I’m not one to dream-journal, but the one I had last night was so real and amazing and I never ever ever want to forget it, even though I feel so sad and heavy-hearted now.

OK so first of all, I was in college!? I was the age I am now, and it was so uncomfortable, plus I kept falling asleep in English class and couldn’t get words to come out right, like I was trying to talk with wet gravel in my mouth. But somehow, against all odds, I made friends with this young girl from NY named Dream (lol) and I was telling her about Chooch going to Drexel and that I felt weird for being 45 and in college and she was like, “No you’re fine!” but everyone else was straight scowling at me with disgust, like I smelt of elder-diapers and prunes, so I did not feel fine. Then I got some papers back and of course the comments were talking about what a fucking writing phenom I was. *blows on fingertips*

Then, even though I thought I was living in the dorms, I was back in the super small apartment that I was sharing with this Korean influencer who I have followed for years (IRL) – Joan Kim. She had just come back from one of her many business trips and we were hugging but I felt like I wasn’t supposed to be there, even though I lived there. While she was in the bathroom, I was sitting on a couch and suddenly, Jonghyun from SHINee (he passed away in 2017 so this was extra jarring) was sitting next to me and in my dream, he was my best friend that only I could see.

But he was also still Jonghyun who was a real person, so this was not an imaginary friend sitch. I was SO FUCKING HAPPY TO SEE HIM that I was crying. Then Joan came out of the bathroom and I had to act like I wasn’t sitting on the couch, hugging Jonghyun.

She left, and then Jonghyun and I went out. We were walking around this cute little street lined with small cafes and gift shops and somehow we were both like, “WE ARE MORE THAN JUST FRIENDS” and he kissed me and I was like, “!!!!!!!!!!”  Then! A little girl said something to him and I said, “You can see him??” and she looked at me like I was crazy and then I realized that everyone could see him; somehow, we figured out that he was only “alive” in this particular town, which turned out to be a small town in France?! I guess that is where I was living with Joan Kim, while apparently going to college in the US, I have no idea. So, then I was trying to get him to stay, because then we could be together, but he was like, “I have to go to….” some other weird ass cities I can’t remember now, but I can still feel my desperation at trying to keep him here.

This is one of the only celebrity deaths that hit me hard and stuck with me. I keep a framed picture of him on our bedroom wall. I am so sad today, all over again.

This was the Jonghyun in my dream :(

Between the weird and shitty personal things that have me feeling super down this year, Bambi dying, the election and the horrible things looming on the horizon, last night’s dream, and the fact that our Law Firm days are over for good as far as our beloved 10th floor goes (our office is consolidating floors and ours got the ax), I am just so numb and have no faith or hope. Just a weird limbo between “too tired to cry” and “I don’t feel like myself anymore.”

OK never mind about being too tired to cry because after avoiding this song for years, I am listening to it now and crying hot ugly fat tears. Lock me in a dark room somewhere and throw away the key.

How are you? And you? And you, Prudence? Eh, I’m … you know. Not stoked that Trump created a new department named after a meme for that fucking psycho megalomaniac Elon Musk to use to the country further into the ground. Every day we’re gifted more things to be horrified by – jump scares every time a news alert comes in. America as a haunted house.

I guess I will try to focus on positive things that are currently swimming against the PANIC CURRENT of my brain. For one thing, we have an NCT DREAM comeback! This song is my current fave jam. Please listen.

Thank god for Kpop.

I had a really cathartic therapy session today. I really appreciate my therapist and am hoping that she fixes me soon so that we can be friends is that weird I guess not. See also me googling “is it inappropriate to invite your therapist to your Xmas party.”

Wow am I actually at the bottom of the barrel of “positive things” for the week? That’s…alarming.

We’re redoing the Chooch Tribute wall in our living room – does that count? By redoing, it’s not a major overhaul. Just repainting and rearranging the pictures. Some need swapped out and I really want to add either his graduation portrait or one of his senior portraits as the center, and I want to have this finished before he comes home for Thanksgiving.

Oh! We’re going to dinner with Pam and Greg on Friday and I am excited to hang out and have a healthy, hearty bitch fest with fellow NeverTrumpers.

Still in my Belgian beer era, in case you were wondering. Henry brought me a…starter kit? Variety pack? Of beers from this one Belgian brewery and I know I said I was a Delirium girlie but I think now my bestie is Gulden Draak.

I had one that I hated though!! It wasn’t in that pack – we got it at that FALSELY NAMED HOUSE OF 1000 BEERS. It was a Chocolate Cherry Duchesse and I thought it would be good because I loved the other fruity version of Duchesse I had but THIS SHIT WAS SO DISGUSTING. It even smelled so bad, like walking into a house where the windows hadn’t been opened since the 1970s I don’t know how else to describe it but it was old and musty and then it hits your tongue like a taser. So sour and disgusting. Literally one of the worst beers I have had ever had. I immediately made Henry drink my half and he also wasn’t a fan so he was not thrilled.

