One step forward, two back

Lately, I’ve been full of anger again. I was doing well for a while, but some people really know how to push my buttons. Add the current political climate into the mix and it’s no wonder I’m spiraling. I know I should be exercising or doing something healthy to release all this frustration, but instead, I’ve been numbing out with TV, mobile games, food, alcohol, and sleep.

One thing that consistently grinds my gears: when people ask for my opinion or recommendations, only to dismiss them. You don’t have to ask to be polite—just don’t involve me if you don’t actually care. I’m done wasting my time. From now on, if I’m asked, I’ll just say, “I don’t know.” Not because I don’t have thoughts, but because I’m tired of having them ignored.

Maybe part of this is homesickness. Seattle grounds me. Even in the middle of the city, I feel connected to something real and rooted. Time with my sister here has been healing in ways I didn’t realize I needed. I wish we lived closer. I miss my husband, too. I know it’s hard on him, me being away this long. I just wish he were here to experience this place with me.

I don’t have much more to say. I’m just… mad. And maybe that’s okay for now.

Sipping Truth and Doubt

This morning, as I sip on my coffee and birds trade gossip across the trees, I found myself refreshing my screen waiting for a verdict in the Karen Reed trial. For months, I’ve followed this case like a low hum in the background of my life. My introduction came through the Netflix docuseries and a few podcast episodes from Law & Crime Sidebar. While many are fixated on whether or not she’s guilty, my attention keeps drifting towards the dark, tangled roots beneath the surface.

This case has pulled back the curtain not only on the alleged crime, but on the system surrounding it namely, the Boston Police Department and the troubling culture of silence and self-preservation that seems to exist within it. It’s easy to shrug this off as a “Boston problem,” but I see a wider reflection: a nation wrestling with eroded trust in the institutions that are supposed to protect us.

Somewhere down my spiral, I landed on a fact I still can’t shake. Legally, the police have no obligation to protect individuals. Their duty is to enforce the law, not to shield us from harm. That truth was dissected beautifully in the Radiolab episode “No Special Duty,” and it stuck with me like a splinter under the skin.

I know the True Crime genre gets a bad rap. It's been called exploitative, voyeuristic, even unethical especially by those closest to the victims. And yes, it can be all of those things. But it can also be a tool for awareness, a catalyst for accountability. The rise of the True Crime genre has shown that the public craves transparency and when institutions fail, citizen sleuths will unite and solve the crimes that the police either cannot or will not.

True crime, at its best, doesn’t glorify horror. It confronts it. It pulls us in not because we’re bloodthirsty, but because we want to believe there’s still a line between right and wrong .

As the sun climbs higher and a slight mist falls, I keep refreshing, not just for the verdict but for a sign that the system still works. Or at the very least, that enough of us are paying attention when it doesn’t.

Protest, Prawns, and a Personal Reset

The past few days have been a whirlwind of purpose, indulgence, and reconnection.

Seattle showed up in full force for the No Kings protest being peaceful, powerful, and deeply moving. Over 70,000 people marched here alone. Being part of that sea of humanity, united by hope and resistance, momentarily softened the sharp edges of fear I’ve been feeling in today’s political climate. I’ve been scared/lonely, even but surrounded by like-minded voices, I felt the weight of helplessness lift. Just a bit. There’s still hope. There has to be.

On a lighter (and far tastier) note, we celebrated my favorite sister’s birthday with omakase : an intimate culinary experience where you leave the entire meal in the hands of the chef. “Omakase” translates to “I leave it up to you” in Japanese, and trust me, we were in good hands. I tried sea urchin for the first time. Did I like it? Honestly… I think so? There was a generous pour of sake throughout the evening, so it’s a bit of a blur. But I do remember the prawn head being an unexpected favorite, the chef cracking jokes between courses, and leaving the table stuffed and smiling.

Now that I’ve synced up with the time zone and soaked in some quality sister time, it’s back to a semblance of routine. I’ve got a short to-do list forming:

• Practice. I hate when my chops start slipping. I miss the feeling of really playing.

• Prep brass warmups for my middle school kiddos (with video/audio tracks!). It can’t be that hard... right? Right?!

• Mourn (a little) missing the Heart of Texas Concert Band’s Fourth of July performance , one of my favorite shows to play in all year. 

Also, I started a new book series and even managed a gym session. Will that become a habit? TBD. But I’m trying to stop making excuses and start giving myself a bit more grace.

Seattle has been good to me. I’m hoping this little northwest retreat continues to be the mental reset I need heading into the school year ahead.

Here's my view today. 

Front Row Seats to Someone else’s Reality

Privilege. It comes in varying degrees and for most of my early life I never saw mine. The last 16 years I saw my privilege loud and clear every day at work. But now in this new environment I see so much more privilege than I can ever hope to have someday. I am fully aware that the grass is not always greener on the other side but when everyone waters and tends to the yard in an ecosystem that is conducive to growing grass it’s going to flourish. I have lived so much of my life in survival mode and yet I still feel privileged. A steady income, roof over my head and loved ones in my life to help when I am in need. It feels

 selfish to want more when others only dream of survival mode, they are only existing and experiencing struggles that could easily be avoided if the wealth was spread and the world focused on helping instead of fighting and hating people that are different. 

This PNW neighborhood is full of affluent white people and some affluent Asians. I do not see law enforcement in tactical gear. Children roam freely in the neighborhood with confidence and dogs get their daily walks as do elderly people. This peace is the privilege I see on screen and tell myself it doesn’t really exist. The truth is that it doesn’t exist for me where I come from. My husband and Penny have been attacked twice walking in our neighborhood by unleashed dogs. The elderly stay in doors to be protected from the heat and the there are not that many places they can go that is with in walking distance, in face most of the neighborhoods do not have side walks. 

