Tuesday, September 26, 2023

Is This Thing (still) On??

As I begin this post, it doesn't have a title. I may add one later if something suitable comes to mind, or it may remain untitled. My life seems to be taking shape without instruction from me, so why shouldn't my blog?

Also, I'm typing this without my glasses on, but the muse won't allow me to get up and retrieve them for fear that I'll "ooh, SQUIRREL" my way into another thing that begs to be done RIGHT NOW, so if there are typos or other weirdness, blame it on my sketchy vision.

I now have a villa in Mexico. Read that again.
Have=rent, but still... 
here I am with two places to be and only one butt to put in them.

Currently - I'm typing from my office, which has a beautiful view of a very verdant yard. I've already fashioned a makeshift VO booth in one of my cabinets that works pretty well until I can get 'hold of some acoustic foam instead of bed pillows.
Still... it's my office in the Caribbean. Huzzah. 

'Scuse me - I had to stop to scratch one of many fresh mosquito bites that have mysteriously appeared on my legs, as (I'm learning) is pretty common when one spends time in the tropics. "The JUNGLE," to be exact, as I was recently reminded by a new friend when I told her that a gecko had happened by one evening. I'm not afraid of lizards... I think they're cute! Also, they eat bugs, which I AM afraid of.

I'm guessing that you would like to know how this happened. lol (for real)
Well - I'm still wondering at that myself.

I've been in the throes of burnout since 2019 but didn't realize it then.

I think I'm far enough into this post to go get my glasses and be trusted to come back and tell you the rest. Be right back...

Friday, May 28, 2021

Unpopular Opinion: "Currency"

I've never cared much about money beyond it being a tool that I need in order to function in society. No need in hoarding it when there are people in need and you sure can't take it with you when you die, which we all will.

The perceived status conferred by owning the latest car or the must-have handbag is lost on me. I'm a proponent of doing something that you enjoy and finding a way to make it make money for you. This is how I advise anyone who asks me and it's how I live my life. I've been told that I'm crazy for thinking this way since I was a teen, so if you think I'm crazy, get in line. If I stumble upon a pile of money, I'll welcome it (and end up giving most of it away), but I'm not willing to sell 60+ hours of my life each week to a job that I dread just so I can buy a bunch of stuff to impress other people. So not my jam. I'm motivated by keeping life interesting for myself. "Can I make a living as an actress?" Yes, I can and I have. "Can I write and produce a series?" Yes, I can and I have. "Can I learn to paint?" Yes, I can and I have. That sort of thing is exciting to me: challenging myself to grow.

It's from this vantage point that I look at the current trend of people opting to not return to their underpaying jobs in lieu of receiving unemployment, and I say "Good on 'em."

My mom and I have a (mild) disagreement at times. She will say "It's good to have a job." I'll say "It's good to have what you need - job or no job." Being hoodwinked into believing that there is something inherently honorable about working yourself to death at some random job is one of the biggest coups that our society has ever pulled. There is some work that is "sacred work" and that usually involves helping people to be better. Selling widgets (or burgers, or whatever) from "cain't see to cain't see*" so that the wealthiest of wealthy people can hoard their treasure troves and enjoy leisure time not afforded to most is a HUSTLE. And some hustles need to be knocked.

So yeah, if you make more money on unemployment than you do at your pre-pandemic job, keep getting unemployment while you hatch an escape plan. And if coordinating with others to buy GameStop stock or cryptocurrency allows you to leverage the power of numbers against the status quo, do that too. The game is rigged and capitalism is a race to the bottom because it fosters the illusion of scarcity in a way that encourages people to do ANYTHING for money. Then we wonder why the whole place is in shambles.

Our time here is finite: find YOUR way to expend your time and energy it in a way that works for you. If you're selling your life, make sure you exact the most comparable return possible.


*from the dark of morning 'til the dark of night

Thursday, May 27, 2021


(Written May 26, 2021)


I posted a video on social media yesterday (I'm "@NicoleJButler" on all social media except Pinterest, where I had to add a "1." πŸ˜’), letting everyone know that I'm going through cancer treatment. I mulled it over for a while to be sure it was what I wanted to do, and decided that it was. Now everyone who wants to know, can know, which allows them to process their feelings in their own time and keeps me from having "the conversation" over and over again.

