Category Archives: loss

A month since Taylor Hawkins passed… ☹️

Posted on by Leave a comment
Picture of Taylor Hawkins playing drums.
From: https://image.cnbcfm.com/api/v1/image/104839730-Taylor_Hawkins.jpg?v=1532563728

Will this horrible tragedy be the end of Foo Fighters?

For those that don’t know, Taylor Hawkins was the drummer for the legendary rock band Foo Fighters. He passed away a month ago at age 50 in Bogotá during a world tour. I haven’t been able to write about it because of shock and denial.

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/foo-fighters-cancel-tour-dates-taylor-hawkins-death-1329568/

From news reports, it seems his death was due to an overdose—the reason why doesn’t matter. Everyone has demons, and being a musician at that level of fame and renown is an experience I can’t fathom. It’s hard enough to do regular work when you have issues. To do that for months or years after every album, to be on it that long must be incredibly stressful. He’s gone, and the world will never again have his unique style of playing drums.

Taylor Hawkins is the third prominent musician of a favorite band dying. The others are Chester Bennington of Linkin Park and Chris Cornell of Soundgarden/Audio. While the deaths of Bennington and Cornell were to suicide, Hawkins’s death is still painful. From what I know from Foo fighters documentaries and being a fan, the man had his darkness.

Fuck…

Naturally, all the concerts the Foo Fighters had scheduled were canceled. This is also the second band mate that has died in tragic circumstances for band leader Dave Grohl. The first was Kurt Cobain of Nirvana. I feel so bad for him and all of the Foo Fighters family.

I thought they would be okay that they were invincible. I forgot that they’re human too. I love their music and have been a fan since I heard them play on the radio for the first time in the 90s. Since they started here in Seattle, they’re rock royalty. Even with all their fantastic hit songs, success, and Grammys, you can find them playing on local rock stations any time of day.

Yet, I never saw them live. I missed out. Right before this tragedy happened, I had just started listening to their newest album, Medicine by Midnight. Even if Dave plays drums (and Mr. Grohl is a legendary drummer in his own right) or they find another drummer, it won’t be the same. Nobody plays drums or has the same music sense as Taylor Hawkins.

I’m not a concert person, and I have all their albums on Spotify, but it’s not the same. That’s a loss, after all. Grief sucks every time.

He leaves behind a family with three kids, bandmates like brothers, millions of fans, and an impact on the world that can’t be replaced. Rest in peace, Taylor.

More on Taylor Hawkins below.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taylor_Hawkins?wprov=sfla1

A half dozen days since the chickens died

Posted on by 5 comments
The eggs live on after the chickens. Included are the last feathers from Edna (top left, all white), Betty ( second row, brown and white), and Nutmeg (far right, brown and white).

On Chickens

Edna and Nutmeg were 4 year old hens born in Duvall WA. They lived a life typical of hens living in the city after growing up in the countryside. They’d wake up around 7am every day, climb down their house and wait to be let out into the yard. Every day, they’d dutifully do their jobs as chickens: laying eggs, searching for bugs to eat, dig in the dirt when warm for a dirt bath, perch on objects to be in a patch of sunlight, eat the food my mother bought them. Each time my mother or me was outside, they follow us as we walked to the alley, often squawking to us as hello. I’d greet them each time with a “Hello girls” or by name. Betty was independent, kinda crazy, and at the top of the pecking order from day 1. Nutmeg was a typical groupie and usually at the bottom of it. Nice but a pushover to the other chickens.

I helped, but the Chickens were my mom’s thing. She did the dirty work of cleaning their coop and taking care of them whenever the chickens had treatable ailments. She found them dead. Apparently it happened like an hour before I got home from work, as mom worked from home today.

To say the two chickens died, is a gentle way of saying viciously murdered.

There wasn’t a noisy ruckus by Edna or Nutmeg, or a sign something was wrong.

