We live in a world of spectrums and differences. All of it, every single one, should be depicted in art, media, news, books, everything. The world cannot grow into a better one if we ignore all the people who do not fall in the category of cishet, white people/men because cishet, white women hold minority status too, though with marked privileges.
I have always, especially since the inception of this blog’s first iteration, tried to read diverse books written by diverse voices and as few white dudes as manageable. My mind and heart can’t grow, evolve, or be challenged if I’m not exposed to ideas, views, and the realities of others. It’s easy to get caught in a bubble, and I try really hard to not get stuck in one specific bubble for too long.
This photoshoot was done as a surprise for a friend, but I also turned it into a gay book stack photo when I grabbed a bunch of queer books. Soccerwomen is not inherently queer, but have you seen women’s soccer? It’s real gay. Some of these books I’ve read; some I’ve not. Either way, it’s Pride. So if you’re looking for something queer to read, try one of these. If you’ve read all of these, read them again, or DM me so I can give you more options.
It’s Pride Month, and my heart hasn’t been in it, which is fine and life. Some years, things hold less weight in our hearts or minds than other years, and that’s okay. But I need to care a little bit because I am le gay, and I can’t not. So here I am, forcing myself to Pride for the last eleven days, and I’m starting in the most uncomfortable way I can.
Being proud of literally anyone I know is so easy for me. Like… have you seen people? Pretty incredible. Okay, less so for white dudes. I’m so proud of my people for just being them. To the point I could explode with how incredible and strong I know they are.
How do I do that? How do I give myself even a modicum of grace I give everyone else? What have I done deserving enough of pride? Nothing. That is my visceral answer. That is what I truly believe to my core. I have done nothing nor am I worthy of being proud of myself. I know, logically, this is not true, but it feels true. My internal monologue can be boiled down to: feelings fighting logic. Feelings never win out against logic. Except when logic is trying to convince my feelings that I’m a good or decent human deserving… anything remotely on the cusp of kindness. Pride falls into this strange category of feeling based on logical analysis. Or it is, at least, for me.
Making myself create a list of reasons I’m proud feels like a form of self-harm; though, I know, it’s actually a good exercise in self-love, which is indicative that I love myself. I do not. I am solidly pretending that I love myself. Fake it til you make it. Going on 32 years, I’ve gotta have a breakthrough at some point in time. It’s not today, but over the course of 16 days—truly started this one a hot minutes ago—I came up with this list. I stretched. Maybe #12 should be: I’m really proud I finished this list and actually put it into the world.
Just a Pride photoshoot. Nothing to see.
I came out. Simultaneously the easiest and hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I am alive.
I got tattoos. I now have ten with appointments for two more this fall. They make me happy. They make my body feel like it belongs to me just a little bit. My tattoos are personal and public reclamation and declaration.
I don’t respond to my parents’ anymore.
I cut out toxicity. The people who made me feel anxious, less than, unworthy, undeserving, too much. I shut out the people who wouldn’t or couldn’t match me. Being in my life is an investment, just like I believe being in other people’s lives is an investment; so I’m not making shitty investments anymore.
My puppies are safe and loved. In 2020, I spent a lot of time, money, and emotion rescuing and raising a dog and her thirteen puppies. Every single one of them is safe, happy, loved, and thriving in their furever homes.
I’m chasing peace rather than chaos.
I’ve sought out friends who accept me as I am.
I keep going.
I’m trying really hard.
I’m making an effort to be vulnerable with those who have earned it.
People who don’t know me very well have the impression that I’m a genuinely optimistic human with an ability to always find the silver lining. Even people who do know me quite well think of me as such. I’ve recently been in touch with a friend who, at one point in time, knew me better than almost anyone, and he described me as always able to find the silver lining. It got me thinking in the way things that take me off guard usually do.
Why do so many people see me as a silver lining, glass half full, optimistic, ray of sunshine human, when the reality is so starkly different? Only my closest friends realize the depth of my nihilism. I am such a dark and twisty human. I only see worst case scenario.
There is something very peaceful about being in nature. It makes my loneliness feel so much less.
As so much in my life, there is the public and the private. The me the world experiences versus the me that only I know and my best friends get glimpses of. To the world and in interactions with other humans, I wouldn’t call myself optimistic but I present reality. “That sucks, but it’s not forever.” is something I say often. Often people don’t need optimism because that can be toxic. People just want and need their feelings and thoughts to be heard and validated. I’m really good at that. I’m also just really good at showing up in the dark times. For others, I can see the potential, light, and possibility lying ahead of them. Within and for myself, I live in a space of nihilistic gloom.
Why am I so good at appearing like a happy, stable person?
