01 February 2023

2023 January Reads

Year Goal: 03/52

Nonfiction | 002.09 VAL | 2022 | 464 pages

Nonfiction | 746.92 RUS | 2022 | 208 pages

3. New Animal by Ella Baxter

Fiction Baxter, E. | 2022 | 240 pages

p.s. yes, i am still making book-log-esque videos, but since i cannot be relied upon to make videos of the books i read for all of time, i can guarantee pics, and so, pics it is for this site, my daily driver; book vids are available on my uTube channel @kimsunsailor 

18 January 2023

some thoughts on some stuff [trigger warning: suicidal ideation]

One must apprehend 

that which has yet to be comprehended.

By all objective measures, I should be suicidal, yet I'm not. I must be super-human, or a capital-oh Orphan, you know, the kind that grows up to be a super-villain

Some influencers really are quite self-absorbed.

Yelling at a child makes them feel stupid. Once that child is an adult, that feeling becomes anger.

Men don't know anything.

My 2023 Catchphrase

"Oh well!"

Don't fucking come at me about ANYTHING unless you've menstruated our your puss.

11 January 2023

If you're a Gen-Z female trying to be yourself in this world, I promise you, I promise, it gets better because it gets easier ... 'it' being life, your life, &living it.

I have been surrounded by Great Women my entire life, and I have been lucky enough to have been deeply, greatly influenced by them as I grew into the woman I am now and intend to become as I continue to grow into the woman I will be. 

Two of these women I would like to talk about, briefly, now. 

The first of whom is a woman who impacted my life through high school, the second is a woman who employed me while I financially supported myself through my first round of college years, who, only a few years ago, heard my cry and spoke the perfect four words into my ear. 

I grew up doing gymnastics, and it wasn't until the spring semester of my freshman year of high school that I took my first dance class in my second-mother's local gym. I loved it, quit gymnastics, and was enrolled in ballet and jazz classes for the following fall, the beginning of my sophomore year of high school. 

My ballet teacher was/is a woman named Jeni Ptacek. And when I think of my life, right now, I basically modeled my entire life after her. She did everything. She was not only the teacher of her ballet studio, Crystal River Ballet, she was also the bookkeeper, assistant, scheduler, etc., of that business. Not only that, she hand-sewed, herself, ALL of the costumes for every production. Not only that, she single-handedly managed all of those productions. Not only that, she designed and painted ALL of the sets for her productions. 

I do not lie when I tell you that SHE DID EVERYTHING.

And so, in essence, she proved to me that it's possible ... EVERYTHING. She made me want to do EVERYTHING, too. She influenced my decision to become an artist as opposed to a doctor (yes, I literally went to college to become a doctor and was given tons of money to do so, fact). I also sew, paint, dance, and own and run my own business. I do it all because I knew that I could, because Jeni showed me that she could. 

When I dropped out of college after my junior year at Baylor University, she reached out to me within the first few days I arrived back home. She didn't ask me how I was doing. She didn't need to catch up with me. She didn't even find out why I dropped out. She called me into the studio, and told me that there's an opportunity to dance in Syracuse, New York. She has the camera all set up, and she'll get my application in the mail tomorrow. 

She warmed me up and recorded my audition tape. Six weeks later I was moving into a house in Syracuse, New York to dance full-time as a trainee in a very modest ballet company. After my trainee-ship, I enrolled at the University of Colorado and I finished up my degrees. The week before I left, we met for coffee and she gave me the most beautiful dance bag in the history of dance bags. My relationship with dance changed, and I got rid of it, with all my other dance stuff, and now that it's changed again, I wish I still had that bag. 

During the summers between college semesters, I worked at the local restaurant, Tempranillo, a Spanish restaurant that prided itself on its tapas at a time when tapas were just getting hot, as a server. The owners were a married couple, Laura Maine, the manager, and Javier (never knew his last name?), the chef. They were one sexy couple. Let me tell ya. Laura Maine is one of those like old-money beauties, perfect hair, perfect white teeth, perfectly fitting crisp shirts, etc. In short, I wanted nothing more than to not only win her approval, but also, I wanted to be her when I grew up. She was filled with so much grace and understanding. 

