sometimes i wake up from a dream or in this case a nightmare and it feels so real, i don’t know how to shake it.
i won’t get into the specifics but i’ve had an iteration of this dream a few times. in last night’s rendition, i was like the ghost of christmas past bearing witness to my worst nightmare take place as i standby and watch.
I was watching a video the other day about a guy who took the train from SF to Denver which is supposed to be the most beautiful train route in the U.S. He showed some of the landscapes from the observation deck and I started to tear up. This always surprises me when it happens because I don’t feel these things on a daily basis.
About this time seven years ago, I was feeling lost and in need of a big change. I was 26 and had been out of college and working a full-time job for multiple years. My life felt a little stale and boring. I lived in a beige apartment (literally) in a horrible location. My job was the about the only interesting part of my life and even that was miserable most of the time. The only upside was the fact that I traveled often and went to our headquarters in Italy multiple times a year. Otherwise, the day to day stuff was ageing me at an alarming rate. Something had to give.
I applied for two jobs: one at a big company in Nashville and another a small, independent book publisher in Oakland where my brother worked. The one in Nashville paid very well, had a bonus structure and would be an easy 2.5 hour move. It felt safe and a nice lateral-ish move in terms of location and experience. The opportunity at my brother’s company was different. It would require me to move nearly 2,500 miles (roughly 4,000 km) across the country.
It was the fall of 2018 and to say I’d had a bad year would be an understatement. I caterogize 2018 as one of the worst years of my life with some major noteworthy highlights. In the beginning of January, I lost my grandmother which set the tone for the year. I spent the first six miserable months wading through what felt like an impossible grief which transitioned into a lingering feeling of numbness. At the time I was working at a job that while interesting and fun, was one of the most stressful experiences of my life.
The highlights were: I traveled to Italy for the first time, I swam in the Adriatic Sea, I celebrated the summer solstice in a small Italian town, etc. , etc. I went to Las Vegas for work which was kind of interesting but ultimately miserable. I spent many hours in my car commuting back and forth to work listening to my trial of Sirus XM, again, feeling about 20 years older than I actually was. I didn’t see friends very often, most of them had moved away from Knoxville. To bring things to a head, I felt so much anxiety and stress that I ended up fainting while driving home on the interstate from a work event and almost killed myself. I had hit a breaking point and something needed to change.
I received the offer for the job in Oakland on Dec. 4 with a start date of January 7th. This allowed me a few weeks to sell all of my stuff, wrap things up at my current job, celebrate the holidays and then hit the road. As soon as I decided to take the job, I felt like I was plunging straight into a dark abyss. I’ve found this is the feeling you get when you make a big decision like this and there’s no turning back. I’d feel this way years later when we moved to Germany.
We sold almost everything, well anything that wouldn’t fit in our car. We spent weeks getting rid of things and putting things into piles. My mom was visiting when I received the offer and was the first to know. I immediately looked at apartments online and my brother graciously toured and secured one for me. Everything was in place and the next part was the journey across the entire country to get there.
In the spirit of honesty, it’s worth noting this wasn’t my first time traveling across the entire country for a move. Back in 2016, we moved to Arizona briefly before realizing it was hot as shit and ultimately a gigantic mistake. This experience was a “pull the rip cord” kind of deal versus “give it some time” and yeah, there’s not much more to be said there. Either way, this would be my second time driving across the country with Russ to start over somewhere new. That’s the thing about the U.S., it does give you the feeling that you can pick up and move across the country and start over. It’s gigantic with something for everyone. Sometimes this feeling of endless opportunity is merely an illusion but it’s floating around nonetheless.
A new year and a fresh start. On the morning of New Year’s day in 2019, we packed the car and set off towards our first stop which would be Little Rock, Arkansas. Total driving time: 8 hours (maybe more including stops for Russ). The car was filled to the brim with our luggage, personal belongings, artwork, even our TV for some reason. We left a comfortable amount of space for Russ to have his bed in the backseat but that was about it. We had a luggage shell on the roof with more things that was packed tight. We made one pit stop on the first day to see my college roommate who lived in Memphis. Funny enough, this was the last time I saw her now that I think about it. After, we took a short drive to a small guest house across the border into Arkansas. We had three more days of driving ahead of us.
