Welcome to September

These days just keep going by faster and faster. Though I can understand why and how it would be some people's nightmare, I really can't get enough of the monotony of office life. Today one of our legal workers, who could lovingly be described as a cigarette grandma, gifted me a Christmas puzzle with the explicit instructions to pass it along to someone else as soon as I finish it. I'm thinking of passing it onto our finance woman's daughter who I just learned is verrrry into puzzles. The marketing girl brought in homemade scotcheroos and one of the girls who works in the back gave me an angry cat calendar. Yeah yeah yeah, you don't owe your job anything, down with the man. But what if I love making friends everywhere I go and work? What if some of the closest friends I've known started as coworkers? I'll keep on keeping on, it gets me free puzzles.

This weekend is my town's annual art festival and I can't wait, it's the first year since I moved to town that I'll be able to attend the festival and not bartend it. Artists from all over the county, live music, food trucks...I already know I'll be tuning into the local traffic cameras when things get too sweaty downtown. This festival has a way of always bringing people together. My partner and I are meeting up with our friend and her dad, I'm checking out art booths the next day with a coworker, and catching a local band at the biergarten with my middle-aged goth guy best friend that I met at my old bar. Three days of non-stop community activities within walking distance. This is literally my Burning Man. 

Lately I've been trying to be more intentional about my waste and make sure I'm actually cooking up what I've got in the house. This paired with also trying to be intentional about not spending money eating out means I've been having some interesting meals. I made some turkey meatballs and chucked them in the freezer so I can have an easy protein on hand because there are truly so many ways you can dress up a meatball. Yesterday I was driving home craving a burger after work, I thawed out a meatball, doctored it up, and made a poor man's smash burger! Today I was remembering the eggs in the fridge that I didn't want to go bad which lead to a homemade breakfast pizza with a parmesan peppercorn greek yogurt crust. Yum yum yum. To have a well-stocked pantry is to be ready for anything. 

When I was a kid my grandpa would make about five pitchers of sweet tea a week. One to keep at my mom's house, one to keep at my babysitter's house for afterschool snacking, and three to alternate throughout the week as we ate dinner there every night. Lately I have been craving my grandpa's tea like no other. I decided to dust off the old Big Lots pitcher and get to steeping, now I'm treating myself to my own batch a week. Last week was classic sweet black tea, this week is a smorgasbord of Meijer's tea aisle with raspberry, green, and Tazo passion tea all dancing together with some lemon juice. Not drinking alcohol has pushed me to exciting depths.

Speaking of exciting, I've decided to try my hand(s) at knitting! I crocheted for a bit a few years ago and it was fine, I just don't always love the look of crocheted items personally. But knitting seems exciting, challenging, and something else to keep my hands off my phone. There's a knitting group in town that has meetings on Tuesday mornings that I wish I would be able to attend. But, you know, work. I hate that this town has so many groups that they advertise that only ever meet during the workday. How can I be involved in the community if you keep me out!! Alas, until next time. I need my third cup of tea.  

The Magic of Midwest Living

Hello hello hello!

Long time no talk, I wish I could say this won't happen again, but it probably will. In the way two weeks ago felt overwhelming, this past week felt exhausting. My time after work was spent...existing? Barely? Just feeling generally lethargic and unmotivated. I'm so goddamn tired of this heat and just want the excitement of fall to take over already. We've been getting absolutely nailed with thunderstorms recently, so that has made things feel just a bit spooky around here.

I spent this morning driving all over town stopping at different stores to try and get the best deals for every item on my grocery list. Student loan payments are kicking my ass and are threatening to push me into the role of the crazy coupon lady. I'm ready. As I was driving back to my apartment I saw all the flags they have stretched and displayed on every street light switched out for the logo of our local art festival that happens every year at the end of summer. When my algorithms are flooded with big cities like New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago, I have moments in the solitude of my sedan where I am thankful to be here in my little town. Little I say loosely as we have just over 30,000 residents here according to census results. A classic midwestern town close to a college campus so the hillbillies townspeople are radicalized by the proximity to higher education. It's not where I grew up or where I thought I'd end up settling down, but I'm damn happy to be here. I made a list of things I'm thankful for around here when I was fighting those last fifteen minutes on the clock.