Oh another positive thing is that we are having the annual Trimming of Trudy the night after Thanksgiving with Corey and Janna like old times! Henry better provide snacks. And they better bring me BELGIAN BEER.

Well, that’s all for now. I’m going to sit here with a blanket over my head while watching Seventeen content probably. Stan Seventeen, you guys.

I’m grateful that my mom always let me do what I wanted to my bedroom aesthetic – teenage Erin would be proud (maybe a little confused) to see that her adult self held on to the same style guide lol.

This is all I’ve got right now – small little pockets of joy. I love this spot for the saranghae sign because it illuminates the acrylic shelf above it.

Yeah boy.

I’m so ready to vote. I was already fired up but after encountering an aggressive grassroots MAGA brigade when all I wanted to do was go for a nice afternoon walk and enjoy a sunny fall day but a fleet of small-dick energy pickup trucks decorated with massive and putrid TRUMP flags and driven by white power fisting redneck men had other plans for me.

It felt like harassment. I was telling a canvasser about this yesterday and he said very calmly, “That’s because it was. That is their whole agenda, their entire platform.”

Bullying. Hate. Misogyny. Guns guns guns.

I was angry that I started to spiral out and then I thought I was going to have a heart attack (#drama) so Henry and I had to switch to a side street but I could still hear the horns blasting and the ACTUAL hootin’ and hollarin’ so we ended up just going back home.

Stress.

I was getting ready for bed last night when my friend Patty messaged me on Instagram and said that she had gone to Facebook to wish her friend Jeff a happy birthday and saw that he had died earlier in the year. This is significant because Jeff was my boyfriend from 1998-2001 until I dumped him for Henry at Dave Navarro concert at Metropol.

We definitely didn’t part on the best terms, but we eventually made peace with each other (he even stopped over a few mths later to give me a CD of his DJing, shook Henry’s hand and everything) and stayed e-friends ever since. That didn’t amount to more than an occasional Instagram like, though.

There was one time at least 10 years ago, if not more, where he messaged me and said that he had been going to AA meetings at the church across from my house and that we should get coffee sometime.

We never met up for coffee, but this is how I found out he was an alcoholic and after Googling his obit last night, severe health complications related to his decades-long struggle is what ultimately took his life last January.

Right before Barb died, actually. This year just keeps doling it out, doesn’t it?

I don’t really know what this emotion is that I’m feeling. Shock? Sadness? Guilt? I was SUCH A CUNT to this man. He deserved so much better than me and I can say this now without any reservation – I treated him like an absolute dog. I cheated on him habitually. I lied to him. I fucked with him. But worst of all, I was just straight-up abusive to him.

We met in Darkchat (of course) in the fall of 1998. His name on there was Samhain, so I called him Sammy. He was in the process of moving to Pgh for art school and was looking to make some friends. We met in the parking lot of Pier 1 (RIP) in Pleasant Hills and went to the theater across the street to see John Carpenter’s Vampires. I remember my friend Cinn, also from Darkchat (Jesus Christ I was/am such a fucking dork) was worried about this and was also in the parking lot for observance purposes and deemed him, immediately, a non-threat.

Cinn loved him and called him Sammy even after I ultimately switched to “Jeff.”

The worst part is that now I can see what a truly sweet and kind guy he was, when back then I made fun of those traits and found him “weak.” I was so wrong and bad for him.

I wish that we had just started as friends and stayed that way, instead of designing the entire meet-up as a “date.” I feel like I knew from the beginning that the compatibility wasn’t there, but then he kind of leaned on me as a crutch since he was shy and new to the city and honestly he couldn’t have picked a worse person for this assignment because not only was I an absolute agent of chaos, but my friends were motherfuckers to him too. (With the exception of Janna and Cinn.) He used to go home to Uniontown every weekend and I was SUDDENLY SINGLE on those weekends, having house parties, going out, just being completely disrespectful of his feelings.

Janna and I went to lunch today and she pointed out that I was a kid and I agree with that, I was immature and literally only cared about myself and am truly a completely different person now but it doesn’t make me any less disgusted with myself. I have no idea what Jeff was going through all of these years. I wish I could have apologized to him.

Easter at my Grandma’s house, 2001 prob.

On Instagram, Jeff mostly posted pictures of the food he cooked (he liked to cook, even back then) and his dog, who was referenced numerous times in the obituary and for some reason, maybe because I am a sucker for animals, the fact that he left behind his cherished best friend is what has made me crumble. It also said that his parents are now caring for the dog (Kenny) so thank god.

His last IG post was from Xmas 2023, and Kenny was featured in that image carousel.

And then reading the messages on the memorial page broke me too because the echoing sentiment was that he was so kind, docile, pure-hearted, etc. And he was! He was all of these fucking things and I was the fucking Devil.

