My first full week in office in my advisor position! The first week had Monday as a holiday, and the second week was mostly working from home due to the winter storm that swept through this area. It’s been a long week, but it’s been good. I haven’t quite outfitted my office yet, so I’m going to do some more decorating next week.
I’m looking forward to going out with some friends tonight and I have a few events this weekend. Hopefully, I’ll also have some time to read, clean, and generally decompress as well.
Some links for the week:
This opinion from US District Judge Fred Biery on the release of Liam Arias and his father Adrian is a good read. “‘We the People’ are hearing echoes of that history,” is the type of statement that once inspired me to consider the law and eventually judgeship as a career path. As much as I would probably loathe being a judge most of the time, I would enjoy writing things like this.
How to make soup and also write a novel. I’m going to add this wisdom to my Fall Curriculum (spoiler – my goal will be to revamp my writing practice and finish a manuscript).
Troubles in Minneapolis persist, and friends of a friend have a good resource on the ground if you are looking for a place to donate. The Helping Hand Fund through Our Savior’s Lutheran Church supports their neighbors in need, and you can donate generally or designate your donation as “immigrant support” if you want to specify where you’d like it to go.
I hope you get time and space to decompress this weekend!
Well, friends. The day has come. My last day of working for UNT Housing. From my start as a night desk clerk to the leader of our amazing tour team, it’s been a little over 20 years of meeting loads of people I love and helping students feel at home on campus. I’m excited about my new adventure as an academic advisor, though!
Here are some lovely things that have given me much-needed pauses as I plowed through the to-do list of things to make next week easier for the staff.
I love this poem by Rudy Franciso. I love the “Amen” chorus from the audience, too. “It’s hard being alive, but it looks so good on you.”
I miss Let It Be Sunday, but I love the new Joy the Baker monthly series, The Bakehouse Almanac. I think I shall subscribe to a new analog magazine (for free through my AARP, of course. Because I’m old enough to qualify for AARP, and I have a lot of participation points to burn.)!
I am grateful for this reframe of “This Will Be My Year” from Dr. Chanequa Walker-Barnes. Regardless of what happens to me and in the world, did I do my best? Did I take care of myself? Did I take care of my relationships (or, in the case of 2024, did they take exceptionally good care of me)? Did I experience joy? In that light, yes. 2020, 2024, 2025 – each of these has indeed been my year, and I expect that 2026 will be as well. There will be lots of opportunities to practice those four things.
There is hope for Patchouli Joe’s! They have a GoFundMe to raise money to transition to a new location. Please donate to help if you can.
I love The Residence so much. I wish it had gotten renewed. It was worth every dollar of production costs, and Netflix is a fool. I’m glad these actors are getting recognition for their great work.
The coziest (and the best) way to ring in the new year? Snacks, wine, comfort of my own home.
I love the Montana Happy newsletter. It’s always full of cozy crafts, recipes, and tips. It’s a much-needed shelter in the storm of the world. In exploring cozy as a theme this year, I am working my way through this list of prompts.
Hygge prompt #1 – What advice would you give your younger self with your current knowledge if given a time machine? What changes would you make?
Not that my younger self would have listened…but here goes.
That interdisciplinary major you’re considering during grad school (the one that would give you a foot in the door to library science)? DO IT. You can still teach public speaking and work night desk and be an assignment coordinator. These will be the jobs that give you the best stories and where you will meet some of your favorite people. But it would also be nice to have some sweet librarian training in your back pocket when you’re ready to branch out.
Don’t stop dancing and running. It’s hard to get that momentum back after you lose it, and you will miss it when it’s gone.
Ditto re: playing piano and French horn.
Don’t sell your French horn. Maybe stick with a digital piano/full-sized keyboard instead of the upright grand, though. That was…a lot.
The pavement on Fry Street is dangerously uneven. Tread cautiously. Your left knee, in particular, will thank you. Also, maybe don’t drink the WHOLE beer tower. Just a thought.
In fact, go ahead and slow down on the drinking in general. One or two glasses of wine at a time is fine, and it is definitely less expensive. If you need to be buzzed to feel comfortable at a place, just leave the place. You could be home and reading.
We still love home and reading.
