I love it when a day turns around. It gives me so much hope! On Saturday, my day started slow, begrudgingly even. The only thing getting me out of bed was the promise of a fat bag waiting for me. That, and being able to see my friends throughout the day. The day wound down in my garden with a few friends – it was so lovely, I truly hated to be pulled away to play a 2 am gig. I wished we could have stayed and lit the citronella candles and chatted and drank all night.

Sunday is when it really got juicy. I woke up a bit hungover – the kind where you’re not really in any immediate pain, but you have a 24-hour thirst that simply cannot be quenched. I must have drunk so much water, so much coconut water. Also, the nastiest thing about me is that my personal cure for a hangover is a tall ice-cold glass of milk. I’m proud to be an American – where my milk comes in GALLONS in the COLD PART of the grocery store. It’s filled with the hormones, GUMS, and SOLUTIONS my body needs to distract itself from my own self-imposed dehydration.

I sat in the dark watching an obscure PBS documentary (the Donner Party, if anyone is interested in *spoiler alert* cannibalism), until it was time to open the blinds and receive the day. A few more friends came over to do some light crafting for an upcoming angel:fluid project, while Hubiba made Italian sandwiches from homemade rosemary focaccia and fresh basil pesto from our garden. It nourished me in a way I didn’t think possible. We sat outside under my pergola in the rain, chatting, snacking, and crafting. We discussed DJing, taking breaks, events, buying new clothes, personal style, etc., and the pursuit of more personal projects. For me, that includes reading, camping, biking, and hiking. I crave spending my weekends exploring. I have good memories of when I was young, my mom and I would get in a car one sunday morning and drive out in any direction for as long as we could, just to see what we could find. Somehow, we managed to find some yummy breakfast along the way. I crave more of that. Sunday ended cozied up as FRICK watching The Lion King.

Monday morning rolled around, and I decided to work from home. This, to me, is like an extended weekend. I spend the morning doing some actual work, picking at Sunday’s leftovers – bits of Serrano ham, Manchego cheese, Burrata, pesto on cold bread. By noon, the sun and day felt too wonderful to waste inside. I put my big girl pants on (which are actually just my girlfriend’s boxer shorts) and spent the rest of the afternoon in my garden, weeding, cleaning, tugging, and neating. It was wonderful. I shut out the world and listened to some Brazilian jazz and Spanish bugalu in my headphones. Every movement was methodical – slow and intentional, to feel the sun on every part of my skin. I mowed the lawn, hand-clipped the parts of the lawn I couldn’t get near the vegetable planters, weeded between the tiles on my porch, and cleaned out the area under my pergola. One of the most satisfying feelings in the world to me is pulling a weed out by its root. This could explain why my garden is so healing to me. After all the work, which feels SO good, you can enjoy it once more with its magic renewed.

For dinner, I made a big dumped salad. I love a bowl of slop – arugula, spinach, smoked salmon in its own oil, cottage cheese, half an avocado, cherry tomatoes, a big handful of pickled onions, some crispy brussels sprouts, pumpkin seeds, and a few generous glugs of balsamic vinegar. yummmmmmmmm. I could drink balsamic vinegar. I could and do, cause I love the salad juice at the end of the meal, ykwim? Hubiba and I decided to end the night at the movies in the suburbs – We drove out about 30 minutes to Countryside with two hours to spare before our movie in Lombard. We drove around, tried a rainbow cone for the first time, looked at all the suburban houses, admired the sunset, and Hubiba showed me her childhood home 🙂 We watched Leviticus, and honestly, I gave it 2.5 stars.

This is all to say that 1) I love the practice of romanticising the mundane. It is important to paint your life in an artistic way! I believe writing about it, even when it doesn’t feel important, is good practice for just that. And 2) documenting all the small good parts that make life feel calmer. to remember all the peaceful parts! So that when I feel at odds with life, when I feel I’m too far gone in something and forgetting my basics, I know I can return to them as simply as I did that one day before. that one day I wrote about.

