notes from february: everything dies

I only have one rule about sharing on the internet- things in development are strictly off-limits. This is ironic due to the nature of who I am, often I’m called ‘vulnerable’ which is something I take in stride, but I don’t know if it’s completely true. Maybe I have the concept of vulnerability all wrong, I feel like if I was truly vulnerable I would share my emotions as they come to me, but I despise chaos. I think if my astrological chart were a little different then maybe I would be down to share things as they come, but that’s just not me.

So, full transparency: last month I broke up with my boyfriend. I spent most of January feeling feelings that hurt me, waking up every morning agasp at the destruction I was capable of. I decided to end the relationship after a lot of thinking, and a few long showers. I tried everything to wish away my train of thought, but there was no bartering with my want to take a chance on myself.

And now it’s late February and I’m beginning to write this. Last night I got a call from my mother, and she was hysterical. She and I don’t speak much, which is all my fault. Through tears, she told me she had to put our dog Harry down. We got Harry when I was 11, I haven’t seen him since 2020 due to my complicated situation with my family. I’ve been crying on and off all day, mostly about Harry, and partly about the shame I feel about my refusal to make complete amends with my mother who kept him after our family parted ways.

What do you do after you find yourself between two endings?

I feel wiped clean and scared, but also limitless, and forever thankful for the comfort and love I received from the things that I can’t have anymore.

It’s so sad that everything dies.

Yesterday, I did what I usually do, and grabbed a Rilo Kiley album to try and reach some type of resolve. I think Jenny Lewis was right (she always is) when she said “with every heartbreak, we must become more adventurous” on the title track of Rilo Kiley’s 2004 album (x). For now, I’m keeping that line in my pocket, and hoping it’ll bring me somewhere new and promising— Jenny has never steered me wrong before.

Here are my notes from February:

• I wish the park near my house would remove the dolphin insignia from its front gate. Who approved this? I think it’s in poor taste. There are no dolphins in Bushwick. When I first noticed it I used to think it was an odd choice, but now when I walk past it on a 20-degree day I feel mocked by it. It makes me feel insane. I shouldn’t be having machinations about escaping to Miami while returning from my grocery run.

• Cleaned up my bush very badly in the shower. I slipped during an important part of the process, the left front part, which caused the front of my vagina to look like it contracted traction alopecia for 5ish days.

• I learned on the first of the month that Woody Allen and I have similar astrological charts. Just a fact. If that makes you feel different about me that’s okay.

• I performed one of my own pet peeves at the movie theater; I pretended I couldn’t see someone that I knew. I am embarrassed by my behavior, this person saw me and I saw them. I don’t have a good relationship with this person, and have said many times that if I saw them in person I would start a physically fighting them. I guess I don’t have trigger fingers, only Twitter fingers.

• It occurred to me that I’ve been pretending to like “Dancing On My Own” by Robyn since the first time I heard (x). I’ve never listened to that song on my own, only in the company of some really incredible gay guys. Really incredible gay guys can convince you that you like anything.

• Attempted to replace my vibrator’s charger. No success. Tried recording a video as proof so I could get my money back but decided against sending it upon a rewatch— my emotional core is a little overexposed in it and I think I would prefer to keep the veil on the thicker side with the Hitachi return team.

• People are addicted to spilling drinks on my new jacket.

• Liquid started dripping out of my nose each time I bent over. Originally I thought it was snot from my healing sinus infection, but I did a quick search and Google politely told me that it could be my brain fluids leaking which made me feel really scared. Against my better judgment, I decided not to go to the doctor about it and the leak ceased after a couple of days.

• Had to pee in a water bottle while waiting for my roommate Taryn to get out of the shower. I haven’t told anyone about this because I’m not proud of it. The train of thought I had before choosing to pee in a bottle was that of an animal. I never want to feel that way again. I was looking around my room, pulling it apart to find something, anything, that could hold the amount of pee inside of me. I never want to guestimate the amount of pee inside of my bladder ever again. Taryn told me the next day unprompted that she gets ‘time blind’ while she’s in the bathroom. Little does she know I’m well aware of that now. I figured it would be kind to spare her the details.

• Sometimes I hit my tweezers on the side of my hand really hard and move them around my head like a tuning fork when I think I need to get centered.

• I’ve decided I’m never having caffeine again. I’m not a huge caffeine-head as it is, and I think coffee is mostly nasty and overrated. I made the mistake of having a matcha before my friend Sophie’s birthday party and ended up carrying myself like a private investigator on a dangerous pursuit for most of the evening.