You don’t want to live in the downstairs apartment. Having upstairs neighbors is THE WORST.
Look closely for bug problems before you move in. No apartment is cute enough to be worth the hassle of getting rid of an infestation.
Those things that you keep seeing ads for that you think you’d really enjoy having? You won’t. Just keep scrolling. I guarantee there’s a cute cat video coming up, and it’s free.
The cancer diagnosis isn’t the end of the world. You survive, and your friends really come through for you. Go ahead and push for the reconstructive surgery while they have you on the table, though.
When the church you love dissolves, don’t rush into replacing it. Save yourself some religious trauma and take a real break. But keep that weird little liturgical one you visited in the back of your mind. You’re going to love them someday.
I know loneliness sucks. And it will suck for a long time, especially when it seems like everyone around you is pairing off, so buckle up. But don’t waste so much time wanting a partner. Your life is already rich with love, and you will absolutely adore living alone. Once you get there, you will realize that it would take a truly exceptional connection to merit giving that up. Hold out for it.
When you feel like you have to choose between loving others well and wanting to hold them to your own moral code (which, despite everything you’ve been taught, they are not – in any way – obligated to adhere to), choose love. Every time. Your moral code will change as you learn and grow, and you will regret the harm that you did before you knew better. But you will never regret loving extravagantly.
Love extravagantly.
Love yourself. To quote Tova Goodman’s six-word memoir, “Little me would’ve liked big me.”
I usually post resolutions on New Years Day, but I decided not to rush it. Yesterday was nice. I got to hang out with Sarah and friends, eat some delicious food, and read a little bit. It’s hard to believe that I go back to work in less than 48 hours. Before I do, though, you know I want to share my resolutions for the year with you.
Technically I have seven (large) goals, but all of them are divided into many small steps that help me get there.
Start Checking Off That 10-Year Bucket List
The bucket list I put together in 2025 ended up with way more than 50 things on it, and some of them are bigger goals that are going to take the whole 10 years to accomplish. Additionally, if I know me (and I do), I won’t stop dreaming up things I want to do, so the list is likely to grow over the next decade. Clearly there are more than five things I’m going to cross off that list this year.
I’m already going to address some of them in pursuit of my financial and cozy goals (see below), but I’ve identified 11 things off the list that I want to do this year. As I’m currently looking for a new job and/or an additional income stream, the order in which they happen will depend on how fast that comes to pass, as a new job would likely have a different busy season to work around, and some of them cost a little money. But right now, this is roughly the order I’m thinking of starting them:
Join the Plot Twist Book Bar dark academia book club
Enjoy a personal reading retreat in a hotel with room service
Renew my passport
Write a score or a song
Upload an original recording to Bandcamp
Finish a fiction manuscript
Take a small town road trip
Read 200 Books
This is…lofty. But I think it’s possible. What I like about this goal is that having it in mind will remind me to give myself regular downtime, which I have a hard time remembering (shocking, I know). I am also attempting quite a few reading challenges throughout the year, and gamifying anything almost always makes it more fun for me.
Establish a Regular Journaling Practice
One thing that keeps me grounded the best is journaling. It not only helps me decompress and slow down my brain before sleep but also improves my awareness of how well I’m taking care of myself in general.
One thing that I often put off and forget to do is journaling. I am hoping to establish a regular practice.
Daily is ideal, but any regularity is an improvement that I will consider a success. I’m using the guided journal that accompanies Shonda Rhimes’s Year of Yes. I may decide later in the year I don’t need the prompts but for now the questions provide a good framework.
Have 100 Cozy Moments
I couldn’t figure out how to phrase this one, because it could encompass a lot of things. “Cozy moments” sounds a little woo for me, but it will have to do.
Basically, I want to be intentional about pursuing my theme for the year.
This may look like actually noting when moments are cozy or actively seeking them out. It may look like rearranging spaces at home, work, or elsewhere to be more welcoming. It may look like clearing out some clutter to give my brain a rest. There are many different ways this could play out, and I bet I can catalogue at least 100 of them!
