It's been two years! Time flies but at the same time, I can tell the difference between me in June 2020, and the me now. I still sometimes write the year "2021" instead of "2022". It's a blur, who can argue otherwise?
Ever since I started being more "disciplined" in journaling... I kinda abandoned this place. I didn't understand what good this space is for, but I think it now serves as kind of a buffer. Like it's between....public "public" like my twitter or instagram (although it's been private for years) and the private-private like my journal. I don't know if you can reach here somehow from the comfort of your search engine, but it's not like you require a password or anything for access. In an era where private spaces and public spaces are slowly meshing into one another - a familiar blur - I think it's important to have a certain buffer.
Also, while the positive effects of "self-help" were not all that new to me in 2020, I realize I need a more diverse set of tools. I can't deny I like thinking sometimes, and I don't think I engage 100% with the belief that all thoughts are the root of suffering. Throughout 2021, I've been through valleys of decent highs and lows that upon hindsight, were actually quite new to me. Sometimes you take a look at someone's social media profile and you can kind of tell that what they refer to as "looking inwards" is purely cosmetic, and more of an aesthetic. Sometimes you feel guilty because this realization makes you feel a tiny bit superior to them, even just for a bit. But that does not mean that your observation is wrong.
2021 felt like the beginning of an explosion of the newsletter era - it felt so good because it feels like the blogger days all over again. Thoughts are longer, more elaborate, and in my opinion - more honest, and you're not "forced" to read them unlike social media. The explosion kinda tapered off toward the end of the year - for me because unlike blogs where you can link all your favorite blogs on your own blog, for newsletters you have to click "subscribe" and the only place you'll see them is your inbox. I feel I am a lot more selective with newsletters I subscribe to because my inbox storage is limited. Plus, sometimes you have to pay. There is only one I always look forward to, and one that I think has struck the balance between pattern & novelty, public & private - and that is Haley Nahman's newsletter. So much so that when she took a break in December, I still find value in my newsletter subscription because now I had time to catch up with the content I missed throughout the year.
Some of the most outstanding pieces to me are:
- An episode of her podcast with some researcher/writer on the paradox of choice
- Her post when she was being depressed (I feel like her piece & the medium i.e. her newsletter are so perfect because it has some intimate details and yet at the same time... it's not too revealing or begging for attention etc)
- Her post on buying a record player and a reflection on her depressive episode
I myself was kinda in a rut this past week, and that newsletter on her reflecting on one of her depressive episodes helped a lot. I was struggling to find out why - I was so happy the week before, right after my self-isolation period - and I was still on leave, I had all the time in the world, I had so much sleep, ate well, etc. And her post defending "burdens" rings so true to me. Sometimes you remove all restrictions and the "floating" sensation suddenly feels like sinking depression. That reminded me again that I loved some order, some restrictions, certain deadlines, not having enough time, having to function on what little sleep I have, et cetera et cetera. Haley mentioned that this is different from being "productive" according to capitalism:
This isn’t a morality tale about productivity. I was doing a lot before, just differently. What mattered was that I was pushing myself toward structure and commitment, rather than away from them. Consequently, my life felt smaller, the possibilities before me slightly narrower. It was a paradox, then, that I finally felt like I could breathe. I don’t see this state as a permanent aim (I am not the pope), but it’s nice, every once in a while, to remember that frictionlessness is not the key to life it’s often made out to be. Constraints have a way of dulling the ache of uncertainty. Like picking one of 20 records to play, you don’t waste much time wondering which is the right choice, or whether you should change it once you’ve started. Once it’s on the platter, the needle sliding idly across its well-worn grooves, you’re committed, you’re locked in, for better and for worse.
Sometimes great arts are born in these types of conditions. I'm not saying what I'm putting out into the world are, but this helped me put things into perspective a bit, feel less guilty about feeling bad about myself and feeling like I've "wasted" my off week. I am changed a little bit having had this perspective. And her point about records is so true - that reminds me that I should start selling my records, because my collection is growing and I am not as familiar with them as I was when the collection was much smaller. To me that defeats the point of having records as my main mode of access to music.