Barb’s birthday was 10/29. Carol’s birthday was 10/31. Jeff’s birthday was also 10/31. All three of these people, once prominent fixtures in my life, are dead instead of celebrating birthdays this week. I feel so fucking weird.

You guys this was Henry’s dinner yesterday. Why.

Ok now I have to go back to watching a livestream of NCT Dream arriving at Incheon Intl Airport with RENJUN finally with them, instead of cooking Henry dinner like a good little wife because I am clearly part of the problem.

LOL.

I’ve been on this kick of printing out pictures of the three of us to frame, starting with our last trip to Korea and I am sad that we didn’t take more family pics. These are the only ones I have of all three of us together :(

I’m counting down to when we’re all together again, this is such a weird transition and really nothing prepares you for it!

This is your friendly reminder to take more pictures with your family, pets, etc. (and also, if you ever need to buy me a present, I am always accepting pictures frames of any size!).

Hey, it’s me, your least favorite Internet Sad Sack. I was (am, I AM) having a decent day but then I watched the Seventeen M Countdown comeback stage and it made me cry and feel overwhelmed with sadness again.

Janna made me feel comforted though because when I told her that I am genuinely scared to see Seventeen next week, she said that now this is something that Bambi can be there for too. I mean ouch but also aw!? This is such a peaceful way to think about it. Thank you, Jananananamanadanamdbam.

I don’t know if I have mentioned this, but we hung this Bambi memorial shelf right next to my work desk so sometimes I will reach over and put my hand on the Bambi box. I really wish that I could say that things are getting easier, especially for anyone who might be reading this looking for hope, but jfc it stings so much still on a daily basis. Every time I walk in the house and say, “Guys, I’m home” and have to thwack myself on the side of the head because the plural doesn’t apply here anymore.

The paper cranes were made by Chooch the week she died – he would make one and leave it on my work desk. He stopped at three, but I appreciate that he even made that many before losing steam! The green cat at the top was made my friend Lyda’s son. <3

I hate not being able to see her face in real life, I hate it so much.

The little tangerine fabric thing under the frame is a piece of what my Bambi tattoo was wrapped with. I thought I should keep a piece of it because that tattoo was part of the healing process.

The vet made this paw print mold for us. ;(

A jar of some of her fur. This is hard. We still have some left (the vet gave us an envelope of it) and I think I want to send some away to have it made into jewelry. I also want to do that with some her ashes, but that is really hard for me to think about still.

This box was provided by the cremation place, and it is fine for now but maybe I might want to upgrade to a nicer vessel someday. Again, it’s really hard still. I was a mess just looking for the fur receptable on Etsy.

OK bye.

We had a good weekend. Every time I can say that these days, it feels like an accomplishment. The day before was a bad day. I kind of slipped and fell back into the really bad sadness and it was scary, but I woke up on Friday and felt OK. I felt happy that we had plans for a haunted house that night. It doesn’t really seem that big, but these dumb things have been such a mammoth part of my life since the 90s and even though it’s few and far between these days when one sincerely scares me, I still have fun at most of them. I still enjoy writing in my haunted house journal (I bought Halloween washi tape from Amazon a few weeks ago, and Halloween stickers from Target last weekend! I’m like a little kid sitting here with my tongue peeking out from the side of my mouth as I carefully place scary accoutrements on the pages of my idiot journal, lol).

(ONE DAY, THESE WILL ALLLLL BE CHOOCH’S TO CHERISH!!! What a fun and worthless Will I am going to have.)

We only went to one haunt this weekend but it was a good one! And somehow, it was also a “new-to-us” one – Eerie Acres in the Butler County area (aka Trump’s Paradise, ugh). I have seen this one advertised for years but it never makes the list for some reason!? This year though, there was a Groupon for it and Henry and I are suckers a deal (haunted houses are expensive, people).

I already briefly mentioned this, but Helltown Brewing was there and we shared a can of their Oktoberfest while sitting near a bonfire waiting for our group number to be called and it was….really nice.  The epitome of an October evening, you know? Good weather, autumnal vibes, not-too-annoying people, excellent Halloween party pop music playing. Even though I was there with Henry (LOL), it was a good time! And the haunt itself was old school and had lots of opportunities for me to interact with the monsters and develop crushes (there was this alien….).

I kept taking pictures of us to send to Chooch who was not giving a shit because he’s living his best life in Philly right now and completely not missing his totally cool mom and embarrassing dad.

Ew, lol.

I dunno, empty nest life is OK so far. I feel like this was what we were doing the last few years anyway, with Chooch working and not really going to haunted houses with us anymore. UGH, it is still tough to reconcile though!

Later that night, I sent this picture of Penelope watching NCT Dream content to Chooch :) Note Henry’s bottle of FAYGO ROOTBEER in the background, such a dad bev.

