This weekend I hosted a game night with my brother and parents. I’m taking every opportunity to spend time and make memories as a family. One day either my brother and I will get past our reservations of the truce, or when mom and dad are gone we’ll never speak again. Until that time -
We also planned an overnight camp with Ls bestie and her mom - the kids enjoyed the old timey hand dryer as much as the whole trip -
Memories my friends -
When we were home, I ordered a pick up delivery from the grocery, and spent the morning helping my mom decorate for Christmas.
Dad literally revamped a forklift and gathered an entire pallet of Christmas goodies from a 10 ft shelf in his shop, and it was surreal hanging with him, and just how unique my life has been. Not many dads rehaul a $100 forklift that didn’t even have an engine. Not many dads are like mine at all. He’s currently battling 2 types of cancer and it’s taking it’s toll. He’s gotten the radiation beads for the recurrent prostate cancer, seems to be in check. The blood cancer is on weekly chemo routine that also has good results, though he is not strong enough for a bone marrow transplant. It’s been tough on him.
Mom, we’ve already talked about. We find out what we can and cannot do tomorrow.
The happenings with me? Well, c and are recommitting and bizarrely, we keep finding a deeper and deeper connection. It’s been beautiful to feel the love, support and backing. It’s what gets me through day to day. I’m blessed.
Some happenings on my job front as well out of nowhere. Keep those prospects in your thoughts, that what is meant for me, will find me.
Que sera sera xx
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fic update: Golden Towers ch 2
Golden Towers ch 2, now on AO3
Ciri reaches Nilfgaard!
Tiron makes awkward conversation with the fucking Emperor of the Known fucking World, fuck his entire life
featuring a tiny indirect cameo from everyone’s favorite dumpling guy
“I wouldn’t have thought you’d have many fond memories of your time in the North,” she said, which certainly did get Emhyr to refocus his attention onto her.
“No?” he said mildly.
“Not that I even know how long you were there,” she said.
“I had a long unpleasant exile,” Emhyr said, but his tone didn’t grow heated. “But it wasn’t without its charms.” Ciri tried not to cringe, at that; was he going to say something disgusting about her mother?
“I quite liked some of the food,” Hesner put in.
“Yes,” Emhyr said, “the food-- much of it is terrible but there are a few dishes I do really miss, from time to time. I suppose now it would be rather fitting if I indulged.”
The conquering emperor feasting on the delicacies of his subjugated territories, Ciri thought with distaste, and gave up on hiding her facial expression. “I suppose,” she said.
“There was a place in Novigrad,” Hesner said, almost dreamily, “that had these dumplings, I mean, by the Gods, they were-- they were truly something. I admit I think about them a lot.”
“Oh,” Ciri said with some interest. “Where was it?”
“Ah,” Hesner said, and tapped his chin as he thought. “Not far from the docks as I recollect. Wasn’t a great neighborhood.”
“Most of Novigrad isn’t far from the docks,” Ciri pointed out, amused.
“Ah, I know,” Hesner said, chagrined. “I don’t know if I could find it again. Mostly Voorhis did the navigating.”
Ciri looked over at Voorhis, who had heard his name and glanced over at her. “The dumpling shop,” she said, “in Novigrad, do you know what street it was on?”
“Glory Lane,” Voorhis said, unhesitating.
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I wouldn’t say I put in Maximum Effort in todays workout…not quite physically capable yet. But I did put in some solid effort for 30 minutes and that’s something to feel good about. One day at a time, little victories add up!
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because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.
you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.
you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.
don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.
if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.
you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:
how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!
aren't you happy yet?
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