The chickens could be quite noisy when they wanted to. They’d squawk every day while laying eggs, in that classic chicken way. It wouldn’t take much for them to alert someone in the house.

This crime happened so fast, the victims never had a chance.

No sign of forced entry. The exterior and interior fences undisturbed.

No witnesses.

Inside was a gruesome murder scene.

Decapitations with further gore.

There was clear signs of struggle. Bloody feathers, and occasional blood spots.

Mom found them. Later said that she let out some loud explicit words. In shocked agony of these murders.

Her guess is that a “raptor bird” or other predatory bird swooped in and killed the chickens. Which do live in the area. We’ve spotted hawks, falcons, owls, and bald eagles from the backyard before. Not that surprising considering Seward Park is close. (Which is a large wooded park with the nests of many birds including bald eagles)

(All I can imagine are flying velociraptors from Jurassic Park when she said raptors did it. )

( I guess nature is far more brutal. )

(Further, that I as a privileged person in the modern world…am privileged to have chickens as pets, and that we didn’t have to eat them.)

By the time I went in the coop to inspect, mom had already buried the chickens. It felt odd stepping in their fenced area as that portion of the backyard had been theirs for 5+ years for this generation and the last. Sure enough they really were gone.

The only evidence was fluffy white feathers from Edna, and orange-brown and white feathers from Nutmeg strewn about.

Hard to believe that they’re gone.

I’ve been looking to the coop, for the chickens out of habit through the kitchen window above the sink. A habit developed these past 5 years. They always had something going on, a project or task throughout the day. Each evening they’d march into their coop to perch on a branch at the top to sleep. The hens would huddle right next to another.

Mom doesn’t want to get new chickens and I don’t either, so this will likely be the last time I have chickens as a pet. It’s the only time I’ve had birds as a pet.

I’ll have to buy eggs at the store from now on…

Rest in peace: Nutmeg, Edna, and Betty.

I haven’t posted in a while. I’ve been focused on work. It’s been massive life adjustment. Going from unemployed at home all day back to a 40 hour a week job in a new location is a complete change. I’ve been tired after work Also the whole lifestyle change outside of work. I’m handling it well, and doing well at my job. Another 6 weeks or so, and I’ll have energy to do activities during the week. Self care has been first priority.

Thanks for reading!

Lessons from my first girlfriend at 34. (2022 Remaster)

Posted on by 7 comments
Picture of a half broken, half shattered windows of glass in an RV.

First romantic relationship at age 34..

Warning: complaining/venting.

She probably views me as a scrub. Scrub from the TLC song of the same name. No job, unemployed, relationship novice, doesn’t have shit together, Smokes pot.

For those blog readers reading this post for the first time, because I linked it in a post from November 2022, this post is from January 30th, 2021. It is a reflection of the person I was at that time. The good, the bad, the cringe, the hurt, the past version of me. Remastered, edited, tweaked for SEO.

Without ado, here is the remastered 2022 version of: First romantic relationship at age 34..

No scrubs by TLC

The truth is we were incompatible. She wanted something completely different from me. She wanted me to buy stuff, and I wasn’t comfortable with that. I do not wish for a text-only relationship. I don’t want a long-distance relationship.

She was an ambitious, driven businesswoman from Hong Kong who wanted to travel and be rich. Retire early. A day trader who trades gold stocks. A literal fucking Gold digger.

(11/06/2022 edit: I originally had Gold Digger by Kanye West. While he was controversial then, since then I can not ethically support him in any way, so I’m changing the song in this post to Respect by Aretha Franklin. In an ironic twist, Kanye has become an Attention Digger)

Respect by Aretha Franklin

Maybe it went too hot, too fast.

I gave into the fantasy of the relationship. I was desperate to finally have a girlfriend. And it was happening. It was too good to be true.

Relationships don't end because two people did something wrong to each other- They end because two people are something wrong for each other. Mark Manson
Credit: Mark Manson.

