Month: December 2023

I Impressed Myself This Year

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I know what you’re thinking. You read the title of this post and you thought to yourself (or maybe said out loud as you laughed), “That’s not hard to do!” And for what it’s worth, you’re right. I’m easily impressed. Blame it on the fact that I have somehow managed to retain some childlike wonder, even about the most mundane things like making little changes in my life and the little world that I occupy.

I go into every new year wanting to make changes, wanting things in my little sphere to be different, improved. And usually, I get to the end of that year and nothing has been significantly affected. I have spent years doing this, just being straight up stuck. Its frustrating. I feel like I’m flailing in quicksand and just sinking lower and lower. I acknowledge that much of this is my own fault and the fault of my bad life choice making skills (I also acknowledge the role played by living in a capitalistic society that has a fetish for poverty, bootstraps, and monetizing every aspect of life, but we’re going to focus on me today). Keep doing what you did, you keep getting what you got, right?

This year I chose to do different, so I got different.

Most of these changes were not actually big changes or big decisions and many of them came in the latter part of the year. I sort of think of my Charleston trip as a big turning point in 2023. There’s what I was doing and how I was feeling before Charleston and what I was doing and how I was feeling afterward.

To be honest, I really impressed myself with Charleston. I couldn’t believe I actually did it. Not the actual going on the trip, but the deciding to go on the trip. I’m notorious for wanting to do things, but then putting them off or justifying not doing them. However, my limit had been reached and I was in the mood to do something drastic.

By the time I got on that plane to South Carolina, I was burnt the fuck out. I had a lot of projects going at the end of 2022 and the first part of 2023. Things at the library were hard. Thanks to staff changes, I spent most of the year training new people and working short-handed (that particular shitshow is still ongoing). It felt like I spent most of my time barely achieving the bare minimum of what I needed to get done with no energy for anything else. I was fed the fuck up.

The time away from everything, the physical distance from it, allowed me to gain some new perspective as well as a much needed break. I came home in a better mood and with some baby steps to help me improve my current existence. The real difference this time was that unlike my previous attempts, I actually did the baby steps. I didn’t immediately sink back into the mire of my usual routine. I came up with the plan and then executed said plan. Granted, the plan wasn’t any elaborate scheme, but the fact that I did it -and am still doing it- is progress that I haven’t seen in a long time.

And so far those baby steps have had the desired impact. I’m seeing little improvements. I adjusted my priorities and changed up my schedule and made efforts in certain areas of my life that I wish to improve. Seeing the results of those little changes has encouraged me to keep taking those baby steps.

This sort of thing has a cumulative effect.

By the end of 2024, there’s a good chance I’ll be really impressed.

A Grinchmas Story

~ Kiki Writes ~ 2 Comments

I’ve probably told this story already on the blog, but I’m too lazy to look it up and besides, who doesn’t like frequently re-told tales? For us old folks, that’s all we got.

Anyway, when I was in my single digits, I shared a room with my younger sister and we had bunk beds. These were not your standard, store-bought bunk beds. My grandfather made us these bunk beds. They were wooden with cubbies built into the head and foot boards for our stuff. They also had larger cubbies on the each end of the bunk bed, which we used as a bookshelf on one end and I think Barbie and My Little Pony storage on the other, if memory serves (and it frequently doesn’t). I had the top bunk and my sister had the bottom.

At Christmastime, my mother would go full ham on the decorations in the house. We rarely put up anything outside, but inside there was Christmas shit everywhere. My mother had a Christmas village that she’d set up on a table. A papermache angel that she’d made in high school would sit in the middle of it (if you even thought about touching it, Santa would give you more than just coal in your stocking). She had crocheted Santa Claus doorknob covers that made it impossible to open doors and the Christmas countdown chain and/or the cotton ball Santa beard countdown among the other decorations we’d bring home from school.

And of course we had a tree. Some years it was in the living room foyer, crowding the front door, which made us grateful we only used it to get the mail. Other years, it’d be put in the dining room near the windows, right next to the bedroom my sister and I shared. I liked those years best because I could fall asleep with the glow of the Christmas tree leaking into our room.