I enjoy people watching from my favorite sister’s patio. It makes me want more out of life and this peace is intoxicating. 

You will probably get tired of me repeating myself but I LOVE this climate. I LOVE being outside here. Of course there is negative voice that whispers in the back of my head tells me I don’t belong here and everyone can tell. My skin tone, RBF, bank balance and TexMex accent is my biggest insecurity here. Am I destined to always feel out of place or unwanted? 

Notes From a Different Spring

 “Alone”

BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

From childhood’s hour I have not been 

As others were—I have not seen 

As others saw—I could not bring 

My passions from a common spring— 

From the same source I have not taken 

My sorrow—I could not awaken 

My heart to joy at the same tone— 

And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone— 

Then—in my childhood—in the dawn 

Of a most stormy life—was drawn 

From ev’ry depth of good and ill 

The mystery which binds me still— 

From the torrent, or the fountain— 

From the red cliff of the mountain— 

From the sun that ’round me roll’d 

In its autumn tint of gold— 

From the lightning in the sky 

As it pass’d me flying by— 

From the thunder, and the storm— 

And the cloud that took the form 

(When the rest of Heaven was blue) 

Of a demon in my view—

This poem by Edgar Allan Poe has played on repeat in the back of my mind, a haunting refrain I’ve never quite been able to mute. Its themes of loneliness, dissonance, and feeling out of tune with the world have accompanied much of my life. From my earliest verses to the bridge I'm living now, I’ve struggled to find harmony in the spaces around me. Even when I think I’ve found my people, there’s often a flat note in the chord, a subtle off-beat that reminds me I’m not quite in sync.

Is that just part of the human song? Maybe. I like to think it’s partly the result of my own unique rhythm as well as my neurodivergent melody, full of impulsive key changes and unexpected time signatures. But then again, aren’t we all soloists in our own way? Each composed of experiences and timbres that no one else can replicate. And yet… if we’re all created in God’s image, doesn’t that make us part of some divine symphony?

I’m not sure where this thought progresion resolves but maybe that’s the point. Not every passage needs resolution—some notes are meant to drone on.

Now to change the key: today is beautiful. A soft prelude plays in the breeze as I watch the early morning dog-walkers. I can almost hear their footsteps like a quiet percussion line. I wish Penny were here to walk beside me, tail wagging. She deserves more than the Texas relentless heat, she deserves cool, melodic mornings like this one.

Anyway, that’s my improvisation for the day. Thanks for stopping by my very short TED Talk—LOL. Or maybe it’s more of a lo-fi spoken word track. Either way, thanks for reading.

Adaptability

Thanks for coming back to my TED Talk… just kidding. 😄

Plans change and mine took a sharp left turn recently. At first, I felt torn somewhere between devastation and relief. My dream road trip to visit my favorite sister in Seattle was still happening… just not the way I had imagined it. Instead of making the journey with my co-pilot Penny (my sweet pup), I flew here solo.

I thought long and hard about bringing Penny on the plane, but the idea of her riding in cargo made my stomach twist. I just couldn’t do that to her. So, with a heavy heart, I made the decision to leave her behind where she is safe and spoiled at home.

Focusing on the silver linings, this unexpected detour allowed me to show up in ways I hadn’t planned. I got to take part in some important planning sessions for the upcoming year at work, catch valuable face time with our new Jefa, and soak up some much needed laughter and love with my bestie.

I’ll be honest I was a little uneasy about the idea of traveling alone, especially in this climate. With California on my original route, I’d been closely watching the rising tensions and brave protests pushing back against federal overreach and discrimination. My heart is with the people out there making noise for justice. I hope their courage is met with change and above all, that their protests stay safe and powerful.

Fast-forward to now: I arrived in Seattle last night, and I’m already falling for this city all over again. You guys—it's summer, and it’s 58 degrees. The sky is a moody grey, the sun tucked behind clouds, and there’s the gentlest breeze dancing through the trees. Even here in the city, I'm surrounded by green trees that whisper and breathe and remind me I’m still connected to the Earth. I never feel that back home. 

Sure, I miss my husband, my fur-babies, and my best friend back home. But sitting here on my favorite sister’s patio, wrapped in a hoodie and fresh air, I feel grateful. Grateful for change, for detours, and for the beauty of simply being here. 💚

The Prep

This summer marks a new chapter for me. Writing has often felt like navigating a maze, fraught with obstacles. Yet lately, I have come to realize that it is the most profound way for me to articulate my thoughts and emotions. Alongside my writing, I will also document my travels through video.Youtube channel?? 

Once, I believed that music was my greatest form of therapy, but I am now open to exploring new avenues of expression. The summer of 2025 will be dedicated to my journey from Texas to Washington, accompanied by my loyal dog, Penny. This will be a long road trip, filled with adventures and discoveries.

I intend to maintain a detailed log of my experiences and share them with you. Thank you for joining me on this exciting journey.

This trip is going to take a lot of planning—and I’m already playing catch-up. I’ve started making a list and have a pretty good idea of how I’m going to get there. A few things are already figured out, and I’m working on making my truck as comfortable as possible since I’ll be sleeping in it.

Over the past six months, I’ve been picking up gear for the journey—like an inflatable mattress that fits in the back seat, and I even made my own privacy window shades. I've also been mapping out EV charging stations and national parks I want to visit along the way.

And just to ease my sister's mind: no adventurous hikes, I promise—LOL. My goal is to make it to Washington in one piece! Safety is a top priority, so I’ll definitely be picking up some pepper spray and a taser before I leave.

Penny’s coming along for the ride too. She’ll definitely keep things interesting—that’s a guarantee.