Too good too be true

Once again, I saw what I wanted to see. I overlooked problems because I wanted to have a girlfriend no matter what. She was my first girlfriend ever, at age 34. I bought into the fantasy because I’ve been so deprived of romance. Which is ultimately my fault. I fucked up in so many ways.

I felt I was ready to date back in November. After this breakup, I’m not sure I actually was. Or am. I’m so tired of never feeling good enough to date. I feel like I have to be perfect to date anyone. At the same time, I don’t want to do all the required work. Dating and relationships work. All I’ve known is pain. I don’t see the benefit of dating. I don’t want to constantly improve. I don’t want to settle, either. I feel that means that I’ll never be enough as I am.

Dating hasn’t been fun. Since men have to do all the work to obtain a relationship, Men in western cultures generally have to take the lead in relationships. Sometimes it’s a lonely and draining experience when you have to do more work. My dating life is over. (CRINGE) I wish that I would be at peace with never dating again. I’m okay being single… But for the rest of my life? Not until I at least have one good long-term romance. Then I could say I tried and gave up. I’m not entitled to a relationship. I don’t feel it’s worth the time, energy, money, or effort. I don’t feel life is worth the time, energy, money, or action. I never wanted to date, to begin with. It feels like an unpaid internship where you’re constantly led on by the promise of more like a carrot on a stick. But that job offer never happens.

I feel this is impossible because of my mental illness. I resent my sexual and romantic needs. It feels like a curse. Life would be so much easier without them. The worst part of all this is that my insecurities were again correct.

I just want to be. Then again, I’m pretty stupid with this stuff.

All I know is I deserve better than that relationship. I learned that I’m not afraid of commitment; I’m so scared of wasting my time. Once again…

What is love? by Haddaway.

Thank you for reading this; if you enjoyed it, please give it a like, tell me what you think in the comments, and share on Facebook. Don’t forget to subscribe to my email list for updates!


Please wear a mask outside that covers your mouth and nose, wash your hands, clean your cell phone, and keep your physical distance (6 feet) from others to fight Covid-19!


© Reilly Anderson. 2020. All rights reserved.

I feel like shit today.

Posted on by 11 comments
Picture of a tree on a horizon with a purple and magenta sunset
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

A shit-storm of pain

I feel like shit today… I’m heartbroken since I was dumped. That relationship didn’t last 2 months, but I felt we connected. The bottom line is that we were incompatible. I don’t have my shit together. I’m unemployed again, live with my Mother as an adult, have no idea what to do with my life, and I feel like a barely functional human being. Heartbroken, laid off, depressed, hopeless. With this heartbreak, I feel like I’m reliving all of my previous mistakes in life alone with it. Great. I feel absolutely useless and worthless.

Song of the post: Amy Winehouse – You Know I’m No Good

I feel like all I can do to cope is to wallow in my despair by binge-streaming the anime Naruto (like the 5th time I’ve watched from the start) and Futurama for the two dozenth time.

Of course, I can’t do any of the usual suggested things such as hanging out with friends or family, meeting people, or doing activities because of Covid. Getting serious, deja vu, writing that. Online socializing and activities aren’t the same.

I forgot that I had Facebook dating on and had a notification for a match. I feel bad because I liked it back, but a day later, I feel guilty. That lady seems like a lovely person and is attractive, but I can’t. I’m nowhere close to being ready to date again. The thought of it made my heartbreak worse, and I felt nauseous. I couldn’t turn on the pause option quick enough. I barely feel emotionally available for myself right now.

I’m so unhappy with my life. I tell myself, “I’m enough,” but it feels hollow. It doesn’t feel like enough to simply be alive as an adult.

Today, all I feel I can do is exist.

Post-election recovery, day 3.

I have grief and shit to work through because of the previous president. Omg, it’s such a relief to have a competent government. I can finally relax because the election has passed and Joe Biden/Kamala Harris is in charge, actually working. The problems are still there; they have to rebuild entire agencies from scratch, but they’re doing it. Fucking A, I’ve been holding onto this stress since October 2020. I think, realistically, the first 100 days will be recovery for America. I simply haven’t had the energy to celebrate this welcome change. This shit has been exhausting.

