As a kid, I was obsessed with volcanoes and earthquakes, but the former were still more interesting.

I don’t think it’s because I remember the eruption of Mount Saint Helens since I was too young to remember. Nor was it this book, specifically. But I do have a vague memory of my parents having a bunch of brown paper grocery store bags full of ash.

I got in trouble once for trying to touch it. I also remember them dwindling overtime from people who had come to visit taking one of those bags with them until, eventually, they were all gone.

I remember being confused because ashes from the woodstove got thrown away but people wanted these ashes and I was too young to understand the difference at the time. I don’t remember whether I had any words for it or if I’d asked about it. I do remember the confusion and the curiosity I felt.

I might’ve forgotten about that altogether, If my dad had not lamented that we had not kept the ash because, later on, it became something people wanted to purchase. It was a missed opportunity for him. That’s when the memory popped up. My hand got lightly slapped and I was given a stern “no” when I reached toward one of the bags that remained on the floor well within my reach.

Anyway, when I could chatter later, I talked about volcanoes A LOT. My family found it very entertaining when I talked about eruptions, calling them “interruptions.”

When Mount Saint Helens interrupted.

When was Mount Hood gonna interrupt?

Some volcanoes interrupt all of the time while others take much longer between eruptions.

But thinking about Mount St. Helens, I wasn’t wrong. It sure as shit interrupted a lot that day and for many weeks after. It even ended almost five dozen lives. It certainly wasn’t anything less than a major interruption.

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When I was an undergraduate still working on my associates degree at Mount Hood community college, my interest was evidenced by me blowing up the curve in my Geology class where my instructor had to cut me out because only one other person, my lab partner, would have passed the course. I think it was the only class I ever had a perfect score on every single thing.

Subsequent geology classes were at Portland State University and then the University of Oregon. I’ll explain that transfer some other time.

I still did pretty well in those, because of course I would; I loved that shit! Professors were ultimately disappointed that I dropped it as a major and just stuck with my other major, English.

I was more than disappointed. I was crushed by the reality that I couldn’t do university math courses at university pace. I was busting my butt with every other class suffering as a result and not even scoring a D except for a few things in that course. Since I was a financial aid student and scholarships are not guaranteed, I made the pragmatic decision to drop down to a single major, thus ending my short time in the Geophysics program.

I cried every night for weeks.

Apparently, I could only build my dome so high then. It was like an interruption that destroyed my dreams—dreams that I couldn’t really pursue with persistence and determination regardless of grades or repeating courses. It wasn’t like I came for big money that could afford to pay for all of that and I certainly couldn’t take on that much debt and there was no way in hell that I was willing to take out any private loans for education.

Eventually, I came to terms with it and volcanoes, earthquakes, plate tectonics, faults, Convergent zones, Divergent zones, subduction zones, stratovolcanoes, cinder cones, monogenetic volcano fields, Super volcanoes, sea volcanoes, calderas, composite volcanoes, etc. faded into the background, while I focused on my remaining major, English.

However, I would occasionally continue to use imagery from geology and physics In my creative writing process, especially in poetry.

I don’t really know how much of any of that led me here. Maybe it was those ashes that I was forbidden to touch. Maybe it was this book that I didn’t really start going through until I was much older than one and a half years old. Maybe it was the sublime of the mountains or the fear of them interrupting us, but I do know that it was my first special interest. Also, while I don’t spend as much time with it now in my adult life, I still revisit it from time to time. I still love it.

I love these guys. They bring me joy every day even when they get jealous of each other. 😂

In this clip, Hoftey (Dork Mop) gets jealous of Bandit (Fraggle-Gremlin Demon Dog). After vocalizing said jealousy, he puts his toy on the chair of the recliner.

I hand it to Bandit who is mostly indifferent about the toy but when Hoftey tries to take it back, Bandit tells him where he can go in his very Fraggle-Gremlin Demon Dog way. 😂

Mom is both a palindrome and an ambigram. I think that’s pretty cool and so is my mom. It took14 hours to make this handmade card.

Don’t worry. She won’t see this post.

Tools used: protractor, HB pencil, plastic eraser, Pigma Micron archive markers, 15 cm ruler.

A lot of this was freehand though.

(Text)

I’m still regrouping and do not know whether I will post anymore textual longform content here. I am undecided, but I might.

The thing that happened wasn’t nearly the worst thing to happen to me. I got played, basically. Well, it was destablilizing and revived my fear of mass attention.

I am vulnerable to manipulation and, in the past, it has really ruined me. This time it didn’t, but it triggered the same intensity of emotions as the times that it did. As a result, I fell into an episode and I tried to dump my entire substack but just deleted the one that had all of my hundreds of subscribers (I thought it was the whole thing at the time).

Shortly but not immediately after, I felt a wave a grief which lasted a couple of days, I think. However, I later learned it wasn’t a complete deletion and I am relieved to find some of the account in tact. Furtnermore, I am delighted I don’t have to track down all of the substacks I was already following and appreciate; there are soooo many creative, kind, and talented substackers out there.

I do not intend to reactivate paid subscriptions. Anyone who wants to support me can go to my buy me a coffee link, but I won’t inlcude it with all of the posts. For example, when I post about issues I care about but don’t directly affect me, like racism, I will exclude it from those.

Most of my content was backed up (some lost forever). I don’t intend to repost anything at this time. I might consider some upon request (if you remember them).

I will still be doing Mind Haven at some point, Sushi, Tig, and Silvia are great and I really hope you still follow them. I’ll be back soonish. I just want to make sure I am sturdy enough again.

Thank you for your support and being here. I appreciate you all 🫶.

Keep going, but also rest and carve out some joy!

Lava Spider

description: neon orange, yellow, and reddish orange spider drawing under a blacklight