A Blur of a Year

As anyone will tell you, the past year has been a blur. For me, this is because each day was pretty indistinguishable from the next. Working from home with nowhere to go, my scenery rarely changed. In late March 2020, when the lockdowns started, I became intimately familiar with every nook of the house and all possible walking routes from our front steps. As we accepted the reality of social distancing, I mourned the loss of time with friends and loved ones, but I also lost something else - the events that help me mark the passage of time. My favorite springtime art exhibit, summer concerts, movie screenings, holiday plans, vacations... All of these special occasions are fun in the moment, but they also serve as vital memory milestones distinguishing one season to the next. 

It's already month 11 of "coronatimes", and the timewarp is as strong as ever. It's a very privileged problem to have. My life has been quite stable, and that means one day is as unremarkable as the next. As someone without children, I do not have the added stress of 24/7 childcare and distance learning. That also means I do not have the ever-evolving skillset of my offspring to mark time by (Would you believe that Johnny's walking now?). I also don't have the school calendar to differentiate time by (Just 2 more weeks till midterms, then spring break!). 

So instead, I started thinking about the other ways I have differentiated time during the past 11 months. For instance, our pets and their many ailments provide one mental calendar to go by. The month our dog tore his second ACL, and the weekly waves of seeming recovery and relapse that followed. The month my parakeet was on the brink of death with an undiagnosable respiratory illness... a period distinguished by the emotional pain of watching her suffer coupled with the financial pain of specialist vet visits. That was soon followed by two intensive weeks of parakeet oral medication administration (a nightmare for all involved... it's amazing the disdain that can be communicated with one tiny, beady eye). As much as I'd prefer to forget those two weeks, in particular, they are some of the most noteworthy in my memory of the past year. And don't worry, my little bird cheated death and is once again squawking up a storm. 

But there is one time-tracking methodology that stands out as the most consistent and illustrative of my mental state during the past year... the television calendar.

It all started with Tiger King. The virus was still new to us, as was the "new normal". Everything felt upside down... so why shouldn't our nightly TV viewing reflect that? Looking back, it feels like a lifetime ago we watched that series. The late-night debates over whether Carole Baskin was to blame for her husband's death was easier conversation fodder than the reality before us... Would we ever leave the house again? How likely were we to succumb to this virus? Why were some people we loved acting so carelessly, and others so irrationally? Or... were we the ones handling it all wrong?

After the drama of Tiger King, it was time to settle into something more comforting and sustainable. Enter the Great British Baking Show. Countless seasons of feel-good, friendly competition carried me through the next few months. I needed the beauty of colorful confections to escape the gray misery of my current mental state. My obsession wasn't strictly TV-based, either. My baking show viewing coincided with the phase of quarantine when everyone was experimenting with their ovens. I know this because I had to visit three different grocery stores to buy yeast for my own at-home baking adventures. The show itself wasn't a sufficient escape, so I took to downloading GBBS podcasts and listening to episodes on my long after-work walks. The days were lengthening. I had hours of free time to kill and incessant mental chatter to drown out. 

But all good things must come to an end, and as suddenly as my baking show obsession began, it ceased. Where to next? The past. As I continued to use media as my escapist realm of choice, I sought something simpler and more predictable. This period was nostalgic and numbing. We watched all four Indiana Jones movies interspersed with the Back to the Future films. I revisited the Office and 30 Rock, often falling asleep with my laptop propped open on the bed. Fall was here and nothing had changed. My hope for a virus-free world dwindled. Election stress was high. Best to try and not think about the realities of this world and retreat to something known.

And then, something shifted. The election was finally over and vaccine testing gave us glimmers of hope. Even my nostalgia viewing was shifting. I traded the plots of Scranton I could recite from memory for new-to-me seasons of Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt... Kimmy's emergence from the bunker a not-so-subtle metaphor for my willingness to rejoin the greater world around me. And re-join I have. We may not be out of the woods, but I think I've finally accepted our reality in the past few months. By the final episode, when Kimmy and crew say goodbye to the tugboat they once called home, I was ready for something different, too. Ready to see things clearly as they are, right now. Ready to focus more on creating and connecting in the world I inhabit, just as it is. 

