The sweetest package arrived early Thursday morning! I saw pure bliss for my tired and angry eyes – new glasses with fresh blue light blockers. My eyes were fried. Had been frying for weeks without me noticing. It happened slowly, building, draining, and then bam my eyes let me know, yes indeed, it was time to get new lenses. If not I think they would have gone on strike. Those headaches are such a nuisance. The aching of tired muscles around my eyes, and how heavy my blue frames, were the perfect combo for a week of migraine woes. But alas, it’s in the past and I am thrilled. For a few reasons! The new spectacles are super light. They are a fun style I wanted to try out after seeing Changbin wear this look for a stage performance, and I got the cutest dust cloth of a bun wearing glasses and a tie.
With the eye fry though, getting worse with time on my computer or phone, I took last week to give my eyes a break from screens until the new frames came. And it turned into a tremendous creative recharge time. I knocked out my open sewing projects, finishing my backlog of stretch-knit fabric items floating on their own island of procrastination. This was a problem because I had real projects for friends to work on and their procrastination island was taking up valuable real estate on my worktable. So it was time, and without the prompt of my lens wearing it may have been another month before I finished the stretch knit pieces. It was a good thing. I also used the time to sketch out potential maps for a novel idea I have. Well, two novel ideas, actually. I developed two plots and worlds, flushed out in my notebook with the settings, names, and timelines of the plot I want to write. Once I decide on which project I should move forward on, I’m excited to share it with you.
I’ve noticed taking a break, even just for several days in a row of not writing, my brain feels rusty and I feel clunky with my words. This skill of writing is so much more like a discipline of exercise than an art form sometimes.
To recharge my mind, and get those creative writing juices flowing hopefully better than before, I realized I should get back into reading to be immersed in fiction in order to learn from others what it takes to write a good original story. Someone I admire, without finishing the book yet, is the work of Judy I. Lin. I started her novel, A Magic Steeped in Poison back in September 2022. With my Autumn/Winter Collection sewing schedule I put it aside to keep my deadlines – it seriously pulled me in and plan to write a bigger appreciation post for her work. I jumped back into the story this weekend and dang – being fully immersed in a fantastical story with such layered culture and characters – it is just pure joy. I forgot how wonderful reading can be. With the final act of the book before me, I hunger for more of the story. I can’t wait to jump back in this week and carry onward into the sequel of the Book of Tea Series – A Venom Dark and Sweet.
The cherry on top of this weekend though was the S-Class M/V from Stray Kids along with 9 new songs! I absolutely adore the 5-Star comeback, from the style choices to the music. It really showed their range. The bonus content of the band reacting to the S-Class music video and unboxing their album together was the wholesome coziness I needed before today. Seriously, if I.N. is smiling, how can anyone frown? I needed that going into today, especially. It’s a day I remember a lot of pain and loss, but although how small it may be, the joy of a favorite band releasing a new album with their unique charm has been a wonderful distraction from the gloom that usually takes hold on this day.
As we begin this new week, I wish you love and hope that it is a good one for you.
I’ve decided to get back into fiction writing! It’s been a long time, so long I almost forgot how to begin. Because of how fuzzy my creative brain has felt, I’ve been stuck in the confines of what feels familiar. I’ve been wanting to go back to what I made before. At first, I wanted to bring back Udal Cuain from memory. The bits and pieces of the characters still live in my mind, but upon trying this without my manuscript – it is a bit daunting, near impossible to remember what I wrote 6 years ago. I considered rebooting it in a new story. I could fix the decisions with the plot that irked me, revising it into a thing, but at that point, why not just branch out to a new world and new characters that embody who I am now as a writer instead of what I was. And so here we are, and I’m excited!
The Writing Prompt
Since about October 2022, the pull to dabble in fiction has returned. This was in part from a close writer friend who challenged me with a writing prompt. She asked me to write about my favorite garment from fashion history and write a story from the perspective of the person who invented the garment. I began to research, to study, to not just pick a garment but pick several and then try to place them in a world with character. There were so many evolutions to this! It was an endless pit of inspiration.
With some time to dream and consider, my first choice was the corset – it is the ultimate historical fashion garment to me because of the craftsmanship, the foundation it created for silhouette and style, and truly to challenge the many people who use it as a scapegoat in the fight against the patriarchy. If only they would do some research (I’m talking to you BBC and Netflix). I ran into a problem – what iteration of the corset would I focus on? Should I include stays? How much is too much detail? Yeah, it was a bit too broad for the kind of historical mind I possess.
My friend suggested I narrow my wild mind down to one era, my favorite era of fashion history. What is my favorite era of fashion history? Well, I broke that prompt too! I could not decide between the 1890s, 1910s, and 1690s. I blame the fantastic fashion history content of Nicole Rudolph’s 1690s-inspired Winnifred Sanderson costuming, Bernadette Banner’s 1890s-inspired garments, and Bernadette’s 1910s Mary Poppins Jolly Holiday Lingerie Dress. My little fashion nerd heart was too enthralled to choose between them. I waded deeper into the idea. Maybe social and cultural norms would flush out the true winner. A character, if I placed her into these time periods, what would her life look like? Could she be a fashion designer like I strive to be or would limitations be placed on her talents?
If she would be prevented by society to make clothing openly, what story would there be to create? I realized I was approaching the prompt from the wrong point of view. It is not if she would be making clothes, it is in what context. A home sewist? A professional seamstress for a rich or royal family? Were women head tailors? Yes, yes they were until the mid-19th century and Frederick Worth changed the industry to a male-dominated designer world. With the right context, there was a bit more wiggle room. She could be a tailor.
