This week felt like a drag. It felt like a bumpy never-ending train ride that no matter what humps it went over, there was another bumpy surprise awaiting. I keep brushing it off as the "quarantine norms," but what is even normal anymore?
What are you doing this weekend? I'm having brunch with my parents and catching up with my sister and her husband about their recent Midwest trip. Hope you enjoy whatever you'll do, which might include looking through some of this content to muse on:
This article on how to create the best morning routine for you. I think I finally nailed mine, so expect a "Morning Routine" piece soon!
A song that speaks to the malaise felt during quarantine. These lyrics hit me:
As much as I dread watering my front yard, it does bring me comfort and rejuvenation after a long day. Watching the water flow into the soil and fill the surrounding plant with goodness and nutrients gives me hope for also growing stronger during this time.
Busy Philipps' new podcast is the exact comfort blanket I needed!
This short story from The New Yorker's Aug. 24 issue. My favorite lines:
"But what about the metaphor of Max’s own narrow youth as he stands
before the same house, under the same tree, under the same set of stars,
under the same platinum-printing moon, all in the same way. Again and
again and beyond his control. And Max, he feels the same but he also feels
different in the sameness, his cored parts filled with the need for meaning,
which is embarrassing to admit, let alone to say aloud. Like, why me?
And why this? And for how long? Max is young, but he’s also old, how old
he isn’t even sure. Time is a fucked-up thing is the only sense he can make."
In this "Groundhog Day"-esque piece, one of the characters, Max, is hyper-aware of his dreams and goals he wants to achieve during and after college. He observes his last youthful moments in the present but observes them as if he already lived through them all.
Max reminded me of myself -- so ready to move forward, be different, grow, and "do" my passion for the rest of my life. Years later, I'm discovering I did do some of those things, but change isn't always as monumental as you may think it is. Some days I feel older, some days I feel younger than ever. Every day, week, month, or even year is a chance to be aware of where we are now. "Being present" sounds too hard to do, but "being aware," like Max, is a chance to feel, notice where you are now, and move on.
xoxo
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