Strong personal preference: I just don't like suits

I was thinking about how in The Rookie, Tim said "we accept Wesley because we fear Angela" 😂 

I like Wesley's character. But it is true in real life how reluctant I am towards people/professionals wearing a suit, particularly very basic, modern western corporate one.* And even if I don't make that a final judgment, I am immediately suspicious.

The first words that came to my mind when I thought of a suit: 

Hypocrisy 

Fraud 

Dishonesty 

Insurance 

Ah yes, the four horsemen of modern western suits. Hypocrisy, fraud, dishonesty, and insurance. 

*Footnote: Not that my aesthetic preferences are the center of the world, or anything. But in my personal taste I feel this way is especially when an extremely basic modern one by default. Tweed, period looks, almost burlaplike fabric and cotton floral pieces, tasteful patterns, different colors, traditional Nigerian prints, Asian stand collar suits, etc. are different.

Mr H and Ms LM... And Many More

Oh the topic of teachers, Mr. H (grade 12 Data Management), was one of my favourite teachers ever, along with Ms. M in middle school (grade 9). And not to forget, Mrs. E.B. (high school English), Mrs. K (high school science/bio). Also Mr. W (environment) and Mr. M and Mr. K for music. And Mrs. W in grade 4 who believed in me with her whole heart and I know genuinely loved and believed in me, and encouraged us all to be good to nature. And our amazing, amazing librarian in leopard print, who cultivated my love of environment, taught me leadership, and gave me opportunities in environment that formed so much of who I am. 

Including parts of me that at certain times were the only parts I couldn't come up with a reason to hate.

Mr. H was the clever, honest, and friendly-snarky teacher who tapped into my learning style the most out of all teachers ever. (XNTP, for sure). He taught everyone with examples, and recognized that I just needed more time to think about things and then I'd get things right after. 

There were days when the rest of the class was half way through and I was still on question one. But he didn't give away the answer to me. He had me keep trying for a period of time, even until the next day. And then if I still had t figured it out he would show me.

He always knew how much time I needed.

I ended up getting a 98% in the exam, and smiled widely as his "congratulations" on the last day. I hope he knows my success in this is very much also his success as a teacher.

(It would have been 100%, but I had misread a 3 for a 5 on the last question. I even noticed that was odd since that factor doesn't usually go above three. But because it was the last question. And just a tiny bit at the end I got anxious about being slow, I justified that since it was the last question I didn't need to re-check it. It was a super grrrr moment, but the fact that he never gave part marks was part of his system that I also really appreciated. I agree with his philosophy on it in this context to begin with, and because of it's effects here considered it one last lesson in his class to let myself do me and listen to myself when it's actually okay without letting anxiety rule.)

 I considered it one last lesson in that class to let myself do me and listen to myself when it's actually okay without letting anxiety rule.)

That year when I actually discovered that I love math when it's more statistics and such father than algebra, and when I can learn and think my way without pressure. 

Since then I have also come to enjoy riddles and logic puzzles again, and escape rooms. 

Learning to trust myself a little more sometimes when it's actually okay, instead of constnstly trying to do the same thing by accomplished using a method that works well for others but just doesn't fit me so well; letting myself do things my own way when it's okay without judgement, continued to change my life in so many areas.

It make me more confident, clear-minded, happy, and feel more fulfilled in so many areas. 

And, live without regrets, more confidently using my own methods when there doesn't seem to be any particular reason to expect any other would work just as well or better for me, other than sheer commonality among other people preferring it. (We all have different strengths and weaknesses; and being able to put into he works what each person uniquely has to offer makes us all better.) 

He also often used kumkwats in his questions. Last year I got a little bottle of kumkwats candies from the store to bring to him at the school. Unfortunately it was a very bad year and I never even got to visit the area, but maybe I'll go back to the store and try again before summer break starts.

I should also tell him I kept all my notes and still revisit them sometimes. It's in the light blue binder with the dark rubber. In fact, it's the one public school binder I have continued to keep handy all these years. 

Ms. L.M. is one of the most kind people I have ever met. She was so real and honest, and patient. She didn't judge people but was very open and conversational with us. She really loved, but also respected each one of us. From sweetly putting me in group projects with my crush (not that I told her, she could tell though), to taking us out to play kickball, and having such a positive and believing attitude in our strengths... I should tell her too, someday, that she is one of my favourite people still in spite of having been present during the worst part of my life. She was probably the best part of that time of my life, and even when it's too painful to think of many other things, I am always happy to think of her.

I trusted them a lot, and that trust was not misplaced. 

At that time, I would never have known how important that was.

I owe the same to Mrs. E.B., and Mr. Moss who I'm so happy I've been able to go visit and see every once in a while over the years. They are almost like an Aunt and Uncle to me. I seriously wanted to invite them to my wedding, as well as Professor J (previous post). That was until I remembered each time how I would not really want anyone at my wedding, or under 25-30 0390/3 for sure. Maybe 60 max for my version of "big". (And considering how huge a family I have, unfortunately that leaves no room for any teachers).

Mr. K and Mrs. K (differently Ks, unrelated to one a other) were enthusiastic, safe people.

Mrs. K is a high achiever never on her high horse, and while usually I felt it easier to ask questions to mean teachers (because I was not inclined to people please them or fear hurting their feelings), Mrs. K was an extremely kind and friend teacher this was different with. Completely honest and unpretentious, with the best loud voice I have ever heard. 

I heard the had a baby and ran more marathons. 

I haven't seen her as often, but am glad I have occasionally.

Mr. K, I really, really wish I could track down to thank again. Everyone thought he was so kooky. But he was such a genuine, unpretentious, kind-hearted and fun music teacher. I want to tell him, like I have for Mr. M, how my love of music has continued always, and how thankful I am for that. 

Also. This would be hard to say so I probably never would this way.  But sometimes I think back to all the extremely bad things that happened at that time. And this was before Mrs. M's time so I actively exclude her, and our librarian, from this.

After years and years of not even blaming the hurt boys who hurt me, and just blaming myself for it all, finally I learned none of that was normal. None of it was okay.

I just thought it was because of all the teachers who knew and did absolutely nothing, or worse. Rolling their eyes at my devastation. Telling me to toughen up.

