So the littler me, mako-kun draws a picture for me every single day. It’s something we’ve been doing since October, and it’s become one of those daily routines that really defines my day.
Here’s what he drew for me yesterday. Because today’s my birthday.
But maybe he just really wants us to have a cupcake.
I’m good with that. ❤️
There’s a lot of reasons to be blogging on my own page again. Chief among them is that things are kinda a big dumpster fire right now.
Social media sites are allowing hate speech against LGBTQ+ folks, american politics are a complete travesty. I could go on at length.
But I won’t. Because other than context that’s not what my blog’s for.
It’s the place where, in the past, I talked about what I’m doing. And you know what, it’s still that.
I’m in the middle of a whole bunch of big personal change. I have new relationships to talk about, a move across the country, and I’m rewriting my behavior chart app weminder, from scratch, to make it even better than before.
I’ve set up the blog to post over to my bluesky account now too, using my RSS feed. I think I’ve just about got that right.
Just dusting this thing off, and adding some new tech to the stack.
It’s been a while since I’ve written here. My friend Valentalae observed so to me yesterday. So this morning it’s on my mind to start doing so again. After all, you know what I say about doing, right?
It’s been long enough that the client I used to post to this thing from my phone has undergone some changes. Let me describe the picture above for folks using screen readers. It’s an AI generated photograph of a three headed dragon.
Which I have posted here because my brother and my sister are on my mind.
Me, Spacey, and Pene, we are like that dragon. For years we have referred to ourselves as The Ghidrah. The Japanese movie monster, but spelled a little differently.
I first met Spacey almost 30 years ago. He wasn’t my brother things first started. He was an Internet friend. I arranged to meet him when he was in town visiting family.
And although we had never met face-to-face before the second we got near one another, we felt an electric shock of connection.
It was like we recognized instantly that we were meant for one another, that we were part of one another.
Some years later, I want to say about eight, I met Pene at a kink event, Black Rose. A mutual friend assured me that I simply had to meet her because “she is strangely like you, you’ll see when you meet her.”
And it was true. That same bolt of lightning passed between us. We laughed at the same things, found joy in the same things, always wanted to stand near one another, or be touching. It was absolutely identical to the way I felt around Spacey.
It was uncanny. I knew they had to meet, and I said so to both of them. And about a month later they did, at another event. Without knowing what the other person even looked like, they found each other across a very large crowded room. Another strike of lightning.
Not too long after that, we all got together in the same place at the same time. And it remains to this day, one of the most significant moments of my entire life.
We met at her house. Which was deep in the woods, down a private road. I remember this so clearly. Some friends were driving me there. As we drove, and got close I could feel them. I knew exactly where they were. I told my friends where to turn.
“How do you know?” they asked me. But I couldn’t answer them because I just knew.
When we got there, I jumped out of the car and ran to the house so quickly my feet slipped, and I almost face planted on the ground. The door opened and they were right there because they felt me coming. I slid into their arms, and we embraced.
And it felt like a bomb going off. A swelling crescendo played in my head. And I knew the truth, which is that we were one.
It’s beautiful.
A little over a year ago, our brother died.
Tragically so.
He had been grievously injured. Languished in a coma. And after coming out of it had a cardiac event that took him.
When it first happened, I thought I was dead. I kind of was. I kind of am.
But in a way that I cannot describe to you, he is still with me and sister. We feel him.
And it’s sad. It’s a profound grief that I’m going to have for the rest of my days. But it is not completely bad.
When she and I talk, that feeling of his being with us is magnified. And together she and I still love everything and everyone that he loved. How could we not? We’re him.
For years, I have morbidly said that I was concerned about this time, these days.
What would it be like when one of us had passed? Because magical connection or no, we’re still people.
The answer is that it’s OK.
I have been blessed to have such a long love in my life. And I still have it.
So the other day, Missy went grocery shopping. She brought home a big pack of fresh strawberries. There’s this funny thing we often go through with these. They’ll sit in the fridge, unopened, not hulled, and slowly go bad. Then, just when I want some, I reach for them, and have to throw them out.
I hate it.
Missy and I talked about it as I was helping her put away the groceries. And we agreed that we’d just cut them up, so they’d be ready to go, whenever we wanted some.
Later that day, I did it. Cutting board, knife, ten minutes of effort.
I’ve been noticing something about what I did, and about being an adult, in general.
I think part of being an adult is recognizing that you can expend effort ahead of time, to rely on yourself later.
I’m super looking forward to having some of those strawberries. I feel damn good knowing they’re going in my belly, not the trash.
And I think a whole lot of things are like that. That there’s joy in the delayed gratification that comes with effort. Not that it’s like some video game achievement, and once you’ve done it, you don’t have to again. There’s dishes stacked up on the kitchen counter that really need my attention. I’m going to get to them today. And when I do, it’s going to be a berry nice feeling.
Maybe I’ll reward myself with a bowl of strawberries and a little whip cream for it.
