I was having a bad day yesterday. . . I really didn’t think I could turn it around.
Just as I was surrendering to the whole day being a wash, my older neighbor appeared at my door with a box of chocolates. She didn’t say anything, just handed them to me. Then, I checked the mail and I had a postcard from my brother. He had sent one from Powell’s books in Portland. I really enjoyed visiting him in Portland almost 10 years ago and being reminded of that memory.
I’ve had quite a few full days. Last week, I attended a conference for work where I was forced to put on my socializing mask in 10 hour blocks. There’s nothing wrong with this, just a matter of fact. It actually felt nice to spend a few days talking to new people and attending talks I was interested in. Over the weekend, I kept the social ball rolling and met up with groups of friends for dinner and brunch. I woke up today feeling clear and well-rested to tackle what is already a really busy week.
I’m taking a few minutes on this Monday morning to write here because if I don’t, I won’t have the capacity for it later. I will, however, have the capacity to perform work tasks as they occupy a different part of my brain. So it goes!
At the conference last week, I listened to a talk which recalled the nostalgic days of the internet. I read a book a few years ago in the same theme and I enjoyed it very much. The speaker talked about what websites looked like in The Beginning and how far we’ve gotten away from the no frills blog. Everything on the internet now is so curated and not in the good way, at least in my opinion. Everything looks the same more or less. I remember being a kid on the internet and finding resources and portals to whatever sparked my interest. In this talk, she talked about internet fandom and how the early days of the internet were shaped by fans creating spaces to talk about their favorite shows, movies, bands, etc. How they’d get together to write fan fiction or create gifs, etc. It was more community-centric and wholesome than it is now, that’s for sure.
As I was riding the ubahn home from the conference, I thought a lot about this topic. I recalled the days I’d go downstairs to my basement with a hot chocolate or soda and set up at my “work station” aka the desk with our shared, family computer. I’d spend some time letting it boot up and I’d map out my activities for the day. In the beginning, a lot of my time revolved around talking to my friends on AIM, updating my MySpace, downloading music or reading up on the latest news about the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I’d scour the internet for the latest news on the band e.g. if they were writing a new album, what set list they performed at a recent concert, etc. I’d search for their music videos and watch them or just educate myself about their musical influences, etc.
I loved being on the internet. I’ve always had some kind of space where I wrote or shared my thoughts, for better or for worse. Back in the day, I’d update my Xanga (RIP) about how I was feeling or what I’d been up to. Somewhere along the way, I didn’t enjoy being on the internet as much. I didn’t like sharing things to a wider audience and it felt like it was getting bigger by the day. With social media and iPhones giving us access to everyone at all times overwhelmed me. It still does, to be honest.
When I watch a movie like Julie and Julia, I’m reminded of how wholesome and fun the internet was supposed to be. I’d love to follow a blog about someone learning to cook as they make their way through Julia Child’s cookbook. Now, the idea of reading someone’s blog means filtering through sponsored content, advertisements and looking at a website that is likely devoid of any sort of personality. It’s just boring.
I digress.
I started looking at websites that were finalists for the Tiny awards (celebrating the handmade web) and I felt inspired. I remembered that there are people who still care about creating things that have soul and if I look hard enough, I can find them. I want to create something like this. A place where you feel the good parts of internet nostalgia and get lost. I want to learn about things again or teach myself something. I miss feeling interested in a topic and searching for more information to satisfy my curiosity. Given our attention spans have been shortened to roughly five seconds, this feels like a somewhat lost art.
This week, I’m going to try to slow down and get off my phone. It’s not doing me any good, I can tell you that with full confidence. More on this topic later, it’s just something that’s been on my mind this past weekend.
Omie would have been 99 years old today. It’s the first thought I had when I glanced at the calendar saw it was November 4th.
Unfortunately, my mind does a good job at shielding me from thinking about her often. Even though it’s been seven years, I still can’t allow myself to think about her too deeply. It’s a kind of grief that no matter the amount of time that passes, if I sit with it for too long, it will consume me. When I was younger I used to ask my mom about her dad. She lost him when she was 19 and still to this day as a 60 year old woman, she can’t recall memories of him without crying. She usually changes the subject at a certain point, I’m assuming for the same reason I do when it comes to Omie.
Sometimes I find myself at a confusing crossroads when it comes to memories and recalling the essence of a person who’s no longer here. I don’t know how to honor them in my own memory and give myself the space to feel sad without overdoing it. I haven’t struck the balance, yet. On the contrary, I don’t want to let my self-protective measures wipe them away from my long-term storage. When Omie passed away, I took a few of her scarves and pieces of clothing and put them into two ziplock bags. The smell of her house is one that could catapult me back to 1997 and make me feel both comforted and tormented. On a day like today, I’ll grab that bag from the top of my closet and hold one of her things close to my face, just so I can remember.
