Salisbury.Fake book review

We Weren’t Looking To Be Found by Stephanie Kuehn

Book number two from the Bingo Board! I am actually reading a third one, one that I started before this one, but that’s not important. This is a book I’ve had since 2024, and I picked it up at an indie bookstore in my town. This bookstore is known for it’s more YA selection of fiction, which is not a bad thing in the slightest. I think, however, I am not the audience for that, as I’m in my thirties and my joints hurt when it’s cloudy.

Hah, they don’t. Or maybe they do and I’ve just assumed that’s normal. In any case, this book is about two teenage girls who come from entirely different backgrounds who meet at a facility geared towards helping struggling girls. One has an addiction problem, brought on by her mother’s constant need for image control (she’s a politician, so do with that as you will). The other one is from a poorer tax bracket, and she ends up almost ending her life due to plans not going the way she expected them to.

Now, before we decide to go in on either one of them, I pose the question: do you remember what it was like being sixteen and your body had an influx of hormones and brain chemistry got altered? Do you remember what it felt like not understanding and knowing others were going through the same thing, but still feeling alone? Those questions are what I kept in my mind as I read this book. It’s a powerful look at two girls, both people of color (a genre I need to read more of, absolutely), and their struggle to know what it means to be who they are within the confines of their societal expectations.

I will say the book is slightly misleading in its description, because it has in the description that the girls find a music box that has letters tucked inside from a former resident of the facility. The way it’s presented in the description makes it sound like there’s going to be far more to the mystery of this unknown girl than there actually is. I think it lasts maybe two or three chapters out of the whole book. Which is fine, as again, YA fiction tends to flow differently from general adult fiction.

And I think that’s something a lot of people got hung up on. I read through some of the other reviews from readers on Goodreads, and while I agreed with some, a fair number were detracting points based on the pacing, the realism of a facility responding the way it did to a major plot point that I won’t spoil. I can’t speak to how facilities designated specifically for teen girls are run, but I do know that the author is, according to her bio on the back jacket cover, a psychologist. I didn’t know this going into the reading, but finding out about it afterward made some of the dialogue make that much more sense.

I think this book reminded me of what it was like to be uncertain in my own brain when I was sixteen. From my past entries on here, you might wonder if that didn’t send me into a spiral of “oh no, I’m not better.” But it didn’t! I felt sorrow for Camila because through her introspection, I saw my own. I felt such pity for Dani and her need to have control over just one part of her life, feeling like she didn’t anywhere else. What I think this book brought out for me is my ability to see it from the other side. No, I’m not cured of depression and all that garbage, but I can carry it better. It doesn’t weigh me to the floor so I can’t move. There’s a difference between uncertainty when you’re sixteen, when the world falling apart is quite literal, and the uncertainty one feels in their thirties, almost forties. Flashes of being young and afraid go darting through like fireflies, the familiarity of “I’m not good enough and never will be” stabbing every so often. What was the future if it felt so bleak at sixteen?

It’s not so bleak (current world climate aside, of course) because I know I made it out of the previous bleakness. And that was really, really, really fucking hard for a kid to do. In some ways, the kid I never got to be still dances in the living room, singing at the top of her lungs words she never gets right, but being wrong with confidence is a gift. She gets to see what we become, and I like to think she’d be incredulous at how far past the expiration date we gave ourselves we’ve lasted.

It is a wonder. It is a true, unfiltered wonder.

So, yes, this book is young adult, and some of it is unrealistic, but if it reminds me of how far I’ve come, I’m okay with it. I gave this book 3.5 stars rounded up on Goodreads.

Until next time, friends!

Salisbury.Fake Weekly Update, writing

Writing Journal #21

Morning!

Nope. It’s after noon now.

Whatever time it is, I hope it’s well for you.

What have I been doing? Well, I’ve been putting the edits into a second content draft. That will probably be revised, parts rewritten soon. But I’m finding out more things about Milton Fogg that are just diabolical, as the children would say these days. I kind of hate him. But in that “he’s so bad he’s good” kind of way. I’d go on, but I don’t want to spoil things. I also am biased, so maybe he’s not that deep of a character. We’ll find out.