There was that curve ball though, I was supposed to write from the perspective of the designer who invented the garment. And this is where my historically trained brain couldn’t seem to get out of its own way. Although I wasn’t finding a credited person for these garments, I was afraid of misrepresenting the history. If nothing else, the fashion industry has built itself on a shady foundation of misappropriating cultures, using questionable materials, pushing toxic beauty ideals, and mistreating its workers. My gut was scared of what romanticizing a garment could do to the real history at play.
Razor Clams and Melancholy
Alright, so what now? Well, I thought, what about the Alexander McQueen Razor Clam dress sketch literally tattooed on my shoulder? I mean isn’t that my ultimate garment? Isn’t he the one designer that captured my imagination? Yes, yes he was. I found security in knowing a rich history of who and how this piece of art came to be. It was safe yet true to my love for fashion design. This dress has always taken my breath away. There is something unbelievable about its construction, yet undeniably beautiful in execution, like a character in a fantasy novel standing before you with a real flying bison and bending to prove it.
I didn’t realize for years that it was made from real razor clam shells, I thought that the shells were 3-D printed. Understanding the realism captured by the use of real shells makes this dress so full of life and story. Literally, these pieces could not be here without a whole story of their own, from their former life as the home of razor clams, amidst the ocean waves to the cleaning and preparation to be sewn one by one into one garment. The time and care required to make this garment is extraordinary. I thought about my own connection to the sea, picking up seashells along the beach. Walking side by side with my Grandma, talking and stopping to discover every little gem of shell and sand. It was our thing. From Marco Island to New Smyrna, to St. Augustine, to Nags Head – we combed those beaches soaking in the memories of time, we can never replace.
I thought about McQueen and his close relationship with his own mom, and the pain that hung over him after she passed away. I pictured in my mind a day of walking the beach, with the razor-clam shells washing up. Could he have been a shell seeker like me? Could he have been as inspired to create as Grandma and I did with our favorite shell finds? Stringing them onto necklaces. A little souvenir of our walks together. As I wrote, the pain and loss washed over the words a melancholy snapshot took form on the page of a heartbroken fictional character making this dress out of heartbreak for the one he loved. The process was awful. As I wrote, tears slipped down my cheeks and I hated it.
Our Creative Well
The next time my friend and I met to discuss our writing progress, I told her of my switch to the Razor Clam dress and how what came out of my writing broke me. I was in a melancholy cloud missing the flurry of indecision compared to this. In all this chaos, I learned an invaluable lesson. As my friend phrased it, I tend to create from a place of sadness. I seek out the dark and dismal places in my brain to feed whatever I am making, like a tortured artist drinking absinthe or the despair of Poe, I am drawing upon the wrong thing to write from and therefore, my projects hurt me. The same thing happened during the Udal Cuain project. It got dark, and I couldn’t live in that world anymore. She challenged me to find a new place to rely on while I write, to create from a place of joy instead of sadness. It’s changed my whole way of creating as I mentioned in #17- Bad Writing Habits.
Where do you create from? Is it a place of joy or of pain? It’s an interesting thing to consider, and can definitely affect your tone, plots, worldbuilding, etc. I think the biggest takeaway from this process of failed writing prompt drafts was to reinvigorate my brain to imagine worlds from a simple inspiration, and to begin the path of research and brainstorming for characters, stories, and plots less traveled by the current influx of fantasies, thrillers, smut-tok, superheroes, and meta-storytelling. We need new kinds of stories. With that in mind, I’m excited to keep moving forward. I hope you join me on this journey.
It’s funny how the Christian life works, as you grow in your faith and your dependency on God to lead you, life does fall into place because you have the peace of being in the center of God’s will for your life, but life also becomes more complex. Especially when the enemy is determined to knock you down into the pit of discouragement.
The last few weeks have been odd, as I mentioned before in #23 – Neon Shoes & Sichuan Peppercorn, I’ve been feeling a bit off. Mother’s Day reminds me of my miscarriage and the ever-growing complexities in my relationship with my mom. Little waves of sadness lapped at my shore, I can handle that, but the big one, a towering wave of anxious thoughts came from the weird qualifications of renewing my lease. In the past renewing leases has been quite simple, in my previous apartment in Meadville, we simply told them our intention of staying in a note with our rent check and they made us sign a new lease one time, the next we didn’t have a written lease at all.
In our current place, we have renewed once already, and that was a simple process last year. They came, we signed and they asked if we would be interested in buying the place if they sold it. No big deal. This year, there were changes. Communication has been a bit awkward for me with the landlord because of some neighborhood dynamics. Here’s what happened.
Mean Girls Don’t Grow Up
Last summer, a very nosy and gossipy neighbor, who claims to be best friends with our landlords, began letting her dog poop in our vegetable garden. When I tried discussing it she became more and more aggressive. Eventually, when I returned her dog who had wandered into our garage, the neighbor and her 18-year-old daughter screamed at me in front of the whole neighborhood. They told me no one wanted me here, everyone hated me, that my landlords were going to evict me, and basically I should go into my house and never come out again because I was a worthless human being. When I said, “You can’t speak to me like this,” the daughter haughtily confirmed that they can and will bully me and that I should just take it and shut up.
Another neighbor, who lives on the other side literally went to get help when she saw the bullies screaming at me because she thought they were going to hit me. It was so Jersey Shore. In true Mike “The Situation” fashion, when he knocked his own head into a wall, the bullies flailing in anger, escorted themselves back into their house with gnashing of teeth, when I firmly stood my ground by not answering back but not leaving. I just looked at them. The houses are very close here, so needless to say it has been an awkward year living next to people who hate you. We haven’t spoken since.
