Nine O’Clock

I have a standing date each night. I hurry myself to keep the pace if I see the clock begin to click out of my grasp after my shower. Sometimes I feel like doing my skincare is a chore, I’ll skip the lotion on my limbs or let my hair dry as it pleases if I think I am running behind. As the months pass, I feel the wonderful weight of this schedule, something that was a number on a clock face is now an important engagement with my bunny.

It started slowly, maybe a coincidence? After my shower, I’d walk down the stairs to look for Mia. It was a greeting, then it became a moment on the floor. Now, it has grown into a tradition, an expectation that I will get settled and sit on the floor. I can do some things, other petting Mia, but it must be done from the floor. I can play a little Animal Crossing, one-handed, or find a video to play as background ambience. She’s not a fan of K-pop, though she will tolerate a girl group, with impressive vocals only.

I used to coax her over, after I sat on the floor with a little wiggle of my hand. Recently, she’s been waiting for me in the doorway. Her tail wags, her little body binkies when I open the gate, and last night I could barely find a spot on the floor with her zoomies encircling me. With how rocky our start was, did I ever think Mia would greet me with such effervescent joy? No, I truly thought we would have a distant and tense relationship. Instead, last evening, after 30 mins of pets and snuggles, she flopped next to me, waiting for more pets. She is safe here, and I feel the safety in the silence. The contentment of being with her, the love that is felt in her presence, and the tempo she creates to slow down and breathe.

The greatest thing you’ll ever know, as Nat King Cole wrote in his song “Nature Boy,” is just to love and be loved in return. This line is a key theme of Moulin Rouge, and Bowie’s version of this song was my first encounter with is this song. It’s what I think having a bunny is, to love and be loved in return. I feel her love in her morning greeting, no longer greedy for breakfast for pets, but instead trusting me that food will always be there, she runs over to say “Good Morning.” It’s a celebration of another day, another gift of life, and another day spent with the ones we love.

April 15, 2025

A Shy Girl Goes To The DMV

I’d say this photo, featured above accurately represents how I feel in situations like going to the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles) to renew my driver’s license. It’s a blur of moments, faces, government jargon, and touch screens. The big stack of papers signed and passed along in the process of closing on a house is more etched in my brain than the 20 minutes at my local DMV location. There is something about the dull, harsh lighting and bland walls covered in bulletins, electronic screens, and directions. It’s overstimulating and yet underwhelming. It is not a place I feel comfortable in.

This feeling began many years ago during the driver’s permit test process, in a different DMV, equally dull and filled with too many signs and screens. There was always one piece of information I was missing. A document my mom and I forgot, or a process out of order. The test was deceptively easy to study and terrifyingly tricky when taken, and I almost missed too many answers due to the sheer amount of distraction of the dull yet harsh environment.

This time, was one of those such times. Renewing in 2017 was easy, it was a new DMV with friendly people. Renewing in 2021 was an absolute breeze because there was no need to go in for the photo, just click and pay at home. It spoiled me. Renewing this time in 2025 was one of those DMV experiences fraught with tricky trip-ups.

Not surprising for me, it’s been a place I have been thwarted for years, from nervously failing the parallel park portion because I was afraid of my test proctor and his gruff demeanor or forgetting to keep my permit up-to-date and having to renew to test to wait four months for another testing time. The government process is nothing if not inefficient and a war of attrition.

The gauntlet was thrown down. Waiting for Christmas and New Year to pass, I renewed my license online and got stuck in a loop of changing my address. I then could not reach the process to renew anymore, because it was updating my address. So I mailed my renewal and waited. I then received two separate address updates for the license set to expire, but no update on my renewal.

Two weeks passed and I began to anxiously check the internet for a timeline – usually within 15 business days. Oh no, business days…I sent it in the mail on Jan 2, how many days would spend in the USPS system? Then a former president passed, delaying mail service. Was renewing it a month in advance not enough?! We then checked online, showing it had been renewed. Phew! But, when? I received another piece of mail, updating my voter registration automatically, but no temporary license or camera card.

Each day as the mail came, I ran to check it like Ralphie waiting for his Little Orphan Annie secret decoder pen. I began to worry, was my license going to expire waiting for it to show? Was it all going to unravel because of the sluggish pace of the government institution? How was I going to follow behind in my car when my husband’s car went for inspection in February? Was it back to walking for me?

Then one beautiful day I heard the mailbox close with a slam (it’s a very old cast iron mailbox), I scurried from my work room and descended the stairs with the promise of the future in my eyes. My delight was palpable as my hand pulled a DMV envelope from the mailbox. The envelope tore with ease, revealing the temporary license and camera card in my hands. All was saved!

On the next good weather weekend (it’s been a winter of snow squalls) we made our way to the DMV for the last battle left, the camera portion. Now as a shy person, this is the part that still makes me want to recoil. I never liked picture day at school. When a camera is pointed at me I can’t smile normally. I feel like a spotlight bears down upon me, filling me with dread. My smile looks unnatural, sometimes like a grimace if I smile with teeth. If I smile with a closed mouth like I did throughout my braces era, it looks uncomfortable, my shyness written across my face.