The next stop was Albuquerque which was a 12 hour + driving day. We woke up early in the morning, stopped at a gas station for coffee and granola bars and kept on going. I had packed snacks for us but we were blowing through them quite quickly. I downloaded movies on my tablet like Mona Lisa Smile (lol) and we played them through the bluetooth speakers while Adam drove. We listened to podcasts and talked about the scenery as it started to change drastically once we left Arkansas.
In my opinion, New Mexico has one of the most interesting landscapes of anywhere I’ve been in the U.S. In some parts, it feels like you’re on the moon. A few years prior when I drove to Arizona, Adam had told me how interesting NM was and he was right. I stayed there with our family friends who had an incredible house that looked over a valley. They had floor to ceiling windows with views of the multi-colored gorge and moon-like craters. Their house was surrounded by nature, even though it was in a suburban neighborhood. They warned me about taking Russell outside as there were mountain lions and wolves seen regularly. At night, you could hear them howling which was cool but also gave me anxiety with Russ.
Anyway, I remember going out onto their balcony at night and even in September it was so cold. I wrapped myself in a blanket and looked at the stars. I’ve never experienced a night sky so clear where I could see the stars like that. What I recall the most was the silence. It was so quiet as I sat outside it almost made me uncomfortable at first. I couldn’t hear a car, plane, or person making any sort of noise. I haven’t experienced silence like that since.
Back to this drive, as we drove through New Mexico, we looked at the snow covered craters and desert-y landscape. It went on for miles and miles with clear visibility. The highways look like the movies where you can see everything in front of you without any obstruction. As we tackled our bigger drive on day two, my nerves were settling about the big move. It didn’t feel so scary anymore with Russ and Adam along for the scenic ride.
We made it to Albuquerque and it was late, almost midnight. It was so cold in January, a type of cold I wasn’t expecting. We ran into yet another detached guest house we booked and tried to warm up. There was a small faux fire heater in the house so we turned it on and sat in front of it until we warmed up. Russ jumped into bed with us and we huddled for warmth. It was a cozy little apartment.
The next morning, we spent some time deicing the car and windshield. We had another big day of driving ahead, something to the tune of nearly 12 hours. In hindsight, I didn’t map the driving days well. I put us at a doable drive on day one making days two and three nearly 12-13 hours, with the last day clocking in at four hours. The idea was that we’d get to Berkeley with some energy to unpack or go to the store, which we did. Anyway, these were some long days of trekking across the country. Russ was a trooper, though.
Bakersfield is one of the worst places I’ve ever been, even for a night. It’s kind of sad and scary (lol). We stayed in an apartment in a literal junkyard and I was convinced all of our stuff, including our car, would be stolen by the time we woke up. The apartment was creepy and I immediately regretted our decision to make this our last stop of the trip. Honestly, we should have stayed in L.A.
Anyway, it’s hard to put this into writing and explain how it was to experience it firsthand but we had an unwelcome visitor. A gigantic dog emerged out of nowhere, used his cartoonishly large paw to open our apartment screen door and sat in our chair. We picked Russ up and held him so nothing would happen but the dog did not want to leave. He was a bull dog mix that weighed something to the tune of 125lbs. I’m sure in the end he was harmless but the use of his paw to open doors freaked me out. . .lol
We woke up to our car and things still sitting in the parking lot (to our disbelief) and we started our shortest day, traveling up the 5 to our new home in Berkeley.
For our last day, we drove through the state of California. We headed north towards the Bay Area, our new home. Our apartment was waiting for us and a new job. We were going to live in an in-law suite in the bottom of a witchy looking house at the base of the Berkeley Hills. We’d have a small side yard with a gate for Russ and were a short walk from Solano Ave., a street with shops, restaurants, a gym and a cinema. It was the perfect place for us to land.
