2023

All posts tagged 2023

Happy 2023!

Published January 1, 2023 by Malia

Shortly before I drifted off last night, I checked my phone and it said it was 23:23. For those of you who don’t read military time, that’s 11:23 p.m. (Years of working in healthcare converted my brain to operate on military time, and I tend to forget not everyone knows how to read it.) It’s not the first time I’ve fallen asleep before midnight on New Year’s Eve, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. I’m sure that child Malia would be horrified that I don’t sit up, waiting excitedly for the clock to turn over to the new year. Staying up until midnight loses some of its magic once you are out of your teens.

And now, it’s 2023. This May will mark twenty years since I graduated high school. And before you ask, no, I don’t plan to attend my class reunion. I didn’t attend my 10 years, and now I avoid Facebook as much as humanly possible, so I won’t know if there are plans for a 20-year.

18-year-old Malia had very little direction in her life. Oh, I thought I knew what I should do with my life, but I was really quite clueless. I had a talent for music and the next logical step was to go to college to become a music teacher. Did I want to be a music teacher? I told myself I did. It made sense. People in my life were very encouraging that this was what I should do, and that once I finished my bachelor’s I should become a music therapist. The idea absolutely terrified me, but people in my life were gung-ho about the idea, and ever the people-pleaser, I tried to reconcile myself to the idea of this future. A future I swore I wanted to pursue.

Kids, if you’re reading this and find yourself in a similar position, learn this lesson from me. Never make decisions about your future based on what other people (even the most well-meaning, loving people) encourage you to do. You will regret it (and possibly end up in a mountain of debt).

I’m sure it will come as a shock to no one that I didn’t become a music teacher, let alone a music therapist. My epic failures at attaining any kind of college degree deserve their own blog posts (stay tuned for those).

I’ve spent the last two decades trying to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up. Trying to find a place I belonged. While I did eventually get my associate’s degree to be a vet tech, working in vet clinics is not the right place for me. I eventually landed in lab medicine. There are aspects of working in lab med that I adore. That said, there’s a level of stress in that environment that I just can’t cope with. The nightmare that was 2020 (a.k.a. Covid: Year One), cemented in me that lab medicine wasn’t where I belonged either.

2022 is the year when I finally figured out the puzzle of where I belong and what I should do.

The first piece started falling in place at the tail end of February. I began writing, and for months the words flowed out of me. Life got a little intense this past fall, and I wasn’t able to devote any time to writing, but now that things have quieted down again I’m ready to get back to it. My next post will tell the story of what actually happened on February 24, 2022.

The second piece fell into place in December. I auditioned to become a volunteer reader for Radio Talking Book Service (rtbs.org). I passed the audition, and when I went into record for the first time, I fell in love. I feel like I finally found a place where I actually belong. And the joy I feel doing this has made me decide to revisit something I started trying to do back in 2020.

Back when the pandemic got going, I briefly did something I called Bad Accent Storytime. I was making live videos reading public domain books. Why the bad accents? I wasn’t intentionally doing bad accents, but I knew I have no skill when it comes to doing accents and just decided to own it. The effort was short-lived, mainly due to the fact that my job took over my entire life.

I want to go back to reading books on stream. No attempts at accents this time.

Now, I know in my last post I made a big deal out of how I hate that question, “Where do you see yourself in 5 years?”. I still hate that question, and while I have absolutely no idea where I see myself in 5 years, I do have plans for this year. What better day than today, January 1st, to share those plans?

#1. Finish and self-publish three novellas. I currently have 3 planned. One I’ve almost finished the second draft, one is still in its first draft, and one currently only exists as an outline.

#2. Revive my Twitch channel and stream live readings.

#3. Post new blog posts a minimum of once a week. While I’d like to be ambitious and say I’ll post new content every day, that’s just not realistic. However, once a week is.

Here’s to 2023. Let’s make some content and do some good!

So, where do you see yourself in five years?

Published December 31, 2022 by Malia

I hate that question. I despise that question. And the next time I get asked that in a job interview, I’m tempted to go full Phoebe Buffay.

If you had asked me that question on 12/31/2012, I’d have stared at you like a deer in the headlights. Possibly, I’d have mumbled something about having a job. And if you’d asked me that on 12/31/2017, I’d have gone full panic mode while I scrambled to come up with something to convince you that I wasn’t just drifting aimlessly through life.

Ten years ago, nothing could’ve prepared me for what the following decade would bring. If you’d told me even a fraction of those things were going to happen, I wouldn’t have believed you. I might have even laughed at you.

And now? It’s the end of 2022.

It has been quite the year. I’m ending it in a much better headspace than I started it.

I spent the first two months in such a deep depression I could barely able to get out of bed. If I hadn’t had the dogs to take outside, I wouldn’t have left bed at all.

I began writing. Really writing. There are a few novels worth of words that have managed to leave my brain and take physical form.

I had to put Groot down in September. I don’t know that I’m ever going to truly heal from this loss. She was my closest companion for five years. Saw me through some of the darkest times of my life. I miss her more than I ever thought possible.

I end this year knowing what I want to be when I grow up. I’m not sure how to accomplish it, but I’m going to manage it somehow.

I have plans for 2023. I’m back. The blog is back.

That said, there are a few things I should mention before I proceed into this next year.

I’m not the same person I was 12/31/2012. I’m not the same person I was 12/31/2017. I’ve changed quite a bit. Mostly for the better, I think. I know that there are those who will strongly disagree with me about this. I spent decades being a person that pleased everyone else, and I can’t be that person anymore.

I have opinions now. Actual opinions. I’m no longer thinking the thoughts I’ve been told I have to think because they’re the only thoughts God wants me to think. God gave me a brain and I’ve started learning how to actually use it.

You must tell the truth if your dialogue is to have the resonance and realism that Hart’s War, good story though it is, so
sadly lacks—and that holds true all the way down to what folks say when they hit their thumb with the hammer. If you
substitute “Oh sugar!” for “Oh shit!” because you’re thinking about the Legion of Decency, you are breaking the
unspoken contract that exists between writer and reader—your promise to express the truth of how people act and talk through the medium of a made-up story. -Stephen King On Writing

This is one of the most important lessons I learned from On Writing. Why do I bring this up here? It’s because this entire blog has not been truly honest. Oh, the posts are all true. I’ve never lied in what I’ve shared here. The posts have all been honest, but what you’ve read up until now has been the extremely sanitized version. I never wanted to post anything that might make people uncomfortable or that could be considered even the tiniest bit offensive.

The truth is, I cuss…a lot. I’ve been going through intense religious deconstruction, and I’m filled with thoughts and questions. My mental health is a constant battle. I read and write romance. Sometimes what I write is explicit, but it’s always respectful between consenting adults. I have handled many things in my life poorly. I’m neurodivergent. I screw up more than I succeed. I’ve hurt people and been hurt by people. I’m a flawed human being.

Think of my writing and me like pineapple pizza. Some people are going to love it, and some people aren’t. I’m slowly starting to be okay with that.

The days of people-pleasing, bland, non-offensive writing are done. If that’s the kind of writing you’re hoping to continue seeing here, you’ll be very disappointed. I completely understand if you’re not interested in sticking around because of this. Thank you for the support you’ve given me over the years. I have read every comment and felt a rush of happiness every time I’ve been sent a notification that a post has received a ‘like’.

So, 2023. Let’s do this thing.