I haven't written my Christmas cards and I hate my LED Christmas lights. send help.

little despairs, little ambitions, and little updates

Welcome to Frequent Criers Club, a series of crude attempts at staying tender when everything is scary and everyone is numb. Find unhinged roundups, writing for attention, and the one about Botox.

little despairs

At the time of writing, I have not written a single Christmas card.

At the time of writing, I have two texts, one call, and seven emails waiting for replies.

At the time of writing, I am overheated, greasy, hormonal, and irritable enough to scorch something just by looking at it. Especially if it looks at me first. Nobody look at me.

At the time of writing, our LED Christmas tree lights cast a too-blue light over the living room. Who added blue to colored tree lights?? I’ll scorch them.

At the time of writing, our new puppy is whining and shrieking in his crate because he wishes I was also in his crate so I am sitting on the floor next to his crate but it is not good enough.

At the time of writing, I miss my family.

At the time of writing, I wish like hell it felt like Christmas. Or even, I don’t know, winter.

At the time of writing, I have not wrapped a single gift.

At the time of writing, the person I am is disappointing the person I wish I was.

At the time of writing, something weeps in me.

little aspirations

I want to steep the nettle tea I bought and use it to make this immune strengthening chai recipe. I want the rest of the ingredients to magically appear in my cupboard.

I want to go to the asian market and buy chicken feet and make gelatinous, delicious bone broth in the crockpot.

I want to get whimsical and strange holiday cards made by a local queer, write and send them with haste, and have them all get to their recipients before Christmas. I won’t/they won’t. I feel I’ve already failed before I’ve started, and it makes me want to light my fucking hair on fire.

I want to walk around town and leisurely pick out special little stocking stuffers like crocheted frogs or some shit and wrap them in gorgeous, overpriced wrapping paper. I want to give them out to strangers.

I want to slowly, methodically trim my bangs and so I can feel cute again.

I want to celebrate the solstice and make an altar.

I want to read my new book in the bathtub and doze off and tell BSF “I got so relaxed in there I fell asleep for a few minutes” and hear him say “That’s dangerous, Erin. I don’t like it.”

I want to remember what music makes me feel happy and alive, then listen to it on a walk.

I want to write in my little journal.

I want to tinker and sew and clear and sort.

I want to eat yams and artichokes and sip turmeric cocoa and make love.

I want to be together.

I want to be close.

I want to be alone.

IG: @chenchenwrites

I want to remember, and keep remembering, that Thich Nhat Hanh quote that goes:

BECAUSE YOU ARE ALIVE, EVERYTHING IS POSSIBLE.

little updates

1. BSF and I adopted the brave and terrible 4-month-old puppy who, at the time of writing, finally fell asleep in his crate. Criers, meet Louie:

2. I procured TWO leopard-print items for my wardrobe, which many of you know is a print that’s deeply essential to my personality. Both are second-hand:

   

   mesh top!

   

   comfy clogs!

3. I am running a wee promo on brain flow sessions for newsletter writers who are wondering…

   1. what even is my newsletter anymore?

   2. how can i publish with more ease without churning out boring slop?

   3. how can i publish with more consistency without burning myself out?

   4. how do i make this something real and good and growing and becoming?

   5. how do i embrace my ambition for my newsletter but still hold it with gentleness and curiosity?

   6. how can my newsletter better nourish my creativity, my business, and my community?

→ The promo code is BRAINFLOW30, and it’s good thru Jan 30 <3

criers to the comments 👇🏻

tell me a little despair, a little aspiration, and a little update.

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