I don't expect the world to protect me, but that was their job. They made me think it was my fault and this haunted me and tore me apart for most of my life thereafter. 

Only after a lot of healing could I finally decide on what I really regretted:

I think I just told the wrong teachers.

If I had told Mr. K instead, the teacher mean kids called "weird", I know this would have gone sl differently.

I had never even thought of it. But a part of me anyway, as even though I was so traumatized, I still braved going back to that school again to visit Mr. K. I was so excited when he agreed to supervise me helping teach flute clinics in his music classes. He was so encouraging. 

Hindsight is twenty-twenty. 

I hope these teacher all did know. Or someday in their hindsight will, how important their kindness, integrity and care have been. And I hope all that good comes to them too, in return.

"Hey folks, you have a brief moment for a good cause?"

When I was a fundraiser this was often my greeting to people walking by.

"Hey folks, you have a brief moment for a good cause?"

Such good times.

In college one of my college professors and I ended up talking about the work "folks", too. He had told me that it surprised him, but someone come complained feeling offended by that term when he used it. He simply didn't know it wasn't acceptable.

I told him that I use it too and haven't been told it's offensive, but yes had coworkers and a boss tell me it's strange to use.

We both sat there with mutual confusing and understanding.

Professor J is great. I should go visit him sometime.

Is there a difference between what a person think and what a person fears? I think I'm their nature there is.

But after someone betrays your trust so many times, that line gets blurry.

I needed to let it out somewhere. It doesn't hurt less, I just feel less stuffed up.

The change in the quality of the pain is less like stinging and more like bleeding.

Me: *is supposed to be tidying*

Also me: *Googles "do cats feel embarrassment?"*

I wasn't always like this I swear

"Geniusness is not a flavour, we claim it by our experience"

?????

(The tagline for a transport company)

"Stick to the plan!"

OH MY GOODNESS.

DAD JUST POINTED OUT THAT THE SHOW " RESCUE HEROES" THAT I WATCHED AS A KID IS WHERE " WHERE STICK TO THE PLAN" CAME FROM 😭 

He joked he needs to write to the producer about how that show ruined his life, and now the plan can never change.

I should probably write about the opposite. 

(To edit later)

It has helped me through extraordinarily difficult in trying circumstances. Because of being committed to sticking to the plan, unless there is new information or refined understanding (not just because I feel differently in that particular moment — though feelings could indicate something new but the something new was required )... It has helped me do what I need to do even when it's hard. This has carried me through, and also in a way that has allowed me to feel my feelings as they are without feeling threatened by them. 

Writing prompt: if you are a writer, write "I lied" without writing "I lied."

I put on a smile and locked the truth behind behind my teeth. In another universe, there is a version of our world where this was true.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DUQ42Q7idAD/?igsh=MTlic3g4bHZ6a2R4aQ==

My most unhinged microfeminism habit

When a man opens my car door when my arms are free and work perfectly fine, I walk around to the other side and open his door before walking back and then getting in the car.

~~

I've never been a fan of "chivalry". It always just felt like ways for men to compensate for not actually respecting women while making themsleves feel like a good person anyway.

(((~1.33)INFJ) + ENFP + INTJ)/3

 Another random note:

      Still Ni Dom for sure, but while for the longest time everything has been INFJ normally ENFP hypomania, I have been in a very INTJ time of my life for a good while now.

      I always knew I was very close to INTJ (it was something like 60/40 on F/T often) but it's interesting in kind of a nice way to feel so own skin as all three. (Three has always felt so multidimensional and able to be rounded differently, triangulating different points within a more spectral range).

~~

Image: December 2025 collage of my two results on the Adobe creative types quiz.

      I noticed this about myself before but it didn't feel comfortable right away.

      I faced it again when on the Adobe creativity test Raquel Olsson shared I got the Catalyst on my first take (though very divided on some answers) and the the Luminary when I answered the other way.

      ...In the past when presenting more T it was because I felt very forced to be. I worried I was becoming less myself because of life pressures again.

      As cheesy as it sounds though, this actually turned out to be growth. The discomforts with this I feared was foreshadowing losing myself were actually growing pains to be more.

Oh look, I just re-noticed the scar on the inside at the bottom of my right leg from when I jumped in the lake to save a duckling that was being attacked. A dry read scratch deep into my leg. 

     I didn't (and still don't) regret it at all. 

Me meowing very realistically (it stopped the tremors at some point apparently, too). It has been too long, I should do this more often. 

*I just remembered why I stopped. It's because neither Virtute nor Felix care 😅

The rejection 🥲

(I will do it again anyway).🐱

Oh the irony that I was actually looking forward to spring this year.

To be real, if autists outnumbered allistics, I think we would build the world not for them even worse than they don't build the world for us. Because we're also so rigid. Maybe we would be more accepting of differences as in not judging them personally for it, but no, the accommodations we would make for them would be less than the accommodations currently made for us. 

We are the minority and we already don't want to yield to allistics.

We keep saying we're not disabled, we're different, and it tends to lead to disability. But if the proportions were reversed we would definitely be calling them disabled. We would constantly be like "what is wrong with you, why can you not just say what you mean?"

We're already doing that now as the minority, imagine if we were the majority?? We would be tyrants.

Possibly we would be more genuinely kind to them one on one than allistics tend to be towards us at this time, but systemically we would limit their world even more than they currently limit ours.

(And don't we love our systems :)

We'd probably institutionalize them and put them in some sort of attempted conversion camp. And I'm not gonna lie I doubt we would give them less anxiety than they give us.

We would be like "I'm so sorry for making this feel difficult for you but objectively your way is wrong and does not make sense."

We would be really bad.

Imagine the rules???

"The truth is the right answer."

Whether speaking about what I demand from others, or for what I know I must do, these may be the words I have spoken the most.

~~

However, "the truth will set you free," is a much better thing I could have been saying.

 

~~

    I will keep them, care for them, and look at them and take more photos than I'll tell anyone I know. 

     More than one thing can be true at a time.

     And that can be what makes even very obvious decisions very difficult sometimes anyway.