Coping

When all of this began... when I left the office with a laptop bag and instructions to work from home for at least 2 weeks... I figured I'd white knuckle my way through the uncertainty. Surely the whole thing would pass and we'd soon be back together, sharing our stories about those wild weeks at home. Like so many others, I did not recognize the severity of the novel coronavirus or how significantly life would change. As time went on, I was slow to adapt to the "new normal" and clung to my old ways. It took me nearly six months of sitting on a rock-hard wooden kitchen chair for 8 hours a day before I finally caved and bought a decent seat for my home office.  One thousand hours on a single piece of wood.  I just didn't want to admit to myself that things wouldn't be returning to "business as usual" (nor would my butt be returning to the ergonomic embrace of my employer's furniture).

The best money I spent in 2020, hands down, was buying this chair.

Intellectually, I get that 10 months into this thing it makes a lot more sense to adapt than to simply cope. Adapting suggests a positive action - surveying the current circumstances and adjusting one's approach to things. Say... learning how to throw a fun happy hour over Zoom, or finding ways to work from home full time without wanting to throw yourself out a window. Maybe even developing the self-control to complete challenging workout videos without bailing half-way through and heading for the snacks. Adaptation sounds like a really wise thing to do.  But honestly, most of the time I'm still just coping.

Unlike active adaptation, coping suggests a resignation... making due in spite of the status quo. Less embodying and more escaping. Reading until my eyes are sore and refuse to focus. Switching over to the endless scroll of videos on YouTube. Dreaming about the vacation we're going to take when international travel is "a thing" again. Seeking comfort in sweet treats despite my new year's resolution to eat less sugar. Ignoring the emails about my temple's weekly online services because "it's not the same".

It isn't the same. Hardly anything is the same. Things will never be the same. I can say that with certainty because even without the coronavirus... things will never be the same again. 

A new administration was sworn into office this week. My cousin just welcomed his first child into the world. The economy is being rocked by political and environmental reckonings. Lab-grown animal products are becoming available to consumers. Both international and local businesses are taking their commerce online. America's racism and nationalism are being once again pulled from the darkness and into the light. 

Some of these shifts have been accelerated or amplified by the virus, but all are examples of our ever-changing environment. We live in a world of evolution and iteration at a time when technological advances are exponential. From one year to the next, hardly anything is truly the same. The implications may be much more subtle than what we have experienced this past year, but that doesn't mean lasting and significant change isn't happening. Which has me thinking... I should probably get better at adapting. 

I'm not about to start an award-winning business that recycles all those disposable masks into blankets for orphaned kittens (someone please run with that) nor use my influx of spare time to write a novel or learn a new language (that ship has sailed). But since I'm reading so much I could join another online book club. That'd be one way to punctuate my weekend-long reading benders with actual human interaction. And instead of only lamenting the travel we can't do, I could seek out nearby but new-to-us hiking spots to explore on mild winter afternoons. I am committed to attending more live-streams and dharma chats from my temple. It's not the same, and that makes me sad. But, I'd rather adapt and nurture my spirituality than miss out on any more opportunities for growth and connection. Who knows? Maybe I'll feel zen enough to start curbing my sweet tooth. 

Recently Read

My 2021 goal of reading 40 books is off to a roaring start, thanks in large part to the continuing global pandemic and a total lack of other entertainment options. In 16 days I've knocked out four titles - two nonfiction, a novel, and a graphic novel. I hope to diversify my reading list this year in terms of format, subject matter, and authors, though I did just finish two books that are fully in my typical wheelhouse: Sourdough by Robin Sloan and Happy Money: The Science of Smarter Spending by Elizabeth Dunn and Michael Norton... two totally different books that I thoroughly enjoyed and want to remember. 

When I picked up Sourdough at the library last week (on the recommendation of my favorite bookish podcast, Reading Glasses) I discovered it was written by the same author as Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore - a book I devoured last year in just a few sittings. Sourdough quickly became a new favorite, though this time I forced myself to put the book down and savor it a bit more slowly. And savor I did. The story follows a young female protagonist navigating a demanding coding job in San Francisco when she discovers a new takeout spot serving spicy soup and sandwiches. The food is the first hint of magical realism in the story that quickly takes on a mystical element. When the cafe's owners unexpectedly leave the country, they gift her a crock of sourdough starter which becomes a character in and of itself. 