The cancer center where I'm being treated offers a few *special* perks to those of us undergoing active treatment: yoga and tai chi classes, weekly sound baths, an art workshop, and 4 free "wellness" appointments including massage, acupuncture, acupressure, and one other thing that I always forget. 

Today I got a massage before my treatment. My (ahem) "area being radiated" has been very sore & swollen lately, so I couldn't lie face down. The masseuse, whom I saw for the first time last week,  told me to stay face-up and she would modify the massage. It went just fine and I floated out taller and more relaxed when I came it. I went downstairs, got my daily zap from the radiation machine, and went on my merry way. I ordered lunch for pickup (Zankou Chicken πŸ˜‹), picked it up, and headed home. Once home I took my ADHD meds (which I had forgotten to take in the morning since I left earlier than usual so my "take your meds" alarm hadn't gone off yet), and because I was still in pain, I decided to take 2 acetaminophen (generic Tylenol)  capsules instead of my usual 1.

I sat down to eat and about 10 mins into my meal, my legs started itching. Then my hairline. Then my scalp, then my- OH NO - I remember this... I'm breaking out in to hives! (WARNING: If you want to see a few pix of the hives, click the link that follows this parenthetical. If you think photos of hives might freak you out, don't click the link.) Photos are here: https://photos.app.goo.gl/28g5P68swxK21ufGA

I put my lunch into the microwave, took a Benadryl, then headed straight for a lukewarm shower. The hives multiplied as I showered and I scratched as much as I dared. I got out of the shower, called a good friend who lives in my building, and asked if he would PUHLEEZE run to CVS and get me some hydrocortisone ASAP. He left immediately, I popped another Benadryl, and took pix to text to my mother, my sister, and a couple of trusted friends for advice. My mother told me to call my doctor. I called the nurse at the cancer center, told her what was happening, and asked if this was a possible side effect from radiation treatment. She assured me that it wasn't and said that she wanted to tell me to take Benadryl but since she didn't know what I was reacting to, she'd prefer that I go to the ER or urgent care. Way ahead of ya, Sis - Benadryl up to bat, hydrocortisone on deck. I talked to my friend while he was at CVS, bless his heart, and he sounded panicked. I tried to keep him calm and guide him through the store as I watched the hives continue to multiply and I continued to scratch. I literally had hives from my head to my feet. He found what I needed and brought it to me. I slathered myself in hydrocortisone, turned up the AC and lay on my bed. After about 1/2 hour, the hives on one thigh looked like they were starting to flatten out into one big lesion, and, drowsy from the Benadryls I decided that meant I was getting better and I could doze off. I vowed that if I was still all hived-up when I awoke, I'd go to the ER.

I awoke about... 3.5 hours later and the hives were almost completely gone, thankfully! As I type, I'm still a little itchy in spots, but nothing I can't deal with. 

At this point, I'm guessing it's either the massage oil that the masseuse used or the extra acetaminophen capsule that I took, or even the fact that I took a generic instead of an actual TYLENOL. I broke out in places that the masseuse didn't massage, so the oil would have had to travel via my bloodstream (which can happen) in order for me to break out all over my body. I'm also allergic to NSAIDS and acetaminophen is the only over-the-counter oral pain med that I can still take, so it could be the culprit. I hope not because the thought of getting through the final week and a half of radiation with no pain meds is daunting.

2021 seems to be the gift that keeps on giving. I'm really hoping the latter half is better than this first half has been.

Pray for me. πŸ™πŸΎ


Going Public

(Written May 24, 2021)

Parts of my life are public because of what I do for a living, but I'm pretty private. Not really "secretive," I just don't think every move I make is everybody's business, nor is my day-to-day life interesting enough for me to delude myself into believing that every event is newsworthy. Social media (+ blog) makes it easy to shout every thought from the rooftops, but that doesn't mean that it's necessary, in my opinion.

Lately, though, I'm having to have "the conversation" more and more, and it's tough. People get sad and don't really know what to say, which I understand completely, so I try to make them feel better, but nobody really feels good about being on either side of the "I'm in cancer treatment." conversation.  Instead of having multiple conversations about cancer, I'm going to post it on social media and anyone who's interested enough in my life & career to follow my various accounts will know about my diagnosis. After having the conversation twice last week, I recorded a video then decided against posting it. I had to have the conversation again this weekend, and was urged to "tell [my] fans." I was going to post today, but didn't want to interfere with my sister's enjoyment of her birthday, so I'll go public tomorrow.