      He gave me real flowers the day I knew I can never believe him again. Finally, in a pot, instead of cut and arranged and destined to die so soon.

      Ever the environmentalist, the nature girl, everyone knows this is my preference, though I said it out loud, too.

      He finally gave me the roots I always asked for in moist soil. With flowers my favourite colour, too. But only after there was no garden to plant them in anymore. 

~~

In all my sadness wrapped in anger, I kicked the flowerpot over. The flimsy plastic made it bounce a bit, but not without some skid.

    It was secretly calculated to not hurt them anyway, but I still feel bad. They didn't do anything.

    But that's the problem. They are just flowers.

    Even if they came with the roots I always wanted.

~~

I don't really bother scrolling anymore. Hardly, at least. I try to jump away from even my own feed as fast as possible either to reply to messages or to post my own photos of stuff.

       No more scrolling, please.

       No more scrolling. No more explaining.

       Let me be.

       JUST LET ME BE.

This is not bereavement but I feel like I'm going through the five stages of grief.

One of my recent easy hobbies has become necro posting comments on my old favorite memes.

Alexer sounds like a flute the way Ed Sheeran sounds like a guitar. (Steel string, specifically).

     And maybe that is why his music draws people in so much . He really is so one with his instrument 

     I don't even listen to his music all that much probably because I don't realize to his lyrics too much (though they are beautiful, too). But even so in my opinion he is one of the Most amazing musicians of our generation.

~~

Listening to her song Shadow of the Sun, appreciating it and her voice with my mom.

Anthony Lazaro - Thank You

Anthony Lazaro just released a new song. I forgot how much I liked his music. Coffee Cup, was a favourite.

I had called it something like chill and happy European coffee shop music. Hm. I forgot I did actually want to go to Italy, just in an unassuming style.

The song is called Thank You.

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=F7cT3Y_zetY&si=1BpVv27vXojmm1wX

https://youtu.be/F7cT3Y_zetY?si=pqU3ouEuJR04ehqQ

Sigh. 

I smile.

~~

Coffee Cup

https://youtu.be/EQrDJGW-x0s?si=WHg1TC_mTZXNxt_q

"She did not regret being herself."

"...but she would not run. She would face it." With regrets or not behind her, she would face it."

"In spite of the horrors, there were indeed things she did not regret; things she did not regret choosing against, and things she did not regret accepting.

Still, there was no escaping that the long story short of this tragedy is that she went from a good man with bad habits, to a bad man with good habits."

Happy Personal Milestone

At risk of saying too much as I can (and will) talk about this forever (for the rest of my life)

Let it be known I have finally entered the field of psychology. 

This dream has come true. I have incredibly supportive people in my life to thank.

I still love nature and environment, but the silver lining of my physical condition and the way it forced me away from the career I had chosen there, was between this and being so lucky to have the people who love me, it gave me my second chance at psychology.

I did hesitate. I also felt guilty, too undeserving to be so lucky.

Nonetheless, how could not state in the face at the path they have spent ten years wishing they had taken, being handed to them, and just not do it?

That could happen, that self-limiting.

I wasn't gonna do that this time, though. Life has given me enough unlucky things that I have accepted even if many would argue I didn't deserve it. And honestly even if I couldn't call this to mind, I know I'd still make the same decision.

Facing a fear of a great thing is strange. But I'm not going to wait until I can explain it before denying it anyway. A life lesson I have learned many times over is that there is a difference between genuine complete uncertainty, versus being certain, versus knowing exactly what your intuition is saying, but just being completely unable to explain it in that specific moment. 

It would be better if we could both hear our intuition so clearly and explain it so easily. 

But I'm not going to wait for that either. I'm not going to wait until I feel this is resolved before taking the path I have looked back at constantly and thought would never return.

Perhaps the hesitation was it seeming too good to be true.

Either way it doesn't matter. It is here now; for work. I have now been reading exactly what I'd want to be reading, but this time not only as a hobby, this time. Not thinking of how I have to balance it with a different responsibility -either mentally or in terms of growth- that may beg for attention. Because in many a case in the everyday, and will continue to be, this is no longer just a hobby or just for self-improvement or just for understanding and emphasizing with people in my life. 

It has been many years since I have felt this, and it has actually been never in this particular way: but this is simply loving one's job 

I did also love my job in the past many years ago in my late teens to early twenties as a fundraising representative for an international development organization. It was such a good cause; I loved talking about it, I loved putting my heart and mind and expressions and connections this good cause. It did come with differences, particularly in facing the heartbreak associated with not being able to get every child sponsored all the time, and knowing I will face days where I get no signups. I still loved this and I'm so glad I did it and still look back on it fondly, but it was with pressure.

And this job will no doubt come with its own pressures. But both by plan and by circumstance, after so many years of just doing what I must without liking it... it's surreal but have a job that I love. 

It  keeps feeling unreal, but in the best way.

Funny but true: a complicated relationship with the colour blue

It is clear that some of us have a complicated relationship with the colour blue.

Light blue is okay if it's waterfall, similar to how dark blue is okay if it's Galaxy Starry night sky. 

But my Zia and I both agree that flight attendant dark blue is NOT okay. N2, MZ, and I agree that powder blue has become a very mean girl colour, unless paired with brown distinctly, and/or is a very organic texture.

The "nice mean girls" (not actually mean girls, just independent boss ladies with flair who don't have the internalized misogynistic view that femininity is a weakness) who defend everyone with spice and stick it to the mean mean girls are waging a good war against this appropriation, however.

Also this is another topic, but don't get me started on accountant green. Forest green is good, but accountant green especially on an accountant car is too far out for my own realms. (MC agrees, too.)

~~

Speaking of which, her and Vine have helped me happily return to Japan blue (With a natural line by cream, and artistic and nature-cebtric arts placed in an organized way. Ugh, gotta love it.) My Dad, MC, and Infin and I are all such natural suckers for it.

Feeling love reflected, again and again.

"...and I felt that love again and again even in seemingly small ways and answered prayers."

      Sometimes it comes in a flash flood. Other times, like countless droplets of water that run off in a watershed that lead to endurance we never have expected. Millions of tiny raindrops, small in themselves, but running off from across a wide area that together sustain the world's greatest rivers, and fill oceans.