Following the summer, I’m going to take an indefinite hiatus from DJing and event production, aside from Angel:fluid. This feels honest to me. I don’t have all the words to explain why just yet, but I will. I have some really fun gigs all summer, including one even planned for November! Following that, however, I will opt to post mostly on my blog. More details to come 🙂

Hope you had a lovely weekend! Hope you’re finding time for yourself in the midst of an extremely busy season (especially gay people!!) I urge you to set aside time today or tomorrow to document a moment or day you enjoyed recently <3

you have to let it lead the way. With each passing year, I find myself embracing change more and more. Even as recently as a few years ago, change was scary – a burden to endure or avoided altogether. I found myself increasingly stubborn, obstinate – stuck in situations, relationships, jobs, even singular moments etc. that drained me, but felt so monumentous a task to approach. like … the pain of staying can feel easier than the uncertainty of leaving.

it took me a long time to realize how much i was self-sabotaging. i would recognize, first and foremost, the frustration – i feel stuck, i feel unhappy, my body is changing, i have no energy, i don’t feel inspired. Then, I ask – do I have the capacity for change? and tbh, the answer is always yes, but mentally we’re not always so prepared. So easy to say it, to want it – but how about doing it? I think, this is what i mean when I say you have to let change lead the way. the lightbulb is the realization of unhappiness, lack of fulfillment. then, is my heart ready? do I have that capacity? then, thirdly, the mapping. What excites me most about change? What am I seeking? What do I want more AND less of? Am I afraid of anything?

Sometimes, we cannot always take the driver’s seat as our present self. Sometimes, it’s powerful to lead with the potential of a better future self. This ties into the power of manifestation – lucky girl syndrome BOOTS. The power of the potential of reinvention and rebranding is overwhelming, exciting, and yes, a bit scary – but only if you’re unwilling to embrace it, to make your heart bigger for the capacity of it. Failure, embarrassment, shame – are all bar-less prisons. These are actually the least tangible reasons to embrace change, to embrace reinvention. So then, where does the fear stem from? Being seen? Being perceived?

I’m letting change take the front seat. I’ll embrace it all right now, no matter how it comes. Never force anything – just the flow of it. I came back from Italy ready to make a change. Not that this 8-day Euro trip changed me – but time away from Chicago, away from my phone, away from…everything, always reminds me of what’s important. It always uncovers a larger lens to view yourself and future. I come back wondering, believing – how much can I build for my life? How can I make my life more spiritually, emotionally (and physically, yes materially! taurus hello) rich? How to think outside of the Chicago box? How can I put myself next to more beauty, more art, more rhythm?

Italy truly was very beautiful. I think this is still too public a platform to really delve into the ins and outs of a trip with my mother lol, but what I will say is that Italy is postcard picturesque and quite possibly the most romantic place in the world. Everything projected on this quintessential bucket-list country is so valid – you watch a movie like Under the Tuscan Sun, and then go to Italy, and sit at a cafe for 3 hours, and you start thinking like a 43 year-old divorcee like i get it… It’s cliché and deservedly so. It represents everything that opposes America, and therefore, I see why Americans are so widely despised. In fact, I would venture to say that Italians are more stuck-up about being anti-American than the French. It is what it is. You eat, pray, love it and then you go home. I think, for me, it’s the escape, the beauty, the opposition, and the cliché (of course) that left me leaving Italy feeling like a 43-year-old divorcee. I left reminded of feelings I left with from Brazil – a desire to embrace the world more wholeheartedly, less ironic, with more force and overall, less myopia. The last part is important! Even a big city like Chicago can feel claustrophobic and cloying at times.

Perspective – real perspective – is something that cannot be overlooked, cannot be discounted. it invites change – it wrenches the heart open to possibility.

I remained mostly in the Tuscany region, except for Rome. I saved Rome for last, and honestly, I’m glad I did. I spent only one full day there, and it was more than enough – crowded, dirty, chaotic. and really terrible Chinese food. I don’t wanna talk about it. The Vatican was gorgeous. And I got to see one of my favorite sculptures of all time – a piece I fell in love with as a senior in high school in my AP Art History class: Ecstasy of Saint Teresa by Gian Lorenzo Bernini. I’ll put a picture below. I waited years to see this piece after falling so in love with it. The bellowing robes, the rolled-back eyes in ecstasy- religiously sexual! powerful! the smirk on the angel’s face. It was surprisingly much smaller in person, in a pretty otherwise unremarkable church. To behold it, and its mysticism, I am so thankful to Rome.