• It’s weird seeing what comes back to you when you’re all alone again. It’s weird noticing what you’ve been suppressing by accident. I’m taking it all in stride, and taking note. Post-breakup I immediately started masturbating to the entirety of Her’s discography again (x) which is a practice of mine that I’ve buried and unearthed millions of times since my late adolescence. It’s strange what guilty pleasures just become pleasures when you’re on your own.

• I know it’s not good to do pore strips routinely but I think I should be allowed to do them every 10 years.

• One of the joys of living with a photographer is that sometimes she’ll take a picture of your bedroom to test out her new camera. I treasure all the impromptu time capsules Taryn has made for me. I never stop to immortalize the spaces I live in and always regret it. Thank god.

• There is nothing better than telling a new female friend something so crazy and funny that she has no choice but to grab your hand as an act of radical empathy.

• I had a Super Bowl party at my place. I invited three people; my roommates Taryn and Blizzy, and my friend Ian. We got Popeyes and were excited at first, but once the food was gone, all that was left was the football game in front of us. The conversation quickly shifted to boofing (x). According to Google, boofing is a slang term for the rectal administration of medication or other fluids, also known as "rectal administration" or "plugging." All of us had been adjacent to a few people who had boofed tampons soaked in vodka in the past, but never up close enough for our liking. It was clear, someone in the room had to be the sacrificial lamb on Superbowl Sunday. I’m not at liberty to say which one of us it was, but trust, a tampon was soaked in mezcal and it did go up someone’s butt. It all happened so fast.

• I've been thinking about how people sometimes describe someone as having been "raised right" to explain their good nature. I actually think I'm a nice person because I was raised wrong.

• My friend Rory, who was visiting from Western Mass, invited me to a Signcrushesmotorist show. I was on the fence about going because, pre-blowup, I had asked the boys from Signcrushesmotorist if I could be in one of their music videos. They declined, saying they were looking for a "girls in bikinis" vibe. I went to the show anyway because I love Rory and would jump at any chance to parade around a bar together, convincing strangers that growing up in New Jersey isn’t all that bad.

• I don’t care to tell the story in full, because the whole thing was quite annoying. but I was prank-called by former child actor Jack Dylan Grazer (x) the other night. I’ve never met him, but now I think he’s an awful person dark hearted person. Pretending to be a scared drunk girl that’s lost in the middle of Brooklyn at 2 am in the morning will never be funny. Trying to get 40 dollars out of a random woman you’ve never met will never be funny.

• Got a credit card and immediately lost it in my bedroom.

• I blocked my Dad on Instagram. With parents, I understand that it’s hard for them to know where a line is because they raised you, but once the line is crossed it is crossed. My dad crossed the line this month after I posted a now archived Instagram post of me making a joke about the OCD headspace I’ve always entered while on the toilet. My dad thought it would be an awesome idea to tell everyone on Instagram the detailed ins and outs of my pooping troubles as a child. The comment was up for 40 minutes before I realized what he had done. I called him and told him to never do that again, and he got defensive, telling me that I share crazy shit about my life all the time so why would this be a big deal. Blocked. I was planning on keeping up the post, but even after deleting my dad’s comment, I’ve decided the whole thing needed to be thrown out. Mortifying.

• If I think about the concept of ‘growing up together’ for too long it makes me cry.

• I took a two-mile walk on the first morning when the weather was above 45, of course, I asked myself the whole time I was out if I’d suffered enough this winter to deserve this weather. While I’m not sure if I deserve it, I’m excited for it to get warmer. I’ve had enough. I’ve been moving the same pile of sweaters from my floor onto my bed and back for three weeks. Enough.

• My friend Marissa got a puppy this month—a miniature Dalmatian named Gogo, with a heart-shaped spot on his nose. Odd timing, since my dog, Harry, was put down just a week after we picked up Gogo from JFK. People say there’s no such thing as a lack of love in your life, and it’s true—love revolves.

• I end this month in my bedroom, looking out my window, thinking about the small sunset tease I got yesterday. The sky is bright blue and deceiving, it’s 46, but spiritually it feels like it’s 80. The hope of warmth is making it easier for me to push forward while allowing me to have an ample buffer before diving back into the world head first as a single lady. I’m proud of myself for allowing myself to have a big helping of grace while sitting with all of this, I think that’s one of the biggest positives that has come out of this month. Every day I wake up and choose to be happy and I am (mostly). I think the scariest parts about committing to change for me are always the moments before, the thought of change- I’m sure you know by now that I’m a catastrophizer. Swallowing is tough too, but everything after is easier. It’s all getting easier all the time.

Also, next month marks one year of I WILL DO WHATEVER I WANT! How do we celebrate? Have any ideas? I’m open to anything big or small. Leave a comment for me?

xoxoxoxoxoxxo Mackenzie