Boiling it all the way down… I don’t ever want anyone to feel the depth of my loneliness. So I learned how to say all the right things at exactly the right time because no one has ever done that for me. People are not the same. Everyone has specific needs and desires and boundaries. Some people need optimism. Some people need silence. Some people need anger. Some people need hope. Some people need sadness. Some people need reality. I have the ability to know the person and what they want and need to hear. Most people treat people the way they want to be treated. I read people and treat them the way they crave to be treated. People don’t see me, and they definitely do not see me to my core.
There is something so intrinsically optimistic about being seen by someone else. It gets so much easier to show up for people when I can see what they need when they need it. I fail all the time at showing up for my people. I do my best and sometimes that’s not good enough. But I keep trying to show up. It’s hard to feel alone when someone in the world sees you. So people see me as optimistic because I give them what they need when they need it, and it’s really hard to think of that person as anything other than a rainbow person.
I’ve only touched on that feeling twice, but it just made me more lonely. They almost saw me, but couldn’t quite push far enough to really see me. Or probably more realistic, they pushed as far as they cared to go. And it’s a little bit devastating to feel almost seen. The other part of me thinks, “Thank God. They would’ve left so much faster if they truly saw me.”
I loved this moment. So much.
Ultimately, I have always shown up for other people in every way no one has shown up for me and in every way I cannot show up for myself.
“I love you.” I tell my people I love them. All the time. Every time I see them. Except for the people who are weird about hearing it, so I only tell them on special occasions. Sometimes, I just randomly text my people I love them.
My calendar is always up to date. This seems weird. I’m very good with dates in general, so this, by and large, is unnecessary because I will probably remember. But, just in case I don’t, I put everything on my calendar. Sad days in friends’ lives along with anniversaries and birthdays and really anything in between. It all goes on my calendar, so that every year, I can reach out or plan something depending on the event or memory. I don’t want to forget the important things in friends’ lives.
Giving flowers. I have always been someone to show up with flowers for all kinds of events. Flowers make things better, and they at least bring a breath of fresh air to a space, which helps on bad days and good days. This has been made even easier with a florist best friend and my role in her company. I get to give my people much better flowers now.
Making a thing out of birthdays. I try to go big for birthdays. I’ve kinda sucked at it the last couple years. Birthdays are an annual reminder of who gives a shit. Granted life happens and there’s a grace period, but those who care show up in one way or another. I try to do just that.
If I’m left alone in a friend’s house, I will probably leave a whole bunch of notes around the place for them to find randomly. The notes may range from funny to serious to sweet to everything in between.
Showing up without an invitation. I do not do this to everyone because that’s a lot. For my really close people, if I know things are tough, I will pop by unannounced with the things I know will make them feel better. It’s hard to not accept love and help if it’s smiling at you on your doorstep with your favorite things.
I love being behind the camera, so I take pictures all the time. I love taking candid and posed pictures of my people. From random days to actual photoshoots, I want to capture my people as they live their lives. I don’t want them to look back and wish they had more pictures of themselves, so I do.
Let me feed you. Cooking and baking is one of my biggest love languages. I love feeding people their favorite foods. Food feeds our bodies so we can keep going. Good food feeds the soul so we can keep going in the most fundamentally important way.
When traveling, I like to send my people postcards. Who doesn’t feel a little special getting anything in the mail that’s not a bill? Postcards are fun. They’re also getting harder and harder to find as less and less people send them. But I still search them out and send them anyway.
Random compliments. Most of my people are not words of affirmation people, but that doesn’t mean they don’t need or deserve to hear just how much they mean to me.
I see people’s hearts and souls. Call it trauma. Call it PTSD. Call it being a stripper. Call it autism. Whatever the reason, I tend to read people who they are and not just their public selves. It can be the most raw and intimidating feeling having someone outside of yourself know you, but I tend to see people. And apparently that’s a gift to them. Or a curse. I guess, it just depends.
Life is hard enough as it is. We don’t need to make it any harder. So I hope your people show up for you in all the ways you need them to. If they don’t, go find new people. They might be difficult to find, but they are out there. Go find them. Let them show up for you in all the ways you show up for them. You deserve an army of people who love you for all that you have to offer, whether you’re a bubbly, rainbow human or dark and twisty. Don’t settle for anything less.
She’s smiling even though she was dying inside from the boredom that is carousels. My birthday, 2014.
She’ll take pictures like this with me! Christmas, 2019
The infamous Wox of Bine night, 2013.
11… Reasons I Have the Best Person Ever
This post is sponsored… kidding. This post was inspired by my best friend when I asked her what I should write about today, and she told me “11 reasons I have the best friend ever,” so here we are. I changed it to “person” instead of friend because she’s more than my friend. She’s my sister, my partner, my soulmate, my other half, my forever and always, my constant. She is my person.