And so, I’ve been nervous in all interactions with my landlords since, because what if the bullies tainted my reputation with my landlords. What if it was true and they all wanted me gone. It’s dumb, but those insecurities took root in my head. Probably because it has happened before, with my own family. Everyone ganged up on me and essentially kicked me out of my family for standing up to the bullies within the family. What if it was happening again? Anxiety rose up into a building sea. I was a ball of nerves when I asked about renewing the lease, and the wave grew higher when my landlord required a walkthrough to sign the lease. A walkthrough? For what cause? My mind began to question if they didn’t trust us anymore? What if they were looking for a reason to kick us out? The what-ifs grew and grew!
My mind went through preparing for the worst, searching for places, cleaning every nook and cranny, and reading the Bible for hope in the midst of confusion. I asked close friends to pray for God’s direction in this time, of what felt like a testing ground. I knew could simply leave and start a new chapter, that became clear but it didn’t feel like it was what God was leading me towards. I felt as though if I took the easy way out and found a new place, I would be missing out God on teaching me something. I prayed and leaned on Him to unwind those knots in my mind from betrayal and past hurt to believe that even in the midst of uncertainty He is holding me in the palm of His hand.
He also taught me something painful, to forgive the bullies of my own family and my neighbors. I was resistant to this process, to say the least. All year long the grudge grew inside me against my neighbors until their general presence annoyed me. I was full of bitterness that was holding me back from the peace God wanted to give me. I held on to my anger like an idol and I was missing the point. If I had run to a new place, I would have missed the lesson of forgiveness, because when I finally submitted my anger to God and asked him to help me forgive my neighbors the darkness and fear I felt lifted. I even found myself feeling forgiveness for my family members that abandoned me. God provided everything I needed from the perspective to the understanding to be prepared for the walkthrough.
A Lesson from Hezekiah and Sennacherib
He clothed me in his peace and love so that I could walk confidently into the situation. The morning of the walkthrough I opened my Bible for my next reading and I noticed it was a familiar passage. Isaiah 36-37. In this passage, King Sennacherib from Assyria is threatening Jerusalem with destruction. He is essentially a big bully. He taunts not only the Israelites but God himself. Sennacherib tries to bait the people into putting their trust in him, instead of the power of God. In response, Hezekiah prays that God will rebuke the Assyrian king for his ridicule of God.
“Therefore pray for the remnant that still survives.” When King Hezekiah’s officials came to Isaiah,Isaiah said to them, “Tell your master, ‘This is what the Lord says: Do not be afraid of what you have heard—those words with which the underlings of the king of Assyria have blasphemed me. Listen! When he hears a certain report, I will make him want to return to his own country, and there I will have him cut down with the sword.’”
Isaiah 37: 4-7
Like the big bully he is, Sennacherib is enraged to hear that Hezekiah will not back down and doubles down on his mockery of Hezekiah’s faith. Sennacherib doubles down on his threats in order to manipulate and intimidate the people of Israel so that they will question their faith in God for Sennacherib’s gain. How often do we see this in life? Politics and news outlets certainly use this tactic to get the people to align with the agenda, but also we do this to each other. And most importantly, in those moments of fear the enemy capitalizes on this strategy. If you don’t listen to the devil the first time, he’ll just yell louder. And that is what I felt as the walkthrough approached. Although I was seeking after God and learning how to forgive, if I lost my focus for a second on God, the enemy started coming for me. So the fact that I read Isaiah 36-37 the morning of the walkthrough was not a coincidence.
“Hezekiah received the letter from the messengers and read it. Then he went up to the temple of the Lord and spread it out before the Lord. And Hezekiah prayed to the Lord: “Lord Almighty, the God of Israel, enthroned between the cherubim, you alone are God over all the kingdoms of the earth. You have made heaven and earth. Give ear, Lord, and hear; open your eyes, Lord, and see; listen to all the words Sennacherib has sent to ridicule the living God. “It is true, Lord, that the Assyrian kings have laid waste all these peoples and their lands.They have thrown their gods into the fire and destroyed them, for they were not gods but only wood and stone, fashioned by human hands. Now, Lord our God, deliver us from his hand, so that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that you, Lord, are the only God.”
Isaiah 37:14-20
As the chapter continues, Sennacherib ignores the warnings from God, he is arrogant and full of hatred. His words spit fire and poison. He is used to getting his way and regales the Israelites with a list of his conquests. He claims that he is unable to lose, and claims that He is more powerful than God Almighty. Yeah, this is not going to be good for Sennacherib! But he sounds a lot like the world. He sounds like those structures in our society that claim more power, more authority over us than the Lord himself. They try to diminish the Lord’s power. I’ve even heard the Navy does this in the submarine program. They try to break the sailors who work in the subs, by telling them that under the water they are too far away from God to be in His presence. How sick is that?! Anyways. This is how God responds to human powers and their arrogance:
“Therefore this is what the Lord says concerning the king of Assyria: “He will not enter this city or shoot an arrow here. He will not come before it with shield or build a siege ramp against it. By the way that he came he will return; he will not enter this city,” declares the Lord. “I will defend this city and save it, for my sake and for the sake of David my servant!” Then the angel of the Lord went out and put to death a hundred and eighty-five thousand in the Assyrian camp. When the people got up the next morning—there were all the dead bodies! So Sennacherib king of Assyria broke camp and withdrew. He returned to Nineveh and stayed there. One day, while he was worshiping in the temple of his god Nisrok, his sons Adrammelek and Sharezer killed him with the sword, and they escaped to the land of Ararat. And Esarhaddon his son succeeded him as king.”