~~

A Chinese character for large river:

江

~~

🩵

Death being not merely the absence of life but the removal of it is a part that makes it not solely devastating, but feel so strange.

Thank you for your patience

These days the range of writing style here is a bit all over the place,

goes from serious, to flowery, to anxious, to practical, to analytical or informative, to sounding like I'm texting myself and throughout the day laughing at my own jokes.

This is basically it, and dear reader, I thank you for any patience you may have put forth in all this, thinking with me, laughing with me, crying with me, and feeling with me.

Edited: Feb 23, 2026

Re: Naiomi Huth on IG, Thoughts on AI Writing

Thoughts on AI, as a response to Naiomi.nature / Naiomi Huth's post on Instagram about so many people using AI to write everything for them. She talks abohr once she hears that same "voice", she loses interest. And, how she appreciates being able to use it as a tool or aide to support sometimes, but never wants to let it think *for* her.

Post: https://www.instagram.com/p/DU-1Oe1Dwhu/?igsh=MWswcTEydWh4ZG5tZw==

Her page: https://www.instagram.com/naomi.huth?igsh=YzV3NG5hMjlyb3R2

Here here, for both AI writing and images. Arguments about what environmentally and socially conscious use could possibly look like aside, this is not to say AI can have no place in enhancing or aiding creative projects and processes.

To illustrate the principle, applying a preset filter to an image you actually took or made, or using a premade digital brush. But there is still a difference between a tool and a generator, a brush and a mind. And in my opinion a line exists between a piece of art by the mind of a person that AI was used to help in creating, versus a product of the by mind of AI where a human was at best its technician or at worst the machine that pushed the buttons.

One of these is necessitated by consciously lived experience, the other is not.

Hyper-realistic art of something that already exists still entirely requires that lived journey, and is most certainly art.

Single-line poetry requires influences and culmination after culmination of unique lived experiences that result in this thought being sparked and taking form.

But a generated product where every varied aspect comes from the equivalent of a line in a dictionary has no such journey. It can read but it witnesses nothing. It can talk but it has no breath. It can analyze but it cannot empathize. It can be polite but it cannot feel compassion. I can consume but it cannot ear. 

It can generate but it cannot dream. 

A blue butterfly already exists. A photo of a blue butterfly can be taken. A story about a blue butterfly may not. 

To share a little more context of my thoughts here, I do not lose sight of bow I in my emotional, not terribly logical, human way, hold a type of affection for inanimate things that help me or remind me of things I like to do. I have a level of affection towards a brush that has served me well; a blanket that comforted me, a workbook that taught me; a notebook where I scribbled ideas.

Including AI, I appreciate tools and comforts that I benefit from. I feel gratitude towards people behind them. Please know I not mean to use any tone or innuendo that is disrespectful, and rather am trying to explain the type and scope of respect I do have.

But it is my opinion on art is that it's a lived, conscious journey that separates a created piece from being art, versus just a product.

AI compositions can be products that shadow art, but they are not art. They are indeed merely products.

And consciously or not the more we are exposed to robot voices, likely the more we will feel the difference between being presented with flat products, versus results of lived journeys. And ones that influence the piece independently, as well as push the real evolution, and continue to develop our collective journey of art throughout the ages that is human and ours.

"Authenticity" was one of your favorite words

"Authenticity" was one of your favorite words. 

It was nice talking about many things, like our favourite words.

Thank you, my friend. I wish I could show you all this now, but will wait patiently for you. You are worth all of it. 

🩶

Random B&W Photo: One Authentic and Happy Fit

 

We were made to be ourselves and grow forever, together.

Edit - And you know what, let's make it grayscale 🩶

Winter Baby Ready for Spring

I may have said this last week but I'll say it again:

This is perhaps the first year of my life feeling this way, but inside (and outside) I am so ready for spring.

It has just been too cold!

I am ready to face my least favourite month of the year, April; the April tears that bring my fears, and the returning to the season that feels like the world is starting over though no unbruised.

edited Feb 23/26

Photos From Movie Night That Feel Kinda Vibey

 

Movie: Live Action Mulan

Moved By Mulan

A common inquiry towards many of us millenial kids growing up was "who is your favourite Disney princess?" Or another variant, "which one are you most like?"

Although not technically a princess I always really liked Mulan a lot as one of my favourite women in Disney. However, quite confidently, Pocahontas was my favourite.

As you may already have guessed eventually I ended up with a much more mixed and bag of feelings eventually. While I maintained appreciating the good feelings and influences this character gave me growing up, learning about how it is indeed the bastardization of her real life story did leave that place that once felt so confident, empty. Nothing replaced it, and being an adult now, I figured nothing ever would.

I never did expect, however, to someday appreciate a live-action version of Mulan so much; or for the portrayal of her character, to feel so closely relatable and moving.

...(Even if they still didn't acknowledge she was Mongol. Looking at the good here.)

It's funny because this is the second time I'm watching his movie, but it felt like the first time watching it for what it is.

So without further ado, here are some typical movie review points:

• So long as you don't walk in expecting the cartoon/waiting for Mushu, it's actually a fantastic movie in my opinion. I do admit that the first time I watched this movie a level of disappointment, just because it was so not what I was expecting and had been working up excitement for. That said, second time around without far off expectations, I loved it, and find it artful, meaningful, and encouraging. 

• The part that still made me cringe this time over, too: the not-matching-kinda-caucauphonous-audio voiceover for the "I believe her" scene. that must have been added later still made me cringe. It felt so forced and tacked on. A nod to this, yes, and you know I would appreciate if before releasing they realized that more emphasis on the principle (not disbelieving a woman when a man wouldnt be) is called for. But the audio overlay sounded so strange, and the cacauphony of overlapping voices was very not fitting with the moment, either. And it feels a little mean to say, but essentially I would have liked for that scene to have more application of 'be true?'.

• people mock her hair looking too good in the battle. Have they never taken their hair down after it has been in a bun for days? This was real, please let her have this!