One summer, after working six nights a week (every other shift being doubles) for four weeks, I melted down and started crying when the bar tender was short with me. She, the bar tender, sent me back to see Laura. 

When I appeared in her doorway, she looked at me, and was like, "What happened?" And I was like, "I'm so tired. You never give me any days off." She literally laughed, "You've never asked for a single day off. Why would I schedule you off? I want you here." Sniffling, I sniffed, "What?" She stopped what she was doing, told me to sit down, and then looked at me, "You, Tiffany, will have to ask for time off if you want it. Nobody is going to not want you to work. Go home. Take the day off. When you come back, tell me what you need your schedule to be." Sniffling still, "Okay. Thanks." 

Ten years later, I find myself in a predicament while working with "some guy" on opening his restaurant in Seattle, Washington. 

It was the type of situation that I had not really ever found myself in, and I could not wrap my head around the situation because I couldn't put my finger on the problem. After about four weeks of misery, I finally got desperate enough to reach out to Laura. I hadn't spoken to her in, like I said, about ten years. 

First I sent off an email. She replied with her phone number and a "call any time" within the day. I mustered the courage to pick up the phone and called her the next day. When she picked up, she said, "What's the problem." I explained to her the situation I was in, and when I was finished she said, 

"Does he get it?"

I was stunned into silence. She said exactly the right thing to unlock what was happening. Nervous that I had wasted her time, I giggled it off cause it was so absurdly simple, and then I asked her what they were up to, business wise. She updated me about their new endeavor, the Old Snowmass gas station! I was so excited for her and them. It was so great to hear that she was still being awesome. 

We hung up, and that was that. 

Four years later, I'm sitting here recounting the impact of these two women on my life. 

The enormity of their influence is undeniable. 

I am a product of the work and words that were instilled in me by women who cared and who knew, because I am, apparently, on some path following behind them.  


10 January 2023

If your mother (first, second, third or whichever) is your bully, you don't have to speak to her. I'm giving you permission.


I've been working through a lot of things, and one of the biggest continuing struggles is the voice of my second mother (I have three mothers, and I don't speak to any of them because they literally and figuratively do not know how to speak to me) ...

more than a few times, my second mother left a comment on my old photography site FIND.YUMMY.LOVE. (on wordpress), here's a little sample ::

"why would you post that?"

"you're on a couch? who cares about this?"

more than a few times, my second mother left a comment on my old writing site Lady Polarity (on wordpress), here's a little sample ::

"why can't you write about anything happy?"

"who would care about this?"

"can't this have a happy ending?"

one time, when i had an fbook account, my second mother left a comment on one of my posts ::

"who would care about that? why would you care about that?"

Let's just say, my willingness to speak to my second mother has been dwindling for most of my life. 

And this was all basically once I was a grown-ass adult, in "public," so I'll go ahead and let you imagine what she said to me in private, cause I don't have the stomach to re-trodden what's already been re-trodden, because my point is that of encouragement.

Yes, I've had to basically hide from my second mother on the internet, because she has been, for the entirety of my online existence, my one and only bully. And so, if it seems like I've been hiding (changing websites, changing handles on my socials, etc., etc., &c.), it is because I have been hiding from my internet bully, my second mother. 

My point, however, is that you don't have to speak to anyone you don't want to speak to, and I'm not fucking hiding anymore. 

It's that simple. 

If someone is not treating you the way that you want to be treated, leave that dick, ass, cunt, etc. 

If someone is emotionally beating you down so intensely that you can't even post a simple set of pictures, like I have posted below, ditch that bitch (men can be bitches, too).   

Life's waaaayyy too fucking short to be emotionally beaten down by someone you can easily cut out of your life (and I am not speaking about women who suffer at the hands of violent men, this is not that). 

This is pinpointing your bully and freeing yourself from them so that you can be yourself in your life. No, of course this is not about posting to the internet, but I like to post to the internet, and so, if someone is prohibiting you from doing what you want because they're discouraging rather than encouraging, I am encouraging you now to do that thing you love and want to do so badly, and ditch that bitch! 

Fuck those who do not create. Their opinions are worthless to you.