Being any flavor of queer in the midwest is a feat in and of itself, and I am so tired of big-city gays talking down to us from their high horses with a feigned sense of pity. Save it! I'll take palling around with those of us left behind in the cornfields any day of the week. There's a Burger King pretty close to where I work (three total in town, the most of any fast food chain, and I think I'm the only one who really appreciates it) that has the sweetest trans woman + big butch lesbian duo running the drive-thru more efficiently than anything I've ever seen. The only locksmith business in town is run entirely by a gruff butch lesbian and her Ford van. I had to visit her for work last week and was in her storeroom with her for 45+ minutes, dripping sweat out of every pore in my body, and learning the intricacies of key cutting. If you need a double-sided National 1663 anytime soon - good fucking luck, buddy!

One of the main parts of my job is going to the Post Office every single day right before my lunch break. What started as a fun way to get out of the office building each day quickly turned into a game of chicken with the postal workers. For some reason they just absolutely hate me and the fact that I'm there daily checking for packages. They scoff, roll their eyes if they even look at me at all, and shove the broken down cart full of beat up boxes at me with such disdain I have to know what I've done to deeply offend them. On the opposite end of that, it's a little fun to have a harmless enemy. My company had a table at the local Pride event in June where I saw someone, the new girl at the Post Office. Younger, closer to my age, goth, and clearly some flavor of gay. Ever since we made awkward eye contact that fateful, humid day, I've had an ally in that building. We talk about ordering hair products online, she tells me graphic details about her period, I couldn't ask for anything more. 

Tabling is a common occurrence with my company, and something that I try to volunteer to help out with as much as I can. I used to work in marketing at my old job, I understand it's like wrangling toddlers trying to get your coworkers to commit to extra work. But this is my first year at my new job, so imagine my surprise when I saw the email stating every staff member had a mandatory shift at the county fair. Now, I'm a beautiful woman, imagine Miss Piggy mixed with Eva Gabor in Green Acres. I should never be at a county fair, let alone required to work it. But I served my time with minimal complaints. The Sherriff gave me a lift on his golf cart to the wrong fair building and it felt like crawling through the desert to get to where I needed to be. And in the end, the chief of police came to relieve me of my duties and take over for his shift. These are the moments that make my town feel like Stars Hollow, just on a larger scale.

One of my partner and I's friends is the pastor at the local Presbyterian church. He is friendly and accepting of everyone and everything. While reading the local paper one morning in the early hours of work after I get a pot of coffee brewing, I saw a picture of our clergy friend. He was featured in an article about a different downtown event that had just taken place where he was called in and asked to say a prayer before the pie eating contest. The pie eating contest which was sponsored by the restaurant downtown that's most known for their homemade pies. The restaurant owned by local businessman and President of the Board of Education who I met when I was bartending at the Irish pub and he would come in to host trivia nights. I love knowing every single person in this town and how we're all connected. My wedding was officiated by a friend who started as a regular at my bar. We are the world, we are the children, we are the ones who make a brighter day...

There is a coffee shop on Main Street that is the beating heart of this town. I went there on my first date with my now spouse, and that story isn't an uncommon one around these parts. Everybody has a story with this spot, no matter how briefly you're in town for, it's the place to be. When the owner passed away at the end of last year, it was like every single family in town lost one of their own. Patrons turned friends flooded the coffee shop for a celebration of her life and, whether they realized it or not, a celebration of community. I would take smalltown living for the rest of my life if it meant I was able to know the names of my neighbors. My coworker's cousin is a farmer and brought in eggs for all of us last week, I snagged an extra carton to bring to the single dad who lives across the hall who shares his cigarettes with me on stormy nights when we're both out watching the clouds. Befriend the people around you, lend that cup of sugar, smile at a stranger in the grocery store. Keep the magic of community alive even if it scares you.