Saturday started out dumbly. Well, no scratch that – it started out good because we swung by Megan’s to check on her cat, Penny, and Megan had left us a container of freshly-baked cookies with white chocolate chips and they were HEAVENLY. So that was a nice start to the day, also when Henry spilled my piping hot Dunkin’ coffee on his forearm in the car – that was also part of the “nice start to the day.”

(For me, anyway!)

Then we drove to HOUSTON, PA which is in WASHINGTON COUNTRY (see also: Trumpville, similar to the aforementioned Butler County) for a pumpkin festival. Just for something to do, it’s October, get off my basic back. Anyway, it was supposed to start at 10am, and there was also a parade starting at 10am but what wasn’t posted anywhere was the fact that the parking lot was literally blocked off to all access because of the parade – cop cars were blocking off every street that we would have needed to take to get there. AND HENRY THOUGHT HE WAS SO SLICK KNOWING ALL THE ALTERNATE ROUTES. Well, the parade gods were like, “LOL you thought. Not on our watch, sonny boy.”

This took about an hour out of our day and I was so pouty about it too, especially when Henry was like, “OH WELL WE TRIED” and just…started driving home?? Without a discussion? Without a sidebar at a local cafe over a seasonal latte and baked good?! Ooh, I was simmering. I glared out the passenger side window the whole way home. Actually, I even put on my headphones and listened to an audio book (I was near the end of A REALLY GOOD HORROR BOOK) like a moody teenager.

But then we got home, and it started raining so I guess it was good that we didn’t stay. Henry knew he was in trouble though so he started working on refurbing our doorbell to play the Kraftwerk song that I have been hounding him about for years, probably since we adopted Trudy. This appeased me greatly.

That night, we watched THANKSGIVING and I was so pleasantly surprised with how much I enjoyed it! It was the perfect blend of tongue-in-cheek and actual terror. That Addison Rae broad is in it and I had never heard of her until a few weeks ago and so I decided to watch one of her music videos and OK, but no.

Sunday. Sunday Sunday Sunday. Oh yeah, I met Pam at 802 Coffee on the Blvd and that was nice. I had cat-sat for her recently (apparently that’s what I do now, while I am still deep in mourning but that’s fine) and it was nice to just chat, I guess, except that she doesn’t care that I don’t like football and always wants to talk about that still.

Maybe I should just counter with kpop news every time she does that.

I got pumpkin chai at 802 because I am disappointed with their coffee and it was actually ok.

(Wow, I have been trying to write this throughout the day and I am in such an absolute shitty mood, I feel like I need to break several (pallets of) glasses. I am really so sick of everything tbh lol ugh fuck everyone.)

Ok slapped myself in the face and now I’m back. Nothing else to really report from the weekend. We went to Target. That was boring. We walked to Potomac Station because they have a sweet potato casserole latte for Pgh Coffee Week. I was disappointed. I had amazing sweet potato lattes in Korea and have yet to find any place here that makes comparable versions. So that was a waste of money but at least I got some steps in.

I guess.

But ugh I almost forgot I wanted to die because when the Potomac guy asked Henry if he wanted any flavor in his iced coffee, Henry was looking at the menu and goes, “Mmmmmm….horchata.”

The guy – and it’s this old man who is usually there when we go on weekends so he has to recognize us which means I can never go back – goes, “That’s….a drink.”

So Henry tried to play it off, like he meant to ask for brown sugar cinnamon instead.

Now, as this was playing out, I was only half-paying attention l because I was looking at the baked goods. So afterward, I whispered, “Did you just try to get horchata in your coffee as a flavor?”

“Uh huh!” Henry said loudly and confidently.

“You are so embarrassing!” I cried, and then texted Chooch about it later whose response was, “ugh he is so embarrassing.”

Mm, then we ended the night with another episode of the Menendez season of Monsters and I am just so disturbed. I remember the trial from when I was a kid but literally knew nothing other than two rich kids shot and killed their parents. Never knew the full story and now I wish I didn’t.

Well, now we’re going to Dunkin to see how bad they botched their version of an ube-flavored coffee drink.

Maybe I need therapy twice a week instead of just once.

UPDATE: Now I’m standing outside of Dunkin because I accidentally ordered an iced version of what I wanted and I almost started crying in the middle of the store so Henry went back in to get me a hot one god I just hate myself and everything around me. I ruin everything.

Sunday night truly took a turn. Henry and I had a really great time at the haunt we went to in West Virginia, but we had to take a detour on the way home because of major traffic on the usual route. This was fine, but it put us on some gnarly rural backroads during a lightning storm which was cool but also…not cool? We were even warned by the super townie clerk of a gas station to BE CAREFUL OUT THERE as we were checking out.

Then Henry, the Profesh Driver, got us lost-ish! He tried to play it off like he knew the whole time. “I shouldn’t have turned by that Circle K…” OK save it for your memoir, Henry.

