The art of growing up

Greetings GwenPal!

I am writing to you frantically, scrambling for words to supply my beloved GwenPals so they have something to eat on Sunday morning. It's so hard being a working mom (with no kids and a double-digit subscriber count - THANK YOU!)

My week has been pretty empty— I had so much time to frolic and galavant among the flowers, but alas, I spent it worrying about all the things I could be doing right now. I had the privilege of not showing up to class almost every single day— and almost every single day, I showed up (to my own dismay). I commuted, using gas and energy to shuffle myself to empty classrooms (or, in some cases, classes I was too busy with the first floor toilet of the library to attend. TMI?) To some, that would be honorable, but for me it was ineffectual. 

The whole reason why I spend so much time getting ahead in my classes is so that I have time for creative endeavors (like this one), but I then discard all the time I spent getting ahead to get ahead of the things I've already gotten ahead of. Crazy shit.

And it angers me how often I promise my time to others. The moment I get an extra minute to myself, it's already given to spending extra hours at work or helping my darling Gen-X (Boomer cusp) mother scan a document into Google Drive for the 1,000th time (luv u Mum). 

I keep complaining about not getting any time to pursue creation, but I've realized it's because I fill my time with things I consistently deem "more important." I haven't prioritized my creative writing as worthy of a designated time in my schedule. 

Now, I know I need to literally make appointments with myself. Like at 10:39 am on Friday I need to have my ass in a chair typing my GwenPal because y'all deserve more than the night before. 

Y'all deserve carefully curated. Cautiously crafted. CoverGirl.

Ah, who am I kidding, this isn't the Washington Post. (it's better ;) 

This is GwenPal <3

What’s the Worm In My Ear Singing?

Today's music video review was inspired by a childhood favorite: Lost Girls by Lindsey Sterling.

Lindsey Sterling is honestly one of the reasons I wanted to learn how to play violin (which I did--taught myself, too). I'm semi-aware that my taste is... unconventional? Buuut this is to kill the thing that cringes, so here we are.

‼TW: this music video has themes of ED so beware.

I don't know what to say; it's perfect (I found what to say).

The ballet dancers in snowglobes, the frolicking in the forest, and the demon queen providing the false comfort of (symbolic) diet restriction. 

There's also something so fun to me about being in a frilly little tutu in the woods and getting super muddy and dirty and covered in cobwebs that scratch that itch y'know?

Aside from the Pinterest-worthy aesthetics going on in the video, the music itself is exquisite, from the pizzicato introduction and throughline to the dreamy lofi soprano vocals. I would play this song for hours, over and over again until my ears metaphorically bled. I love every moment of it. Those hour-long bus rides were much easier to endure when I was passing the time daydreaming of being a fairy doing ballet in the woods while playing the violin…

Middle school was an interesting time.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ /5

Yeah, I know I do it all the time, but can you blame me? This is nostalgia!

Lost girls find a way~🎵

Anyway loves, that will be all for this week. Sorry, I've been neglecting you content-wise. I do aspire to grace your inbox with my letters, not contribute to the clutter. 

Though, considering you're still reading, I think I may be doing a damn good job.

As the spookiest of seasons settles in (🎃), I plan to share some more of my machinations with you. I know it must be torture to have nothing but these letters to satisfy your voracity for my writing. Fret not, I shall bless you soon (I hope).

And as I shake off the cringe from the last statement, I bid you adieu. 

Until the skeletons are out of the closet, 

XOXO,

Your GwenPal <3