Edited February 23, 2026

Sometimes this is what self-care looks like

Note to self: make the zucchini tofu stew

https://lunar-winds.blogspot.com/2025/06/tofu-stew-recipe-neither-truly-asian.html?m=1

~~

Update: did it

Edited Feb 23-24, 2026

He already knows

Do not force yourself to omit in your prayers the biggest thing actually in your heart right now, just because you're ashamed it's taking up that space. 

He already knows. The only difference now in what He knows is that he knows your're not talking to Him about it.

And yes of course it is valuable and important and good to not be presumptuous, we truly do need to be humble.

He still wants to talk to Him about that part too. Explain it. Even if it's not perfect; He's not going to misunderstand you. He already understands you. But us talking to Him about it anyway counts for something to Him anyway, Go ahead and explain everything to Him. 

He gives us good gifts in the meantime anyway. Of course we don't always get what we want in this system, but talking to Him about everything can only bring you closer to Him. 

It's true we ought not to be presumptuous. It's true we cannot have every relief we want now. Talking to him about everything, all of it, can only bring you closer to him.

~~

^ Excerpts from a conversation with someone I love so, so much.

~~

Add - Another version:

You not talking to him about it doesn't make him not know, it just makes him also know that you're not talking to him about it.

You can talk to him about the shame you feel about it, too. Explain it as much as you want, talk about all of it, He won't misunderstand you. 

In fact, he already understands perfectly, Even if you don't tell him. 

But when you do talk to him about it, he also gets to know that you are going to him about it. And that matters to him, He wants you to go to him, and it can make his heart glad.

the change that made me never hate music

 It became commonly known that after a point, many music students in the program would would come to hate music. Around that time and at my most anxious in highschool, music actually became my outlet, even though at a point I was so bad at it.

      Even if I didn't hate it, I was also very discouraged.

      Peoples' sad hares often came after a plateau, feeling crushed, tired, likwlt discouraged for too long.

      Music students had become accustomed to comforting and validating one another' feelings, when another one would admit it, that they hate music now.

      Ond lf course they did; there was so much constant pushing, it was constant evaluation for so long. We all had applied for this program because we loved music, but it wasn't about music anymore, it was about grades, about us being measured and evaluated, all the time. 

       People understood eachother well. And it didn't mean it would necessarily last forever, but it would probably come. 

       This stage of hating the very thing we once loved so much, came to be accepted, and, expected.

      Teachers, well-intended would sometimes try to kindly encourage us by saying, "Just do it for you. Don't compare yourself to others."

      To this day I will happily echo the "don't compare yourself to others".

      However, me finally rejecting the first part was actually an essential component of the rebirth of music in my life.

      I had been so bad, for a long time now. Even after always focusing on and practicing my technical exercises just as my teachers instructed, and said "work on these every day and you'll get there", my daily scales sucked, my technical theory was non-existent, and arpeggios were torture.

      Doing this only makes feel bad about myself now, how could it possibly be something for myself? How any of this be be for me if all it makes me feel anymore is pain?

      I tried so hard, but I knew I was going to play it wrong.

      I knew I would play it wrong, and so did all of my classmates. I would play it wrong anyway, so, I will just now play something beautiful to give to the audience. I was not trying to play perfectly anymore, I just couldn't do it. But to give them something they feel is beautiful, as it reaches out to them from the air around them.

      I was going to play it wrong. I will not be a good flautist.

      But since when was any of this supposed to be about me anyway?

       I am bad at this. (I thought). I will never okay music technically right (I thought). I will never see myself as a good flautist. 

       There I was a hopeless cause, but standing there holding this beautiful instrument anyway.

       Giving up on the constant focus on daily technical drills, I simply decided to try my best to give the audience something good, even if I am not good. 

       I may never play it right, so I will do my best to play something beautiful that the audience will enjoy, for themK will make mistakes. Maybe it will never even possible to hear this again because of how wrong I played it. But it will be something played *for them*, not for me to be good, but to give them something beautiful to feel and maybe feel touched or moved by or enjoy being absorbed in as it takes them, listening,.

        Giving up on the constant focus on daily technical drills, I simply decided to try my best to give the audience something good, even if I am not good. 

        And once that changed, it changed everything, so quickly.

       *Everything* changed. I wasn't playing things perfectly, but when I wasn't trying to play it perfectly and just trying to play something good as something to give to the people who may hear me, but I was no longer going to wait until I can play right before trying to make it something beautiful for the audience.

       Instead of practicing scales every day I played songs I liked. Maybe playing along with my favourite singers and YouTube artists, like Daniel Jang.  

       My classmates and teachers were shocked. They were so positive and happy for me in this change, although confused about how this could happen all of a sudden. Maggie saying it out loud noticed and encouraged me. But it was so fast, what happened? 

       I gave credit to the new, non-leaky flute and felt bad about that later. (She was so nice, and that almost sounds like the opposite of what I meant bragging as if I was always good and the old flute was the problem, not the new one lifted me up).

       I do hope that after everything though, she did know I really wasn't feeling high above anyone all of a sudden. I never had before and I wasn't starting them. But I was so happy to be playing music, and for people. It was thought he relief after so long of making my life in music about everything I am bad at, any of it for or about myself, it was about the audience's experience, and music being beautiful, instead.

       This was the life lesson I gained:

       Instead of trying to restricting yourself to accessing your strengths through your weaknesses, access your weaknesses through your strengths, and improve it from there.

       This changed everything. And so fast.

       It changed my music. My confidence. Relationships It changed my listeners' experience to it being about their patience with me as I reach for technical improvements where I am so, so bad, and instead this was kusr doing the best I can to give thod people something beautiful, *for them.*

       I had been there, a hopeless cause. But standing there holding a beautiful instrument that love, anyway.

       There is more happiness in giving than receiving.

       Abd even though life keeps getting hard, these changes for the better never left. And in fact they have supported me through.

       After I finally gave up, I finally fell in love with music all over again.

      And, I love music still.

~~

Another version (I can't remember which one to use but yay I have both!)

the change that made me never hate music

Eventually, it was expected that everyone would hate music. In our program became commonly known that after a point, many music students would would come to hate music. Around that time at my most anxious in highschool, music actually became my outlet. But only after an important change. 