Beyond that, it was all about Tuscany, except for Orvieto, which is actually in the Umbria region. I like that name. I stayed overnight in that small mountain town, to which I had to take a funicular (I had no idea what this was prior to using it) up the mountain. Quiet, peaceful – a town to spend weekends in. From there, we traveled to Florence for 3 nights to stay in Hotel Alessandra. I ate gelato, smoked skinny Italian cigarettes, and visited a speakeasy in Florence called Rasputin. My mom was so bewildered by the concept. As much as I like a speakeasy, sometimes the juice of a $19-22 cocktail isn’t worth the squeeze. I really liked Florence – it felt very ~young~ to me. I visited the Galleria Uffizi, where I saw the Birth of Venus, Medusa, and another of my favorite paintings (of all time!) Venus of Urbino by Titane. I had forgotten this painting lived here, and so to turn the corner and witness it was truly a striking moment. Paintings by Raphael, Caravaggio, Gentileschi – a dream for high school me. I always wanted to go into Art History, but was heavily dissuaded. I wish I had listened to my gut.

Siena was more crowded than expected. It was where I entered the Italian countryside, which, even on quite a dreary day, was very majestic with its mighty cypress trees. The town itself is in perpetual ascent or descent. There was a lot of climbing in Italy overall, but Siena bore the brunt of it. I ate wonderfully in Siena. Wild boar tagliatelle, citrus pork loin, white truffle pizza, pistachio’d mortadella, pici with fresh tomato sauce, farm-fresh butter, and bottles upon bottles of rosé. Also, the most delicious french fries, but the weirdest Caesar salad. I did a lot of people-watching in Siena – Italians are quite attractive, especially the men. They have that dark skin, dark eyes, dark hair that is typical of the worldwide Latino belt lol. But interestingly, sitting at a cafe at night as many of them gathered together, I noticed they nearly all wear the same thing. The men wear dress pants or jeans, white t shirt, and a leather jacket with white Adidas lol.

I cannot stand an Italian coffee. That might be the most American thing about me. I craved a fat ass Dunkin’Donuts iced coffee BOOTS the entire trip. You order a latte fredo, and it is just not the same thing – especially when they put it in the little soggy paper cups. Don’t get me wrong, Italian coffee itself is delicious. But a Cafe Jumping Bean would actually go sooooooo crazy over there. I’m giving you guys free money with this idea right now. Ok, also another American thing about me is how much I love breakfast. Like, a chocolate croissant is just not gonna cut it for me! That’s my breakfast DESSERT, hello.

But, since the food was so wonderful, I had to bring a lot of it back with me: cheese, salami, ragu, squid ink pasta, and lots of limoncello. The worst food I ate was in Rome by far. So by the time I got back to Chicago, I was craving good Italian one more time. On a side note, I feel like Italians would secretly love Olive Garden. And not even secretly, like if you put an Olive Garden in Florence, I bet you it would be crazy successful. Like all the students there would be ordering extra breadsticks with the alfredo sauce.

I’m losing the plot again. More important than the ragu and pecorino I brought back was the refreshed perspective. It interrupts certainty and invites the capacity, the mere thought of change. Idk – you leave home for a bit and realize there are countless ways to build a life. I think, for me, there is no more pain in change. or fear. I feel emboldened by it and see it much more opportunistically, advantageously than burdinistic. But there has to be that initial acceptance of disillusionment, unfulfillment, maybe unhappiness in order to make room for the what if… now I feel I’m talking in circles. I guess my point is that in order to embrace change, you have to let it lead the way by permitting it. which is my point. permission. not change. I feel rabid about permitting myself to change. And like … the fear doesn’t come from change itself, right? It comes from the possibility of being perceived in a way you hadn’t intended, however that may look. But… that shouldn’t feel too bad if you’ve already given yourself the permission to be curious.