Decorating the tree was a big deal. Like many people, we had a collection of ornaments of sentimental value that always made it onto the tree. I made a Rudolph tree topper in 2nd grade that topped the tree for years. My grandmother had made everyone their own wooden ornaments of various figures, painting them and putting our names on them. Most of them have been lost to time, but I remember I was a rabbit and my sister was a deer. The only ones I still have are my grandpa’s –a drum major- and my grandma’s –a drum. I don’t have a big tree anymore, but I still hang those two ornaments up every year.

My favorite thing, however, was my stocking, which along with my sister’s, was hung on the end of the bunk bed with care.

Over the years, I had a few different stockings, but my favorite was, of course, one that my grandma made. My sister got one, too. For years everything we had was matchy-matchy, but in different colors. Both of our stockings were crocheted with little stuffed snowmen that fit in the top. Mine is green; my sister’s is red.

When Santa still stopped by our house (the presents Santa left under the tree were always the ones my mother didn’t want to wrap), my sister and I would know that he’d been there because after he’d fill our stockings, he’d put our snowmen in bed with us. Of all of my childhood Christmas memories, that’s my favorite. Waking up incredibly early against my will -thanks, Lulu- to find my snowman next to me. My sister and I would then empty our stockings and check out what Santa had brought us before moving on to finding what Santa had left under the tree.

Honestly, it was a brilliant move by mother. The snowman signal allowed us to raid our stockings and bought her a little more time to sleep (our dad worked nights at the time, so he usually got home around the same time we woke up our mother to officially start Christmas). It also created some extra special holiday magic that I still think about to this day.

Fortunately, I found our old stockings years ago and I sent my sister’s to her. I hang up mine every year on my bedroom door. I’ve had to sew up some holes and sew Frosty’s eye back on, but it’s otherwise in pretty good shape.

Santa doesn’t stop by my house anymore, so I don’t wake up to find Frosty in bed with me on Christmas morning, but that stocking still has some magic left to it.

It’s filled with Christmas memories.

An Apology to Everyone Who Has Ever Encountered Me in the Wild

~ Kiki Writes ~ 2 Comments

If you have ever come across me in public and thought I acted a little (or a lot) weird, I apologize. It’s not you. It’s me. It’s definitely me.

I wasn’t prepared to see you.

Yes, despite living in a small town, I expect to move through public spaces without seeing anyone I know out of the context I’m used to interacting with them in. Sure we went to school together and we’ve been Facebook friends for years, but I don’t expect you to know me, recognize me, or talk to me. This isn’t to say that you shouldn’t. It’s just that I don’t expect you to.

And because I was caught off guard by this clearly unusual occurrence of people who know me actually knowing and acknowledging me, I am fully unprepared for the ensuing social interaction. What follows is several agonizing minutes of small talk that I didn’t study for while my brain screams at me to just be cool, man! The end result is me being painfully awkward and ruining the entire interaction, at least in my mind.

I have had smoother conversations with cops who have pulled me over at one in the morning for speeding. Very unattractive considering as a rule I shouldn’t be talking to cops.

My brain truly short circuits during these interactions. It’s particularly bad if it’s someone I primarily interact with online. We’ve already covered how I struggle with my own object permanence. If I don’t expect people to think about me, I definitely don’t think they remember me or would recognize me out of my own context in their existence. It never fails to shock me when someone knows who I am. And then they try to interact with me and it all goes to hell.

It’s funny how this happens. You would think that someone who works in customer service would be able to function in these situations. After all, I’m making small talk with strangers about their gut flora and peripheral vision on a regular basis (people really will talk to you about anything), so you would think I’d be able to do it relatively easily with people I actually know in some fashion. But no! Not my brain configuration.

I don’t know if the people I’m conversing with are feeling as awkward as I am, not because their brains are plagued with bad wiring, but because my awkwardness is so palpable they can’t help but catch it. It’s none of my business if they think I’m weird and incapable of simple conversation, but I’m pretty sure they think I’m weird and incapable of simple conversation.