      However, an eventual hatred of what a person once loved so much became expected. It often came after a plateau when this would happen to people, feeling crushed, tired, or just discouraged for too long.

      Music students had become accustomed to comforting and validating fellow students' feelings. They would try to comfort them, whenever another new person, crushed, admitted that they that they hate music now

      Of course they did; it was so much constant pushing, it was constantly evaluation for so long. We all had applied for this program because we loved music, but it wasn't about the music anymore, it was now about about grades, about us being measured and evaluated, all the time. 

       It didn't mean it would last forever, but it wpuld probably come. And this is omethjng that came to be accepted, and expected.

      Teachers, well-intended would sometimes try to encourage us saying, "Just do it for you. Don't compare yourself to others."

      To this day I happily echo the "don't compare yourself to others".

      However, rejecting the first part was actually an essential component of the rebirth of music in my life.

      I had been so bad, for a long time now. Even after always focusing on and practicing my technical exercises just as my teachers instructed, and said "work on these every day and you'll get there", my daily scales sucked, my technical theory was non-existent, and arpeggios were torture.

      Doing this only makes feel bad about myself now, how could it possibly be something for myself? How any of this be be for me if all it makes me feel anymore is pain?

      I tried so hard, but I knew I was going to play it wrong.

      I knew I would play it wrong, and so did all of my classmates. I would play it wrong anyway, so, I will just now play something beautiful to give to the audience. I was not trying to play perfectly anymore, I just couldn't do it. But to give them something they feel is beautiful, as it reaches out to them from the air around them.

      I was going to play it wrong. I will not be a good flautist.

      But since when was any of this supposed to be about me anyway?

       I am bad at this. (I thought). I will never okay music technically right (I thought). I will never see myself as a good flautist. 

       There I was a hopeless cause, but standing there holding this beautiful instrument anyway.

       Giving up on the constant focus on daily technical drills, I simply decided to try my best to give the audience something good, even if I am not good. 

       I may never play it right, so I will do my best to play something beautiful that the audience will enjoy, for themK will make mistakes. Maybe it will never even possible to hear this again because of how wrong I played it. But it will be something played *for them*, not for me to be good, but to give them something beautiful to feel and maybe feel touched or moved by or enjoy being absorbed in as it takes them, listening,.

        Giving up on the constant focus on daily technical drills, I simply decided to try my best to give the audience something good, even if I am not good. 

        And once that changed, it changed everything, so quickly.

       *Everything* changed. I wasn't playing things perfectly, but when I wasn't trying to play it perfectly and just trying to play something good as something to give to the people who may hear me, but I was no longer going to wait until I can play right before trying to make it something beautiful for the audience.

       Instead of practicing scales every day I played songs I liked. Maybe playing along with my favourite singers and YouTube artists, like Daniel Jang.  

       My classmates and teachers were shocked. They were so positive and happy for me in this change, although confused about how this could happen all of a sudden. Maggie saying it out loud noticed and encouraged me. But it was so fast, what happened? 

       I gave credit to the new, non-leaky flute and felt bad about that later. (She was so nice, and that almost sounds like the opposite of what I meant bragging as if I was always good and the old flute was the problem, not the new one lifted me up).

       I do hope that after everything though, she did know I really wasn't feeling high above anyone all of a sudden. I never had before and I wasn't starting them. But I was so happy to be playing music, and for people. It was thought he relief after so long of making my life in music about everything I am bad at, any of it for or about myself, it was about the audience's experience, and music being beautiful, instead.

       This was the life lesson I gained:

       Instead of trying to restricting yourself to accessing your strengths through your weaknesses, access your weaknesses through your strengths, and improve it from there.

       This changed everything. And so fast.

       It changed my music. My confidence. Relationships It changed my listeners' experience to it being about their patience with me as I reach for technical improvements where I am so, so bad, and instead this was kusr doing the best I can to give thod people something beautiful, *for them.*

       I had been there, a hopeless cause. But standing there holding a beautiful instrument that love, anyway.

       There is more happiness in giving than receiving.

       Abd even though life keeps getting hard, these changes for the better never left. And in fact they have supported me through.

       After I finally gave up, I finally fell in love with music all over again.

      And, I love music still.

Edited (basically rewritten) Feb 23-24, 2026

The problem with ""they" say"

A thought I didn't get to come about natural remedies and such

The problem is people interested in this get called "they"

And there is literally no qualifier for who gets counted in "they" and what gets counted as said by this collective "then" beyond this lesson simply takes about this 

There is zero gate to keep, as soon as you say anything about it you're in and everything you say can be counted.

 That was the best family day yet. Really.

11th Baptism Anni (Feb 15, 2015)

What beautiful days those were, what a gift all this is.

💙🩵

~~

(While I am paying so much attention to anniversaries, it is a gift to have such a good one to reflect on. With Him, at that.)

~~

Luke 12:2,6,7

"But there is nothing carefully concealed that will not be revealed, and nothing secret that will not become known.... Five sparrows sell for two coins of small value, do they not? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Have no fear; you are worth more than many sparrows."

Between Luke 12:2,6,7, I could highlight and bold everything tonight. Luke 12:6 has been my favourite scripture from some time for us and for animals. But tonight 2 and 7 also stand out in this, together in particular.

And verse two does have different context from what I highlight this time, I know. But it speaks to Jehovah's eyes.

I have longed for so long, and so often, to be seen right through. (All the way). Understood, seen with full truth (even though I am flawed).

Jehovah already does. And he loves so, anyway.

(February 15, 2026 - 11th baptism Anni highlight)

      Something that moved me, in a way that it should:

"An 18-year-old Black girl threw herself between a Nazi and a mob ready to kill him—and changed what it means to choose humanity over hate.

June 22, 1996. Ann Arbor, Michigan—a progressive college town that prided itself on diversity—became the unlikely stage for a Ku Klux Klan rally. Hundreds of protesters flooded the streets with a clear message: white supremacists were not welcome here.

Eighteen-year-old Keshia Thomas stood among them, her voice joining the chorus of resistance. Then someone with a megaphone spotted trouble: "There's a Klansman in the crowd!"