All the lovely descriptions of bread had me drooling throughout the book and I very much want to know what the "Double Spicy" takeout tastes like (well... aside from "spicy"). The quirky characters and lovable protagonist had me hooked already, but I was totally delighted when the storyline started examining the tension between old-world food traditions and tech-driven consumables.  Here's one quote from that subplot that I really liked (as spoken by the "librarian" at the funky food market): "...I have come to believe that food is history of the deepest kind. Everything we eat tells a tale of ingenuity and creation, domination and injustice - and does so more vividly than any other artifact, any other medium..." 

On a completely different note, we have Happy Money - an examination of how certain spending habits can make us happier, as confirmed by hundreds of studies and peer-reviewed articles. For a research-heavy text, the authors found a way to make this book fun and engaging from start to finish. The book focuses on 5 principles of "smarter spending": buy experiences, make it a treat, buy time, pay now/consume later, and invest in others. Some of these may seem like no-brainers... buying the experience of a vacation is likely to bring us more happiness than a new electronic gadget, right? But others are a bit less intuitive... we will actually derive more happiness from that vacation if we pay for it well in advance. 

The book walks through what each of the five principles means in practice, and how we can use them to increase the joy in our own lives as consumers. But it's easier said than done... not just for us regular folks, but even for the authors themselves. "We selected the five principles in this book not only because each one is supported by rigorous research, but also because many of us - including the two of us - don't always follow them. Why? Because we mistakenly believe that we're already spending money in ways that will make us happier - the flatscreen TV and enormous house in the suburbs just feel like they'll provide lasting happiness. So, one reason why people's efforts to try to get happy often fail is, well... it's just not that easy to figure out". 

Now that I've finished several "comfort zone" books this year, I'm ready to push myself into less familiar territory. Next up in nonfiction: Wilmington's Lie (The Murderous Coup of 1898 and the Rise of White Supremacy by David Zucchino) and White Fragility (Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism by Robin DiAngelo). And for some fictional contrast: Nothing to See Here (by Kevin Wilson... it involves kids who catch on fire when they get upset... but I think in a funny way, not a horrifying one). 

Lazy Sunday: Pancakes

I give you my heart
on a sticky maple plate.
The morning unfolds.

This particular Sunday was spent:

Eating pancakes

Drinking the last trickles of grapefruit juice over the sink

Bird watching and river listening

Walking... cold hands and colder ears

Reading on the couch

Tucking in early

Something Creative

I may have gone a bit overboard with new years resolutions this year. Perhaps I am making up for all the years I eschewed resolutions as pipedreams built solely for disappointment. But my sluggishness in 2020 and desperate desire to have something - anything - within my control has become quite a motivator. So, instead of one or two resolutions, perhaps one of my eight will be a success. On tap for 2021 we have:

• Eat less sugar 
• Read 40 books 
• Complete the Reading Glasses reading challenge 
• Do 15 workouts per month
• Focus on my mental health
• Buy only second-hand clothes
• Reach 75% equity in our home
• Do something creative every day

"Eat less sugar" is a classically bad resolution in its lack of specificity and, not surprisingly, I'm not off to a great start there. It turns out I finished exactly 40 books in 2020, so reading 40 this year should be doable, and the Reading Glasses challenge will push me to pick up some more diverse books. As for the workouts and mental health goals, I have some external accountability mechanisms in place for those which should help. Buying only second-hand clothes and increasing our home equity through extra mortgage payments are both existing habits cranked up a notch. 

It's the last resolution, though, that I'm most excited about. I miss writing and having a consistent creative outlet. Rediscovering this blog was a reminder of how therapeutic and rewarding writing is to me. I started this website when I was finishing my master's degree. Rather than finding it a drag to spend more time typing at the computer each day, it was energizing. Exploring different ideas and letting my creative juices flow was almost addictive. I cannot believe that in the first year I wrote a post nearly every other day... just for the fun of it! 

But I decided not to pigeonhole myself with a writing resolution this year, opting for the more open-ended "do something creative every day". I wanted the emphasis to be on exercising creativity daily, not so much on any particular format. This does beg the question, though... "What is something creative?" 

