it's way easier than opening a new website, logging in because it's been too long, deciding on a post title, and then writing something that feels worthy. and when you're ready to publish, ghost (the name of my publishing software, not an apparition haunting my new bedroom) asks if you want to email it to all the people who have subscribed to your words.

i said the other day, when i finally made my "where have you been" update video, i don't often get impostor syndrome. i know i'm good at what i make. i don't feel like an impostor when it comes to writing. i feel like an impostor of a person.

• is this post worth turning into a newsletter?
• do people still care about what i'm doing?
• i'm just bothering them, right?

if you're one of those people who doesn't have an internal monologue, i envy you right now because this is my brain all day long.

but as much as i bemoan how much, or rather how little, i blog these days, i've come to realise it's probably a natural consequence of ageing and being a person who has been online, in some form or another, since 1996. i think i'm sick of myself.

(i had my first real driving lesson last week. before, i had only driven with family members. but i gotta figure out a way to pass the test, so i'm going pro. he said, near the end of our hour, "stop telling yourself it's hard," and he's right. it's not exactly the secret, but reinforcing negative beliefs can't be good for a mind like mine which loves to latch onto something and obsess.)

i've been blogging since 2002. i remember this because one of my earliest posts was about the first anniversary of 9/11. i was 19, out of school, and slept through the whole thing (granted, i'm in pacific time). i'm 43 now, and i don't know how much more i have to say in this format. i still write in my journal, i send interesting links to friends, and i'll keep making zines and books. but maybe i've grown out of blogging—at least what we called blogging back then.

but once a month? i can do that. erin mckean sends a newsletter on the 11th every month: things i learned while looking up other things. reo eveleth documents what they consumed and what they produced each month. eler de grey lets you decide what you want to read and how often.

i've been thinking about how to—not rebrand, but focus. i still try to do too much. yesterday, a name came to mind: YOUR PDF BFF. because mostly what i make is PDFs, but every month, i could collect a handful of the most fucked up PDFs i've found around the web. we'd start with this tumblr post:

sunday zine club #14 ends at 10am pacific this sunday. you have time to make a zine! (the theme is STAR.) i have to make mine, too, because this summer—whew!

the jam is still on itch.io (iykyk), but the only real thing you need to do in order to participate is make and share a zine. sundayzineclub.com points to a page on my website where i've created an archive of the past jams. on tumblr, use the tag #sunday zine club to share.

(oh wait i think i just got an idea!!)

at the beginning of july, my grandpa died suddenly. at the beginning of august, i quit my job and gave my landlords notice. at the beginning of september, i packed up and moved in with my grandma, an hour away from home. at the beginning of october, i'll start a three-month course to learn how to be a bookkeeper. at the beginning of 2026, i'll pass my driving test? here's hoping.

so life is very different than what i thought it would be at the beginning of 2025. it's wild and difficult and scary and exciting, but wow did i need to do this. i started that job in 2014 and moved into that apartment in 2015. ten years i've been—not stuck, but in a holding pattern with nowhere to go. and now everything is different. i'm hoping that's a good thing.

during the terrible winter of 2016 (it wasn't just the uncharacteristic snow we got here), i did yoga teacher training—another skill i know i can always turn into money in the future. that course gave me a goal, a built-in support group, and a reason to get out of my apartment most days. that course saved my life that year.

two more weeks of funemployment before i start back at school. i think this course can save my life again.