Isaiah 37:33-38
I read this and felt this strange peace wash over me. I knew that it was going to be okay, I can’t explain why. I was still scared, like if I paused to think about the what-ifs of the walk-through – what if during the walkthrough my bully neighbors came outside and began bad-mouthing me? What if the landlords will make me answer for that? What if they gang up on me too? What if my landlords go through my stuff? The fear was still there; unless I focused on God. As I focused on God, I felt the mental clarity to move along with my day and had a very productive day instead of quivering in anxiety. Like Peter stepping out of the boat, as long as I looked at Jesus I could walk on the water, the minute I looked down I began to fall back into worry.
Unexpected Roofers
The time came. The clock showed 4pm. I waited for their car to drive up the street. Nothing. I checked my phone. Nothing. I looked again. They said they were running late – so odd for my normally punctual landlords. They arrived, wearing smiles, with greetings of friendly conversation. Just like I remembered them to be. This is where it gets interesting.
A few months ago tornado producing storms came through the region, damaging their roof. For weeks they waited for roofers to come with nothing to show for it. Except, that the roofers arrived exactly when God planned. Minutes before the landlords left their house to do our walkthrough an unexpected company of roofers arrived at 3:45pm on a Friday to start repairing the roof. The roofers were non-native English speakers, they were not able to converse with our landlords about how this was a bad time and set to work. Therefore our landlords were in a huge rush, they barely wanted to do the walkthrough! How incredible is that?! They stayed less than 10 minutes, I’m not joking. I barely had time to read through the lease, they were so anxious to get back home. The best part – none of my neighbors were home. None, which is unnatural for the time of day.
A peace that surpasses all understanding has washed over the neighborhood. I used to feel like I didn’t belong here like I couldn’t go outside without waiting for another verbal punch. I felt judged and unwanted. I don’t feel that way now. I know that God has provided a place for me. As long as this is where he has called me I shall not fear.
I don’t know how you explain that without God. He took every piece, every what -if and neutralized the fire. He did it his way and in doing so I learned a whole lot about the kind of God he is. I gained forgiveness, peace, and experience in weathering the storms of life. I also learned that bad things, although the pain can stay with us, are not bigger or more powerful than the provision of God. If God is in your corner, you don’t need anyone else to make things happen. You are not beholden to other people’s opinions, condemnation, or approval. How incredible is that?
For lunch, I made a PB&J sandwich. I was in a rush and wanted some quick energy. The sourdough bread, which had been with us for a few days needed to be used, enjoyed. I had been sewing up until my husband took his lunch break at 12:30pm, I didn’t want to cook anything, I just wanted to eat and clear out the fridge, so to speak, of leftovers and such. No big deal.
So I reached for the bread, still pillowy and bouncy with all those lovely fermentation bubbles that make sourdough bread rise. I toasted in and made my sandwich. Which tasted delicious, and normal. And yet, my innocence was about to go bust. Kyle, who was eating leftover pasta, went to the kitchen to find a piece of bread to soak up the sauce in his bowl. The sourdough he reached for and found something that truly ruined my meal – the bottom of the bag was riddled with mold. Something that I am allergic to, not to mention is just so gross.
This is not the first time this happened to me actually, I remember packing a moldy bread sandwich in my lunch in school because I made it when I was half-asleep before school. It’s a rude awakening to realize the thing that once tasted so good to your appetite is not what you thought it was. I thought I was getting energy and some probiotics, instead, I got a little something extra I didn’t want. Something that could make me sick and break out in hives. Appearances can be deceiving, that is why I am reflecting for so long on this mold.
We live in an odd time, with the rise of social media there is a significant rise in transparency in the world. We know more about people we follow than sometimes we would know if we had a normal relationship outside of these social platforms, especially the strangers we look up to like musicians, celebrities, designers, etc. There is also a new kind of anonymity, a facade that curates a public persona for how we want the world to see us. We can post the best moments, the curated things which compound to create a personhood that is foreign to reality, if we so desire. So how do we be authentic? I’m not sure, it’s become such a complicated thing in the digital age.
Before I took a deeper look at the loaf of bread, it seemed so normal and fresh. Without seeing the mold that had spread throughout the loaf in the bag, I would have thought my two pieces of bread were good. But they were still exposed to the environment, the mold would eventually spread to those as well if it already wasn’t there. That got me thinking, about humans. If we consume things, that are negative, full of vitriol, or void of substance and we take those into our hearts, will that eventually affect our goodness, our freshness? Now I know humans are not bread, I don’t mean goodness or freshness in the same way. I’m thinking more about our motives, the way by which we interact with each other. If we consume things that are tainted and no longer nutritious for our souls our inner being takes a hit.
This is true Biblically, where because of the sin that continually tries to creep back into our thoughts and habits, God’s word reminds us to be wary of what we take into our hearts for they can change our beliefs. I think this is true for the effectiveness of our actions in our interpersonal relationships. If we consume or surround ourselves with influences that reflect spite, negativity, and bitterness, I think this will flavor how our love and care for others will be exhibited. It will dilute the potency of our love. Like the mold, diminished the nutritious value of the bread for me.
I don’t want my love for others to be changed by bad influences, like media that encourages hatred, and jealousy, or in TikTok’s case the Kia Boys who like to encourage crime. It’s even as simple as considering the things I subscribe to that populate my feeds. Music too can truly rot the mind from the good things that I want to cultivate like self-control, gentleness, and selflessness. No one wants to be a moldy sandwich for those who depend on you. I encourage you to preserve the good in your heart so that you can make a difference in the spaces you are needed most. I guess what I mean is to keep your character and your values even if it’s not trending. Until we meet again ❤
After a tense Thursday-Friday which I’ll go into in another post, Friday night felt like a breath of fresh air to my mind. The pressure was gone like all the weight on my shoulders melted away. To celebrate, my husband and I decided it was time to return to our favorite restaurant, Golden Dragon, which in our little town, no joke, has awarding winning Chinese cuisine. His food is legit.