How am I feeling? Meh. Very sore with the occasional shooting pain. Mostly lethargic and fatigued. After treatment, I feel myself getting more and more tired as I walk the short distance to my car, and I rarely get through the day without at least one (long) nap. Tylenol helps with the pain. My skin is sensitive and turning darker now (the discoloration is *supposed* to go away in time), but no blistering or anything like that. 9 treatments to go. I honor myself by accepting where I am, but do my best to avoid wallowing by reminding myself that it could be much, much worse. I'll be fine. Different, but fine.πŸ’™


The TWO "Cs" (and I don't mean Chanel)

(Written on May 17, 2021)

Been a minute. You already know that I'm in treatment for breast cancer...

But I also caught friggin' COVID. 🀬 I'm sure that I caught it at the hospital. I had to have my mask off for an hour and a half for some tests and 3 days later I started coughing. I have allergies and sometimes I wake up with a cough or sneeze or a random sore throat. I'll take allergy meds and I'll usually get better later in the day. I felt better that afternoon so I chalked it up to allergies. 

THEN I woke up coughing for the next 3 days and each day I felt worse & worse. On the 4th day, which happened to be the day before I was to start radiation treatment, I looked at my face in the mirror and I didn't like the way my eyes looked. I decided to get a rapid COVID test for my own peace of mind, and I tested positive. A friend suggested that I get the PCR test because it's supposed to be more accurate, so the next morning after postponing radiation for 10 days and canceling a podiatry appointment, I went to CVS for drive-up testing. Two days later, my results came back negative, which puzzled me because I was clearly sick: coughing like crazy, no appetite, headache, low-grade fever, upset stomach for a couple of days, shortness of breath (which was very scary). Another friend of mine told me that I should ask for monoclonal antibodies. I had been under the impression that I needed to wait until it looked like I might need to go to the hospital to request them, but he told me he had seen commercials that said I needed to ask BEFORE it got that bad. I thanked him and decided to err on the side of caution - I scheduled a virtual appointment with my primary care doctor for the next day. 

My doctor told me that I had called too late and that I was supposed to get the antibody infusion within a certain number of days after the onset of symptoms. All I could do was keep monitoring my oxygen with the oximeter and take cold & flu meds to manage my symptoms. I was very upset, because basically all I could do was monitor my oxygen, go to the ER if it dropped below 90, and pray for the best in the meantime.

My doctor called me back a couple of hours later and told me that the criteria had been updated, that I DID meet the criteria, and that she was sending an email to the department that did intake for monoclonal antibodies. Apparently there had been a meeting the night before but she "forgot about it, hee hee."πŸ˜’ She said that she didn't have another way to get in contact with this department but if they didn't call me by a certain time the next day, I was to call her.

LUCKILY they called me, asked me a bunch of questions, determined that I was eligible and scheduled me for the next day. By the time I received the antibody infusion, a week had passed since the onset of symptoms and I had already started to feel a bit better. I was nervous about the infusion but even more nervous about the COVID taking a turn and ending up in the hospital with pneumonia. I expected a roomful of people with IVs dripping into their arms, but it turned out to be just me and a very personable, animated Cameroonian nurse named Cassandra who told me entertaining stories for the entire 2 and a half hours that I was there. I wondered what side effects I would get, but the only side effect was extreme fatigue. For the next 36 hours, I could barely keep my eyes open, then the next day I started to feel like myself again. Over the days that followed, I continued to feel better and better. I went from coughing all day everyday and being short of breath to zero shortness of breath and coughing maybe a couple of times a day.

By the time day 10 rolled around, I awoke feeling 98-99% well. I can't say 100 because I did still (and do still) cough my head off about once a day and my right lung feels peculiar when I take a deep breath. I'm declaring it a victory though.

In the time since, I've completed 8 of 21 radiation treatments. We'll talk about those later.

Glad to be moving forward despite the detour,


The Things We Carry

(Written April 20, 2021)

I'm sitting at home, watching the commentary after George Floyd's murderer, Derek Chauvin, was found guilty of all charges. I only watched 3 clips (TOTAL) of the trial on social media. I feel that I have a responsibility to bear witness when I can, but this time felt like it would be too much trauma on top of all of the other trauma that I am experiencing.

