clean stoves

anonymous asked:

What do you do when you feel disconnected from those around you or when you're feeling burnt out? What advice would you give to combat loneliness?

I write. I play music loudly. I put extra lotion on my face and hands, and I sing softly under my breath. I make myself dinner, usually something I haven’t had in a while. I try not to look at the news. I wear a sheer or lacy bra under a soft soft sweatshirt that has a hole in the right cuff. I take a long hot shower. I clean my stove. I call my mother. I put on make up and dance with my cat in my arms across the room. 

I grab a book and I go out and sit at the end of the bar and I order a double rye whiskey with almost no ice. I read and sip. I casually glance about. 

I play the music even louder and I take off my socks and I flex my feet. I revel in how many different places my feet have taken me. I might feel sad about the people who’s feel may have brushed mine. Whether it was my college best friend and I on the couch in my apartment sipping hot tea and laughing uproariously as our feet rested next to each other. Or maybe the first time my ex and I made love in the morning on the couch in his apartment and our feet kept brushing. Or the times my feet brushed against a friends as we stood close, or under a table in a crowded bar. 

I go through the packed and disorganized drawers in my house and find a matchbook from my favorite bar in Manhattan and I try and remember how I used the only two matches that are missing. I think about sharing drinks with friends at that bar and how nice it was to be familiar with Nolita and it’s streets and gems. 

I burn sage and incense. I don’t say a word for hours. I practice my signature and lament at the fact that Katharine never looks good compared to my rushed and crazed last name in pen. I water my plants and I rearrange all the furniture in my apartment. 

I text everyone who makes my soul sing, and never worry about them getting back to me. Just letting them know that they’re on my mind. 

Be kind to yourself. Excessively. Be sweet and gentle. Take time for yourself and do almost nothing. It helps. Then, take the time to be ruthlessly productive. Tackle your closet. Or a project you’ve set aside. Don’t stay still too long, but don’t rush. Just ride it out while staying aware. 

I’m so carefree and beautiful
I wanna draw a book of me like they used to do those pin up books with just one woman doing random tasks

Me picking up a cake for my friends birthday party
Me sweating my soul out at Soulcycle
Me losing my footing and damn near dislocating both ankles at Soulcycle
Me w/ my homeboy at dance class embarrassing ourselves
Me running late for work putting one shoe on as I run alongside my homeboy who slept over and watched the office for two hours
Me sitting on a toilet damn near naked at work cuz I wore a onesie
Me getting complimented by other women
Me complimenting other women
Me hitting on guys and making them blush
Me patting my fat full belly after eating cake for breakfast
Me cleaning my stove top

I love me so much lol

I had gotten all ready to go out and meet Vladimir and Jake at a party, which I’d been looking forward to all day at work where I sat in the silent office entering credit cards thinking how much I’m wasting my life, the little space heater wheezing away. I was about to put my shoes on, looking up Lyft prices, when I realized I didn’t have it in me. Talking to new people! After midnight! I texted Vlad regretfully and pulled my hair up out of my face and put on my softest sweatshirt and cleaned the stove and poured a margarita glass (shoutout Liz it’s still my favorite) of a white wine a client gave me and made a cup of tea and sat down in front of my computer. There’s another short story coalescing in me slowly, of which I’ve got nothing down yet, but I’d gotten worried they’d never bud again. Lilies grow from bulbs you know, perennial, dormant in winter deep beneath the cold frozen dirt. Anyways, I’m allergic to lilies, like three people have them in their offices this week unseasonably, just this side of wilting and so fragrant that if I go within ten feet my eyes start to itch. I keep picturing myself in Europe. It’s grey and damp there too. If I must be cold, can’t I be cold in Amsterdam, or London, or Edinbourgh, or my beloved Spain? My favorite coworker had a baby yesterday, smooshy faced and perfect. You guys, it has to be spring soon it has to be. I feel I’ve never been warm or merry before and never will be again. If this is living in the moment you can keep it.

What people think of when they see the Kongo Twins

Kongo Agon: Wrist and throat bruises. Smiley face and heart stamps on fast acting street drugs. Cigarette butts found in a no-smoking section. Crop-top shirts and baggy jeans. Contact lenses that cost extra for the different colors. The smell of after-shave. Teriyaki beef jerky. Vodka served with orange juice. Condoms bought in bulk. Slasher movie killer smiles. Untrained, poorly raised Doberman and Rottweilers. The mythology of Medusa.