A middle-aged white man wearing a Confederate flag t-shirt and bearing an SS tattoo stood among the protesters. Whether he was actually a Klan member didn't matter to the crowd—his symbols said enough. He tried to run. The mob chased him down.

Wooden signs became weapons. Kicks rained down as he hit the ground. Voices screamed, "Kill the Nazi!" The crowd closed in, rage overtaking reason.

In that moment, something inside Keshia shifted. "When people are in a crowd, they're more likely to do things they would never do as individuals," she later explained. "Someone had to step out of the pack and say, 'This isn't right.'"

She didn't think. She didn't hesitate. She threw her body over the man who represented everything she stood against, using herself as a human shield against the blows meant for him.

"When they dropped him to the ground," Keshia remembered, "it felt like two angels had lifted my body up and laid me down."

Her action wasn't born from naivety. Keshia knew violence intimately. "I knew what it was like to be hurt. The many times that happened, I wish someone would have stood up for me," she said. But she also knew a deeper truth: "Violence is violence—nobody deserves to be hurt, especially not for an idea."

Student photographer Mark Brunner captured the moment that would become one of Life magazine's Photos of the Year. Looking at the image, he was struck by the profound reversal it represented: "She put herself at physical risk to protect someone who, in my opinion, would not have done the same for her. Who does that in this world?"

Keshia never heard from the man she saved. But months later, a young man approached her in a coffee shop. "I want to say thanks," he told her. When she asked why, his answer stopped her cold: "That was my dad."

Suddenly, everything clicked into sharper focus. "For the most part, people who hurt...they come from hurt. It is a cycle," Keshia reflected. "Let's say they had killed him or hurt him really bad. How does the son feel? Does he carry on the violence?"

Twenty years later, in a 2016 interview, Keshia shared the news that made her sacrifice truly matter: "The real accomplishment of all this to me is to know that his son and daughter don't share the same views. History didn't repeat itself. That's what gives me hope that the world can get better from generation to generation."

Some criticized her. Some sent death threats, angry that she "traded her race" to save a man who hated her. But Pulitzer Prize-winning commentator Leonard Pitts Jr. understood what she had done: "That some in Ann Arbor have been heard grumbling that she should have left the man to his fate only speaks of how far they have drifted from their own humanity. And of the crying need to get it back. Keshia's choice was to affirm what they have lost. Keshia's choice was human. Keshia's choice was hope."

Today, Keshia continues her quiet revolution through small acts of kindness. "It doesn't have to be a huge monumental act," she says. "It can come down to eye contact or a smile."

But on one hot summer day in 1996, when rage threatened to consume everyone, an 18-year-old girl showed us something we desperately needed to see: that breaking cycles of hatred matters more than feeding them. That protecting human dignity—even for those who would deny yours—is the bravest form of resistance.

That choosing humanity, especially when it's hardest, is how we change the world."

~~

      I admire her so much. This is what is right. 

      I am so grateful for this girl's example. I am grateful to her, and for the needed reflection it prompted in me. Even all these years later being the mirror to make me face something very ugly about myself now. Only now can I try to change it.

"Unending joy will crown their heads.... And grief and sighing will flee away." Isaiah 35:10

"Unending joy will crown their heads.... And grief and sighing will flee away." - Isaiah 35:10

~~

Bible Highlight: in combination with specific promise of the resurrection (eg. John 5:28,29), this can help comfort people who are grieving, to help them/us picture seeing their loved on again, and be assured of how this horrible grief they feel every day will be permanently lifted.

Isaiah 35:10 - "Those redeemed by Jehovah will return and come to Zion with a joyful cry. Unending joy will crown their heads. Exultation and rejoicing will be theirs, And grief and sighing will flee away."

John 5:28,29 - "Do not be amazed at this, for the hour is coming in which all those in the memorial tombs will hear his voice and come out, those who did good things to a resurrection of life, and those who practiced vile things to a resurrection of judgment."

Happy Or Good Day And A Red Cardinal - With Random Photos

...Another good gift:

Today Wing and I stopped to admire a red cardinal. 

      I had seen a red flash in the upper corner of my eye and instinctively, happily, my eyes and attention shot over. And when I called out " Cardinal!" Wing looked around immediately, too.

      We appreciated it together and looked around for where it's mate might be. Usually they are in pairs. 

      We didn't see her, but I'm pretty sure I heard her in the adjacent tree across the street. ♥️💛

Excerpt: But What If I Can Live As Myself, Too?

"Yes I could possibly die as myself or live as someone else.

But what if I live as myself, yes open to and continuing change and growth (not calling forced stagnancy or resistance to change authenticity), but still with as much truth, authentic and real to my best now, that I can? What a beautiful future that could make. Whether I also regret parys of the past I cannot change or not, that really sounds more like making the best of the circumstances realistically as it is now"

~~

"Free spirit" applied to this felt borderline or questionable for a moment. But yes, I do believe this can be it, too 

--

Originally 14/02/2026< edited Feb 23-24, 2026

Ahem.

This was not done on purpose. Someone else brought up the chess Boom to me while I was working on the other piece.

But if you might notice from my past two posts, it's perfectly okay to heartily appreciate the good in things that don't serve your own personal preferences, but are good for other people, and perhaps by extension good for the collective beyond oneself.

Chess Boom

Even though I don't play chess, I am extremely pleased that there is a current boom in chess being popular.

     You use your brain, it is wholesome, it can be social and it can be quiet, it is attainable without an enormous financial investment that you haven't probably already made in the form of a device, or chess board from the dollar store, required. And it does take practice to get good, but it doesn't take spending your whole life on it to be able to try and even to enjoy it.

       Many other things have boomed in popularity that have some good but I can't say all that about. This is so refreshing ☕ ♟️ 

Little Rant: What do You See? Are You "Oversensitive"?

(This has a point but it is a rant. You have been warned 🍵)

      So-called "oversensitive" neurodivergent people are unnecessarily complicated to you the way more people are unnecessarily complicated to people who are colorblind.

       Colorblind people don't usually complain about people who aren't colourblind though, accuse them of bad motives or not trying hard enough to be simple. Most colourblind people don't feel entitled to people who see colour constantly yielding to them seeing less in areas of preference, and they generally maintain this even though the rest of us don't normally yield in all the important ways we should for them. Like essential safety features being designed based on colour recognition.