Anyway, this, in addition to an impromptu pit stop at Walmart (ugh) set us back a good 45 minutes. And maybe you don’t believe in things happening for a reason, but I do. If none of this had happened, we wouldn’t have been on Potomac Avenue at the exact moment a woman was stumbling along the sidewalk, using storefronts as a crutch to hold herself up. Henry and I both groaned at the same time, because OH BOY public intoxication. But then I shook my head and said, “No, we should stop and help her. It’s not good for an incapacitated woman to be out here at night, alone.” Henry didn’t stop though because Henry doesn’t care about women. So, now we were at the red light at the end of Potomac, and he was like, “No, I am being a good Samaritan by watching her in the rear view mirror, you see” and OK cool? But now she was fucking ON THE GROUND, you guys, like she literally couldn’t even walk without the support of a wall.

“You have to turn around,” I said as the light turned green, and I could tell this was the last thing he wanted to do, being literally ONE MINUTE away from our house. But, he turned around and pulled to the side of Potomac just in time for us to see her fall again, while a couple crossed the street to get away from her.

I thought Henry was going to come with me, but he stayed in the car because he “didn’t want to scare her,” OK whatever you say big guy.

When I approached her, she had just made it to the restaurant formerly known as MeKong (please reference below map) and was teetering on the curb, about to cross in front of a car at a stop sign.

“Excuse me, are you OK?” I asked her, tentatively approaching. From the car, I thought she was a woman in her 60s but now I could see that she was much younger – late 20s perhaps. She had that 1990s Kerrie Strug gymnastic hair cut which made her look like an old lady from afar.

Hearing my voice made her abruptly veer toward me and when I say I almost screamed and ran…..her face was bloody, which I was NOT expecting, and she reached out her arms and started shambling toward to me like a zombie. She fell against me and Inner Erin was shrieking “HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT” but Present Erin was like STAY CALM, DO NOT FREAK THIS BROAD OUT.

I asked her where she was trying to go and she said Albert’s, which is a bar at the top of Potomac (past Molly’s, across the trolley tracks, and across the street). This is not a far walk by any means, but this girl was FUCKED UP, you guys. And it didn’t take me long to realize that it was not alcohol, and maybe not even drugs. She looked like she had been beaten, and very recently.

I got her safely across one street to the next block, where she fell again. I am not a strong person. I kept looking around frantically for Henry, who was continuing to do his civic duty by sitting in the car and supervising, I don’t even know but allow me to be a wimpy woman for a second and say that a man’s muscles would have been helpful in this moment.

I was able to pull her up and get her to a bench across from Jmart. I deposited her on the bench and knelt down in front of her, trying to get her to help me understand what was happening.

First, I told her that I wanted to call 911 but she FREAKED OUT. She was like, “No! No no no, I don’t want to embarrass myself, please don’t call.”

Then, I asked if there was anyone I could call for her to help her. I really didn’t think taking her to a bar in her condition was a good idea?! She had said there were friends there that she was meeting, but then she said she DIDN’T have any friends here, that she moved her from Southern California, she had gotten in a fight with her “man.”

THERE IT IS.

“Did he do this to you??” I asked.

She said no, she did it to herself. That she tries so hard to be perfect, and it doesn’t matter. She is so stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

I’m not a big people-y person but this was breaking my fucking heart. She was sitting on this wet bench, her tears mixing with the blood on her face, me trying to throw up at the sight of blood while trying to fill her head with affirmations of her worth.

“I can’t leave him. I’m not from here. I don’t know anyone,” she cried, knocking her glasses off onto the ground. When I picked them up for her, I noticed she was wearing two different boots.

:(

I asked her again if her boyfriend did that to her face. She firmly said no.

But she admitted that he was the one she was trying to get to at Albert’s.

Now I REALLY didn’t want to take her there!!! But she wouldn’t tell me where she lived. And I’m sorry, I wanted to do the right thing here, but taking her back to my house was not an option. I am a fucking sponge for people in need. I try to act like I don’t give a shit about people (and honestly, animals over people every day of the week) but the fact is, I am a goddamn bleeding heart. I was literally one bad decision away from this stranger living in Chooch’s vacant bedroom.

“What is your name?” I asked her, trying to get her to stay with me because now that was seated and not focused on walking, it seemed like she was about to spiral out.

“Stephanie,” she cried in a slurred baby voice. I introduced myself to her and she said, “Erinnnnnnnn. Thank you for your compassion.”

I couldn’t leave this girl sitting on a bench, I didn’t know where she lived, she was refusing potential assistance from paramedics/police. So, our only choice was to get up and keep walking to Albert’s. At the very least, she would be off the streets. That was my main concern at this point.

Meanwhile, there were people walking by here and there, and did any of them stop to ask if we were OK? ONE person. And when I said, “No!” and made pleading eyes, he just kept walking!

