Some Very Dramatic Moves

Hello again— it’s been literal years! It’s nice to see you again, especially on this new platform. Wix deleted yet another blog draft and so I had to desert.

I have also committed to the massive rebrand of dropping the blog’s original title “Local Tourist.” It made me feel like I had to write within made up parameters, rather than do what I would actually want, pour whatever goes on in my head onto the page without stressing about if it belongs there. My wish for these to be perfect, rather than rough has definitely been holding me back. So recalibrate your expectations, and strap in for some egregious grammar choices.

The longer I put off writing another blog post, the more I realized how vital it is for me to commit to this. I’ve stopped writing almost completely, and have barely been published since graduating with my masters. Everyone warned me about this, but as usual, I thought I was special.

When ruminating on all of my failures— in an effort to figure out why I can’t finish anything that I start— I found that I am held back by a reluctance to be perceived. And you may say “perceived as what, Leyton?” And to that I say ANYTHING that I did not intend. I am very scared of being perceived as anything that I have no control over. I have written many posts throughout the years that just sit quasi-edited in my Scrivener file (I like being perceived as a Scrivener user).

That fear wasn’t always there. I was precocious and loud up through my mid-twenties. And I still enjoy being the center of attention, do not get me wrong. When I used to do stand-up, people would always say how scary that must be, or how brave I was to be doing it— but stand-up has the feeling of complete control. You can change what you’re going to say based on your audiences’ reactions in real time. I am fairly good at a) reading a room and b) putting myself down for the merriment of others and those two qualities make stand-up rather comfortable. Compared to that, writing this blog feels like forging a new 10 commandments in stone. Permanence has halted me in my tracks. I need to exercise the skill of relinquishing control— no that’s too simple. I need to exercise the skill of being okay with people not understanding me.

A month or so ago I found two Reddit threads about an essay I wrote for Long Reads. Initially, this was sort of thrilling because, a Reddit thread?? About ME?! But, oh, I had forgotten the golden rule: people only go to write on Reddit to break your heart. And that they did! A group of people really didn’t like my essay. But more than anything, that group of people didn’t seem to understand it— which is technically a failure of the writer— and also did not like my essay. I have a feeling that if they had understood it and not liked it, I may not feel this sense of shame. I have been disliked before and lived through it, coming out the other side a better person. But I have never been able to steel myself against the idea that someone might not understand me. I wish I could sit with each person reading the essay and answer all of their questions. Make sure they are sitting somewhere comfortable. Make sure that if it brings up something difficult for them, they have someone to talk it through it with.

A lot of people, most people in fact, really liked my essay. I even made someone cry (from being moved rather than from pure nausea). It was chosen for the “Best Sports Writing of 2025” and was one of the most read articles on Long Reads. But you better believe that none of that mattered as much as the Reddit thread. This whole debaucle has highlighted an awful thought pattern of mine: when someone compliments my work, I assume that it is hollow. People are more often honest when they criticize something than when they are praising it. What would it mean to accept and digest an insincere compliment? That feels… embarrassing.

If one of my friends were in my position, I would tell them to wear the Reddit thread as a badge of honor. And in some moments I do wear it that way. But as it stands right now, there is a filter in my brain that lets the criticisms and misunderstandings through but not the compliments. It’s infuriating.

That is my answer as to why I have not written a blog post in over a year. Well, no, not exactly. That story just perfectly encapsulates my internal conflict.

I know that keeping this blog in earnest will be good for me. I know that practicing putting my work out there, rain or shine, will cause valuable growth and probably… *gasp* happiness? Can you imagine?

A lot has happened since we last spoke. After all of my dramatics, I moved back to New York City. My pendulum, whose two opposing pulling forces are Taos and New York City, has swung back. The main thing pulling me east was a very sweet, pretty, whip-smart and funny girl. I also recently turned 30 and got top surgery. We will have plenty to talk about.

Speaking of my boo thing, I would like to sign off with a photo of a present she got me: a custom stamp— from my favorite stamp place, Casey’s Rubber Stamps— of my signature. She pulled it from a love letter I wrote her. I mean, c’mon. You would have moved back too.

Until next time…