I’ve been doing a shiiiiiiiiiiiit ton of work on the language. Found a new phrase the Moarteans use. If they’re startled or uneasy about something, they say “the hair of my stomach is bad” or “hair of my stomach!”

somsuk res xixba-mi

They also, when greeting people formally, will say “Are you well?” if it’s someone they respect, or just, “You are well,” if it’s someone they want to have a quick interaction with. It’s not fully disrespectful, but it is barely polite if you are told you’re well instead of being asked if you are.

These creatures and their social niceties, haha.

There’s a phrase they use that’s an insult that I just love. It’s essentially “lick death” but the literal translation is “use your tongue on death.”

bren ostipa-ti kil moartea.

Sometimes I find myself talking to my brain in Moartean and I look at where I’ve been and where I’ve gotten to and I have this moment of “oh shit.”

Saw a reel from Steve himself, the Blues Clues Steve, and the question was “What are you most proud of?” and my answer is two-fold. First, I stayed and I’ve gotten to see my brother be a dad. His kids are perfect. I know all aunts say that about their nieces and nephews, but if I could show you just how bright my life is because I’ve gotten to see a person grow into who they are, because my brother is the man he is, I would give that to you.

But then take it back because it’s mine, ha.

The second part of that answer to Steve’s question is: I am proud of my words. The ones I toss together in books, but especially the ones I’ve made up. I’m obsessed with words. I love them with so much of my heart sometimes I forget to exist outside of them.

But that’s what nieces and nephews are for. To keep us real. To keep us from getting too far away from ourselves.

I hope you are doing well. I hope your words are friendly, and if they’re not, shape ’em up, yo. They belong to you. You belong to them. It’s a dichotomy of osmosis. Or some shit. I don’t know, wanted to be pretentious at the end here.

I’m grateful to you. For reading my words whenever I drop them here. Like little crumbs of my consciousness. Glimpses into the maze of TV static that is my mind. It’s not always awful in there. I do spend quite a bit of time in it, so I’ve found some nifty things along the way.

Feel the wind today. Let it lift your face to the sky and you smile at it. Give those clouds, the sun, the rain, whatever! Give it a smile and let it warm you even if it’s cold out. You are just as much a gift to it as it is to you.

Until next time, friends.

Salisbury.Fake Weekly Update, writing

Writing Journal # 20

Well, well, well. We meet again. Hello.

I’m buried in edit mode, and I’ve been basically rewriting the whole thing. But that’s how edits usually go, right? It’s not the whole thing, I’m not that bad of a writer. But there are definitely spots that need some expansion. I’ve added about three hundred words so far, which sounds like I’ve not made much progress, but the way I’ve rearranged sentences and removed others entirely, it feels good.

I don’t really have much to talk about this round. I’m going to try and get back into reading a bit more now. Had a weekend of books, some gifted, some I spent too much money on. All adventures I look forward to eventually.

I hope you’re doing well. Maybe next time I’ll talk about how I find little pieces of real life to stick into my main character’s life. Scenes along a road. Drifting in limbo of a sort.

Until next time, friends.

Salisbury.Fake Uncategorized

President, Beartooth, Bad Omens – Detroit 2/28

I, as you may know, am a fan of the screams. The music kind. I’ve spoken multiple times about my love for Sleep Token, and there are several other bands I enjoy just screamin’ in my earballs every now and then. I had the opportunity to go to a concert with two of my favorite concert buddies over the weekend, and I got to hear some of the best screamies I’ve ever experienced live.

I got to see Bad Omens live at Louder Than Life last year, something I won’t be repeating (the festival part), and that was kind of my first exposure to the band. To be completely real and rude, I didn’t like their song “Death of Peace of Mind” when I first heard it on a random Spotify Sunday. And then I heard Noah sing everything live and I understood exactly why he is so beloved. The man has range and I am here for it. Not only that, but the drummer for Bad Omens is insanely talented. II from Sleep Token gets a lot of accolades–well deserved, of course–but buddy boy Nick is also amazing. The whole band looks like they’re having fun, and that is always something I will love.