Stephanie was now opening up to me about a brain surgery she had had.  I am not sure if this was recent, but she said it was why she was having trouble walking (“Vertigo.”) but I am going go ahead and assume that she was concussed. She could barely walk a few feet without crumbling to the ground and nearly taking me with her every time.

I was taking everything with a grain of salt. I try not to be gullible. But what is the point in lying about a brain surgery? Was it even necessary to try and get further sympathy from me when I was already committed to helping her? She even tried to show me the scar on her scalp and I was like burping back my disgust while saying, “NO THAT’S OK I BELIEVE YOU.” When I say that I have spent ALL WEEK replaying this and dwelling on everything she said to me….

Anyway, now Henry is parked further up the street, across from where I am now tandem-shambling with Stephanie, like the worst So You Think You Can Dance audition. I made eye contact with him and mouthed, “A LITTLE HELP, PLZ!” but he claimed later that he “did not realize” I “needed help.” And that it looked like I “had everything under control.”

OMFG. FUCK OFF.

Yeah, I had everything under control until we got to the trolley tracks and she FUCKING FELL ON THE TRACKS. One trolley had JUST gone past and we were on that side of the tracks so I wasn’t too panicked but also UM YOU ARE ON THE TROLLEY TRACKS, PLEASE GET UP.

Henry saw this but was now back in motion, trying to find a new place to park the car. I truly don’t understand why he didn’t just leave the car in one of the other street spots he was sitting at and just walk!?  I DON’T UNDERSTAND HIM SOMETIMES but phew was I angry about this later on in the week when the adrenaline was wearing off and I was starting to QUESTION THINGS.

WHY ARE MEN SUCH ASSHOLES.

SPEAKING OF MEN BEING ASSHOLES. There were NUMEROUS men who had walked down from the trolley platform. Most walked right past us with nary a glance. One big man asked if I needed help and I said, “YES! PLEASE!”

BUT HE KEPT ON WALKING.

What the actual fuck??

And then these angel babies, the beautiful goddamn humans – a guy and a girl couple – stopped and said, “OMG do you need help??”

“Yes, please,” I said, near-tears. They both grabbed one arm each and gently pulled Stephanie back up on her feet. I thanked them profusely and said that I was trying to get her to Albert’s, which was now blessedly RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET. I could have left, I could have walked away, but I had to see this through to the end. I know she wasn’t my responsibility but at this point, I had begun to care about her and just needed to make sure she got off the street.

The man part of the couple walked Stephanie to the open door of Albert’s, which I could immediately tell was populated by Yinzer men shouting at “the game.”

“Anyone here friends with her?” the guy called out into the bar, while I filled in his girlfriend about the night’s events.

“Oh, shit! You don’t KNOW her?” she exclaimed.

“No, I* was driving past and saw her stumbling and wanted to make sure she was OK,” I said, explaining that I hadn’t found her on the trolley tracks (thank God) but way further down the street.

*(hey Henry, you wrote yourself out of the narrative by not getting your ass out of the car!)

“And you walked her all the way up here! That was very kind of you,” she said, and I needed to hear that because I wasn’t sure if this was stupid or not.

Now, some – forgive me – effeminate and small-statured man was walking to the door of the bar. He looked like a young The State–era Thomas Lennon and not intimidating at all. Did I get woman-beater vibes from him? No. But people show different sides behind closed doors…

He approached Stephanie slowly, with a look of shock, totally surprised to, what? See her in that state? Or see her in general? I heard him whisper, “What happened to you??” as he hugged her, and then they just stood there on the sidewalk in a weird half-embrace, staring at each other but not talking.

I….I don’t know. I don’t know what my gut was telling me here. “Don’t get involved”? “Knee him in the nuts”?

I did try to ask him if he did that to her, but they were in some bizarre zone and it was like no one existed on that sidewalk but the two of them. I stood off to the side with the couple, watching this, and they also looked skeptical. At first, it sounded like the boyfriend was going to take Stephanie home, but then they walked back into the bar together.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a good place for her,” the man part of the couple said, and I agreed. I considered going inside too but the girl part of the couple was like, “Look, you did all you could do. You got her off the street.”

And I guess so. There is a line, you know? There’s being a good person and then there’s being fucking stupid and putting your own self in danger. One of my co-workers was telling me all the things she would have done and making me feel like I let down all of womankind but not, what? Fighting him? Risking getting shot, stabbed, punched out? Potentially bringing future violence to my home?! You just don’t know. Yes, I wish I had called the police but like Henry the Worthless Bystander said  – the police won’t do anything if she says that nothing happened.

I don’t have the full story. She said that they fought. That doesn’t mean it was physical (though – a fight is a fight and even if it’s “just verbal,” that doesn’t discount it from being abuse). Maybe she really had done that to her face herself. I mean, she fell numerous times while she was holding onto me for support, and we had seen her falling from the car when we first drove past. So, who is to say that those weren’t cuts and scrapes and a busted lip from her repeatedly hitting the pavement?? Henry asked me if I looked at the boyfriend’s knuckles and I can’t say that I did. Maybe if Henry had been there AND NOT CRUISING AROUND LIKE A PUSSY, he could have put his armchair detective skills to use.