I wrote in my journal today and it got me thinking about the holidays, celebrations and how dull they’ve felt since Omie wasn’t here anymore. I’ve done my best over the years but no doubt, the light has dimmed. When I think of Thanksgiving or Christmas, I think of her apartment and the small decorations she’d place throughout her space. In the off-season, they lived in a little recycled cardboard box labeled with the appropriate holiday in her laundry room storage closet. At Christmas, she’d put out an animated skating rink. She’d garnish her furniture with glistening garland. She exchanged the tablecloths for ones with poinsettias or Chritmas trees. We’d drink our hot chocolate out of seasonal mugs for a few weeks. In the kitchen, she’d have the radio on the station that played Christmas songs 24/7. Her rituals weren’t forced or manufactured. They were subtle and authentic.
Almost ten years ago, she had to move to an assisted living facility. I had just graduated college and I was still coming home regularly to visit. This would be the first Christmas she didn’t spend at her home, our home. The condo where she had spent nearly thirty years was frozen in time, just as she left it. My brother was also visiting home for Christmas that year and we spent a lot of time aimlessly driving around our hometown and stopping at gas stations for coffee.
One night, we had the idea to go over to Omie’s condo and decorate it for Christmas. We located her box of decorations and did our best to make it feel like it used to. As soon as it got dark, we drove over to her assisted living facility and essentially kidnapped her. We checked her out of the facility, got her down to the lobby and into the car. We drove the eight minutes to her house and she quickly realized where we were going. We helped her up the flight of stairs to her front door and brought her into the living room. We made food together and celebrated Christmas like we always had, just the three of us.
My best friend asked me once if I could have say, 5 doors that I could walk through at any point, which ones would I choose? It could be anywhere in the world, any period of time. This one would be one of them. I would give anything to walk through that front door and see Omie sitting at the counter, drinking her coffee, eating her rye toast, listening to the radio. To be able to sit in her living room and watch it snow while we watch Charlie Brown. To eat apple pancakes and play cards at her dining room table. I don’t even need the other four doors, that’s all I want.
When I think of Omie’s birthday, I think about all the time that’s gone by since we last saw each other. I think about all the things I’d want to tell her. I wonder what she’d think about me living in Germany. I wish I could tell her about all the things I’ve learned and how much I look to her in times when I need advice—how I strive to be like her in every way. My apartment feels like hers and that’s by design. I now have a little recycled cardboard box with decorations for Christmas, a tradition or ritual I haven’t allowed myself to previously partake.
And today, I’ll do something for her in some way. Whether it’s having a piece of cake (or strudel) or lighting a candle in a church. I don’t want to forget her. I can’t.
Happy Birthday, Omie. Alles Gute zum Gerburtstag. Ich liebe dich für immer.
There is some comfort (and distress) in the fact that I know when I’m feeling burnt out or low, it’s a cycle. On the day I feel the worst, I can at least find peace in the fact that the next day, I’ll feel one hundred times better.
And so it was! I’ve been in somewhat of a rut or mental fog for a month and some change. I got knocked off course and instead of letting myself get through it, I did things to make it worse versus things to make it better. Now, I’m in a position to use my very welcomed surge of energy to do things to get myself back into a place where I feel good again.
I walked to the Tiergarten with Russ on Saturday and I listened to background music. The sky was overcast and the leaves were bright yellow, deep orange and fiery red. He was so excited to be in a big open park, smelling everything he could. I didn’t have any plans or time I needed to be home by. I packed his water bottle in my backpack so we were free to do whatever we wanted. As we were walking through the leaves I thought, this is exactly how I want to feel on a Saturday.
I read some of my book this weekend. I got a bagel. I went for long walks. I stopped by Muji for new stationary to write letters. I drank a lot of peppermint tea. I tried a new workout class. Maybe all of these things together contributed to the lifting of the fog?
I wrote something on my substack recently which prompted a friend to ask me if I’d ever write a book. This thought has been on my mind a lot recently. I want to try, for myself if nobody else. I want to take on the challenge of either compiling essays that would constitute as a book, or develop the concept for a novel. The idea of creating characters and working on a storyline is a bit daunting and out of my comfort zone but I think it would be a good exercise for me to branch out of my normal style of writing.
We’ll see. . .
Anyway, I’m looking forward to the next two months seeing as I’m hosting both Thanksgiving and Christmas at my apartment! More on that later~
I woke up with Russ beside me, pressed into my legs, fast asleep. We took our time waking up, walked out to the living and opened up the blinds to start the day. I opened the window for Russ where his bed sits. I put on a big sweater and a pair of leggings. I brushed my teeth and did my hair. I made a cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal. I sat on the couch while I woke up and drank my coffee before telling Russ it was time to go outside for our morning loop.
It’s a rainy, chilly day here. I put on my warm jacket and grabbed my headphones. I listened to a my fall playlist and this was first in the rotation.
Now, I’m back home and it’s really raining. I made my second cup of coffee and I’m working from the couch. Russ is sound asleep next to me. We don’t have anywhere to be, no meetings scheduled.
This is my favorite kind of day.
it’s been a long time coming but. . . check it out! my living room is finally complete.
and soon the chair will be delivered and my little writing nook/library will be complete!
heavy into my fall fleetwood mac rotation