Filled with shyness, I sallied forth, pulling my ticket in preparation for a long wait. To my surprise, my number was called immediately and I had to go to a completely separate area, by myself. Something I dread in unfamiliar places. So in a flurry of adrenaline, I went into the photo room and unbeknownst to me went to the wrong side of the table to sit down. The DMV lady shouted at me, my face immediately turning red. Embarrassed and ashamed at my accident, my apologies flowed forth. She continued to scold me in front of the other citizens there to get their photo. It was incredibly awkward.

She was sweet to the other people and continued to speak to me with contempt, even though I continued to apologize for my mistake. I was flustered. Ripping my paperwork and not knowing where to go. Soon the others in front of me were served. It was my time to smile but to be honest, I was so embarrassed and concerned they were going to remove me as a security threat, I knew that wasn’t going to be possible.

Then the weirdest thing happened the lady switched from harsh to calm, saying she needed to yell at me for the camera on the ceiling or she would face consequences. (What? That’s bizarre.) It was tough to trust the nice demeanor, was she going to snap at me again if I made another mistake?

At that point, I was introvert drained from the drama, and wanted to hide. My posture could not hide my internal feelings as I sat down in front of the camera. Flash, the first picture snapped displaying a red-faced blank expression. She offered me a retake and snap, and a turtle-necked miserable-looking photo appeared on screen. I believe she offered me another retake but my mind was far away.

I continued to make mistakes, including selecting Arabic on my screen to fill out a few more things for completion. As she handed me my card, she apologized finally for scaring me, which I appreciated and I wished her a good day. I looked at my ID card and was horrified, the person doesn’t even look like me. The bottom half of the image is stretched out, compared to my photo from 2017 it looks like I aged and let myself go from how distorted the image is from what I saw on the screen.

It was the cherry bomb on top of the 2025 battle: DMV vs. Shy Girl.

I’ve tried to remind myself that what is important is that I did it, I didn’t cry when shouted at, and I didn’t give into my anxiety and bail. I did it and persevered, the bad picture happened but it doesn’t reflect what I actually look like and no one is really going to see it. But dang, what an awful experience! I think why the new picture feels like such a jump scare is it is all my fears wrapped up into one – aging and looking ugly and fat. My culture is obsessed with thinness and beauty. Plastic surgery is becoming normalized and it is sickening how vain we all are becoming. I forgot to do my hair, I didn’t wear foundation just a little eyeliner, and I forgot to gua sha.

The picture was just me and things out of my control like getting scolded, bad lighting, and a stretched image created something without beauty, because beauty is not the goal for the DMV, it is clinical and for the process of identification. It is a stark contrast to the world of filters, good lighting, and curated perfection fed to us in this current age. Seeing that ugly image, rocked my confidence because even though I find my worth in Christ, I still live in this fallen world that equates beauty and youth with virtue and worth. So what happens when life happens and time passes? We become older, we gain weight and no longer look like the size 2 self from our teen years?

Is everything past that point worthless? I realized, as I looked at the image of my expired license and the new one that having the same picture for two renewals, warped my view of how I am aging. The younger version also was far more curated as a coping mechanism. I used to be a stickler for straightening my hair, wearing makeup, jewelry, and food restriction to be in the beauty standard to blend in, like an outer shell. Protective, candy-coated.

But the younger version of myself would have been unable to cope with a stranger yelling at me without crying and shutting down. Any picture of myself I saw as ugly, I had no confidence even at my skinniest. All the things that have happened since 2017 – loss of loved ones, getting shunned by family members, reconnecting with my dad and his family only to get hurt again, losing my place to live, having nowhere to live, and crashing in people’s guest rooms for a few weeks, moving to Georgia and back, subsequent moves out of sketchy landlord situations, my first job, my first layoff in a global pandemic, etc.

It’s been a lot and through that process, I grew character and began to unmask. So what if I don’t look the same as I did in 2017? I thought I looked ugly and fat in my 2017 ID photo and was ashamed. It’s just a photo on a driver’s license card. I like the person God has shaped me to be more now in 2024, than the person who was lost and far from God in 2017. Cheers to growth!

January 29, 2025

2025 Intentions

Have you ever watched one of the Top Gear UK challenges, from the good old days of Clarkson, May, and Hammond?

The amphibious cars, DIY caravans, lorry drivers, hot-hatchbacks, cheap Porsches, etc. There is one thing in common. There is a scoreboard, the points make no sense, it’s all a big laugh, and on that terrible disappointment, it’s time to end.

This is what I equate growing an Instagram was like in 2024.

I did the things. I’ve made many pieces of content across stories, reels, and posts. I’ve sewn and knit a varied amount of things. I’ve done silly trends, serious reviews, inspirational posts, filmed tutorials, recorded thoughtful voice overs, and participated in the “add yours” cards on stories.