And for that, I apologize. It is never my intention to inflict my awkwardness on others. I want to assure you that if we have ever met unexpectedly in the meatsphere (or if we ever happen to cross paths in the future), my behavior has nothing to do with you. You are fine, I’m sure. You’ve done nothing to warrant my terrible small talk.

I just come by weird more naturally than anything else.

Read This If–You Need Your Hallmark Christmases Queer and/or Spicy

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I’m not a big fan of Christmas movies and I’m definitely not interested in any of the Hallmark variety (unless they have an actor I adore, then I will make the sacrifice, even if they’re only in one scene; yes, this is based on a true story). But if there is any way to change my perspective on this mistletoe industry it’s to make it queer and/or spicy. Throw in some body positivity, and baby, I am sold. Julie Murphy and Sierra Simone have combined their powers to create the Christmas Notch series and it is everything my Grinchy heart could ask for.

A Merry Little Meet Cute— Bee Hobbs has made a name for herself (Bianca von Honey) as a plus sized adult film star. Her career path takes a turn to the straight and narrow thanks to her producer Teddy getting her cast in a Christmas movie for the very clean Hope Channel. Her onscreen partner is childhood crush and ex-boyband member Nolan Shaw, whose manager Stephanie is working hard to rehab his career, which proves to be a challenge when Nolan recognizes Bee from her other line of work (he’s a big fan) and the two give in to their overwhelming chemistry. However, there’s a lot riding on the two of them keeping their relationship –and Bee’s other career- under wraps.

The first book in the series, I almost didn’t read it because I just glanced at the synopsis and somehow missed that this book was written for me. Our protagonists, Bee and Nolan, are both bi. Bee is plus-sized and a sex worker and Nolan finds neither of these things a turn-off. And there’s the whole issue of keeping their relationship a secret vs. loving out loud that hits me right in the feels. Also, it’s fucking hot and I appreciate that.

Snow Place Like LA— Angel, son of producer Teddy, and Luca, Teddy’s #1 costume designer for both his adult and his Hope Channel flicks, connected on the set of Duke the Halls. However, their relationship ended when Angel took off for art school in Europe without a word, breaking Luca’s heart. Months later, Luca is confronted with the man who ghosted him, and finds himself in a world of hurt -literally and figuratively- as he tries to avoid reconnecting with Angel.

A novella ebook between books one and two, this one focuses on Luca, the fabulous costume designer with an undying love for figure skating, and artist Angel. Because it’s Luca and he is everything over the top, the way he and Angel are thrown back together is hilarious. It’s sweet, it’s sexy, and I read the whole thing on the plane coming home from South Carolina, so I hope anyone snooping over my shoulder enjoyed it.

A Holly Jolly Ever After– Kallum Lieberman, Nolan Shaw’s ex-INK bandmate, was always considered the funny one and his post music career has been pouring his heart and soul into his pizza chain Slice, Slice Baby. But after his sex tape with a bridesmaid goes viral, he achieves a sexy dad bod status that lands him a lead role in the Hope Channels first Hope-After-Dark Christmas movie. His co-star is Winnie Baker, a career good girl who had her reputation sidelined in part by a careless action of Kallum’s years before, but also due to her divorce from her childhood sweetheart and tabloid rumors about drug issues, but which is really an undisclosed narcolepsy diagnosis. She’s decided to embrace the new Winnie and is hoping that Kallum can help her.

The second book in the series and honestly, you had me at dad bod. But I love how both Kallum and Winnie are trying to establish themselves as something more than who they’ve been perceived or told to be and they end up establishing a pretty solid friendship while Kallum teaches Winnie how to have sex on camera because living the pure life got her exactly zero orgasms. It’s incredibly hot the way Winnie throws herself headlong into her studies with Kallum acting as such a good teacher. Even when it’s messy, their relationship has a patience and a kindness that’s really sweet and hopeful.

There is a third member of the fictional INK boy band and I know he bought a place near Christmas Notch, so I’m really hoping that there will be a third book. Maybe I’ll sit on Santa’s lap and ask him for it. Ho ho ho.

If you give this series a try, I hope it jingles your bells. If it doesn’t, well, don’t go putting coal in my stocking about it.