Welcome back to Shift Happens: Bloodbath & Beyond.

It’s me, Roxy—reporting live from what used to be my bedroom and is now basically a slow cooker set to trauma stew.

The AC broke on July 7th. And like any good hostage, I thought, ‘I’ll wait it out. Someone will rescue me. Someone will fix it.’

Plot twist: no one did.

So here I am, recording this podcast in a heat wave, because waiting for perfect conditions is just another way of letting life ghost you.

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Living here without AC feels like a metaphor for my whole life. The thermostat says 90, but my dad says, ‘It’s fine.’ The house is basically gaslighting me.

I’ve been pacing like a caged animal, sweating out both electrolytes and patience. And the whole time, my brain whispers: ‘You can’t record like this. You’ll sound crazy.’

Well—surprise! I am crazy. And sweaty. And honestly? That’s the brand.

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Perfectionism told me I needed a cool, calm, flawless studio before I could start this podcast again.

But perfectionism is a liar in designer clothes. She sits in the AC, sipping iced coffee, whispering, ‘Wait until you’re ready.’

Meanwhile, I’m over here slipping in my own sweat thinking… if I wait any longer, I’ll be ready for embalming fluid.

So no—fuck perfection. If the audio has background hum, so what? That hum is the sound of survival.

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If you’re listening right now, maybe you’ve been waiting too. Waiting to feel good enough. Waiting until you’ve healed enough. Waiting until your life looks less like a fire hazard and more like a curated Instagram grid.

This is your sweaty permission slip. Do it anyway. Record it hot. Launch it messy. Leave them confused. Melt on the mic if you have to.

Because here’s the secret: nobody actually remembers if you looked polished. They remember if you showed up.

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So yeah. This is me, Roxy Redrum, dripping but defiant. Coming at you live from the sauna of survival.

If shift can happen here, it can happen anywhere.

Catch you next time—assuming I haven’t evaporated