Set and meet 100 small financial goals
This sounds like a lot, but it’s fewer than I met last year, so it’s doable. My focus this year (other than increasing income) is on three main things:
Mapping out a solid plan for retirement
Having a solid purpose for each savings bucket
Building a solid knowledge base
The keyword is solid. That’s how I want to feel about my finances at the end of the year (and have the evidence to back the feeling up).
Write 50,000 Words
For real, this time. Something tells me that finishing a fiction manuscript would be an excellent way to make this happen.
Go on 25 Microadventures
A lot of the items on my 10-year bucket list surprised me. Apparently, I want to go places. Did not know that about myself. I’m not sure if I actually want to go places, or if I think I should want to go places.
Welp, we’re going to test it out this year with 25 small microadventures. I’m defining a microadventure as any outing that takes from an hour up to a day. It can be almost anything. It just has to include a place I’ve never been or something I’ve never done. Bonus points if it’s free.
I may ask for suggestions later, but I have a pretty good list going already. It might be telling that this is the resolution I’m least excited about, but maybe I will be pleasantly surprised. It doesn’t hurt to try (I hope).
And there you have it. Those are the plans. It looks like a lot, but it’s mostly a continuation of things I’m already working on. It just gives them a little structure.
From Wednesday, Season 2: “I don’t evolve; I cocoon.”
I feel this.
Cozy seems like a fluffy word to have as a theme for the year. But it’s essential for me, and that’s becoming more apparent the older I get.
People say you have to get out of your comfort zone to learn. And I see the merit in this reasoning.
One question, though – what’s a comfort zone? That sounds nice. Mythical. Soothing. I bet it’s just delightful.
Do neurotypical people have places and situations in which they actually feel at ease? What’s that like?!
When I think back to the last place I felt truly comfortable – no social anxiety, no worry, no counting down all the things in my head that I had to do before it was over or I could leave – I landed on the trip I took to Cape Cod with Hope and her friend Alison.
Easy mornings where I would drink coffee and write, read, or journal. Then we’d have brunch together and do something fun for the afternoon. Then we’d all meet up again for a long, decadent dinner – sometimes just us, sometimes with guests.
It’s the coziest week I’ve ever spent away from my own home. It left space for spontaneity in ways that I rarely experience. And it was absolute magic for my creative process.
I don’t form habits; I have rituals, and even for my favorite ones, I sometimes need some kind of reminder. For example, on Sunday, I woke up, got a few things accomplished, and then got ready for church. On the drive there, I noticed I was feeling super scattered and grumpy. And then it hit me – I had forgotten to have coffee. Yes, you read that right. Not a typo. I – the coffee snob/addict – simply did not remember to brew a cup. I knew my executive function was wonky lately but jeez. This is why I keep a to-do list posted of how to get ready in the morning. Because on days like that, when I am extra steeped in discomfort, I don’t always remember all the steps.
[Shout-out to coworkers who always remind me to take a break and go upstairs to get coffee at work. Y’all are the best.]
I don’t necessarily even follow ambitions, although I do have a lot of them. My most lasting successes all started in a space I felt free to think and experiment – where I felt relaxed enough to be my full creative self.
I say all of this to demonstrate that learning should follow the spirit of the “out of your comfort zone” rule rather than the literal directive. Essentially, learning requires doing something different. Neurotypical people live in a world that tends to work the way their brains do and in ways they are comfortable operating. In order for their brains to form new pathways (i.e., learn), they have to jolt themselves out of that (i.e., stepping out of that comfort). For many neurodivergent people, it’s the opposite. The world does not work the way our brains do. We are already – perpetually – out of our comfort zone. Pushing ourselves further out of it is more likely to result in burnout and shutdown rather than discovery. My learning process (and I suspect this is more often true than not for most ND folk) needs a soft space to land where my overactive brain can rest well enough to focus on the new thing I’m trying to do.
I need cozy.
And it starts at home.
Making my home cozy for myself inevitably means dampening the assault on my senses. My home right now? Chaos, which reflects my state of mind in this, the yearly Wild West Week that straddles the transition between the old and new year. The chaos in my home not only reflects but also contributes to my mental chaos, though, and I’d like to work on that this year. I can’t control most of what happens outside my home, and there are many elements of rental living that are likewise beyond my grasp. I can, however:
Declutter and adjust lighting and decor to make my space more visibly soothing
Cook amazing food and clean with non-smelly products so that my first reaction to walking in isn’t a shaking of the head and an exclaimed, “Oh! What is that smell!”
