[Q1 2025's] Quarterly Recap
Oh, we're so back baby! With a new format!
Has this first quarter also felt like a decade to y’all?
I know everyone’s been saying that, but from January 1st to today, I can not believe how much has truly occurred.
History repeats itself in scary ways sometimes, and for a lot of us, this is the first time we’ve encountered, in real-time, a government that is saying the quiet part out loud. And for the other large part of us, we’ve seen this play out in our lives over and over and over again. As tired as I am, I am not scared. I fall in the latter camp - 1st gen American who was taught at a young age to not trust the systems set in place because they ultimately want you to fail. I do not play ball with the system that says what is legal is right - fuck that.
As I see the rights of myself and my communities stripped away, I’m reminded that this is not new. Kids were in cages, Palestinian people had been fighting for their right to live freely, Puerto Rico have been seeking sovereignty, Indigenous people had been yelling Land Back, and trans people had been needing to get their medicine in a plethora of different ways WAY before this administration. It’s been a consistent fight for decades/centuries for our communities. And I wish to see a day where that isn’t inherent to our people.
But for now, that has kept me calm. I am reconnecting to my indigenous roots from the Dominican Republic and El Salvador. I am 1st gen. I am fat. I am queer. I am trans. I have existed yesterday, I will exist today, and I will continue to exist from here on out.
As for these reports! I wanted to try my hand at tiny essays and less review-style writing, so the acronym kind of means nothing right now. I’ll figure out a new name for this, but for now, please enjoy a mini Q1 recap in the form of 4-5 little personal essays.
READING TRACKER:
One thing I would like to keep consistent in these recaps is my book recaps. I do love talking about books!
Started the year off strong by ending Q1 with ✨20 books read✨.
I was on a ROLL. 17 of those books were read between January and February, and when March hit, it was a struggle. Life just happened, and reading became a chore, so instead of being hard on myself, I let myself slowly consume the books I had in progress. I have also been writing mini book reports after the end of many of my reads, and its been a nice way to recap all that I’ve read instead of just sticking them back on the bookcase for God knows how long.
Here are my favorites so far:
In this tender and evocative novel about love, hope, familial devotion, betrayal, and sacrifice, Thrity Umrigar shows us two courageous women trying to navigate how to be true to their homelands and themselves at the same time.
In this, his last novel, José Saramago daringly reimagines the characters and narratives of the Old Testament, recalling his provocative The Gospel According to Jesus Christ. His tale runs from the Garden of Eden, when God realizes he has forgotten to give Adam and Eve the gift of speech, to the moment when Noah’s Ark lands on the dry peak of Ararat. Cain, the despised, the murderer, is Saramago’s protagonist.
Bored Gay Werewolf by Tony Santorella
Big-hearted, goofy, anarchic and funny, Bored Gay Werewolf is a smart take on the doomsday logic of late capitalism and the complicated meeting point of masculinity and sexuality. More than that, though, and like Scooby Doo with Grindr or Stranger Things with sex and ennui, it’s a buddy novel about finding your pack, the power of friendship, and learning how to be comfortable in your own, shaggy werewolf pelt.
BE KIND AND REWIND:
I’ve been fixated on physical media for years. Bouncing between building my library up, continuing to add to my vinyl & cassette collection, and as of late, buying series and movies on DVD.
What I’m trying to say is that I bought some DVDs from the Criterion sale1, and I was reminded about how vital Blockbusters were to my media consumption as a kid. I grew up with one pretty close to my house, about a 5 minute drive. Very often, when we wanted to watch a movie, we would head over, rent a handful, buy the bucket of popcorn that was near the checkout line, and go home and spend the rest of the night rotating between the disks.
While I was browsing the digital catalog to select the 6 DVDs I wanted to buy, I had a pang of sadness, wishing to bring back the simplicity of going to a store where we were able to just rent a disk2. It’s the thing I love about collecting vinyl. Yes - I do have my wishlist on Discogs, but more times than not, when I’m flipping through the covers in an attempt to find an Emarosa pressing in the wild, I stop to pull out a Black Pumas, Hazel English, or Martinho da Vila album and end up going home with a new artist that I can spend some time with on a Sunday morning.
I understand the feeling of stumbling upon a new piece of media via TikTok/Instagram; it’s where I’ve been getting most of my own reccs, but there is something special about the act of discovering something yourself. It feels almost integral to building your own identity. Sure, I have a foundation of interests that I’ve gathered because of who I grew up around, but then there are the Dance Gavin Dance, City and Colour, and Hiatus Kayote’s of my identity that I happened upon. The Misfits, Broad City, and Sons of Anarchy I began watching that informed my sense of humor and insight.
Finding art on your terms feels critical to building self-identity, so how do kids navigate that when they are bombarded by advertisements anywhere they look now?
CALL ME ROMEO:
When I began transitioning, I never had a huge urge to change my name. I like Nancy. I like that it’s a name a lot of people associate with an elder they love. I like the way it sounds with a bit of an accent.
I don’t think I will ever change my name, but that has not stopped me from thinking of a name that encapsulates this other part of myself. Romeo.
It’s the only name that I’ve gravitated to - that has felt right when I’ve considered going by a different name. Romeo (roh-meh-yo) as in Romeo Santos, the king of Bachata for me growing up. Romeo, as in the essence of romance (I don’t actually fuck with Shakespears Romeo, alright). Romeo, as in Nancy Romeo Frenesy Azcona. Now, doesn’t that just roll off the tongue? When I first said that full name out loud, I knew I wanted to legitimize it. I wanted it on every piece of paperwork I have to fill out, on every piece of work I put out, on every flyer with my face on it.
Nancy. Romeo. Frenesy. Azcona.
So, no - Nancy will never go; I’m just welcoming Romeo in.