Since we have been watching Strictly Dumpling at lunch and Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations in the evenings, we’ve been hungry for some spice, something new, something mouth-wateringly delicious. We mixed up our usual order. Kyle decided on Moo Shu Pork and I chose the long-awaited Mala – I chose Sichuan Chicken. It was good, just as addictive as they say! I went with medium spicy thinking there was no way I could hang at that level, but it was pleasant for my spice tolerance. I’ve been leaning more toward spicy food recently like gochujang and mango-habanero sauce along with vinegary flavors for the health benefits. It’s definitely refining my palate, from someone who didn’t enjoy spice, to someone who could handle it with dairy, to learning dairy was making me sick, to learning how to manage my spice without any dairy cool down. Isn’t interesting to think about how our tastebuds change?
I’ve watched Mike Chen and his Strictly Dumpling content for five years now, and in that time it has educated me and encouraged me to get out of my comfort zone, such as trying hot pot, appreciating mochi, miso, and now the Sichuan peppercorn. When I first started watching, I didn’t think anything of what I was watching other than, it was an escape to travel vicariously through his content when I was broke, but it has truly been a cuisine education, like watching No Reservations.
Back to the food – Golden Dragon’s Sichuan sauce had so much flavor. I was expecting it to be spice-forward without the layers of flavor, there was sour, savory, sweet, and warming spice. The peppercorn is fragrant, floral, unlike anything I had tasted before. I literally felt warm inside as I ate it! And the numbing sensation was fun, addictive, a rollercoaster ride of taste. I definitely want to try it hotter next time. Something I appreciated was the fact that it didn’t give me a thunderclap headache like Thai chilies have given me in the past. The experience made me so disappointed because the flavor of the Thai chilies was incredible! Oh well, at least I found a new friend in the Sichuan peppercorn.
On Saturday, we were going to go bowling at the local lanes. Both of us enjoyed bowling as kids and hadn’t gone probably since college. With a rainy mist in the fall-like air of May in Western Pennsylvania, we went to explore the unknown of our small town’s bowling alley – it was a rather disappointing discovery. There are those bowling allies stuck in the seventies/eighties that have a certain charm because of their vintage and rundown aesthetic, like a time capsule. There are also those bowling allies that have been renovated that may be stuck in the cosmic bowling thing of the aughts, I don’t mind that. But this place was just unwelcoming.
So we bailed and headed over to the outlets to walk around in the clearing sunshine. I’m really glad we did because there was one of those once-a-season mega sales at Under Armour where my husband was able to find something he had been looking to replace for years! When we started dating in college, he had this pair of neon green sneakers. I think the original pair were from Nike. He wore them to pieces, literally the sole falling into worn-out layers. Since then the trend cycles changed the styles, and there have been no sneakers such as the beloved neon ones. He has hesitated to commit to any pair, finding the necessary pairs to get by but nothing as beloved as the neon green ones with black accents.
Behold! We walked around the outlets, to a far arm where Under Armour resides, a store we tend to avoid because the prices are outrageous. Normally. Not this time, we hit like the motherload of clearance. We just had that feeling, the feeling of we should go in there and I’m so glad we did! Perched toward the back is a glorious neon green shoe, with black accents, as though Kyle sketched out a shoe, and of his dream. The white whale. That’s not the best part! The shoes are on sale for $50, regularly $100+! I was shocked, he was delighted. It was a good trip for sure. I love to see my buddy smile.
Another small delight, I spotted as we made our way our way out of the outlets, was this one car. It had a curious, yet strangely familiar phrase written on its back window. “The one, NCT vega.” I had a feeling, there was another one among us and I was right – I was in the presence of another NCTizen! Anytime I see a K-Pop reference on a car, a shirt, or a hint of a song on the radio, I feel this wonderful sense of camaraderie with whomever the stranger is. They get it. ❤
It was one of those good, simple weekends. I restarted my Stardew Valley farm and my husband leveled up his grilling prowess with an impressively tender pork loin. We closed out our time with the 2023 PBR World Finals and a delicious bowl of ramen. I hope you, dear reader, are able to relax and recharge, whatever that looks like in your schedule. Enjoy the little moments with the ones your love.
I woke up this morning and was scrolling Instagram to wake up, I was feeling pretty groggy from a mediocre night’s sleep. Acid reflux got me again! Anyways, I saw a post from the Stray Kids official account with a dark square. I immediately had a sinking feeling. After the tragic loss of Moonbin, I knew that Bang Chan was struggling. I hoped everyone was okay. I scrolled down to see the English caption and found a puzzling series of paragraphs. I like many other Stays found this morning, an apology from Chan for his comments during his most recent live on Youtube, Chan’s Room. To be honest, even though I had seen the clip he was apologizing for, it took me a few minutes to register what he was talking about. That is the reason I am writing this, I think some things on social media are getting out of hand, especially for those of us with a gentle soul like Bang Chan. Since this drama was created by K-pop fans, I think as a K-pop fan I should do my part to counteract all the negativity being thrown around and show some love, Stray Kids fam style.
What do I mean by Stray Kids’ fam style? Well, it’s a bit of a tangent, but if you are not familiar with Stray Kids and their band culture – they are one big supportive family. They love “Stay” the fandom name for Stray Kids enthusiasts. They also love each other, showing up in the joyful moments and the hard ones. For example, when I.N., the youngest member, sang off-key at a K-pop competition called “Kingdom” he was so disappointed in himself that he was overcome with emotion that he cried back at the band’s apartment. When the other members, who were in the living room saw I.N. crying in the kitchen they went to him and enveloped him in a group hug, wanting to know what was wrong and how they could help. They are a really sweet group of guys. They are also quite passionate about their work, being one of the hardest-working bands at JYP Entertainment. Bang Chan who is the leader of the group, along with Han and Changbin write and produce the band’s music. He also hosts a weekly live stream on Youtube called Chan’s Room where he interacts with the fans through live chat.