Marie-Kondo the textures of items in my home. Even if something is useful, if my first reaction to touching it is, “Nooooo, thank you,” I will not use (or wear) it very often, which means it’s not actually helpful to me.
Make playlists to mask/offset the 14,351 buzzing sounds and background noises that routinely plague apartment living. Green noise is my go-to for this purpose, but I’d like to mix it up a little this year. Maybe even compose something myself.
One thing I really like about cozy as a theme is that it has an element of preparedness to it. Yes, it’s nice to make physical and psychological spaces warm and comfortable for myself and others. That alone is valuable. But the practice of doing so also prepares the space for stressful situations. For example, making my home a cozy place was useful for times when I had to stay there longer than planned (ahem, pandemic and cancer diagnosis). Paying attention to and taking care of my body not only helps me feel more at home in it but also strengthens it for dealing with health issues and other physical challenges that arise. Working so hard on my financial stability this year really came in handy when it was suddenly time to qualify for a car loan in September. Effective therapy doesn’t just help me feel better; it helps me be better.
So this year, I am cultivating coziness in my life. And I am going to cozy up to the things that matter to me.
Cocoons may seem unimportant on the outside (and may just seem like a big blob of mindless goo on the inside). But these cozy little spaces are what help their inhabitants turn into exactly who they need to be to fly.
2025. The year I finished up cancer treatments (hopefully) for good. The year my dad had a stroke. The year my Aunt Gale died. The year my friend Des died. The year I bought my first new (not used, not traded with Dad to finish out his payments on the newer model in the family – actually new with 0 miles on the odometer when I took it for a test drive) car.
The year I turned 50.
The year I celebrated turning 50 with an excessive list of resolutions to accomplish 50 things in several categories:
50 home-cooked meals
50 books bought from indie bookshops
50 small financial goals set and met
50 thousand words written (not counting blogs or any writing I did for my day job – hey, perhaps I should have counted blogs and UNT trainings/memos/manuals!)
50 bucket list items to cross off by the time I’m 60
I enjoyed working toward everything on this list, but I think my favorite part was creating the bucket list. It ranges from small errands like “renew my passport” to big-deal rites of passage like “retire from UNT.” It contains goals about my career, music, writing, finances, and health. It reveals things I want to change about my home and so many things I want to learn. It includes a surprising amount of travel. I had no idea I wanted to go so many places, but looking at the list, I can’t think of anything I’d want to remove. Although admittedly, unless I win the lottery or become otherwise inexplicably wealthy, I probably won’t be able to take all the bigger trips in just 10 years’ time. I guess that leaves me something to look forward to in my 60s!
You’ll see some of these things when I post my 2026 resolutions in a couple of days. As with a couple of the other goals, I ended up with way more than 50 things for the next decade’s to-do list, and I’m hoping to knock out a lot of the small things next year so I can start taking steps to make the longer-term goals happen. At any rate, it gives me a solid picture of how much life I still have to look forward to.
Before this year, I was terrified to talk about money.
Don’t get me wrong. I was responsible. I paid my bills. I had an average credit score. And to be clear, it was only merely average because I had a lot of credit card debt and a high credit utilization ratio – i.e., the amount of credit you have vs. use (if you use a lot/max out your cards, your utilization is high). And that happens to be one of the top factors that determine credit score. All my other factors were good to exceptional, even before this year.
But I still hated talking about it. And I still felt guilty about it.
Part of that is that my family is so good at managing money, and I felt bad that I wasn’t better at it.
A bigger part of it, though, was that I’ve often taken financial literacy courses and read financial literacy books, and most of them come overcast with a large dose of shame that I don’t already know or haven’t been able to do what they’re teaching me. The prevailing message from experts is that if you are struggling, it’s because you suck at money and it’s all your fault. Because the prevailing agenda of most people who have excelled under capitalism is to uphold capitalism as the ideal at all costs. And they can’t do that if they actually admit the system doesn’t work as well as it should for everyone.