In advance of the verdict, I asked friends to text me with "guilty" or "not guilty," as I would not be watching. My sister who lives in Minneapolis, called to (basically) tell me that she was waiting to see if the city will burn to the ground tonight or not. I told her that- if he wasn't found sufficiently guilty of actions we all saw with our own eyes- the entire country would be on fire in a way that would make last summer look like child's play. She told me that there is still unrest because yet another unarmed half-Black man, Daunte Wright, was murdered by the cops in her neighborhood. 

When I spoke to my mother in the Chicagoland area, she told me that there's protesting there due to a Latino child (he was 13) being murdered by the cops. 

It's all much too much. None of these individuals were "saints" by societal standards, but somehow white people are allowed to be imperfect and "troubled," while Black and brown people are dangerous and must be brought into submission immediately. The solution is not for the police to start killing white people, the solution is to reimagine policing. I'd be fine with my tax dollars going to serve and protect the community if that actually happened. Instead we are being murdered in the streets and paying for the "privilege."

When the verdict came in, I felt a brief moment of relief that THIS TIME the jury did the right thing. Then that "THIS TIME" pissed me off. Living in hopes of being validated by a system built to discriminate against you is no way to live. Knowing that if a cop (or random white citizen) decides to accuse you of something or take your life, they can, and possibly face little to no commensurate repercussion - is a heavy load to carry. And yet it is a fact of life in these United States.

Last night my father and I talked about the adage of Black people having to work twice as good to be half as far. We both know this to be true from the inside. And then when we have high blood pressure, stress disorders, substance abuse, and other illnesses, they get chalked up to EVERYTHING except the stress of living in a racist society.

But we carry all of this and more, day in and day out. Despite the toll, we do what we can to find joy. We do what we can to celebrate and validate ourselves and one another. We forgive because it's a way of holding on to our humanity and not becoming the hatred that stares us in the eyes whenever we dare take a deep breath and draw ourselves up to our full height.

We carry it.
And we do our best not to crumble under the weight.


File under: "Hey... YOU asked!"

(Written April 16, 2021)

Twice in my life I've been asked variants of "What do you do with your time?" and both times I was stunned into temporary silence. One such time was in 2019 (I remember like it was yesterday) and the other was actually yesterday.

The expected answer? Something like: "I work my fingers to the bone in order to earn as much money as I can. I'm very important, you see, and my body of work proves that because blah blah blahdee blah." 😝

The REAL answer? I paint, I write, I act, I take naps, I play music loudly and dance, I connect with friends, I talk smack on social media, I read, I laugh from my gut, I travel when I can, I watch tv (incl. lots of reality shows), I exercise, I journal, I eat good food, I do artsy-craftsy stuff... I do things that keep life interesting for me.

In short, I LIVE!

And sometimes I get paid for some of that "living."

Nice work if you can get it. πŸ˜‰


I had a virtual appointment with my psychiatrist today...

(written April 14, 2021)

yep, I said "psychiatrist." If you think psychiatrists are for "crazy" people, then honey, deal me in. πŸ€ͺ

I've managed Generalized Anxiety Disorder since my late teens and it took until 2021 for somebody to figure out that the anxiety is a result of my having untreated ADHD. We think about ADHD  in terms of children (usually boys) who need to be medicated into sitting still. πŸ‘€ It's not that (and please don't do that), it's a neurodivergence as valid as any other. You know how people come in all shapes, sizes, and shades? Well, so do brains. When people are developmentally delayed or have certain types of autism, we recognize that their brains are functioning differently. With some types of neurodivergence, it isn't quite as clear, even to the person whose brain it is. We just know that we process things differently and at some point either have to expend an inordinate amount of time and energy trying to appear neurotypical (or "be normal,") or we just say "eff it" and be our weirdo selves, partying with the people in our heads. In my case, a head that is only quiet when I'm asleep. Being a sound sleeper has been my saving grace.