For the purposes of my completely arbitrary goal, I have decided that the following constitute "something creative":

• Writing something (anything) on this blog
• Writing a real deal, long-form letter, so long as it requires a fair amount of thought, careful phrasing, and at least one poorly drawn image for effect
• Drafting a poem
• Making a collage 
• Handcrafting cards (bonus points for use of reclaimed and recycled materials)
• Anything that requires me to set up my sewing machine
• Planning and cooking a cohesive multi-course menu (food is my love language and my favorite art form)
• Filming and editing videos
• Leading a book club discussion (I hesitated to include this, but I think moderating requires quick creativity as you form your own original thoughts and weave a shared narrative with those of others)
• Thinking up new activities to add to this list

One week into 2021, and while my sugar consumption is up I have succeeded at "doing something creative" each day. I really hope to keep this momentum going... for the creativity that is, not the sugar. So I'll leave a quote here from Elizabeth Gilbert's wonderful book Big Magic as an inspiration to myself and anyone else who needs to hear it. Elizabeth's book is all about creative living in the most generous sense of the phrase:

“The universe buries strange jewels deep within us all, and then stands back to see if we can find them... A creative life is an amplified life. It’s a bigger life, a happier life, an expanded life, and a hell of a lot more interesting life. Living in this manner—continually and stubbornly bringing forth the jewels that are hidden within you—is a fine art, in and of itself.”  -Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear

Not Letting Go

As we bid "Good Riddance" to 2020, there is no denying the allure of what the new year may bring. Vaccine distribution? Yes! Our favorite restaurant reopening for on-site wining and dining? I really hope so. The ability to travel to... well, anywhere? It's hard to even imagine, but maybe! 

This year has been terrible in countless ways and before the ball dropped last Thursday I actively let go of many things. My regrets from the year. Self-criticism for the way I spent (er, wasted) my windfall of free time. Anxiety and lost sleep over all of the unknowns. Sadness for the experiences we didn't get to have. Internalized stress for what loved ones were going through. 

But as with any difficult season, 2020 taught me a great deal. As much as I chose to let go of, there is more still I plan to carry with me. And so, before I head back to work and the year gets rolling in earnest, it seemed a good time to reflect on a few things I wish to take with me from 2020.

Having all the time in the world

I have been fortunate to work from home during the past 9 months. But aside from the 9-5 timeslot on weekdays, my calendar was completely blank. As a person with no children, I had a glut of time on my hands.  The minimal tasks I'd give myself to do - say, cooking dinner - would expand like a sponge into the evening hours. I would take my time arranging all my ingredients on the counter... measuring spices into tiny bowls like I was on a cooking show and slowly and perfectly chopping my vegetables into their desired shape and size. What did I have to rush for? There was no where for me to go and every minute spent in the kitchen was one less minute I'd be sitting up awake worrying about the state of the world. So I took my time. 

Some nights I would even shoo my husband from the kitchen after our meal and insist on doing the dishes. In normal times this was unheard of - he always cleans up and I think we even worked that arrangement into our wedding vows. But these were not normal times, and I was desperate to busy my hands with whatever was available. 

As the world has slowly opened back up, my amount of free time has begun to shrink a bit. As it does, I've notice that the speed at which my mind and body move has quickened. I no longer have all the time in the world. I have... just slightly less than all the time in the world. That change was just enough to trick my brain into thinking I better get a move on. But I'm going to fight back against that change of pace. I liked taking my time cooking in the kitchen. I liked lingering over the meal longer. I also liked not rushing a phone call, playing with the dogs for as long as they wanted, and getting lost on walks because I had no where else to be. In 2021, I hope to continue acting as if I have all the time in the world.

Practicing yoga outside

It was a turning point for my mental health when our local YMCA reopened for socially distanced, outdoor exercise classes. Regardless of the weather, I started going to my favorite teacher's class religiously. Turns out the cold wasn't so bad once we got moving (and I got better at layering up appropriatey). After months spent cooped up in the house, I had a new appreciation for sun salutations in the actual sun. In 2021, I hope to take advantage of more opportunities to practice outside, even if the mercury's low.