But every system has weaknesses. Every. System. *cough*especiallyAmericancapitalism*cough*
Yet that is the system where I live. So this year, I decided to face my fear. I resolved to set and meet 50 small financial goals to point me in a better direction. I met that goal by the end of May and just kept going. By committing to small, incremental changes, I have:
Raised my credit score by 40+ points
Built an emergency fund
Financed a car without a cosigner
Had some important financial discussions with my dad that I had been avoiding
Stopped feeling guilty about spending according to my values. In fact, I made value spending a whole budget category
Shameless plug time – I did this with the support of Tori Dunlap’s 100K Club. This community was the real MVP when it came to getting past my financial shame and trauma so I could even think about goals. The community is not currently open, but you can get on her email list and get a lot of the same information from the resources on her website and from her book Financial Feminist (which is actually a workbook, so get your own copy or make sure you have a journal handy to write in if you borrow it from the library).
Another resource I like is Moving Beyond Broke by Dasha Kennedy (aka @thebrokeblackgirl). If you are new to budgeting or new to saving or nervous about saving or need regular encouragement, get this book and follow her account.
Just as important as the practical goals I met, here are some things I learned this year that I want to pass on:
I’m actually really great at managing money. I was good at it before this year, and I’m even better at it now. I’ve had to be, because I have never in my adult life made what was considered a livable wage for my area. And yet, I have lived. I have always had food to eat and a home to live in and managed to pay all my bills (even if sometimes the way I had to do it was credit and then find another little temp odd job to pay it off). Turns out, I can squeeze blood from a turnip.
As proud as I am of what I have accomplished, I did not do it alone. I have resources I can reach out to when unexpected things happen, and I have a solid community support system. This is essential. This is non-negotiable. Get yourself in community.
So does anyone who is financially successful. If they try to tell you their success is 100% self-made, they are either incredibly lacking in self-awareness or they are flat out lying to you.
If you are struggling financially and making less than $50,000 a year in most places (more in places with a high cost of living), I guarantee your struggles are not your fault. You are working your ass off in a system that was not designed for even your survival, much less your success – a system that rewards greed and treachery instead of the actual hard work it claims to reward. Let go of your shame, and get mad instead.
You’re probably already mad about it. Focus that mad where it’s deserved – toward the manipulative system and the greedy assholes who blindly uphold it without question – and fight back. This anger has become excellent motivation for me. Every time I want to slack in my goals or spend money on some nonsense that I don’t really want or that doesn’t match my values, I have a little voice in my head that says, “That’s how the oppressors win.” And then I make a better choice. Works like a charm.
Greed is rampant in our society, but if you’re actually worried about being too greedy, you’re probably not. In fact, you’re probably settling for way less than your work is worth. And by you, I do mean I. I am settling for less than my work is worth, and the financial goals I’m currently working on are to help me remedy that.
When I am struggling, it is easy to fall into the trap of trying to find ways to monetize the things I do that bring me joy. It is essential for my mental health and that of my community not to do this. Most things need to remain as gifts to yourself and the world around you. Cultivate generosity and protect it.
Well, that’s more than I planned to share, but hey – I’m clearly less scared of talking about money now. So that’s a win!
I’m feeling very festive-song-in-minor-key today. It’s been a good week, but a busy one, and the busy isn’t really over until Sunday at noon-ish. My body is giving me small warning signs, so I figure I have about 5 days before it absolutely crashes unless I get some slow-down soon. Noted. My planner on Sunday afternoon reads “NOTHING NOT A DAMN THING.” So that’s where we’re at.
If someone rich wants advice on what to do with their money, Bryan Fuller and the cast of Pushing Daisies are ready to give us more antics at the Pie Hole! I NEED SEASON THREE!
Busy seasons have me sitting at the keyboard more often than usual. I just play through my theory books or some Bach variations – predictable, methodic, simple. Instrumental and ambient music are great stress relievers, which this piece explores beautifully.
Speaking of ambient music, I’m playing in the Joan of Bark Fest tomorrow with Wenepa. It will not be the same without Des, but I know we’ll still make some beautiful sounds together. Come see us if you’re local!
The James Garfield Miracle is one of my favorite things that happens every year, and I want y’all to know about it.
