I tabled at Spokane Zine Fest today! It was such a blast!

That morning, I felt so sick… but that’s just how my body reacts to anxiety. I popped my meds and ate only a banana because I get queasy when I’m really on edge. A million thoughts ran through my head like, “What if people don’t like my work?” “What if it looks too amateur?” — basically, a spiral of nonsense.

But I had nothing to worry about.

People were so supportive, overwhelmingly kind, honestly. The type of kind that catches you off guard in the best way. It’s a really special feeling when others see your work, connect with it, and treat it like it’s worth something. I think it’s only recently in my adult life that I’ve started to feel like I’m truly seen as an artist. And I can’t explain how much that means to me.

The wildest part? I completely sold out of all my zines! Which was kind of perfect because it meant I didn’t have to lug anything home. Hearing people say “congrats” made me feel so validated — like my cold lil heart got a moment to thaw out.

So thank you. Thank you to everyone who came out and showed love. This really meant a lot to me. Onto the next!

Friend and I had a thoughtful conversation about our mutual hot friends. I think it’s a perfectly normal thing to talk about. Beautiful things deserve to be admired and shared after all.

Now I’m left reflecting on all the aesthetically pleasing people in my life. It’s nice realizing how many quietly stunning people you’re surrounded by. Highly recommend having this conversation with someone you're close with.

A piece of prose I've had for a while. I hope you like it. (っᵔ◡ᵔ)っ

WHEN I CHECK THE MAILBOX AT NIGHT, you aren’t with me in the physical sense yet I pretend that you are. I imagine you turning the porch light on for me, sliding on the nearest pair of shoes, and walking down the driveway with me. I wonder if you’d tease me for expecting a letter this late or if you’d understand how such a small act could end up feeling so alive under the cover of night.

In elementary school, after I told a boy that I liked him via a note passed at recess, and when he agreed to be my “boyfriend,” I went home that day to write him a letter to declare my love – or at least a nine-year-old’s understanding of what love is.

I sprayed my stepmom’s perfume on the page and used her lipstick to leave a kiss mark at the bottom of the page, because that was what I saw in the movies, that was my perception of love.

Around the same time my stepmom told me something on the car ride home: “You don’t have to be married to be in love.”

I got back into writing letters again last summer (2024) but I didn’t send a single one. They were all addressed to the same person.

I’m still left wondering what this accomplished for me. Is a letter even a letter if no one ever reads it? Is something still communicated when the message is never sent? Was I only just talking to myself?

Yet I wrote to them nearly every day, telling them about everything and nothing. There’s a strange kind of intimacy in what we leave unsaid. I imagine you understand that, too.

The darkness has a way of making me feel small and tender, like some quiet animal that only comes out at night. And so, when I check the mailbox at night, we are together — because this is how I love you.

The past couple of nights, I’ve been revisiting some Wong Kar-Wai films. Tonight’s watch was "Chungking Express."

"Chungking Express" is about a longing for something to hold onto. Each character wants connection, even if just for a brief moment. But the film also recognizes how fleeting those moments are — how easily they can “expire,” like a can of pineapples. It’s a reminder that we’re always passing through time, and sometimes all we get is a few seconds of shared stillness before life rushes on again, with or without us.

But instead of that being sad, the film kind of makes it beautiful. It reminds us to be present, to really notice the little things, because they might be gone before you realize they mattered.

“If memories could be canned, would they also have expiry dates? If so, I hope they last for centuries.”

Lately, I’ve been chronically burnt out — but I’m happy to say I’m finally starting to crawl out of it.

What’s been helping? Forcing myself to just... do stuff. Stuff I maybe wouldn’t normally try, but deep down I know I have the potential to thrive when I challenge myself a little. I feel so much better creatively right now. Here’s what I’ve been up to:

Sewing – I made a bunting banner for my zine tabling events out of recycled fabrics! I really love how the scrap fabric look gives it this DIY, vintage-y flair. I’m so happy with how it turned out. I’m even considering making another one just for house decor.

Messing with my typewriters – Cleaning them up, taking them apart, putting them back together — it clears my head in a way few things can. I think everyone needs some kind of technical, hands-on project to get lost in.

Running – I never, ever regret going for a run (except maybe when I wake up sore all over the next day). But that post-run rush? Unmatched.

These small habits have really helped me feel more like myself again. I’m hoping to stick with them — and keep building from here. What are some things you do to get out of a creative rut?