An unconventional blogger + thoughts on happiness.

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I think I've struggled with writing because the well-ish raised part of me wants to be a "proper" blogger with a pastel life and endless avocado toast. Well kids, avocados aren't even in season so how 'my gonna compete with that?

This is the kind of "blogger" that I am: one who was recently diagnosed with adult ADHD which explains the speed at which my brain works and the inability to sit le fook still. One that has SO many ideas but sometimes struggles to get them rolling. And, well, one that is just a walking disaster.

This is my reality: yesterday, I accidentally started playing footsies with a stranger in my program. When I drew attention to it as I do by saying "oh just casually playing footsies there with ya, sorry!" he did not acknowledge me. He either didn't hear me, didn't want to respond, or I was playing footsies with someone else. It really is a toss-up. Next, Jackson ate both of my Havaiana flip flops that cost me 47 million pesos. She ripped those black beauties to shreds and left little drops of plastic all over the house and in the bed. Thanks girl, you the best. THEN, Steph's brother, Andy, drank my beer that I had been saving and then later on threw one of the dumplings we were making into the POT OF HOT, BUBBLING OIL which splashed onto me and left me with gorgeous war wounds on my arm. I slept with an ice pack that night, and not even a bendy kind. Just a brick of ice.

The best part is, I wasn't mad about any of it. I think that's when you know that you're happy? Ew. Is that a thing? I love my job, I love that I'm almost a graduate (gonna pretend it's for a Masters not my BA that has taken me 6 years), I love my person, my friends, my family, and I love that I'm excited about life!!! It's taken me almost 4 years to feel this way and tasting it is like eating mochi...tender and sweet y'all.

I guess I'm writing this post to myself. To acknowledge that from the start I said Collective Chaos would be a hectic little corner of the interweb and that it's ok for it to be that way. It's reflective of my life and the happenings of my brain. 

I just hope I can show her more love going forward. I hope you'll join me for more along the way.

A day for us, women.

By Frances Cannon

By Frances Cannon

Pen on paper, tracing some of the beautiful variations of womanhood. 

No matter your sexuality, your race, your gender assigned at birth, your religion, your level of ability or mobility, your scars, or your tongue, I celebrate you today and every day. 

Happy International Women's Day.

Wool Wallhanger DIY

DIYwallhanger

Being the broke student that I am, I could never justify spending $87 at Urban Outfitters on one of their wallhangers. Though they are beautiful, I would've felt such Italian guilt seeing one hang on my wall. Thank you Nonna for said guilt. But after the many times I considered biting the bullet and buying one, I realized that I could make my own, and at the fraction of the cost. 

This wallhanger DIY is extremely easy, inexpensive (I'm talking $10 max), and livens up any blank walls. Since my house was built in the beginning of time, the plaster walls don't allow for shelves or any other heavy things to be mounted. So this DIY was the perfect solution.

    What you need:

    • Wooden dowel 
    • Yarn
    • Scissors
    • 2 nails to mount hanger to wall

    1. As you go along, cut yourself pieces of yarn double the length that you want your wallhanger to be. You will be looping each strand onto the dowel which will reduce the length by 50%.

    2. Fold your strand by placing the two cut ends together. This will leave a loop at the top. Place the loop over the dowel as shown above.

    3. Fold the loop over the dowel (front over to back).

    4. Lace the yarn through the loop .

    5. Pull the laced yarn through firmly.

    For this wallhanger, I started with 5 grey strands, 4 yellow, and continued with grey until I felt I could add the 4 yellow on the other end and finish with the 5 grey.

    Don't worry about ensuring each piece of yarn is the same length, you can cut the bottom to fix any stragglers. 

    PS. I'd love to see yours. Tag #collectivechaosDIY on the 'gram :)  

    On Coping Mechanisms

    I make fun of myself.

    Before anyone else has the chance to, when the time for that kind of joke is inappropriate, or when someone tries to, first. I'll always drop the last burn.

    Most of the time it's funny. Sometimes, it draws attention to something that could've been left unnoticed, but a lot of the time it just leaves me feeling kind of sad.

    This is my coping mechanism. I tell everyone that I am a total disaster, that I have the memory of a goldfish cracker (which is worse than the living fish because, well, it's very bad), and that I feel so sorry for whoever wants to take me to the altar. But the truth is, though I may feel all of those things, they aren't always true. At the very least, they aren't my truth.

    Before you roll your eyes and picture me lighting my dried sage to smoke your soul, let me explain. A lot of the time, coping mechanisms are used to hide what's really going on. It doesn't mean that they are wholly wrong or entirely good, it just means that they are being used to deter attention away from what really needs to be focused on. 

    For some, it may be the inability to ask for help (hi, me). For others, it could be varying feelings of inadequacy, confusion... you name it. 

    When I think of mine, I worry that it's been going on for far too long that I can't drop the facade. That my mask is too good that were I to remove it, I wouldn't be recognized. It's like a clown without it's nose -- just a person wearing clothes and shoes that don't fit. 

    This is where being kind to yourself comes in. Would it be all that bad to open up to a friend and ask for support? Would it really be the end of the world if you cried or needed a day for yourself and your feels? Would you die if you allowed yourself to simply be human?

    It seems ridiculous. Outrageous even. But it's these thoughts that, though irrational, force some of us into our shell or behind masks that have been so well crafted and preserved that not a thing in the world could shatter them. The fear of dabbling into the unknown is sometimes more frightening than the fear of staying comfortable, forever.

    But it's no way to live. No honest way, at least. We are human. We cry and laugh and make bad choices. We feel embarrassment, resentment, and love. We are all over the place -- some experiencing these emotions in more intense ways than others. But that's all part of the deal. So why not face them head on? No matter how real or raw or uncomfortable as they may be. Because you can avoid, trust me, I am a seasoned expert. But you can't escape. 

    Take that step. Face your shit. You will not be the first person to cry or to yell or to retreat into silence. Be human. Be vulnerable. It's the truest way to experience life.