"You ain't worth my love if you only love to hate me"


08 January 2023

a Korean Adoptee makes Korean 떡국 American Style (or 'her way' cause, being raised by not-koreans means she doesn't inherently understand korean food, but she has spent a fair amount of time in korea, so understanding is on its way to her, one hopes) for New Year, like a good little Korean.


the day before ...

make chicken stock with twelve cups of water, 

chopped garlic, 

thick chopped onion, 

chicken (breasts, thighs, whatevs)

in amounts that sound delicious to you (i used half a white onion [we're going for clarity here in the broth] and half a bulb of garlic)

and salt to taste

... basically splash a little oil into the bottom of a stock pot, throw in the onions

once the onions start to sweat, throw in the garlic, 

once the smells start smelling, add water, 

once the water starts boiling, add chicken,

once the water with chicken reaches a simmer, turn down the heat so that the chicken never boils hard (i use a method where the temp is at 3 o'clock until the water starts to simmer again with the chicken in it, and then i turn the heat down to 9 o'clock and put a lid mostly over the top, not covering it, and i find that this keeps the water bubbly but not boiling. boiled chicken will be rubbery. yikes!),

once the chicken is cooked through (this will depend on what chicken parts you've decided to use, etc.), remove chicken bits and use for whatever (we made chicken cesar salads with half and a chicken and bean hot dish with the other),

once cooled enough to handle, strain the contents of the pot into a vessel for the broth,

use broth immediately or refrigerate for a day or two and use later.

the making of it ...

fill a large bowl with one kilogram of flat-disk rice cakes, fill the bowl with cold water, gently nudge stuck rice cakes apart, let sit for at least thirty minutes or so, 

then pour the already-made chicken broth into a pot large enough for however much 떡국 needed for hearty consumption (i.e. how many people will be eating it?) 

while the broth is coming to a boil, prepare the toppings,

prepare egg topping, scallions, and seaweed topping

crack one egg and split the yolk into one small bowl, the whites into another, whisk each until loose

in a small sauté pan, melt a tablespoon or so of butter,

once the butter bubbles, pour the egg whites into the pan, cook until nearly cooked, then flip and wait for it to sizzle for about a thirty seconds, then remove from pan and fold like a burrito, set aside,

repeat with the egg yolk, 

then slice both white and yellow egg "burritos" into thin strips, set aside,

once the egg is prepared, slice up one sprig of scallion (like you're making tiny rings) for each serving,

once the scallion is prepared, cut up a sheet of dried seaweed into mouth-sized strips,

once the toppings are prepared, set aside so they may await their use,

once the broth starts to boil, drain the rice cakes, drop into boiling chicken broth,

once the broth begins to boil again, cook until the rice cakes are soft,

once the rice cakes are soft, serve the soup into serving bowls,

sprinkle the scallion in the broth,

make a small mound of white egg strips in the middle,

make a smaller mound of egg yolk strips on top of that,

gently mound the seaweed on top of the egg yolk,

eat with kimchi and fresh, sticky white rice,



03 January 2023

Twitterless Tweets | A 'Some Thoughts On Some Stuff' Edition

re MacKenzie Scott

As a philanthropist, you're not really helping the world if you're not helping WOMEN MAKE MONEY, become financially free, even wealthy, perhaps. This trend of female philanthropy is disheartening. Keep the money. Make even more money. Play the game. Be powerful. Steer this Patriarchy into a "Bonobo Sisterhood"/Matriarchy. It's better for everyone.  

re White People &Their Stuff

White Person: Look at my new [fill-in-the-blank]! It cost $X, and it's X, and it's blah blah blah blah blah.

Me: [overtly sarcastic tone] Cool.

White Person gossiping to a fellow White: She didn't even comment on my obviously expensive [fill-in-the-blank], and she didn't care about any of my stuff! What. A. Bitch. 

re New Tech

There's nothing more frustrating than getting gifted new tech, only to find out which of your current tech has become obsolete. 


Yes, I love them. Yes, I think it's naive for us to think that they're naive enough to not understand the innuendos of some of their lines, like, for instance, "It's black, and it's pink when the sun down." The reality, however, is that they're singing about complete nonsense, and I love it! I love it! 

re Insecurity

From time to time, I still hear the voice that haunts, "Nobody wants to hear you." I am, nevertheless, getting better at telling that voice to go fuck itself. 

re Problem Solving