Gratitude for my health

I am extremely lucky. There's no other way to explain the fact that I have made it this far in life experiencing such good health. Sure, I do some things that probably help. I exercise, and being vegan is shown to improve lots of health outcomes. But life is extremely random and you never, ever know what is coming next. Cue a global pandemic.  

One thing I developed this year was a tremendous sense of gratitude for my health. I had started to take for granted that my body could do nearly anything I asked of it. To be clear, I would never ask it to run a marathon (or 5k for that matter) or jump into a frozen pond... I know my limits. But we humans acclimate quickly to the status quo, and I long ago stopped thinking my body was incredible. I forgot how fortunate I was, and that it may not always be that way. So, I wish to carry with my renewed gratitude for my health with me into 2021. 

Reading more

I started 2020 with a modest goal to read 25 books and finished the year with 40 titles under my belt. All that extra time at home helped, and I also got into listening to books on tape and challenged myself to try out all kinds of new-to-me genres (sci-fi and graphic novels especially). I also hopped back on Good Reads and have enjoyed getting recommendations from friends old and new. The rekindled interest in reading and exploring different worlds/perspectives/experiences was one of the highlights of the year for me, and a habit I plan to continue into 2021 and beyond.

Well, hello old friend!

Look at this little corner of the internet! It still exists! I honestly forgot I had this old blog, and despite the permanence of everything on the web, I thought maybe it would have disappeared. But no - here it is! And no dustier for the negligence, either. 

 As one of many goals for 2021, I have decided to reinvest myself in the practice of creativity. After tossing around a few different iterations of "a resolution", I landed on "Do something creative every day". Writing has always been my favorite way to make something, and I suspect it will be my medium of choice for most days. As such, a place to write was necessary and that's how I ended up back here. Because anonymously putting words out into hyperspace (? I don't know how the internet works) is somehow more motivating than jotting them in a book. And I love the idea that a stranger in Poland might accidentally end up here and read something I wrote. I love reading things strangers write on the internet! I aspire to be among them. 

When I first started this blog, I was living in apartment #303 in on-campus student housing at my alma mater. It was the first and only period of my life that I lived alone. It was wonderful. And terrible. I love to be alone for about 3 hours, and then I start clawing the walls. But #303 was good to me. It had old, avocado green appliances and an adorable little pantry that was always minimally stocked with a confusing assortment of vegan fare... tamari and frosting-less PopTarts (really, what's the point?) and some Australian wine I bought at Target because it felt the height of decadence and adulthood. I distinctly remember keeping a honey bear and frozen, raw cashew halves on hand to make tiny little nut and honey sandwiches to eat as I studied. Now that I'm thinking about it, those really were a good snack. Like a tiny little squirrel-approved Oreo. 

A photo from the original Apartment #303. I had a mattress on the floor and this nightstand I found in the trash... but it was home!

Anyway, after apartment #303 I moved back home with my parents, then in with a boyfriend, then a series of roommates, and then to a shared apartment with the man who would become my husband. My window of solitary living lasted less than a year, but I relished that time. In retrospect, the name of this blog seems fitting. As Virginia Woolf would say, we all need a room of our own. So, welcome to my room. I hope you like it here and enjoy reading some of the things I have to say. Apparently when I stopped writing here (way back in 2012) I thought this blog was about "living beautifully, healthily, and fabulously" and stamped that on upper right-hand corner of the website for all to see. LOL! I don't know much about that now, and I definitely didn't back then. Not really sure what I'll focus on moving forward, so I'll leave the dated info up until something takes shape. 

Aw, this is me! A little baby version back in 2009. I still love riding my bike. 

Perhaps you received this message via email and are thinking, "What the hell is this?" Sorry! At some point, I had subscribers who were 85% obligated family members and 15% supportive internet strangers. There should be a big fat "unsubscribe" button somewhere you can hit if you want out. But if you're even a little happily surprised to see this I hope you'll stick around. I could really use the motivation to get back into the groove of writing regularly. I think any sort of creative outlet is a little like riding a bike... but the bike is now caked in mud and the gears are all jacked up so you might not fall off but getting started again takes way more effort than you remember. So, I'll be here, trying to push through the gunk, and I'd love your company.