The show started with President. I’d heard two songs by them before we went to this show and I was less than impressed. Not a problem, really, I don’t need to love everything. But live? Holy balls, they were somethin’ real nice. I felt the lead singer was trying too much to be cinematic at times with his poses in the lighting, but as one of my friends pointed out, there’s only so much one can do on a stage sometimes. Which is fair. I don’t hold that against their performance because overall, I really liked what I heard. My watch buzzed at me to calm down a few times, because the thumps got me palpitating, haha.

Not the tall man (context below), but someone having a really good time and I liked the visual.

Beartooth is another band I’ve vaguely listened to now and then. I wanted to kind of prepare myself for the show to know some of their songs before we went to see them, but I drifted back to Sleep Token more than I didn’t. This portion of the show became a little uncomfortable for me because of my aversion to crowds. I know, you don’t like crowds, so why go to concerts? Because I like music and I try to do uncomfortable things to show myself I can. Well, at one point during this portion, a very tall man stood in front of me and my friends (he was 7 foot 1 inch, as he claimed) and blocked pretty much everything. He said he was trying to get into a mosh pit, which, fine, okay. I was already hyped up from being in a crowd of a bunch of people.

One moment I was standing with my friends, the next I was shoved really hard away from them. My flight mode kicked in and my whole brain went silent except for “DANGER DANGER DANGER” and I needed to get away. Bless my friends for trying to help me, but I had to leave the spot we were. I pushed my way through the crowd to the side and kind of moved back to the end of the main clump of people. My watch was definitely buzzing.

But! All is not lost, because I was able to see and hear much better from that vantage point.

As I said, I’ve not experienced much of Beartooth’s music, but I am definitely going to add them to some playlists. If I may be cheesy for a moment, I think one of my favorite parts of live shows is getting to hear the roar of a crowd. Except it’s not really a roar. It’s more like TV static from when TVs would go off-station. Just a quick, loud burst of a buzz before it quiets. It’s one of those feelings I can’t quite describe accurately, I think, because it’s like when I’m in the woods. I feel so big and so small at the same time. I’m part of a bigger thing, in a room full of people I’ll never see again (excepting my friends, of course), and we’re all there.

You can see where I moved to be away from the bunch of people for the rest of Beartooth, haha

There was a part of me that felt a little like I’m a loser because I couldn’t handle being in a crush of people. That I’d “abandoned” my friends to go be by myself because my brain doesn’t work right. But I didn’t leave the concert entirely. I moved to where I wouldn’t feel trapped, and I was able to still be part of it. The music still made my watch tell me my heart was too fast. I still ignored that. I’m pretty sure I looked pissed off because I just have one of those faces. My eyes closed against the flashing lights several times, but that added a new layer to the music for me. Sound has always been more important to me than visual, anyway. Between Beartooth and Bad Omens, I went with one of my friends to stand in a merch line. Which is an entirely new experience for me as well. I got shirts that are too big for me, but I have things to remind me I did something uncomfortable, didn’t die, and I enjoyed the music.

Bad Omens is ridiculously good live. When I heard them at Louder Than Life last year, I was blown away by the talent and class of their performance, and it was just as good, if not better at our Detroit concert. Noah said at one point how he was nervous, and he always gets nervous, but for some reason that night he was extra nervous. To which the crowd cheered support. And then he got right back to singing like he wasn’t actually nervous.

Because I am the person I am, that moment made me a little sad. I had the (entirely) original thought that it must get lonely sometimes for big-name musicians or creative people who perform. Like all celebrity worship tends to be about the way the person presents themselves. We are fascinated by who they are, and we learn all their “stats” like we’re going to be their best friends, forgetting sometimes that they exist off stage and they aren’t famous to the people who know them best. They’re just friends. They’re family, they’re people.

Like I said, not an original thought, but it must be so surreal to have tens of thousands of people full of adoration for you, and they don’t really get to know who you are. Not like your parents know you. Not like your best friend does. The ones who sit on the couch with you and play video games, or you bring presents to their kid’s birthday parties. You’re just you, and you don’t need to be the stage persona.

All of that to say, I am really grateful I pushed myself out of my comfortable place to be part of the audience at this concert. It was fun. It was a break from the reality of the world falling to pieces around us. I stood in the cold for about an hour and some change. I passed bracelets I’d made to strangers. Had small conversations with the nice guy behind me and my friends in line waiting to get in. We were cute, we were frozen, but we were happy.

Until next time, friends.