Thank you for reading this; if you enjoyed it, please give it a like, tell me what you think in the comments, and share it on Facebook. Don’t forget to subscribe to my email list for updates! 

Please wear a mask outside that covers your mouth and nose, wash your hands, clean your cell phone, and keep your physical distance (6 feet) from others to fight Covid-19! 

© Reilly Anderson. 2020. All rights reserved.

Remembering my cat Flip.

Posted on by One comment
Picture of my car flip in the grass, looking at something
Flip in his prime, and the best photo of him.

To Flip:

A year ago, on 12/18/19, I had to put my 18-year-old kitty down. He couldn’t drink water, eat food, or void. He couldn’t bathe. His kidneys had been failing. The poor baby couldn’t move around, and his meows… A weak squeak. Despite his health problems, he didn’t want to leave my side. So I helped him get on my lap or my bed. His name was Flip. He has been my best friend since I first met him at 16. He was there every day through the most challenging years of my life. And his death marked the beginning of a new chapter in life. He taught me about unconditional love. Loyalty. Patience. And eventually, how to love again after a devastating loss. Though I never wanted him to leave, Rest in peace, Flip. I’ll always love you. Fly on, my sweet Angel…

Flip the cat sitting on my lap
Flip the cat sitting on the vent to keep warm.
Flip the cat on my lap
Flip the cat being cute in a box playing
Flip the cat sleeping on my lap
Flip the cat sleeping on my bed.
Flip the cat and Lucy the cat on the top of the couch.
Flip the cat visiting me on my bed.
Flip the cat and Lucy the cat sleeping on towels on a table.
Flip the cat sleeping outside during the eclipse in 2017.
Flip the cat hiding.
Flip the cat and Luct the cat sleeping together curled up on the couch.
Flip the cat on the table
Flip the cat sleeping in a box.
Flip the cat and Lucy the cat sleeping together on a parka.
Flip the cat sleeping on a deck table outside
The cats Flip and Lucy sleeping next to each other in a yin yang shape
Flip the cat sleeping in a sun spot
Flip catloafing in the neighbors yard outside
Flip the cat sleeping on my lap
Flip the cat sitting in a small basket
Flip the cat looking up at me with a toy on the carpet
Flip the cat sleeping in a sun spot
Flip the cat sleeping in a sun spot
Flip the cat and Lucy the cat playing 1
Flip the cat and Lucy the cat playing 2
Flip in a drawer being silly for attention
Me sitting on a lazy boy chair with cats Flip (left), and Tip (right) sitting on the chair arms.
My favorite picture of my kitties Flip, and Tip. Such good boys.

Thank you for reading this; if you enjoyed it, please give it a like, tell me what you think in the comments, and share it on Facebook. Don’t forget to subscribe to my email list for updates!

Please wear a mask outside that covers your mouth and nose, wash your hands, clean your cell phone, and keep your physical distance (6 feet) from others to fight Covid-19! 

© Reilly Anderson. 2020. All rights reserved.

Rest in peace Gumpa

Posted on by 9 comments

My dear grandfather, Don, who I called Gumpa passed away this week. A few days ago. Despite my best efforts from this profound loss, this is the best I can do for today. I’m in the hurricane grief. There is so much more to say. I’m not able to today. I need time to process. Grief sucks every time. It has its own schedule. Because of the pandemic, more so. Gumpa lived a long full life of 92 years. Though my family knew this would happen one day… I can’t believe he’s gone. 😥🙁

I’ll edit this later. (Man the mobile WordPress block options suck compared to the desktop version).

Tell your loved ones and the people in your life that care about how you feel. You never know when it will be the last time.

I love you Gumpa. I’m so grateful to have known you for so long. You will be dearly missed. I’ll remember you for the rest of my life. Oof.