As a fan, not knowing him personally, he comes across as a very dear person, truly caring for the fans. His responses to questions are so thoughtful. He genuinely does not seem affected by their fame, it is one of the reasons why Stray Kids is so popular. That is why this whole controversy is so bizarre to me. Okay with context established, so a fan on the live asked about an event called Music Bank Paris that happened in April, I believe. There were a lot of bands at the event, and at these events, the bands have some interaction. They at least greet each other and are generally friendly. I mean for them it’s literally a work event, being friendly just seems natural. Chan mentioned that it was frustrating to see some younger bands not greet the older bands, which he claimed he may sound like a “boomer” for admitting. He never mentioned names, he did not call out anyone in particular and he was respectful in how he shared his thoughts.
That’s pretty typical of Chan, he is professional and respectful when he shares his opinions. He is not aggressive in his delivery, this is why I was caught off guard by his apology. I’m not the only one! Most of the comments below the apology expressed confusion and disappointment in the pot-stirring fans who created rumors about who Chan was referring to, creating the drama. The fans also expressed frustration at JYP Entertainment for their role in the apology and called JYP out for not doing a better job at handling this when K-pop idols are pushed to do these live-stream shows by the company. I have to agree, this was all blown out of proportion by social media. Just like a rumor mill in a small town, a few gossipy viewers decided to assume which bands Chan was referring to and ran with those ideas, inventing the entire thing. That’s poor behavior. They are the ones that should be apologizing, in my opinion.
Because Chan is such a sensitive person, he conveyed in the apology how much he was grieved by this situation and never meant to hurt anyone. I love that about him, but I don’t think he hurt anyone. I think the random commenters who decided to figure out the band Chan was referring to did the hurting. And to be honest, respecting your elders in many cultures, especially Korean culture is a big deal. So greeting the older bands at events like Music Bank Paris seems like a no-brainer to me just like being respectful and kind. The fact that none of the drama-crafting fans stopped to consider the cultural side baffles me.
This whole situation points to a deeper problem for me, as a fellow sensitive person, with a few sensitive and gentle friends – why does it seem like the people who are genuinely nice seem to be ripped apart on social media more than the aggressors? Do you know why? Cause I see it all the time. It’s why I don’t have Twitter or TikTok. There is a growing culture of nastiness on these platforms that is trickling into the culture. And it concerns me. Why does our social media society seem to reward rudeness and hearsay? I don’t think we should have to respect the mob mentality that dictates that might is right. Social media clout lacks wisdom and generosity of spirit, which are key ingredients that make communities function in a healthy state. Take a look at what happened to the girls in the viral “Baseball Mean Girls” TikTok video, they were doxxed because the cloud of social media outrage descended into their personal lives, although the girls made it right with the woman they flipped off in the video outside of TikTok, none of this seems to matter to those carrying forth the social media justice. And I digress, my point is that Chan’s apology is a symptom of a bigger problem of the heart we are seeing in the people within our societies, and if we don’t address the heart and start acting in kindness and grace toward others when you think someone has made a mistake, we are in for a lot of strife.
Thank you Chan for being Stray Kids’ best leader! The music you create with 3racha and the rest of Skz has truly made such a positive impact on my life. Even if you make mistakes, this Stay will show you grace and love.
Udal Cuain was a story of many locations, each with a key purpose and strategic place on the map. When I began writing this novel I found the easiest way for me to develop the setting was to make a map of the places and ideas I had in mind. But where to start? As this was based on some historical structures and locations in Ireland, referencing the Irish map was a great place to begin!
Sketching the Map
The setting of Udal Cuain was set in western Ireland within the ancient kingdom of Connachtha during the Early Medieval period. Connachtha was one of the historic provinces within ancient Ireland – Ulster to the North, Connachtha to the West, Munster to the South, and Leinster to the East. So looking at four kingdoms, with Meath at the center, the spiritual center of the Druid Celtic faith, the story had a world to research and emulate from the evidence that survives of these kingdoms.
With a title like Udal Cuain, which means “tossed around by the sea” in Gaelic, I settled on Connachtha because it is on the rugged coast of the Wild Atlantic Way. It is also one of the kingdoms on the western side that my family is not connected with. I have family connections to the Munster region and Ulster region, and I wanted something unfamiliar and neutral for these fictional characters. It left the door open to interact with Ulster and Munster if I changed my mind.
County Galway’s geographical features stood out for its port and bay with small islands, perfect for a fictional island to exile my characters on. The Burren of rocky terrain to the south along with the Shannon River provided some interesting options for a secondary chieftain’s home base and the key feature – the Aran Islands at the mouth of the bay. With these three I planned my three smaller fictional kingdoms of warring chieftains:
Galway of the O’Connors
The O’Connors’ kingdom, which I placed at the location of Galway’s current city, was supposed to be a well-established chieftain dynasty, that had many enemies and allies. I wanted the kingdom to be both strong; and yet on the tipping point of losing it all because of the internal strife. I wanted their kingdom’s fortress and main structure to be stationed at the Galway city current location, with the idea that the O’Connors’ land would cover the coast around the bay to the Connemara Bog and down to the Burren at the south so that they had room to farm, hunt, and keep livestock. They would also have access to building materials, road networks to interior Ireland, and the mountains. There would be a connection to Ireland’s spirit within the people and leaders. They would also be connected to the land and there for the Tuatha De Danann, the mythology of Ancient Ireland.