For those of you who don’t know her. Kelsey Roberts is a 25 year old bad-ass. We met seven years ago in college working at the library. She was a freshman; I was a senior. She just graduated from her Master’s program in Art History from George Mason University.
Kelsey has supported and loved me through some of the darkest times in my life. I really will never be able to thank her for everything she has been through with me, but it is a testament to our friendship and her heart that she is still around.
She’s fucking funny. We riff off of each other so well. We’re always in stitches when we’re around each other. I have so many screenshots of our conversations and an entire Google.doc of funny things we’ve said and come up with.
She didn’t run away after the first time we hung out. Seriously though. There were a lot of red flags telling her torun, but she didn’t. She was like, “Yup! This crazy matches my crazy, and it’s scary but it’ll be fun.” It’s definitely been scary, but it’s been a hell of a lot of fun.
She’s just the right amount of stupid. Actually, she’s not stupid at all, but she is a hypochondriac. When her hypochondria gets-a-going, she’ll believe a lot of things. Like the fact she’s allergic to the color yellow so she can no longer eat bananas. That’s not a real thing, but she totally believed me until I posted the screenshots of that text exchange on Facebook.
She puts up with me embarrassing her on social media. See #4 or writing about her on my blog or posting really embarrassing pictures from her drunken nights in college. (Which totally never happened. Kidding they absolutely did, and I was sober to capture her in all her glory.) Wox of Bine anyone? That’s Kelsey for “Box of Wine,” which she put on a short dude’s head so she could drink straight from the Wox of Bine’s spot.
We’re exactly the same height. Literally. Exactly. Except her mane gives her a quarter of an inch to a full inch depending on the day. We’re the same height, and it’s amazing. No awkward tall-short friend pictures for us. It’s a blessing.
She lived in DC for a few years. This was amazing for visiting purposes. I got to visit her and explore a really cool city!!!
Her love for animals is as deep as mine. We’re crazy animal people. She leans more towards cats but has a never ending love for dogs too. She fully supported me when I told her I picked up Tess and was probably going to keep her and help her through the puppy-situation. Kelsey was the first person I called with Tess news. Kelsey knew before Dylan.
She gave me a family. Her parents are now my parents. Her siblings are now my siblings. I love them with all my heart. I lived with them for almost three years. I go home as much as I can, and they love me unconditionally.
She has a heart of gold. Truly, she would take away the world’s pain if she could.
She is my other half. We always tell people: If you love Kelsey, you’ll definitely love me. If you love me, you might love Kelsey. Kelsey is pricklier and harder to get to know on the surface. In reality, she’s more optimistic, positive, and open than I am. She seems more difficult to get to know, but she’s protecting her soft, puppy-loving, do-gooder heart from being hurt by shitty people because she has been through so much in her life. We are two sides of the same coin. We balance each other and make one another whole. She is the person I turn to and vice versa. We met and instantly became attached physically and emotionally. It got harder when I graduated, but we talk every day, all the time. And we talk about EVERYTHING. From poop to sex to fashion to dogs to health issues to politics to family to my existential crises/feelings of impending doom to her hypochondria and everything in between. Nothing is off limits. We have no secrets, and whatever hasn’t been shared is solely because we forgot or ran out of time or we’re waiting until the next time we see one another in person, which should be sooner rather than later. Since meeting her, I have never once been scared about being alone. I found my person at 22. My person is not a romantic love, but it is the best love in my life. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her, and I miss her every moment we’re not together. Someday, I plan on kidnapping her and retiring to a lighthouse on the coast of Scotland where we will live together in peace raising dogs, cats, and White Park Cattle, while reading and writing about all the things we’re passionate about.
The one thing I don’t love: She hasn’t come to visit me in over three years. She needs to meet all her new fur nieces and nephews, see my new house, and sit on the couch and binge Netflix with me!!!
Worth A Read Eh Length 496 Quick Review Anna of Kleve was the fourth wife of Henry VIII, faring better than any who came before or after, but was she hiding a secret love child?
I have a hard time reading historical fiction because I have a LOVE of history. To the point of obsession. I don’t love historical fiction because authors change and add and revise history like it’s their job, – it is – but the problem for me lies in the fact history is ridiculous enough, it doesn’t need changing. I understand making up conversations and filling in the gaps of history, but come on. I like Aliso Weir because she’s an actual historian with numerous historical nonfiction books and biographies published, focusing on the Tudors and other royal figures. She writes popular history, which is more accessible than academic writing for those who enjoy history and don’t want to be bogged down in academese. Her historical fiction is far more factual than most out there. She just knows her shit better.
