This video is much better enjoyed having watched the Stromae music video first:
Please enjoy this hilarious and informative panel on how to be the best possible writer through research from AnimeFest 2021.
Today is my Blogging Anniversary and 9 years ago when I started this blog as a mandatory assignment during my time in university: I would never have guessed the highs and lows this journey has taken me on.
I’ve written about my darkest moments, my highest highs, my life and times and the world as it was.
I got canceled by guinea pig stans, finished college, got my first career job, fell in and out of love and coped with the loss of my mother and father.
Thank you all for joining me on this journey. I wouldn’t be here without you.
Weeks after the death of my mother, I fled the country. I laughed, I smiled. I enjoyed Innsbruck, Austria. I drank, enjoyed time with friends, studied and improved myself.
Weeks later, I would have an emotional breakdown in an Italian cemetery while draped over the bust of a long dead Italian general. I was grieving during the entire thing but I may not have looked like I was grieving. I never said much about missing my mom, rarely complained about my sadness or depression and to the untrained eye, I was just a young woman out enjoying her college years.
I watch a lot of true crime, like…too much true crime; and one common thread I keep noticing is that there is a lot of attention paid to how someone grieves. Especially in shows focused on female murderers like Deadly Women. Cases where women are involved are particularly rife with commentary about women moving on with their lives too quickly, or remarrying too quickly or trying for another baby too quickly or even just appearing to be normal too quickly.
Not to defend women who have murdered their families but…what that even means puzzles me to this day. Even when my father died 20 years ago I went back to school as soon as possible, continued in extracurricular activities as soon as possible, sought routine as soon as possible. Hell, the day of, my aunts took me to the zoo as no one was quite sure how to break the news to me yet that my father had passed on. I remember that morning being one of the happiest of my life coated in fun safari animals, sweets and laughter until I came home to see my mother crying and surrounded by all of her friends. After that I don’t think I truly processed any of his passing until months later as I was literally 11 years old. What was my grief meant to look like?
Was I supposed to throw myself into the grave with my father? Was I supposed to weep? Was I supposed to skip months of school and put my young life on hold? Better yet, let’s compare to my mother because at least by then I was a 20 year old college student. I was told frequently that I was brave for going back to school and possibly even a little reckless for studying abroad. I was told that I should take more time but I never understood what I should be doing with that time. I apparently wasn’t meant to be spending that time out or with friends, I shouldn’t have gone to school, I wasn’t supposed to like going shopping or enjoy pancake soup in Innsbruck.
I was supposed to sit and grieve I suppose in the most dramatic sense of the word. I should have been ripping my hair out and sobbing and building semi-pagan altars to my dead mother and wearing a locket with a piece of her shorn hair in it.
Not to say I didn’t cry, sure I did. I cried a lot. I was catatonic one day in college because I just hadn’t processed anything but one thing that I kept thinking of day to day as I missed my mom, arranged funeral plans, called family and kept friends in the loop was that I missed my routine and was desperate to return to it. Sometimes grieving was laughing at jokes that only my family understood or eating peach cobbler in the kitchen and demanding that it was to only be served with Bluebell ice cream. Sometimes grieving was telling my friend that he couldn’t cry during the service knowing that I’d lose it if he did. Sometimes grieving was picking the song list for my mother’s service with my grandfather’s in mind and choosing to bury her catholic despite what would likely be her wishes. Grieving was deciding to donate her organs moments after her death knowing that it would be the one decent thing my mother could do after having died in the most dramatic way possible.
My grief didn’t look normal because normal for grief doesn’t exist. Everyone processes things differently and everyone moves on differently. Some never truly move on at all.
I didn’t see the announcement right away. I heard about it from a youtuber I’ve never heard of and raced to my own Twitter to confirm. The news still has me a little shaken in the way that only a parasocial relationship can. Lindsay Ellis has quit making videos and has quit social media entirely. While at first I was shocked as this felt sudden, after her Mask Off video and her canceling over a pretty non-problematic opinion; I can honestly say I’m not surprised. I wanted to quit after my pretty mild canceling and I’ve always said if this is mild, I can’t even fathom what it’s really like and the truth is: because of Lindsay Ellis and Natalie Wynn, I can and it’s terrifying.
But while I could lament and grieve for an entire post, I want to spend this time thanking Lindsay Ellis. So let’s get into that.
