I am not the only person to feel that time stopped with the pandemic. It has taken this long for me to be able to leave the house, only to be surrounded by maskless faces. It’ terrifying for one with a damaged immune system. Issues are not solved, merely moved past, and I struggle to write because doing something I live while others struggle to survive fills me with counterproductive, self-indulgent guilt.
But counselling + friends + reminder that my books might make people either smile or AS I CONTINUE TO HOPE say ‘why is this white bitch writing this? i should be writing this’… well I am doing better!
In the meantine reading Empi Baryeh, Christi Caldwell, and Ali Williams is firing my writing pistons and now I just have to get through Kinti’s panic attack without panicking myself! *thumbs up*
Also, I’ve started making my own clothes… because fuck fast fashionand it’s insistence that fat women can’ be tall or curvy and the insistence of plus size shops on selling terfling merch!
reminder: my Golden Heart page has a list of useful books, and soon i’ll add all the stuff i’ve read on Academia because omg that app…