When we arrived, we unloaded our stuff and let Russ sniff around his new house. We went to IKEA and got all the things we needed to get set up in place. I started work on Monday morning and it would end up being one of the best jobs I’ve ever had where I made good friends who I still have in my life today. I got to work and live near my brother for the first time. On Saturday mornings, we’d wake up early and make coffees to go and explore around us. We’d drive over the Golden Gate Bridge, go for hikes, see concerts, go to basketball and baseball games, try new foods, travel to Monterey and eat cherries on the beach. We visited Napa and went to the wineries. We experienced our first California earthquake. We went to Disneyland. We watched the surfers and ate burritos on the beach on a random Friday afternoon.
It was one of the best decisions I (rather we) ever made. Watching that video about the guy traveling across the U.S. and experiencing different terrain across the country made me think of my own journey to get to California. It was poetic in a sense. I got to travel across the entire country before arriving to a new chapter of my life.
This was our small side yard a week or so after we moved in. I loved being able to only wear a jean jacket in January. I remember this day well and when the photo was taken, I promised myself to keep that memory. We walked to Solano Ave. to get a burrito and a drink. We came back and ate it outside at our new patio table. We hung lights out there and made it cozy. Russ loved going out there in the morning and sniffing. Sometimes when the weather was nice we’d put his bed out there, too.
Anyway, that’s enough about that! Here are a few more photos from that time and as I once wrote as a caption, “me fully embracing my new life in California.”
This is the time of year where everyone’s head is down and they’re working or doing whatever it is they do without a lot of socializing. I texted with a friend yesterday who says they’ve sequestered themselves while they rebuild. Now, they’re emerging with new things to share after a period of absence.
I feel honored that people share things with me. I’ve always felt that it was a privilege—for someone to feel safe or understood in our friendship. As I reflect on some of my friendships and the dynamics they have, I realize that sometimes people only share the bad times with me. I don’t always get to experience their joy or good news too. They often disappear when things are going well and check-in when things aren’t.
In the end, it’s okay but it’s something I’ve noticed over time. This kind of realization often forces me to view certain friendships in a more therapist, patient kind of way. I’m not really sure what to do with that.
I think I’ll also keep my head down for a while. I’m not sure many people care what I’m up to anyway. . . or at least it doesn’t feel that way at the moment. And that’s alright.
I went to a pilates class last night and despite the fact that it gets dark at 4pm and the temperatures are already near freezing, this act alone saved my night and provided the momentum to keep going. I got home made dinner and realized I still had some energy. I put on my big sleeping bag jacket, got Russ dressed and we went out for a night loop. On my loop, I called my best friend since we’ve been missing each other’s calls for what feels like weeks.
As we were talking, she said she could already feel the seasonal depression kicking in and it was bumming her out. Instead of going into problem solving mode which can be annoying at a time like that, I just listened to the ways that the cold, dark season was taking her under. In my own head, I was revisited by the ghosts of my past depressed seasons where I, too, felt the lack of sun and cold temps sucked the life out of me. I’m fortunate that Russ forces me to go outside multiple times a day for a walk and fresh air.
Later on, I came back with these thoughts still floating around in my head. I didn’t want to stay inside or feel like I’ve surrendered to a six month jail sentence. I watched a YouTube video about the science behind running and what it does for your mind and body. This isn’t new information, per se, but served as a good reminder that I can still run even if it’s cold outside. Running has been one of the best things I’ve implemented into my life and I don’t want to put it on hold for half a year.
Last February, I went running through the Tiergarten and once I got warmed up, it felt so good to be in nature breathing fresh air. Anyway, I guess I’m just trying to convince myself to get some running gloves and a warm base layer. It’s working so far.
As a final note, I put myself in the lottery for the Berlin marathon. I should hear something next week. I’ll run outside this winter either way but we’ll see what happens. Could be fun, who knows. . .
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~