I turned on metrics. I carefully analyzed posting times, consistently shared things to keep engagement up, took breaks to avoid spamming, carefully thought of 3-second hooks, transcribed subtitles, filmed artistic shots, and agonized over lighting. I networked, supported other creators, and tried to make genuine connections. Got burned a few times by people who only interacted with me for the follow and stopped talking to me and following me after months of supporting them. It’s tricky making friends on that platform. Connections are either amazing, lovely people, or not at all. I met several lovely people too, it wasn’t all bad.

I ended the year with higher engagement, more friends, and negative or neutral growth depending on the refresh. The metrics contradict themselves constantly. I’ve lost as many followers as I’ve gained. I’ve learned I had ghost followers who were keeping my engagement low. I also had accounts following me that left the platform through Meta’s deactivation due to idleness. It’s one of the worst algorithms, showing your followers your posts days after you share them. Zuckerberg, do better.

I ended 2024 feeling like I was on a Top Gear challenge. Meta added and subtracted points to my metrics total willy nilly, like Richard Hammond getting minus “exactly the points he had” so that he ends with naught. It was nonsensical and mind-boggling. This platform provides no satisfaction in what you accomplish. I got one point here, minus a thousand there, 20 points for this task – yada, yada, yada.

So 2025, what am I doing with my time? What am I working towards? I am going to write more and move on from growing an Instagram account to open a shop. Not interested anymore. It’s not happening and I think it’s a blessing. Fiber art creation is going back to being a hobby. I’m not going to be a fashion designer, or a pattern designer, or a sewing educator, or a part of fixing fashion. I am going to make things I like and have fun, and share what I want where I choose for the fun of it. I have a backlog of projects that I haven’t shared here because of the distraction of Instagram. I am looking forward to writing more, new things, and celebrating the victory of finishing the Udal Cuain manuscript. Available to peruse here. I’m going to do art, I’m going to garden, to bake, learn things, and work hard. I’m excited about it. The key intention is to focus on fulfillment over productivity, and when my to-do list is crossed off to feel fulfilled, not productive.

What are your plans or goals for 2025?

January 14, 2025

Letters of Healing – #1

Dear Grandma and Papa,

How are you doing? I know you guys are doing well. You’re together, and you’re not in pain anymore. You guys are not separate and are feeling the healing of that yourself.

It’s been a journey here without you guys. It got a bit scary for a while. Things got weird and frightening, but after four years, things are feeling familiar and more like usual. I didn’t think it could be possible, but I guess deep down I knew it could be, because you both found a new normal after losing your parents. I guess I felt guilty and strange letting my life go on without you for myself. It wasn’t what I wanted and I resisted healing for a season because I was in denial.

I found this composer, a fellow I think you with the proper introduction to his music, would be a person you guys would enjoy. He has the emotion and the beautiful storytelling in his music that I remember you both liking. His name is Joe Hisaishi. He composed the music for several films from a company called Studio Ghibli which I think you would prefer to Disney in this current moment. It took me a while to appreciate Hayao Miyazaki’s storytelling because it was so different from what the Disney formula is. The cultural parts, I think took the longest.

I know Japan was a bit of a mystery to you guys just based on your generation. You grew up with a different version – the Imperial Japan bombing of Pearl Harbor and the War in the Pacific were your first introduction as kids, growing up during WWII. It was a cultural relationship that did not have a chance to bloom.

My generation had a different introduction to their culture – sushi, ramen, Hello Kitty, anime, Studio Ghibli, Ninja Warrior, Harajuku fashion, and Nintendo. It was a different side of Japan. In college a professor you would know, Doyle, hosted a class about East Asian Film and Literature. It was quite the overview for one semester mind you, but in that short time he showed us some pieces of storytelling I still remember like Hero, Red Wall, and Princess Mononoke.

The last one, Princess Mononoke was a Ghibli film, my first one. The illustrations were incredible and the message felt so familar because of the region we all lived in – the rust belt. But what captured my admiration the most was the music. It was stirring, haunting, sad and hopeful, a courageous melody that swept over me in its beauty.

A few years later, Kyle and I watched My Neighbor Totoro which is such a heartwarming tale. This one set me on a new goal – I need to see Japan before I die so I can see those rural vistas captured in the illustrations of Totoro. I started learning Japanese since you’ve gone, which is a story for another time, but this probably sparked that journey.

This image from Totoro makes me think of the times we would go puddle jumping together, Papa, when I was a little kid. You made life so magical, both of you.

Anyways, there’s a song in particular, Grandma, that I think you would love. Actually I think you would love to play. The one recording of it on the album I was listening to has a piano solo by Hisaishi that has the same fervor and candence of the style you played in. I can close my eyes and pretend we’re in your piano room, you’re talking away as your playing it, and the room is filled the sound of the keys. This song is called the Merry-Go-Round of Life from the film Howl’s Moving Castle. (One I still need to watch.)

I wish I could play it for you. I wish I could play all of his songs for you. I wish we could listen to them on the boom box in the kitchen as Papa and I sat on the stools along the counter and tried to coax you, Grandma to just settle in and listen instead of tidying or cooking, or wandering around the way you used to.

I miss you. But I’m trying to not dwell on what I cannot change.

Love,

Magzie

September 27, 2024