Within the first few pages of Anna of Kleve, there is a sex scene. For me, it’s not a selling point, but the other 490 pages pretty much steered clear of the graphic sex scenes. Although, I think a lot of people read historical fiction just for the naughty bits.
Anna of Kleve was the fourth wife of King Henry VIII. She was never crowned, but she became a trusted friend of the king and loved by his children. Where his other wives found tragedy, Anna found a friend. Henry fell in love with her portrait, but he was disappointed by the reality he met. Henry famously told Oliver Cromwell, “I liked her before not well, but now I like her much less, for I have felt her belly and her breasts and as I can judge, she should be no maid.” the night after their wedding when he couldn’t or didn’t consummate their marriage. What does this mean? Alison Weir explores the possibility: Anna of Kleve was no virgin, but had a love child before their marriage.
Weir paints a convincing picture in her latest historical fiction novel Anne of Kleve, but is it convincing enough to change the way history views the fourth wife of Henry VIII? I found it interesting and compelling, but not revolutionary. As a student of history, it’s founded on a rumor that is not new. It circulated during Anna’s own time.
It’s a decent book. It took me a while to get through it. I highly suggest Anne of Klevefor lovers of historical fiction. For me, not my favorite.
Memorable Quotes “Men did commonly blame the wife if anything went wrong…” “…he had such a deep-rooted elied in his own righteousness that it would never occur to him that he might have wrecked her life.”
bisous und обьятий, RaeAnna
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Enjoying downtown Houston last summer when I had significantly less dogs and far more time and no COVID in my life. | Dress | Watch | Earrings |
The last three and a half months have been crazy chaotic for everyone around the world. You’ve probably noticed the hoard of puppies in my Instagram stories or the pictures or the posts I’ve managed to produce. COVID and quarantine have definitely had a serious impact on my life, but the puppies have had a far bigger impact. Working from home, my quotidien life didn’t change drastically because of quarantine, but it did change because of the swarm, which is what we came to call the thirteen puppies. I love them, but I have missed out on a whole lot of things because of them. 1000% worth it, though.
Sleep. I have missed sleep. What is it? I don’t even know anymore. They are sleeping through the night, so I’m getting more than two non-consecutive hours now. I am playing catch up.
Beau. Because I was living at my best friend’s house and then in Iowa, I went two months without seeing Beau. It hurt my heart, and I know it hurt her feelings because I disappeared with a gazillion dogs for EVER. Luckily, I’ve been back in Houston for two weeks, and Beau and I have been snuggling like crazy trying to catch up.
Going Out. Even if COVID hadn’t shut down the world, I wouldn’t have been able to go out and enjoy the world. I feel like I’ve been so detached from everything because the puppies have kept me occupied and preoccupied.
Showers. I haven’t had tons and tons of time for showers, and even if I did, I’m not completely sure how useful they would be. The moment I get out of the shower, I tend to find poop or pee or throw up or most usually a combination of all three. It’s hard to convince myself to shower when I’m just going to be gross ten minutes later. Might as well stay gross.
Reading. I have not had time to read because my time is spoken for. I’m about a gazillion books behind schedule. Woops.
Looking Like A Human. I’m certain I look like an exhausted, chubby alien version of myself. Eating well went right out the window because I haven’t had the time to cook, let alone grocery shop. I’ve definitely put on some softer edges and some wrinkles.
Water. Honestly. I’m so dehydrated. I keep forgetting to drink water because… Well, I’m not good at it to begin with, so when I’m uber busy, hydration just doesn’t happen.
Knowing What’s Going On. Whether it be what’s going on in the world or what’s going on with my best friend, I honestly have no fucking idea. I’m not even on social media right now. This is the first blog post in a month! I found out about George Floyd because my best friend texted me (I did take time out to protest because that is FUCKING IMPORTANT, and social justice is a huge part of …on the B.L., so I can’t not march.) I love my friends, but seriously, I hardly talk to them.
Money. I’ve been spending it like it grows on trees because these puppies have been ridiculously expensive because the number of them and they’ve also had some super fun rare medical problems, but they’re healthy now. Also I’ve not had much money coming in because COVID has slowed everything down. I so poor.
…on the B.L. Hello. I haven’t written or posted anything in weeks and weeks. It’s hard to motivate myself to do anything with the very little free time I have when I’m exhausted. So here I am, finally posting something. Woo!
Houston. I’ve missed Houston. I was gone for a month, but even when I’ve been here I can’t even enjoy the outdoorsy things this great city has to offer because I’ve been momming it up. Oh well. Maybe soon.
bisous und обьятий, RaeAnna
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