I chose this location because it had a long history in Ireland, but had room to explore imagined locations. Galway doesn’t have historic anchor points for this period, like Newgrange or Glendalough. It allowed me to invent without clashing with the established places or treading on the stories of real people. It also has great geography. The bay provides natural resources like fishing, trade, boat building, etc. It would make sense to have a marketplace there and an imagined fortress. To the interior, there are forests, meadows, mountains, lakes, waterfalls, and rock for quarries.
Aran Islands of Murtagh
The Aran Islands to the far west of Galway Bay, an outpost of the Irish language during the centuries of oppression by the British, and a population decimated by the famine, I wanted to make these islands a key player in my story. They have many stories to tell, but in Udal Cuain, I wanted to bring them back to life as a powerful seat of trade. A necessity to the kingdom of Galway and the enemy to the North, the impending Vikings. I chose to make the Aran Islands kingdom a rival to the O’Connors, with an imagined trading kingdom built around the ancient fort of Dun Aonghasa. I also saw this as a choke point for the Galway kingdom of the O’Connors, they must keep tensions cool with Chieftain Murtagh in order to keep their own economy going and allow free use of the Ocean beyond. Yet as in relationships, this is easier said than done.
Limerick
Limerick on the Shannon River served as a connection to the Viking Age. This city was a settlement historically conquered by Vikings, in Udal Cuain it is a place of cross-cultural influences. There was a historic kingdom in the story, the Ui Neills, that one character is closely connected to. Yet with the changes that took place within Ireland during the Early Medieval period, the Ui Neills, are faced with Viking invasions. I chose to use this location as a place to see the impact, good and bad, of Viking settlements in Ireland. This played a key role in Ireland’s structure historically, with Dublin the capital city being established by Ivar the Boneless. In my fictional setting of Udal Cuain, I wanted this Limerick settlement to explore the Norse and Celtic cultures, while pondering the pain, the greed, the bloodshed.
Searbh
The Island of Searbh is completely made up, yet inspired by the small islands in Galway Bay. Searbh, being a fictional island in Galway Bay was a blank canvas to create my own hub of the story without needing to adhere to established geography or history. Searbh served as an exile and prison for the characters sent for their crimes against the O’Connors, used mainly by Chieftainness Tearlag to reinforce her agenda. The name Searbh in Gaelic means bitterness, that was what I wanted this island to encapsulate, a bitterness of landscape and mindset. The exiles have bitterness in their daily life as prisoners, but it also bleeds into their relationships and attitude toward survival on the island. I wanted to create a place that could be seen as hopeless, or potentially a powder keg of motivation.
These locations form a triangle around the Island of Searbh, furthering the message that the characters sent here are cornered by the adversaries, yet an unlikely alliance might be within reach if they can get off the island. From Searbh, you can see Galway, yet you cannot reach your home. It is psychological warfare. The Aran Islands are beyond sight, but the hope of finding an ally in Chieftain Murtagh lives on in the minds of exiles of their potential support and refuge against Tearlag. Searbh’s location and removal from the actual kingdom with its society and drama, makes Searbh a place of escape from reality. Here the exiles can both dwell and escape the reasons that brought them here.
There aren’t many resources on Searbh and so they are dependent on their captors to stay together, they also learn to adapt to a new life. The exiles learn new skills and have to get creative. Strangely enough, there are many relics on this island, like it has a life beyond what the exiles understand. I wanted there to be a mysterious undertone to the place and toe the line between reality and delusion and the psychological warfare gets in their minds.
If you were going to design a map for an upcoming novel how would you design it? Would you reference a real landscape or would you design purely from the depths of your imagination?
A: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.”
Hebrews 12:1-2 NIV
I remember in 2009, this was my school’s theme verse for the year. It was on the bulletin board you saw as you entered the high school building. Being our theme verse it was incorporated into devotionals throughout the school year, lessons, and referenced by my fellow students, but I thought about it more in the context of our annual jog-a-thon. The day the whole school K-12, held a fundraiser at our local college’s track to raise money through lap sponsorship. More miles clocked, more money raised for the next year. Every May, this day was the only day I ever jogged around a track. It was a big push to keep the school going, and I endured for one day. Afterward, I would put set down my perseverance and keep going through life until the next jog-a-thon. It’s funny how I didn’t think it would apply to life.
Because I heard this verse so often in high school, it was an easy one to memorize. I carried it with me into my life without giving it much thought. Suddenly, it came back into view when my Grandma had to live by herself for the first time. My Papa was sick and living full-time at a nursing home. She was alone and was feeling like life had leveled up quick. I remember talking with her and she would quote the verse from high school, Hebrews 12:1-2. “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer, and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him, he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” She changed my perspective on this verse from being a coffee mug kind of quote to understanding the deeper meaning written in these words from Hebrews.
The Book of Hebrews was a letter written to a Jewish Christian community that was facing persecution and imprisonment because of their association with Jesus and the 12 apostles. They are facing hard times, with no end in sight. They are not simply running a race, it is a metaphor. The audience was feeling discouraged, unsure if they could carry on when the future looked grim and full of suffering. What I learned through my conversations with my Grandma was that she was feeling incredibly overwhelmed by how her life had changed by Papa not being there. We didn’t know if he would recover, or if he would be healthy enough to come home. Everything about her world looked unfamiliar, she was now a sojourner in unknown lands. Her best friend was no longer by her side and this new reality had no end. Like people for whom Hebrews was written, she didn’t know what the future held and she knew the likely options were dark, filled with separation and death.