What I Would Wear to Daisy Chain Fields: Viva la Polyvore

I have entirely too much crap. I know that I do, I recognize the problem, and yet...I want more. There was a Berenstain Bears book my mother would read to me as a kid about the Green Eyed Monster of jealousy that should probably be revisited. Too many clothes, books, trinkets, ingredients, shoes...oh my god, the shoes. In the moment I'm able to justify it to myself. I lost weight, needed new clothes. Started bartending, needed new slutty clothes. Worked my first office job, needed new professional clothes. Gained weight, needed bigger professional clothes. Went back to bartending, needed bigger bartending clothes. Style changes as I get older, you'll never guess. Yup, more clothes. Jesus Christ what is my problem? I try to be conscious of the amount I'm spending on clothes, shopping second hand, but it's still too much! Have I always been like this?

The answer is pretty obviously no. I grew up raised by a single mom working two jobs, it didn't matter how badly we wanted that Furby or Cheetah Girls sweatshirt, the answer was no. I've seen people name the voice inside their head after their mother, so when you have the fleeting thought oh you don't need that, it's a bit harsher and more likely to get through to you. Sure, I can pretend to be my mother, but, much like how conversations with my actual mother go, I'll end up ignoring those warning after some time. Then it hit me, clearly I enjoyed using fashion as a way to express myself creatively, even if it wasn't always within reason. Because, realistically, why would a girl in Smalltown, USA need a pair of Jeffrey Campbell Lita's? But what if I get invited to a last minute rock show and I need the perfect boots for an outfit? What if I get invited to a luxury event and need that evening gown? What if? What if? What if? Bitch it sounds like you just want to play pretend. And there's nothing wrong with that! I think I've done that for most of my life. From playing dress up with friends to dress up games online with JavaScript, clothes can be fun! But how do you play dress up with clothes you don't have for events you'll never go to? Back in my day, it was called Polyvore. 

The first time I was introduced to the website was through a Justin Bieber fanfic on Wattpad. She had an author's note at the beginning of a chapter with a hyperlinked image that opened up a world of possibilities. Dozens and dozens and dozens of clothing items, accessories, makeup, and other vaguely aesthetic jpegs were uploaded into a digital catalog for you to pick from to make the perfect mood board for any scenario. Hanging out with Justin on the tour bus after a show at Madison Square Garden. Grabbing Chinese takeout with Harry Styles after he sees you reading in the crowd. Going shopping with Little Mix for the VMAs red carpet. Were these actual events a chubby, frizzy, awkward seventh grade Valentine would be in? Probably not. But was I ready if the moment would arise? Absolutely. 

So, as I sit on my couch now after loading the dishwasher and cleaning up Maple's hairball, I see people on social media begin posting about Olivia Rodrigo's Daisy Chain Fields. Their travels to California, merch lines, what they were bringing in their tiny plastic purses, and getting dressed for the day. A music festival actually sounds like my worst nightmare, let alone one at the end of August in the California desert, so this is really a situation I could never be in. But I scroll and I scroll and I see girls doing their makeup and getting done up in 70s-inspired looks and I begin to think, what would I wear if I was going? 

Polyvore, or what I once knew it as, no longer exists. The website is technically still there but it's different now and I could barely navigate the homepage. I looked up what modern alternatives there were these days and the stupid Google AI robot let me know about a website called ShopLook.io that is nearly identical to what I grew up using. I made an account, downloaded a browser extension so I could easily transfer over photos from Pinterest, and got to styling. This was so much fun to play around with and the users who are uploading new items daily are literal angels. I can see myself adding this into the rotation of fun ways to use the internet again and slow down my social media consumption. 13 Going on 30 wasn't fiction at all, it was a prophecy. 

Is It The Moon?

Has this week been just God awful for everyone else? From work feeling simultaneously overwhelming and under-stimulating to a looming cold threatening to attack my immune system to a vet appointment for Maple - too much going on! I'm barely sleeping! And to top it all off, I just started my period! What a truly horrible time. There are approximately three thousand things happening with the sun, the moon, and the stars right now so I'm sure something in the sky is to blame. Call it the Universe, call it God, call it whichever deity is at the center of your altar - I'm feeling attacked by them.

I attempted a batch of Italian Penicillin soup last night for the first time in an attempt to fight my cold. I think that it helped but the taste was...so bland no matter how many seasonings I added. But I guess when you're sick you just need food to be warm and comforting, not necessarily bursting with flavor. I haven't done much with my afternoons when I get home from work, instead I've been trying to just relax. It is working as well as it can. Now that Maple has a clean bill of health from the vet I can breathe a bit easier. She has a dental extraction scheduled for the end of September so we need to make sure she eats up all her crunchy treats before operation day. 