My way of coping has been to demand as much perfection as I can extract from myself. Of course, nobody's perfect, so yeah - I've never been quite satisfied. I did (and DO) a lot of "weirdo" things that I didn't know were right on-brand for folks with ADHD, like setting alarms all day long to remind me to do things because my attention wanders from one moment to the next. I leave myself notes where I can't miss them, like the closed toilet lid or on top of my shoes in front of the door. I clasp my hands together tightly to keep myself from fidgeting. I have to be up and moving for HOURS before I have to be anywhere because I need to allow myself time to wander around my home forgetting things and remembering them again. I also need to allow time to get lost on the way to wherever I'm going if I'm not positive about how to get there because I tend to get lost almost everywhere I go, even WITH gps sometimes. I'm so used to my brain hopping from one thought to the next in quick succession that only doing one thing at a time seems like a waste of time if that task doesn't require much mental energy. When I try to watch TV without doing something else at the same time, I fall asleep.

And then sometimes I can go into a state of "hyperfocus" (usually with something that I'm really REALLY interested in) and it feels like a superpower. I can push myself to get things done perfectly (there's that word again) in a ridiculously short span of time. I'm usually exhausted & pretty useless afterwards, but for one shining moment, I am a shooting star!

I have issues.

I R-E-F-U-S-E to be unreliable and unprofessional, so I've worked very hard at coming up with these and other ways to keep myself on track. It's a lot. Until I was diagnosed with ADHD a couple of months ago, it was just my life. I didn't understand why I was overwhelmed, stressed, and anxiety-ridden most of the time. I didn't know why everybody seemed to have "down time" except for me. IT WAS BECAUSE I WAS SPENDING SO MUCH TIME SETTING ALARMS, LEAVING NOTES, AND OVER-PREPARING EVERYTHING, because without these measures, I was sure that my bills would go unpaid, my home would go uncleaned, I would show up late (or not at all) for appointments, I would lose all of my friends, and my life would fall apart.

The very first time I took medication for ADHD, it took 3-4 hours for all of the noise in my head to quiet down. I actually sat down and started crying as I thought "Is this what 'normal' feels like??" I also felt a little woozy, so I went to bed early. The next couple of weeks- as my body adjusted to the medication- were rouggggh. With time, I found that I focused better. Didn't fidget as much. Didn't feel like I was listening to 7 different people shouting directions to me at once and constantly having to prioritize which to follow.

Mind you, I am not talking about schizophrenia. I know there aren't actual people in my head, talking to me, but this is how I've always explained away the fact that I have multiple thoughts at any given time. 

But now my crazy has a name. It's A-D-H-D. 

I'm learning to make friends with it and not be (quite) so hard on myself.



Healing Continues...

(Written April 12, 2021)

It has been one month and three days since I had a lumpectomy. I'm healing steadily but much more slowly than I expected. Because of other folks' experiences and the fact that "lumpectomy" sounds like the minimally-invasive little sister of "mastectomy," I had the (erroneous) idea that I would be close to fully-healed in about two weeks. Nope. I was in a lot of pain and very frustrated about it for about three weeks, especially the lymph node removal scar below my armpit (pictured), which I did not expect to be as much of an issue as it was, but it was more painful than the lumpectomy. It's located where the top seam on just about every bra hits. Good times.

I never realized just how much of a blessing it would be to have people bring food for the first couple of weeks. I had bought "easy to cook" groceries, but the only cooking I could even wrap my head around was microwave reheating. The pain meds kept me on a sleep/wake merry-go-round, so I wasn't eating much, but I knew I needed to in order for my body to heal. My friend Mikki brought me the most delicious minestrone. I didn't get to see her when she dropped it off because I was asleep (she left it with a friend who lives in my apt. building), but that minestrone and some saltines sustained me for 3-4 days, bless her heart.

I was also very fortunate that my friend Elgin drove me to and from appointments and the pharmacy for over a week. One day too soon I decided to drive myself to the doctor and to run an errand afterwards and regretted it every time I went over a bump or hit a pothole (OUCH). I decided to check my independent spirit at the door for the time being and allow myself to be chauffeured as I convalesced.

About part-way through week 3, I was able to walk on my treadmill again. I wore a supportive sports bra and didn't push myself too much. I was able to walk for 15-20 minutes for the first couple of days, and within a week, I had worked my way up to 45-60. I found that decreased speed and increased elevation kept impact low while burning the same number of calories. 

The "little things" bring me joy. I normally sleep on my left side, which is the side where the surgery was done. When, after 3.5 weeks, I could sleep (carefully) on my left side again, I drifted off with a smile on my face. When I could drive without flinching at every bump in the road, I felt free again. When I stopped randomly falling asleep in the middle of the day, I knew that my body was on the path to wellness.