I knew Lindsay first as the Nostalgia Chick under the now very Channel Awesome umbrella. She was snarky and sullen and a critic: like me. And at that time I meant the old school critic where basically you just hated everything but with “reasons”. I love that she readily called out the sexism in media and I thought she was a great foil to the Nostalgia Critic whomst I did at one time unfortunately find funny.
It took me a while to come around to some of her solo content under her name: Lindsay Ellis. They were mostly think pieces but at the time shorter and more about comparing different versions of the same character in various mediums. I thought they were mostly funny but nothing that really sold me on her brand. That would change when Lindsay started making video essays and goddammit did I find my bread and butter with that. Lindsay was biting and intelligent and used sources and resources that seemed only rivaled by her friend Contrapoints, another video essayist and thinker I admire greatly. At the height of “Breadtube” greatness between Philosophy Tube, Folding Ideas, Contrapoints, Hbomberguy, T1J and Lindsay Ellis were staples in my media diet. If you listen to my literature podcast, you know just how many times I reference Lindsay in conversation because I think she’s just that brilliant. She has changed my mind on media I love for good and bad. I never thought of RENT as that harmful until her video eviscerating it made me see just how damaging it was. I didn’t see much value in some Disney movies until Lindsay explained what their value and legacy was. I admired Lindsay and when I started making video essays, I tried (and let’s be real, mostly failed) to be like her and try to bring the same level of thought and care to my work.
Then the drama happened. Lindsay had been no stranger to criticism before. She had some hot hot takes back in the day trying to fit in with the boys, which is something I can very much relate to. And it seems like her tweet about Raya and the Last Dragon just stirred all of that up. She had faced criticism before but not like this and this seemed to be the instance that broke the camel’s back. I’m not here to say that her choice to leave isn’t valid; hell, if I faced criticism like she did, I would have quit forever ago. I remember messaging someone about her now infamous Mask Off video and with it’s large runtime I knew this was going to be a lot. I remember commenting that I wasn’t fond of her tone during the video at first like she owed me a damn thing and it took me thinking critically and realizing that an internet celebrity owes me nothing to make me realize that her anger in that video is so valid and earned and it wasn’t my place to comment on her anger and scathing tone.
She continued to produce videos for a little while and I had simply adjusted to her extended production schedule. She is an author, too. I was understanding. Perhaps that was why it was a shock that she said she was done and so a part of my media diet faded.
I want to take this time to thank Lindsay even though I know she’ll never see this and likely she won’t care. But I wanted to put my sincere gratitude somewhere. I had to put these feelings somewhere. I don’t feel like I’m losing a friend. Lindsay’s brand was always very…aware of parasocial bonding and I never felt some false closeness to her. She is unapproachable and that always made me respect her. She wasn’t my gal pal or my friend, she was a creator and someone I deeply respected and still do.
So goodbye, Lindsay. I hope you find peace and success in whatever you continue to do.
There are many words that my friends would use to describe me and lazy just is not one of them. I co-host two podcasts, run social media for both podcasts and myself, I blog for myself, write for a column, make and edit videos, am community manager for one of the places I write for: I am a busy person. So why can’t I seem to get up and take out the trash?
Executive dysfunction happens mostly to those suffering from mental health issues or are neurodivergent and it’s best described as when you literally just can’t even. And I don’t mean to make it sound like it’s a chill normal thing, it’s a debilitating and exhausting condition where cognitively, I know I should do something and just emotionally and physically not being able to. In some chronic pain/neurodivergent circles it’s sometimes framed as having spoons or not having spoons: spoons then acting as an energy unit and sometimes you just don’t have the spoons. Sometimes, it’s just a no bones day.
I didn’t realize that I had executive dysfunction until late last year and early into 2021 when I battled with a huge depressive episode after a prolonged illness that left me bedridden and in the worst physical and emotional place in my life. I was heavy, in pain, couldn’t breathe and walking from my bedroom to my bathroom took at least a break or two in between and I do not live in a large apartment.
I noticed then that trash didn’t go out like it should or recycling didn’t go out as regularly as it should. Dishes would pile up for the first time in my adult life and laundry just didn’t get done. I had no words for this condition and thus only blamed myself, spiraling my depression down further and making it even harder to find the will to do basic things. At its worst point, I was not showering regularly or brushing my teeth regularly even though a previous version of me would be mortified to know that I had let the care and keeping of myself fall that far. Again: cue depressive spiral and further negative self-talk and even less will or energy to get things done.
It wasn’t until I spoke about this with my therapist and consulted some online sources (TikTok) that I realized that what I had was not laziness or just simply depression. I cognitively knew I should take out the trash or shower or clean the kitchen but I couldn’t. Rather than willfully ignoring the task, I was screaming at myself to just get up and use soap when my body and mind just wouldn’t comply.
