hello tadpost!

today (06/03/26), i spent four hours at jerry's artarama, from 1-5pm. i needed to fulfill a community service spot to qualify for my massage license through good ole' lauterstein-conway. i was worried i'd be the only person (working free chair massage) there, but lauren also showed up. i had never met her before. we got along well, and i wasn't stressed about talking to her, which was nice and doesn't always happen.

i made some impulse purchases and bought my first bumper sticker. my dad is going to be upset with me, and probably most of my family anyway, but i'm very excited. it's hot pink and has a hazy close-up photo of a guitar in the background, with white text in all lowercase: "i'm driving like shit because i'm shoegazing." a nod to one of my favorite music genres, even if it's not my immediate go-to all the time (or if people don't get the reference).

i appreciate having tangible moments like this chair massage event where i'm reminded that i'm meant to become a massage therapist. i {will} always love it, even in these moments where i made negative dollars, since students are not allowed to receive any kind of compensation whatsoever for student work.

tomorrow, i graduate from massage classes. we will meet in classroom #2 for the last time. our instructor mattie, and my classmates: amber, barbs, kaylee, lisa, anthony, moses, thomas, marissa, ariel, rachel, rob, madi, jaylin, and me. robin, one of our teacher's assistants over the past year, and sibohan, another instructor who i would call my mentor, will also be there. i am worried i will be a wreck. i'm tired of "losing" safe spaces. i know this is just the passage of time, and this course was never, and should never, go on into perpetuity, but there is something in this classroom i'm afraid to forget.

for 12 months, from june 2025 to june 2026 i have showed up every tuesday and thursday night, from 6pm-10:30pm. two times a week, i prepare myself and my supplies to go learn something with my hands. a trade ai cannot take from me. a skill that will only get better with time. i've learned more about myself, and my consciousness has expanded into every thread of my body. i understand more about my habits, my postures, my aches and pains. i look around and can recognize the potentials of other peoples' experiences in their bodies. over the past year, i've become a new person. one that lives independently and mostly alone. i started t. i changed my name. i wear an almost completely new wardrobe (save for my ever-present, all-black converse, oversized jorts, and ripped up t-shirts). i've started going to the gym (something i did not think was possible for me before). i got on anxiety medication. i started being more aware of my nutrition, and lost 15 lbs (and counting) without starving myself. i've tracked my spending every month since january 2025. i won two awards for my writing, with monetary prizes. i've worked myself to the bone, and cut back my schedule. i'm proud of myself. i can see a future where i am happy. i've begun to grieve things i couldn't handle before. i've kept my job for a year and five months (and counting). i got two raises. i've scheduled and taken care of my own doctor, dentist, optometry, chiropractic, and veterinary appointments. i've created systems around my home that generally work for me, not against me, and i have ideas for more.

i'm excited for the life i'm building toward. i could not say that a year ago. not confidently, like i can now. i can no longer rely on the beat-down, shame-inducing mantras of "i've never finished anything i'm passionate in," "i can't be consistent with something, fall off, and get back into it again," "i can't move my body like that," "i can't talk to people so easily," "this test is so much harder and so different than every other one i've been worried about," etc. etc. etc.

that isn't to say i don't have things i still wish i were better at. i've been pretty isolated in the past year, and still struggle to maintain friendships. i especially struggle to reach out when it matters most (aka, when i'm in incredibly depressive periods where i spend days in bed: sleeping, scrolling, avoiding notifications, and not eating). i'm not as consistent with my routines as i'd like to be. i don't get enough sleep. i don't clean my apartment as much as i should. i don't cook enough. i make a lot of impulse purchases. i haven't been going to the gym as often. still, it's easier to see that "it'll pass," instead of "this is who i am forever now." when this was really hitting, about a week ago, i blamed it on the blue moon in sagittarius which happened on may 31st. i will keep blaming these periods on the blue moon in sagittarius, or the like. (in the woo-woo way, not the hobby lobby sign way:) it inhales all my shame, and exhales grace.

my initial reflection on feeling as though i was accomplishing nothing is encapsulated in the enclosed poem: intercostalis, or "nothing accomplished." i learned that "intercostalis" is a word that refers to both the muscles in between the ribs, and a species of sea snail: the "turbo intercostalis" or "the ribbed turban." this sent me down a rabbit hole of wikipedia articles, finding more and more connections from chest anatomy and physiology to this marine life. in a fascinating way, a lot of the connections seemed to be found in terms also related to photography or cameras. thus, i worked to create a snapshot of that wednesday spent hollow and numbingly hungry in bed by explaining the disembodied/fossilized feeling of executive disfunction at this level (in a creative way, of course). at this time, i haven't made the collage i imagine for the postcard/poem print or the like, but it's marinating. perhaps i'll have more to say about it when i do finish.

for now, it is 11:05pm, and i need to go to bed so i can get up early enough to hit the gym.

much love, the camo toad