Now, at the beginning of week 5, I'm waiting to find out my oncotype score. If it's below 25, I won't need chemo and I can go straight to radiation. If above 25, it's chemo first, then radiation. I'm really hoping to not need chemo, but I'll do what needs to be done so that I can move forward and minimize the chance of recurrence.


P.S. - Added May 27: My score was 15, so I was able to skip chemo and go right to radiation. 

The Wellness Diaries #1 - (or "Letting The Cat Out of the Bag")

(Written January 13, 2021 at 2:35PM)

I’m calling this “The Wellness Diaries” b/c I don’t want to call it “The Cancer Diary.” We are 10 months into a global pandemic, 4k people a day are dying from COVID-19, there is a civil war underfoot, the crazy “president” has incited an insurrection and, as of about an hour ago, has earned the dubious distinction of being the first to be impeached TWICE. AND he did it in one term. How’s that for “winning?” *eye roll*

After a mammogram, an ultrasound, and a biopsy that came back with a 95% certainty that the mass found in my left breast was cancerous, last Friday, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. While I’m not thrilled about this, the toughest part so far has been telling people and holding space for their reactions. Right now, I’m only telling people in my tribe who I know will send prayers and good energy, and I don’t even know that I’ll get to all of them, b/c the conversations are tough and lengthy. I am humbled by the love that I’ve received. That said, the people who love me ALSO need time and space to process this. I don’t want cancer to color our respective relationships to one another. I don’t even have all of the details about myself yet, so (respectfully), I’m not ready for the graphic detail of what happened to someone else they know who “had the same thing.” It could be good, bad, or ugly - I’m aware. I’m expecting the good, but have mentally prepared myself for the ugly.

That said, others’ reactions make me wonder if I’m being naΓ―ve about how serious this is. I feel like I KNOW. Here are some other things that I know:

I don’t fear death, but I don’t want to die anytime soon. When my dear friend Vicki (who passed in 2012) said she wasn’t afraid to die from cancer but just didn’t want to miss all of the good stuff that comes after, I FELT THAT. There are many things worse than death. If I die, I hope to see my loved ones who have already passed on, because I miss them. If I am afforded time, I will also look back over my life and oh, what a life it has been! I have had a GREAT run, and even if I never get another day on this earth, know that I have been BLESSED. 

However, because I do enjoy life, I’d like to stay here. We’re all going sometime and in some way - I’d just like to leave a long time from now, and in a way that doesn’t involve any suffering or pain.

I also like my body the way it is (most days) and have hoped to keep everything that I was born with and whatever useful bits I've picked up along the way: they’ve been with me for a while now and we’ve become friends. In my online research over the weekend, I found a group of women with breast cancer referring to themselves as “The Shitty Titty Committee.” At first I thought that was witty 😜, but then I realized I didn’t want to use that name for myself. There is a presence in my body that is staging an invasion - rather than give all of my energy and attention to the invader, why don’t I direct my energy toward my body and give it what it needs to heal? I respect everyone’s right to determine what they want to do with their own body, but as for me and my house… we gon’ live in the light (which is not the same as “walking into the light” because I ain't trying to do that yet).

It is what it is. I’m not being cavalier; it IS! Cancer is a perfectly valid reason for me to cry and yell “Why meeee?” I don’t feel that way and I’m not faking the funk, either. Why NOT me? I’d rather be the one with cancer than for any of my loved ones to have it. Honestly, the last couple of days have found me asking if I’d rather have cancer or covid (still haven’t decided). This is why I’m understanding when folks say “the wrong thing” or don’t know WHAT to say. Some are taking it as if I said “I’m dying tomorrow.” and I GET IT b/c I have done the same thing to other folks upon hearing their serious diagnoses. Thankfully, they were gracious to me, as I graciously accept any words offered with the intention of kindness and comfort.

I’m mostly annoyed at having to deal with this at all. ESPECIALLY right now. Like what thee actual eff? Did you read that list of everything going on in the world right now?? My hope is that by early 2022, everything on that list will be GONE, and in its place, a brighter day.

We Gon' Be Alright.


P.S. - No idea when or if I'll actually post this, but I'll save it as a draft and write more as I feel the urge.

P.S.S. - Published on May 27, 2021.