       The rest of us also don't typically accuse colourblind people of just not trying hard enough to see colour when it's important.

       The difference here is in one case the complicated is the majority in a world built to cater to the people who experience more of a certain thing, and in the other we are the minority in a world catered to experience less of a certain thing.

       We all must yield to others' preferences, and both out of love and out of practicality. We should all do this sometimes. But the reality is many neurodivergent people epend every moment of our lives where we aren't alone giving something of ourselves yielding to the arbitrary preferences of others because our arbitrary preference is not what everyone else is used to.

       And other times, neurodivergent people sense more of one thing but less of another. So we end up being accused of being too complicated and too simple all at the same time.

       Most of us try to understand that people only see what we see and not get mad every time someone doesn't understand us. But when we are genuinely past our limit and people complain and accuse us of a bad attitude or just not trying hard enough... It is incredibly frustrating.

        Colorblind people will have fewer particularities about colours than people who see more colour. Sure there are benefits and I will say also beauties to visual simplicity. But that doesn't mean colours are ugly, it doesnt mean they don't have values, and it definitely doesn't mean that people who see more of them are just being difficult to meet the coluurblind people because their favourite colour is something that isn't yellow, green, or brown. 

Weirdness saves from hiccups

 Apparently, suddenly and intensely weirding someone out (I started tapping on their face ran slips as they struggled to sleep with hiccups( can cure them.

     They immediately stopped, I kept going for a couple minutes, and they didn't come back.

     I can't believe that worked 😂 

A Nostalgic Stream of Thought: "There are two cats inside of you..." (a nostalgic stream of thought)

Thinking about Cat Shark / Mofusand and Infin, I realized Infin is more the gray cat and I am more orange cat.

(But I like gray, toooo 😹 )

She would tell me I am gray too and list some very intellectual reasons why.

Maybe in a vacuum we are both cats generally, including, gray cats, but between the two of us there is no denying that she is the obviously weird but elegant gray and I am the one with more orange cat personality on the regular.

We would go on to talk about how we do both have both, though, just in different moments. (Just like cognitive functions) Eg. She gets super dank and weird humour too even beyond me depending on the moment and we just take turns going with eachother no matter what state we may be in*. 

"There are two cats inside of you..." 😹😹 

(Goofy and everyday relaxed her would find the gray one with the shrimp tempura hat cute too, I believe)

--

Something else about our friendship that I really appreciate:

We always wanted to end things, topics, discussions, positively. 

Positivity, potential, understanding for positive purpose, future dreams and hopes we work for.

"You're a dreamer, aren't you?" Someone told her.

Absolutely.

She Changes My Perspective and I Hear Her Thoughts, Still

      Llamas, travel, Star Trek, Myers Briggs, her kind of memes her kind of humour, understanding human nature, the colours and photos and views and cultures and places she liked and was so curious and interested in.

       The most insightful person.

       I see things she was so interested in. And when I view them together it's almost like we're having a conversation. I am listening so intently to what she likes, her interests, things she thinks and read. I think about things in my own life to connect with, to apply her wisdom to. She changes my perspective and opens my mind even but she's not even here, even now.

       (She opens my mind more to Europe. She brightens my day with colourful photos with pink and teal and sand. She is fresh and warm at the same time, refreshing my soul and inspiring my heart, and feeding my my mind with knowledge she has found and insights she has gained.)

      She had no idea how much she was needed here, wanted here, how much we loved her. 

John 11 Highlights - "he cried out with a loud voice..."

My highlights from reading/listening to the second half of John 11 (Lazarus' resurrection) are:

1) Jesus prayed to Jehovah out loud, and said to Jehovah he knows he always hears him, but he spoke out loud on account of the crowd so they can know God sent him. Though I like praying our loud very quietly too, even more lately, this passage feels like it speaks to the validity of silent prayers, too.

2) in verse 43: "When he had said these things, he cried out with a loud voice: “Lazʹa·rus, come out!”". I imagine him speaking very loudly here, even louder than some recordings portray it, but tonight when I read this I imagine it sounding less like an announcement or proclamation across only the physical space between him and the tomb, but Jesus calling out through the very fabric of life and death to Lazarus there, telling him to come out. I imagine his voice extremely powerful here, not only in volume but quality. Because if I am to take this account as it sounds to me right now, this is Jesus not just announcing Lazarus' return, but this is Jesus calling out to Lazarus himself into the grave, with the power that brings him right out of it. ("And they will hear his voice and come out...". That must be so incredible. How amazing to hear Jesus call out to you into the grave, bringing you out of it. Lazarus knows it. And someday, she will, too.

 What timing. Thanks, Whitney <3

So I May Speak Of Her

Today is the anniversary of the loss of a dearest friend, one of my best friends in the world. We considered eachother twins from another mother. Her sister is almost 23, and I am also the age she is supposed to be. Today I didn't know who I might talk with about her, but I knew I had to. I also d ok not usually like anniversary posts, but after hearing this song it does feel right today. If you don't mind, I would like to talk about her here for anyone who would like to know about her.

She had a love of learning languages, and wanted to someday live in Mongolia or New Zealand. Water always held a special place in her heart; it suited her so well, flowing and dynamic. She was introverted and observant, and very, very graceful and organic and otherworldly all at the same time. Her name means eternal. She prayed every day, and she was drawn to teal and deep blue and night skies. She was filled with all the compassion and empathy in the world. She cheered on her loved ones til her last breath, and was always right about everyone except herself because she was too hard on herself. She loved llamas and worried too much, and had endless curiosity to understand everything and everyone. She was fascinated by cacti, embraced the pink of spring and the white of winter, and appreciated the little things. Mongolia is sometimes known as the land of blue skies; we were supposed to go there together someday, but I like to think a part of her got to see it in her mind's eye on every day without clouds. She was discreet and appreciated rosegold colours, and I still see her in every sunset of blue and rose.

Very Excited 👉🏻‼️🏔️🌊🐦‍⬛Photo Dump - Mostly Vancouver But One Of the Moon