Other things to consider: why would he take her inside the bar looking like that if he had done that to her, right? And also, I would hope that the bartender’s red flag would be raised and they would keep an eye on the sitch?!

When I say I tossed and turned that night.

Dammit.

I hope she is ok. I hope this isn’t really an abusive relationship scenario. I think of my own past abusive relationship and how things could have turned out so differently for me if we had stayed together. How there were numerous times when he would stop in the middle of the road and make me get out of the car and I would either have to walk home or find a payphone and call someone. It makes me so mad to personally witness so many people stepping around her, not lending a hand. That could have been me.

(Also, I love that the day before this, some old lady in the Giant Eagle parking lot asked us if we would get her a shopping cart and Henry practically pushed me into a ditch so that he could be the hero. Funny how he’s always the hero when I’m the one out there doing THE REAL WORK.)

Did I help her or did I deliver her to the lion’s den? I think I’ll wonder about this for the rest of my life.

“Autumn happens so that we’re reminded that everything has to die to be new again.”

Fuck you.

This should have been one of the best years of my life – I got married in Korea, Chooch graduated high school, we did some nice family road trips.

But no, it’s easily one of the worst. Every time I think I’m ok, I lose my mind with grief. I spent a solid 30 minutes this evening crying so hard in bed that I started to hyperventilate- I miss my cat. I miss my kid. I miss waking up and looking forward to things. I want to be ok again.

I write in here because I don’t know what else to do. People ask how I am and I say fine because I feel like everyone is so sick of me grieving. Literally have not felt this much grief since my Pappap died, what is wrong with me. I am broken.

So now I’m sitting here with my eyes swollen while Henry is baking healthy zucchini bread or something so when I eat my feelings it won’t be too caloric?! Because yes on top of everything I am still weighing myself every day because I have body image images, which we have started to touch upon in therapy so that’s been fun. Apparently, I am still extremely affected by the body-shaming my grandma used to do to me when I was a young girl girl.

Maybe therapy is helping but it is also making me feel so raw and exposed and literally all I do is fucking cry now, I’m in my salty & swollen face era. Today was a pretty significant set back.

Something weird happened Sunday night which I have no energy to write about yet but that has also been bothering me this week and I think it will help to write about it but I also feel like I am going to HARD judged because I have only told 3 people the story so far and one person DEF judged me harshly and that made me feel like shit but hey – at least I’m feeling things and I’m not numb and dead inside at the mo’???

But yeah, that incident definitely had me crying this week.

I am so fucking sick of crying. Truly.

Losing Drew (otherwise affectionately known as “Bambi”) in July was in the top 3 worst things I’ve gone through, no hyperbole. I am still grieving her every day, processing the trauma, trying to get to the point where I can remember her neurotic antics and smile instead of crying my face off. Getting this memorial tattoo tonight by my favorite and most trusted tattoo artist Erin Hosfield at Kyklops was pure catharsis – yes, I’m sitting here crying over it but it’s ok because this is what healing feels like and now I have this beautiful portrait of Bambi’s face that I can take with me everywhere.

Bambi was a Carat – a fan of the kpop group Seventeen, so I knew I wanted their lightstick incorporated somehow. Erin brought it to life for me and I am so grateful.

Bambi was my best friend and I have sort of been floating through life without her. This makes me feel a bit more anchored. ❤️‍🩹 (Not gonna lie, though – my first instinct was to come home and show it to her 🥹.)

(Her Seventeen bias was The8, btw 😊.)

Eternally grateful to Erin at Kyklops. This means so much to me.

We’re going to see Seventeen in two weeks and I’m really stoked to be around other Carats during this dumb time of sadness.

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Part of me wishes I hadn’t gotten so attached to her but what if that would have made her life not as happy.

I was looking through old shit on my camera roll and this cracked me up. Chooch was obsessed with musical.ly in 2016.

And this one he filmed in my grandparents master bathroom back in the dark days when we were cleaning out the house.

Those were the days. Except not. 2016 was so bad, just like this year lol. Many parallels but hopefully not when it comes to Trump.

Thank god someone the Drexel Catholic group was on the ball yesterday for first day of classes or else this would have been a true of an era re: FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL PICTURES!

I’m so excited about this, less sad than I thought I would be because I can already see him thriving and it’s the coolest feeling for a parent. Henry and I are both so proud of him!

I mean, as long as he doesn’t get off track, that is!!