It’s taken a while to address my executive dysfunction as it does not simply have one cause. It’s a combination of anxiety, chronic illness, trauma and depression that make it hard to do some things and just slightly less hard to do others and even though I have had these issues for years: the executive dysfunction is new.
You may be like when I started wondering exactly what changed and it actually hit me fairly recently why my brain has been extra mean to me just now. There’s a whole ass pandemic that happened and while many did suffer for the first time with anxiety and depression during the pandemic, many of us who were already mentally ill simply saw their mental health deteriorate further. So while I have indeed been mentally ill for years, I have not had to survive a pandemic until very recently and that looming sense of dread and uncertainty does wear on the body.
I’m finding ways to grapple with my executive dysfunction and so far changing up my meds, lots of positive reinforcement and just persistence have made it a lot easier to deal with but I’m still not entirely cured. It still sometimes is a struggle to do basic things but I’m getting better and that’s what matters.
I promise I have not forgotten this year’s review post! This time…with my face!
We’re often told to romanticize our lives. That we’re the Main Character in the story and the rest are just extras. We are told to find our light and to shine brightly. And that makes a ton of sense…if you are a raging sociopath who doesn’t care about others. It’s easy to say that we’re the main characters of our own stories but the truth is we just can’t be the main character to everyone’s story.
I am a comic book character. I live a bombastic life with larger than life stories and a healthy and unhealthy amount of trauma to go with it. To those close to me I seem extroverted, charismatic and am eager to bring my friends along with me on my many desired adventures. I am a shonen leading man complete with dead parents and trauma-induced mental illness. And while I am enamored with the idea of being the main character in even the stories of my dear friends I am also keenly aware of the fact that every opera can only have one prima donna and I don’t realistically want to be the main character of any of my friend’s or anyone else’s narrative. To many people from my best friend, to the lady at the bank, to the guy at the sandwich shop or my coworkers and those I pay to make me feel pretty: I am an NPC.
An NPC is a non-playable character and in video games they fill in several roles. NPCs can either give you items or goods, be merchants or those that have items, they can help you as members of your party or they can just be truly background characters; static and never moving from their assigned spots.
Think about a game like Legend of Zelda which is full of
annoying charming NPCs who have a myriad of items for you and are there to help you, the main character, survive your death quest to fix the world’s evil or something. Some of them have items, some are just there, some may even help you along the way.
It may just be the part of my brain that tries to romanticize my own life that makes me nearly obsessively concerned about my impact on other people. It isn’t an entirely altruistic thing; it’s more of a morbid curiosity and nearly paralyzing fear. I am worried that I have left a bad taste in someone’s mouth or that I was the one bad interaction someone had that put them over the edge or something. I am very aware that I am one of possibly thousands of interactions any given person has in a day so I do my best to not just be pleasant but to be overly-accommodating at times because even if to them I am an NPC, I’d like that memory not to be a miserable one.
I’ve been listening to Nujabes since the mid 2000s with their many hits off the Samurai Champloo OST and was immediately struck by the not just lyrical genius behind many of the songs but the flow and how they could instantly make me feel like I was part of a movie or video game. It was easy to fall into the world of Samurai Champloo in part because it has such an amazing soundtrack that leads you on a journey with the characters and one that is as fluid and hip-hop inspired as the fictional Edo the series is set in.
I noticed particularly how much I liked their music when I had some of the most aesthetic songs pop up during my commute home from work. It just felt utterly right to be driving (at a responsible speed) down the highway with the stereo on and feeling like I was both my own main character but someone’s NPC. I was at peace with my twoness and the romanticization of my life was not something in conflict with the fact that to many I am an NPC but it was at harmonious one with it. I am the main character of my own story and to my friends, I’m trusted companion, to those I meet I am a seller, confidant, advisor or person crying in a Starbucks.
My story is still ongoing and told from many different perspectives and I am not the most reliable of narrators. You may be asking why I mentioned Nujabes earlier and outside of it just being amazing music, it’s also helped me realize this duality due to the simple fact that every romanticized character should have an amazing soundtrack.
So here it is: my OST. Let’s jam.
Nujabes – Tsurugi No Mai
Triumvirate (Me, Ricky & Carlos)
Samurai Champloo – Hiji Zuru Style [Impression OST]
Nujabes – Aruarian Dance (Samurai Champloo OST) . Track 03