It was tough to find the words to comfort a friend who is suffering. From this experience, I learned that even Christians don’t always know what to say or how to comfort those who are walking through a season of pain. To my Grandma, the Book of Hebrews became a beacon of hope. A reminder that the desert road is winding towards a destination that is better than where she currently stood. Although she didn’t want to be there, the words of encouragement in Hebrews 12:1-2 reminded her that she wasn’t the first person to experience this kind of pain. As the Messiah, Jesus experienced what it was like to be fully human and fully God. He experienced persecution, loneliness, and separation from His Father on the cross. He knew what it was like to be staring down a timeline moving toward death. Because of that, we can look to His example and dig deep knowing that He will be with us every step of the way.
After both my grandparents passed away, I realized there is even more to this verse. I ignored the section, “surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses” and failed to consider what a great cloud of witnesses meant. At the jog-a-thon, it was a group effort. Parents, older siblings, younger siblings, teachers, etc. They were all around us on the track during the race. Some were waiting in the stands, and some were cheering us on from the water station – we weren’t alone on that track. Alongside myself, my friends were running too. We would motivate each other to keep going. In life, God brings people into our lives to encourage us. Maybe they aren’t the people you long for, like loved ones who have passed on, but they are people who know how to love you. They cheer you on through the ups and downs of life.
With a deeper understanding, Hebrews 12:1-2 has gone from being a school theme verse to a reminder to keep going when life feels impossible. It gives me the hope that life will get better, on those days I have to dig deep because I am not alone. This verse has helped me time and time again re-frame my overwhelming emotions to transform them from obstacles into motivation to keep running the race.
I tried an experiment. This spring, instead of planning out a schedule of sewing projects, I decided to balance my time between my sewing workroom and my other projects by the changing of seasons.
Now, as a type B person, I’m a bit of a procrastinator. My creative nature doesn’t lead to a rigid structure, even though I wish sometimes it did so I could be an organized maker. But I have the personality that I have, and that is okay. I can still be productive even with a procrastinating nature. That’s what I did this spring. At times it felt like pushing off work that I needed to do, but really I learned that living seasonally means there are rhythms to the process at hand.
What made this plan interesting to me was the unknown. I didn’t know how the schedule for making items would come together. I didn’t know if the weather would dictate more lightweight tops first or lead me into shorts. It was purely figured out by what item in my wardrobe I thought I would need next.
Sewing Schedule
As I mentioned before in Sewing When I Lost My For It I decluttered the warm weather clothing that no longer fit me, was worn out or simply was not working anymore. So I was going into the new season with nothing but my workout shorts and shirts. I wanted to challenge myself to find my style by brainstorming on Pinterest and planning items that I actually want to wear.
For this summer wardrobe, I knew I wanted a few basics, statement tops, flowy skirts, comfortable but cute shorts, and a dress if I found a style that I liked. I wanted to design clothes differently than I had in the spring and summer of 2022. Last year I focused on reading patterns, and trying out new types of garments like blouses and pants. My guiding force was found in tutorials and patterns instead of my own style sensibilities. This produced items that were average, not my style but not unwearable. Not exciting though.
I didn’t want to make the same mistake and so from fabric shopping onward, I decided on a motif. I chose a color palette of greens, black, brown, and blue and decided on a closet of shorts, a few skirts, t-shirts, and sleeveless blouses to mix and match. Everything with easiness, like the athletic shorts I used to wear to work for the paint crew. My design philosophy was decided – movement with effortless style, able to style with sneakers.
In total, I’ve created 8 pairs of shorts, 11 tops, one skirt, and two dresses. I made these items off and on since the end of February, so around two and a half months of work. I planned my sewing days based on the forecast for the upcoming week. Spring came early and so I began March making at least three pieces a week. If the weather cooled down I would stop sewing and switch to other projects. If a warm spell came through I pushed to make four or five items to be ready to wear on the incoming 80-degree days. Back and forth like tides of the ocean. Sometimes I barely sewed at all, and other weeks I did nothing else but run my machine.
The Results
What did I learn from this experience?
Planning out your fabric choices and the color palette is a fantastic use of time. This keeps you on track with creating pieces that not only go together but will pair well with the items in your closet. In fact, reviewing my current wardrobe before I purchased fabric kept me focused while browsing so that I bought the fabric I would actually wear instead of fabric that looked cool on the bolt.
Seasonality does not produce balance. Although it was fun to create by the weather and made me more in tune with the changing of the seasons, it did not provide a healthy balance work-life balance. During those sewing benders, I made a lot of things to be ready for the warm temperatures but it also hurt my neck, back, and shoulders to use my machine for 8 hours a day, day after day. Sewing is truly hard work.
I have a greater appreciation for the people who make clothing. Not the designers, the underpaid workers who sew for these brands we buy from. Sewing is hard on the eyes and the upper body, it requires attention to detail. Without the men and women who make our clothes, we would be lost. I have a greater appreciation for those who cut out the fabric, threaded the machines, sewed the armholes, hemmed the pants, and put so much care into items that we so easily take for granted in America.
Will I Do This Again?
I think I will do an adapted version. I like the seasonality of the project and how it allowed me to see the changing season in the same way gardening has. It makes you appreciate the passing of time. That being said, I need more balance. If anything this system showed my type B personality, that type A personalities have a point when it comes to organization. I would prefer an actual schedule, that I could use to keep myself accountable. Not to keep myself from procrastinating, but to keep me on track with stretching, water breaks, and workouts. I neglected a healthy pattern of rest and exercise which made my mind feel cluttered and my shoulders quite stiff.
So, next time you are getting dressed, look at the careful stitches of the garment. Note the complexity that is garment construction. Look at the label and see where it was assembled. Take a moment to appreciate whoever made your clothes and be grateful that someone took the time to pattern and sew your wardrobe so that you could get dressed today.
One Rabbit Riot 