9:21am: Yo! It is Sunday morning, the day after NCT Dream and I am in that weird limbo state of being both happy and also having post-concert depression which I have to say hits different as a Kpop Stan. I have gone through many phases of music so I can say this with confidence and as if I have a PhD in these matters of the heart. We stayed at some Marriott in Cranbury, NJ after the original hotel in Wood-something NJ canceled the reservation during the concert last night so Henry had to scramble – RUDE! And then they still charged him so he had to fight with them while I was sleeping I guess to get our money back. (He did.)

Now we are stopping at Dunkin’ and heading out to Philly to give Chooch his TV and other crap he either forgot or wasn’t immediately needed last weekend. We drive a Kona so we couldn’t fit everything in one trip and knew we’d back out this way the next weekend much to Chooch’s delight lol.

Yesterday was pretty great, I have to say. Henry and I didn’t fight and I didn’t have any bad feelings and then we had amazing vegan food and saw NCT DREAM and for the first time since Bambi died, I almost feel like it’s going to be ok except that now I am crying because I mentioned her so…maybe some more time is needed haha 😩.

10:31am: we’re in Philly but Chooch just woke up and isn’t ready for us yet. Typical.

11:24am: Hilariously, we are now at Choochs dorm and Henry went to go park the car after unloading everything but then I couldn’t get into the dorm because I left my wallet at home and have no ID lllolol. I told the girl at the desk that I am the most irresponsible adult ever and she laughed in a way that said “don’t talk to me.” ;)

Anyway, now we’re waiting for Chooch to come back down so we can go get lunch I guess, I have no idea but I’m sad bc I was counting on using the bathroom in the dorm and now I have to hold it for the unforeseeable future.

11:45am :)

Guy in front of just licked Cheetos dust off his small child’s fingers and I almost vomited.

12:06pm: At Reading Terminal Market!

Henry spiraling out at the options. Sadly, the pretzel place was closed because Amish / Sunday. Luckily, we were aware of this in advance so there were no sudden disappointments to be had.

Stoked to have his photo taken again while he’s eating! It’s what MUM is best at.

Chooch and I got vegan deli sandwiches from LUHVS Deli – Chooch’s is the cubano and mine is corned beef. Obsessed. I loved the bread on mine especially. Chooch ate here earlier in the week and sent me a picture and said “I will take you here” and then when I asked him to take me there today he was like UGH FINE – wtf.

I don’t know what meaty thing Henry got but he also got ube fries!

This was so much fun and we actually didn’t fight!!

1:19pm: Now we’re at the art festival in Rittenhouse Square and this is chooch’s third and he apparently knows some of the artists at this point.

chooch and one of his artist friends who just exclaimed HEY YOURE BACK!

Apparently this guy’s roommate is from Pgh. Chooch is really making the rounds.

2:45pm: stopped for overpriced lattes at Le Pain Quotien and then some guy who has a table set up with a COME CHAT WITH ME sign interrupted a convo he was having with a young couple to tell me, “I just love your purse! I wanted to say it when you walked past before too” and then the couple sitting with him were like OMG and chooch was like WHY DOES EVERYONE LIKE THAT DUMB PURSE AND NOT MY CROCS?!” Also a man at 4th St Cookies also liked it!!!

You guys why am I loving this dumb rival city so much.

2:58pm: Chooch is taking us on the trolley for the first time!

3:04pm: Henry being obsessed with mastering a new public transit thingie now:

3:23pm: OK we just walked him back to his dorm and said goodbye and I am ok!! He even said “wow why were you sadder last week?” And I said, “because I realized now that I will be back to visit often so I’m ok” and he said “no. You won’t.” This is my new fave city, guys!

4:30pm: Stopped at a rest area and when Henry was collecting trash to throw out he “spilled Red Bull” on himself and when I saw it I burst out laughing and said, “I am NOT walking in there with you” while he was looking for pants to change into.

“Just go, asshole!” he said, as he was still getting the garbage (and the can of alleged Red Bull offender) together.

LOL I was cracking up alone on my walk through the parking lot so who looks more embarrassing, really.

4:44pm: Still at this fucking rest stop because Henry not only had to change pants but also “GO TO THE BATHROOM” aka POOP and now we’re waiting for our coffee. He tried to hold my hand and I said, “Ew people probably think you trafficked me, get off.”

4:49pm: On the way out, Henry said that not only did he have to change but he also had to TAKE OFF HIS UNDERWEAR bc they too were wet and he didn’t have an extra pair to change into!!!! I AM SO DEAD.

Meanwhile, an old man & youngish girl got out of a car and Henry said, “Did she get out of the backseat?”

“Maybe she’s being trafficked too. DO YOU KNOW THAT GUY? Is he a part of the same RING as you?”

But then as we drive past we saw that an older lady was in the passenger seat so I guess the more plausible explanation is that was a dad and daughter. Stand down.

6:56pm: Nothing cool or exciting has happened since my last check-in aside from me ranting about racist Americans and Karens complaining about people dancing at concerts.

7:45pm: An hour left. My throat hurts from last night. I’m calling this live blog. PISSSSSS OUT.