And an extra bonus at the end of this busy, busy week. Because The Great Unfuckening is nigh, and I feel like mine is going to be a doozy. My brain is so tired, and my stockpile of fucks-to-give is quickly dwindling.
Next week’s schedule is much calmer. It’s still busy and social – just not every day. There are real pockets of rest on the horizon, and I am excited about that.
Happy Friday! I’m looking forward to some fun friend hangs over the next few days, as I enjoy a long weekend. Otherwise, I’ll be hunkered down with some good books and rewatching Scandal. Good times.
Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower was one of my book clubs’ selections this month. More and more, when I read dystopian fiction (and this book in particular seems less fiction than prediction, which is upsetting), I find myself thinking, “No, thanks.” I’m not sure I’d want to survive. Like, I’d like to think I’d want to. I’d like to think that I would use all these things I know to rough it and get my apocalypse on and rebuild society, but realistically? I’m so tired. I mean, I would do my best and help as much as I could before I shuffled off this mortal coil. But I don’t even particularly enjoy taking walks outside (I mean, it’s alright. Just not my first choice. Even exercising is better inside.). Why would I want to live there, or how committed am I to learning how to build a house (which I would eventually have to do if I ever wanted to not live outside)? And if I had to clean my own water, or do without indoor plumbing or A/C? It’s just so much. If others want to make this grand effort to save the species, that’s fine. I get it. Good for them, I guess. But if most of the people I love are dead and the best I have to hope for is living off the land, it just seems like a lot of work for a life I wouldn’t want.
I enjoy that this article on why Gen Z loves Gilmore Girls is full of not only unabashed adoration but also common critiques of the show.
I like a good pairing. Cheese and wine. Boots and leggings. Coffee and…anything. I am intrigued by Modern Mrs. Darcy’s recommendations on which nonfiction and fiction books to read in tandem. I ordered Philosophy for Polar Explorers, as The Ministry of Time is on my TBR in a couple of months.
I’ve had the draft document for this post open with nothing but a title for three days. That seems ominous.
Do I even have plans this summer? Or is it just something I have to get through until the weather is nice enough to wear my boots again?
I know why I’m hesitant. It makes sense. Summer is the busiest time at my job, so while everyone else is making plans to go on vacation, have fun outings, embrace all the summer programs that their community has to offer, and just generally live their best lives, I’m going to be super busy most days and, subsequently, too worn out by the time evening comes around to want to do any of those things.
I’m also checking in on my parents more, which means at least every other weekend will be spent working on things at the farm, hanging out with my new bird friends (see above), and helping Mom and Dad plan and navigate whatever the next phase will bring.
I’m not really looking for more plans.
In fact, what would make my summer better is to find things to take off my plate. That seems unlikely, though.
I don’t want to suck at my job or abandon my family. I also don’t want to drop off the face of the earth with friends or miss out on the things that bring me the most joy.
But it’s just a lot, and I probably need to use some of that PTO I have stored up.
So my bucket list this summer is more of to-not-do list. And it’s just two things:
Find 5-10 random days to take off. I’m leaning toward 5 right now, but if things start getting nuttier, it’s gonna need to be closer to 10.
DON’T. TELL. ANYONE. As soon as I say, “I’m really looking forward to taking a couple of days off next week,” people like to respond with “Ooh, we could do something!”
Which is great. Truly. I adore the place of love and excitement that comes from. I’m glad people still want to hang out with me even when I’m not my very best self, which seems to be all the time these days.
But the moment I start making plans on my day off…I no longer have the day off. Sure, I may get to sleep in or have more leisure time, and I guess that’s better than nothing. But once I make a plan with someone else, that whole day is now centered around making sure I don’t get too involved in a project or task – or even a spontaneous outing, if that’s where the day’s whims take me – that I forget or show up late to the plans I made. And I’m very bad at turning down things that sound fun with people I love simply because I need to rest. While I strive to be better at this, I recognize that I’m not there yet, so I’m removing the temptation altogether by not letting anyone think I’m available when I’m not.
Whew.
Saying I’m not available when I have the day off is uncomfortable for me. I have struggled with being honest about what I need for most of my adult life. Peeling off the people-pleasing layers I clung to during childhood is hard, and this one is particularly thick.
M. Suzanne Terry 