Kongo Unsui: Clinical depression. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye. Flavored fizzy water. Untreated, unnoticed illnesses. Loss of sleep and weight at the same time. Blue lips and blue veins. Mango and pear salad. Tomato soup made from scratch with whole milk on the stove. Cleaning dishes by hand in the middle of the night. The smell of old books and cleaning products. Starched and pressed school uniforms. Leather bound journals with ink smudges from water damage. The painting of Judith Beheading Holofernes by Artemisia Gentileshci. 

at first, i was afraid that the literal rain of shit-water that came from my ceiling last night was a metaphor for my life

now, though, i’m starting to embrace it

because while it was horrifying and made me want to slough my top layer of skin off, my stove was really dirty before and i was putting off cleaning it

and this horrid experience meant that someone else cleaned it! and i have a pristine stove now

so maybe the metaphorical rain of shit-water that my life is now is a blessing in disguise, and someone else will clean my metaphorical stove for me in the days to come

so

SO ADULT

FULL DAY WORK
TRAIN TWO NEW GUYS
#NOTMYJOB
COME HOME
COMPUTER CASE DELIVER
SMOKE BOWL
CLEAN STOVE
CLEAN STOVE SO FUCKING CLEAN
DANCE TO WOMBATS
DANCE TO JOY DIVISION
CUT HAIR

sat down and opened a beer and it’s time to just relax, watch some gundam wing and enjoy a fuckin lovely evening.

things i did today

got out of bed for 3 hours today, wrote 160 words of my novel. showered. did weekly cleaning assignment - wipe down stove & kitchen counters. left apartment to sit in the library for an hour. stopped looking at all the bright places reviews and slept instead. said two things out loud. thanked someone. prayed. 

hoping that will be enough. 

New Beginnings (Bruce Wayne x Reader)

Word Count (1,166)

“You sure you can close this place all by yourself?” you co-worker, and friend, Chelsea said as she was putting her coat on to leave. You stopped wiping down the counter, and smiled at her, “You’re gonna be late for your date, go before I change my mind.” She finished wrapping a scarf around her neck and waved at you, “I owe you big time!” she called as she scurried out into the snow ridden city of Gotham.

Keep reading

Kitchen magic, and some goals for it

Kitchen magic is something I do surprisingly little of, given how much cooking I do, how much tea I drink, and how much time I spend in the kitchen generally. I am a good cook, though sometimes an unenthusiastic one, depending on how I’m feeling generally. Food is still complicated for me; I still struggle with a lot of guilt and anxiety around food, whether it’s ‘what’, or ‘how much’, or ‘when’, or whatever. But I enjoy eating and I love making things that others also enjoy. Baking bread is my particular pleasure and something of a skill that I’ve developed over the last few years.

Some ways that I can incorporate magic into my kitchen endeavours:
• I see cleaning the stove and oven as a devotional activity for Brigid, ensuring that the hearth of my home is clean and ready
• Each morning I pour out the first cup of tea and offer it to Na Dé ocus anDé with a short prayer as part of my ‘getting things ready and making breakfast’ routine
• Stovetop pot pourri blends could be a lovely way to waft some energy around the kitchen and make things smell nice too, especially now the weather is cooling down a bit
⁃ Devise some recipes, perhaps: welcoming, purifying, fortifying, protecting, uplifting
• I don’t often use herbs for their magical significance when I’m cooking, but particularly for special occasion breads and meals, that would make sense
⁃ e.g. Rosemary bread for Anzac day
• Adding spices and other ingredients to jams and preserves, homemade liqueurs (like the sage tonic one, which I should drink more of)
• Hang bunches of herbs (well, more bunches of herbs) from appropriate points—they get a bit dusty and gross so are not great for ingesting but can act as protective or other charms (and witchy ambience, which is, of course, just as important)
⁃ Rosemary, lavender, bay, fennel are all useful choices, look nice and dry well
• Make salt dough or cinnamon ornaments (with or without other herbs in as well) for similar purposes to bunches of herbs; also make lovely gifts and is a fun activity to do with kids
• Eggshells can be saved to be dried and ground up to make cascarilla powder for protection and warding spells


Some GOALS for kitchen magic:
• Put together a few little bags of ingredients, pre-mixed, for making stovetop pot pourri. Put them somewhere I will remember where they are and to use them
• Keep a list of recipes that are useful for particular special occasions and add notes about how to witchify them
• Make some cinnamon ornaments with Pip (keep some to give as Christmas presents late this year)
• Take down old hangings and charms and replace with new ones as bunches of herbs etc become available

Mac and Cheese with a side of CTFD

My husband and I just had our first kinda sorta really big fight and it was over our toddlers diet. Seriously.

I’ll spare you the details because it could get ranty, but jeez man, marriage is hard. And parenting is hard. And doing them together can sometimes make it just as much harder as it sometimes makes it easier if that makes any sense.

I left my copy of Calm the Fuck Down on my husband’s computer desk opened to the chapter titled “My Pre-Schooler won’t try new foods.” because I think it would help him to read it. He really needs to CTFD when it comes to Billy’s diet.

I am still pretty mad, but I know we’ll get through this. I guess we were due for a blow up eventually. I think he might be sort of trying to make it up to me right now by finishing the dishes that I stormed away from and finally cleaning the stove top which I asked him to do for me a couple weeks ago…