It's officially fall in the Valentine household and what I mean by that is the rewatch of Pretty Little Liars has begun. My friend came over for dinner (an absolutely disgusting dinner of ham and tuna subs from Jimmy Johns) and we watched the first two episodes together. I could reenact the pilot as a one-woman show. While we were watching the second episode my friend said, you're kind of a super fan, huh? Well I guess now that you mention it...that shoe certainly does fit. 

Tomorrow is Friday again. I have exciting plans made already; laundry and doing the dishes, maybe putting on the Clue movie to pay my respects to Tim Curry. Tim, Dolly, Hayden - what a devastating month this has been. Time has a wicked way of never stopping. I'd like to be more intentional with my time in my 30s, let's add that to the ever-growing list on this blog. How you spend your days is how you spend your life. Am I really a writer if I don't write? A painter if I don't paint? A baker if I don't bake? What am I, a phone user? A loser? Let's fix that. 

The Adulthood You Were Promised is Already Here

I can't even keep track of how many TikToks I've seen with the exact phrase 'the adulthood I was promised' typed across the screen with a montage of comfy, warm, brown photos are set to a calming Norah Jones song. Hell, I bet I've reposted about a dozen of them myself this year alone. So many people can relate to this phrase/feeling, it brings a sense of comforting nostalgia that reminds you of your childhood. Warm wood, creamy coffee drinks at a bookstore in the mall, soft jazz music, cinnamon candles, philosophy body wash - I'm getting excited just thinking about it.

It wasn't until I was scrolling and I saw this woman who couldn't have been much older than me showing off her beautiful home; dark wood finishes, warm lighting in sconces, crowded bookshelves, a fireplace, a small television on her kitchen counter. It was beautiful, and her caption was something along the lines of 'because I was a PBS kid' which I loved. If I was better prepared I would have saved the video to link here. But I couldn't believe the comments: the adulthood I was promised, ugh. Ugh? Ugh?! Here you have present-day proof that the adulthood you were promised is attainable and happening right now!

So many of these videos are nostalgia-bait coupled with learned helplessness. It's not 2008, the Barnes and Noble coffee shop will never be what it once was, and those older songs really did sound that much better playing from the speakers of your mom's busted old Windstar van. I'd reckon you don't want to live in 2008, you want to comfort that 2008 brought you because you were a kid. If you want to live in the adulthood you grew up admiring, you have to make an effort to do so. 

You want that friend group early 2000s television promised you? Go to community events, meet your neighbors, put in the time to see your friends consistently even if you're tired. Order the Chinese takeout, dance around the kitchen in your underwear, go to Goodwill and buy a shirt that isn't a crop top, listen to music beyond the top 40 - I promise you, you can make it happen. 

In the same way people will complain that the holidays don't feel like when you were a child. Yeah, because you're not a child. You're the adult now and it's up to you to create the holiday magic to surround yourself with. I'm making an effort to reel back my social media use - blogging is in fact the adulthood I was promised! - I'm learning new hobbies like Chess and oil pastels, watching shows from the 90s that have better vibes, music, and fashion, cooking comfort meals at home, making plans to call my friends on the phone after work just to chat. Again, as I count down to my approaching 30s, I'm taking note of the things in my perceived adulthood that younger me admired and implementing those into my daily habits. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a Macy Gray CD to put on while I make dinner, just like I always dreamed of.

Sunday Morning In Between Dreams

 Good morning, blog!

It is delightful and sometimes downright shocking how different my weekends look now compared to when I was bartending. I used to live entirely for the weekend and everything that came along with it; drunken nights with friends, stuffing my bra with athletic socks in the freezer, eating the 2 for $2 corndog deal from the deli down the street, taking over the jukebox and playing Phantom of the Opera at midnight until the bar owner yells and blocks all showtunes from the index. Oh Eric, you cruel temptress. I'm so glad I was able to experience bartending, in a midwest college town if that tells you anything. Busch light in every shape and size as cheap as you can legally sell it, hillbillies and frat boys breathing down your neck, a group of blood-hungry bouncers that responded to pig calls across the crowded dancefloor, puking and rallying every hour on the hour, manning the outside bar solo with a cigarette in my mouth and a blade on my hip. God it was fun. Was being the key word here. If I had to clock in for another bar shift I think I would cry the entire time, which, I have been known to do behind the bar anyway...

