the kitchen (where I’d had it while cooking/baking) and has laid down on it without being told where to go. She can make good decisions, I just need to facilitate them and I will do that because I am her mother. I know how to do that.
She’s staring at the wall now. What a fucking weirdo. (She belongs with us. Who makes who weird, I wonder? Was she always weird, or did we imbue her with our weirdness?)
But THE BEACH. She is going to flip her shit on the beach. She is going to try to eat everything, but that’s no different than the city streets where I swear to god people walk down the street with fried chicken and barbeque and drop the bones ev.ry.where. Why? Who knows? But eating rotted out crab and sea gull bones can’t be all that much worse. Can it? I guess we’ll find out. Pray for us.
I just want to run around, lay around, drink a lot, walk a lot, sunbathe (we got an umbrella for Kevin and the dog), swim a lot (don’t know if the dog will do that yet), and hang with my family. I like those people and I feel very blessed that they are actually likeable. I am going to turn off my phone — OFF — and zone out. Maybe write. Maybe read. I am bringing a few books from the gigantic “unread” pile. I will bring a blank sketchbook and some pens/markers/pencils. I will bring some clothes. Some sunblock. A hat. Sunglasses. My girl and allllll her toys.
(She chipped her tooth on an antler and it has to be extracted — p.s. my vet says those things are way too hard for dog teeth and gets pissed at stores for selling them. Don’t buy them for your babes. Chipped teeth. $500-$700 extractions. Luckily, I got the pet insurance. Y’all should do that. I got Pet Plan. I will let you know if it’s good if they pay for this extraction. Recommendations forthcoming. It was $440 to insure Booker and Kaya for a year. Lesson: buy insurance and don’t buy antlers.)
That’s really all there is to say. I have a strawberry rhubarb pie in the oven — rhubarb from our first CSA delivery and strawberries from the co-op of which I am now a member. This is pretty much the dream life I always dreamed of living so I should just shut the fuck up and enjoy this shit.
Hanging out with my best girl. Also, got a hairs cut.
though how to really own your shit would be to talk about this on your tumblr and talk about how you fucked up in the past and will try to fuck up less in the future.
Ways I have really fucked up (that I know about):
1. I misgendered an acquaintance when speaking to their then-partner. I was mortified, corrected myself, and tried to move on with the conversation. I was also wasted — these are not excuses, they are reminders to myself to be more careful under these conditions because it is my job to remain vigilant even if I am not sober.
2. I have misgendered customers who come into the coffee shop. Saying, “Hello, ladies!” when “Hello, folks!” would be sufficient and just as friendly. The lesson here is for me not to assume someone’s gender upon seeing them — case in point, my friend C, who has been amazing and forgiving of my idiotic assumption upon meeting him — I need to use less gendered language, too, and this is something I have improved upon in the past couple of years.
3. About three years ago when cleaning up a coffee shop I worked at, I said out loud to a co-worker that the owner should “hire some Mexicans to do this job right.” I was joking about our boss being unreasonable, but obviously that isn’t funny. It was one of the more fucked up things I have ever, ever uttered out loud. My co-worker at the time garnered an incredible amount of respect from me when she called my ass out and told me my statement was unacceptable to her. I apologized immediately — and then apologized and thanked her again about a year later. I am most ashamed of this one, I feel sick even typing it out. The fact that this shit came out of my mouth makes me want to hide under a rock and never come out again.
4. I am sure there have been one million transgressions I wasn’t aware of, and for those I am sorry too.
I hope to find more people like my co-worker mentioned in #3, and surround myself with them. I am grateful for the friends I have who do and will continue to call me out when I say or do something that is wrong. I am thankful to have found an online community which encourages me to keep learning, and illustrates to me when I have done something wrong (or even just tacitly supported wrongdoing). It’s an ongoing process. This is part of it.
- Possible public embarrassment which I have to be vague about, unfortunately.
- Planning events too close to the proposed date of event, which is a giant pet peeve of mine generally speaking.
- Being in a situation where I am more than likely asking stupid questions to experts in my field.
- Definitely asking stupid questions of my friends (who are experts in my field).
- Not knowing what I am talking about because I have been separated from my (extensive, exhaustive) research and my memory does not latch on to things like model numbers or electronic specs.
- Watching “The X-Files” might have caused all of these feelings.
I painted my first oil painting. First painting ever, actually, and I was so terrified that I almost cried in the middle of class. Luckily, I got the fuck over myself enough to paint something and it’s not even terrible. It was a strange, awesome day so far, my best boy is back in town, and now dinner with my momma and our fellas.
Just: yes.
Very different hair.
The view from our window. Bless South Philly.
Fungus from a million years ago. It’s funny, because this image brings me back to precisely where I was when I took this image. It was a weird place.
The restaurant-cafe which has completely absorbed my life for the last few months has passed health inspection and we open tomorrow. If you live in Philly, please come visit us for delicious coffee drinks!
This is what I do with my life. I love it more than anything — coffee has brought me the most amazing people and experiences, not the least of which is the current task of opening Odd Fellows Cafe. Click the image for the article on our new joint. Don’t stalk me, but feel free to visit if you’re a local. Any day now…