TO GROW, SOMETIMES YOU MUST START OVER:
Ever since I moved to LA, I began owning plants. It began with a jade bush that was gifted to me in 2017, and I was fascinated by watching something grow. My mother loves flowers, and there were always fresh roses in the living room. When spring/summer came, she would go to Home Depot or Costco, snatch whatever hanging bouquets were available, and decorate the backyard with them. She spoke to them about their beauty like they were children in front of a mirror crying, misunderstood. She whispered love into their stems that I don’t even think they needed water at times to stay alive.
Beauty through plants and nature was a staple in my home.
So, having a green thumb myself has always felt natural. By the time I had my own apartment in 2021, I had over 30 plants. Learned that I do my best with Pothos and Philodrendrons. Have a hard time with any Alocasias. Love the variegated versions of anything. I learned everything I needed to learn from local nurseries and YouTube videos, and with that knowledge, I became fixated on fixing plants.
My local Lowes always had a sale section or plants in general that needed saving. I took in some of my office’s plants during the lockdown to give them a better home. I repotted and propagated so many that it became a problem at one point with my roommate (to be fair, they were EVERYWHERE). But sometimes, no matter how hard I tried, some plants would have all their leaves fall off. And eventually, I would be stuck with two options: throw the plant out or cut everything off and start again.
Pruning a plant down to nearly nothing can feel devastating. I’ve had to do this time and time again with lush bushes of pothos, 4-foot-tall philodendrons, and a ZZ plant I had grown for 4 years. So much time, care, and tenderness chopped away in a matter of seconds. Then you continue - water, soil, asking “do you like this spot”, saying “sorry” when you bump into them, touching their leaves so they know you know they are alive.
Eventually, a new shoot will sprout on a vine or from soil, and then two, five, ten.
When the bushuls of flowers my mother gets die, she repurposes the pots for her garden and goes to the store to find her new babies for the season. She cares for them just as she had all flowers beforehand, and the cycle will continue to repeat.
Did you know if you keep a dying stem on plants or a flower on a foliage plant, you are hindering the growth of new leaves? All of its energy is being spent on something that eventually will need to be cut off, so you are meant to help it by removing it yourself. If a plant is root-bound, it will sprout only small shoots or begin to wither away because it no longer has room to grow.
I turn 30 in a few weeks, and I think about how many times I’ve had to cut myself down to the rhizome. About how many times I kept dying stems because of how much time I had spent growing them, meaning how much time I spent loving them. I think about how I, too, grew small for so long because I was bound to a life that no longer fit my expansiveness.
I turn 30 in a few weeks, and I think it’s time to prune once again.
THE ACT OF WORSHIP:
This year, I have spent a lot of time making my room into a cozy nest of sorts. I decompressed from so much shit I no longer use and in return, I was gifted this GORGEOUS olive-green cabinet3. When I saw her up close, I knew immediately this would be holding all things witchy and artsy.
If you do not know, hi, my name is Nancy, and I do believe in magic!
I’ve been working with divination tools since I was a sophomore in college and began working with plants/herbs almost as long as then. No, I was not taught this. By the time I left my home, my mother was a devout Christian, so if she knew, I am sure she would think the Devil himself had possessed me. But while going to school, I just happened to be surrounded by some witchy friends (shoutout Pia), and curiosity took hold of me, and now I’ve been practicing for over a decade.
Back to my cabinet - it is the perfect mini apothecary. It holds all my incenses, herbs, flowers, and waters. The top houses my decks and pillar candles. Shiny rocks and just regular ol’ rocks, I thought looked pretty. It’s become my altar.
As of late, though, I felt this intense urge to be a bit more active in my practice. I do monthly work, scripting, and cleansing as needed, but I wanted something a bit more rooted in routine. So, I looked towards what worship could look like in my everyday life, and I have always been fascinated with Greek lore.
I have Dionysus on my thigh and statue tattoos galore all over my body. And over 10 years ago, when I lived in Boston, I bought a random bust from someone on Depop because I thought it looked cool, only to realize much later on that it was a bust of Persephone herself.
Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, Goddess of Spring. It felt fitting of my character to have unknowingly been worshipping her. So I began looking into who she is, her story. The way she calls to those unfairly bound, to those living between the living and the dead. I admire spring leaves as much as I do the dying fall. A firm believer that both must exist, and denying it is useless. If not detrimental.
I set my altar for her at my vanity. Gifted her flowers and more plants. I think about Hades and how he loved her.
Worshipping feels like an odd act after so many years apart from Christianity. I try to wriggle out of the uncomfortable feeling of blasphemy or old habits, unsure which one it is yet. I fill a small basin with moon water and flowers I’ve bathed in for Aphrodite and whiskey, dragon’s blood, and gold for Ares. I dance. I talk. I grieve. And I realize this is no different than how I speak to my ancestors.
I leave fruit, Malboro reds, eyeliner, and lo-mein out for all those who have passed in my life. Apologize for not speaking more often, read to them, catch them up. I thank them for lending me their ears or the protection they’ve covered me in.
I leave the whiskey with dragon’s blood out, and by the next night, it has been drunk up. The fruit for my loved ones dried up with no rot.
I talk to the dead set upon an altar I’ve created upon a green cabinet meant for me. I worship. I worship. I worship.
Thank you for sticking around and reading some of my heart. If you don’t know, I am publishing my second collection of poems next month (May 27th) and have some exciting news coming to y’all soon on my website!
I bought Do The Right Thing, Fish Tank, Thelma & Louise, Paris Is Burning, Funny Games, and In The Mood For Love for those curious!
Renting on iTunes or Amazon just does not hit the SAME.
and by gifted I mean found at my local thrift store for 45 FUCKING DOLLARS, clearly, still not over it