So what did I get up to instead of pouring drafts like my life depended on it? With my partner away I was able to enjoy some solo time which consisted of buying cat food, trying my first diamond art craft from Five Below, and finally finishing season 6 of Love Island - yay Serena!!! Ordered pizza from a local joint and went grocery shopping at 10pm. It's move-in weekend for the college kids in town so I knew better than to even attempt to cross the tracks into the downtown area. Instead I took advantage of local surveillance efforts and watched the drunken debauchery unfold via the traffic camera website. Why surround myself with blackout nineteen year olds when I can tune into the excitement via the comfort of my couch? And with the comfort of my pizza - medium cheese, extra dough, extra cheese - get hip to it. 

Come Sunday morning I'm hopping out of bed just before seven like Grandpa Joe with a pep in my step. Me? A morning person? With no alcohol in my system and recent stomach issues subsiding, it seemed possible! I've already done the dishes, cleared out all the forgotten/rotten food in the fridge and freezer, and started the deep cleaning process of Maple's water fountain. Going back to the cleaning out the fridge thing, that's something I'd like to be more mindful of as I approach my 30s, how much I'm wasting. I know it's not good, I said I was trying to be better, it's a process!!! Bartending had me on the opposite of a schedule and my eating (and drinking) habits certainly reflected that. I would buy quick things to eat that I just wouldn't, buy a bunch of ambitious ingredients for recipes I didn't have the energy for, rinse, repeat. But no more! My weeks pretty much look the same so I know now what to realistically plan for myself for breakfast and lunch, dinners can still be a fun surprise. 

I'm sitting now with all the windows open and Jack Johnson's In Between Dreams album playing from my speakers, it is the textbook definition of a Sunday Morning Album. Give it a listen and take a minute to just...stop. Sit, wait, wish. Until next time. <3 

It's Friday Night Somewhere

It's a balmy 80 degrees fahrenheit in the midwest on this Friday night as I sit cross-legged in front of the window AC unit with my laptop. Imagine Carrie Bradshaw if she lived inside a county fair, that's me. Recently with the aggressive and downright predatory integration of AI and Flock cameras into daily life, coupled with another nostalgic rewatch of Sex and the City, I needed to take a step back from modern technology...or at least change how I was using it. So I dusted off the old Blogspot account, seeing member since 2008 was a shock to the system, and decided to welcome the quiet bloggingsphere back into my life. I also signed up for about a dozen catalogs to start getting delivered to my apartment because I desperately missed the feeling of a magazine in my hands. Plus they're free, so, duh.

Now you may be thinking, who the hell is this girl? And you're so right. You can call me Valentine. I'm a 29 year old receptionist in a small town. I graduated with a degree in Creative Writing which probably explains why I can't stop blabbing about myself online for almost twenty years, oh my god...I also bartended through college which gave me every complex in the book.

I'm a December Sagittarius because there is a difference! I love to write, paint, create, cook, and watch YouTube videos about rollercoasters. Married life as a butchfemme couple in the midwest, la la la. I have a cat named Maple that is my sweet angel baby daughter I love so much. I grew up on the Great Lakes and I miss Lake Erie every single day of my life since I moved away. It's true what they say about women being healed by bodies of water. Take me to the water, I need to be with mother.

I'm counting down the days until my 30th birthday, not literally but might as well be, and trying to make a conscious effort to better myself in the time being. One of those things is sobriety, something that has been known to cross every bartender's mind from time to time. After a particularly stacked week of what felt like nonstop drinking, and my body feeling worse by the day, I knew it was time to accept I wasn't the hot, young bartender I was five years ago. In fact, I was getting queasy after two beers. I don't know that it's forever, but it's for now, and I feel a hell of a lot better. Yippee! 

Okay, that's enough of an introduction. Expect this to be my web diary, essentially. Random updates and rantings. Maybe one day I'll share my actual writing on here, wouldn't that be exciting. My tteokbokki is waiting for me, until next time. <3