yours, tiramisu

ask away, my dear readers (nyc day 16 & 17)

Recently I’ve had a few people confide in me that sometimes they feel like they’re snooping when they read my more personal blog posts. Naturally they get worried when they read how I'm not doing well, and they want to ask me about it but don't know if they're overreaching or crossing a boundary. I’m touched by the consideration, and in response to that I just wanted to say that I post my writing for you all to read. I am an open book (blog?), and shedding light on and talking about my problems is how I work through them, so please ask away! I also hope that in sharing my internal dialogue that I can help remind others going through similar situations that they’re not alone. We’re all in this together anyway, and often the difficult, uncomfortable conversations are the most rewarding. One of my favorite things that has come from publishing my candid thoughts here is that it's facilitated many of these conversations that otherwise might never have taken place.

I got brunch with Madison today, after I reached out to her to tell her I was a fan of her writing. I think this is technically the second time we've met, but neither of us remember much about the first time four years ago so it might as well be our first. Meeting another writer is like a game of Texas hold’em: I don’t know how much of my writing they've read and vice versa. It’s also pretty wild for me to think that the people that read my blog regularly probably know more about what’s going on my head than many of the people I would consider my closest friends (many of whom, for whatever reasons, do not read my blog). Do the people that read all my writing know me better than friends who instead spend a lot of time with me in-person? What's the difference between these two kinds of knowledge? Is one better than the other? These are the kinds of questions I've grappled with for a while, especially in the sad collapse of a long-distance relationship, and I'd love to hear some of your thoughts because I'm honestly not sure what my answers to those questions are.

I went to pick up my prescription at the pharmacy today and it took so long for the pharmacist to find my meds I thought they didn’t have them. Do you ever think about how much faith we have in strangers? I depend on so many people I never see: the pharmaceutical companies manufacture the drugs (gross, I know), my doctors, all the pharmacists that review and count out my pills. If any of them make a mistake I could be out of a crucial drug or two. It scares me sometimes, the extent to which our lives depend on things outside of our control.

I didn't post about my day yesterday because I got home at five in the morning, which might be the latest I've ever been out (like, ever). I was up talking with friends for eight hours straight, which was nice but I paid the price today when I fell asleep multiple times on the subway (dropping my Kindle) and missed my stop. I'm sad about my dip in consistency, because I pride myself on it, so I want to make it up to myself and you by getting this post out on time. It's half past midnight and I'm really tired and my body feels like it's breaking but crafting a good blog post makes me feel better so here I am.

I read "nothing is edgier than earnestness" today, and like most Visa posts I've been turning over his words in my head all day (it's what makes him so great of a writer!). It's a fabulous read, chock full of so many different things I adore: a Calvin & Hobbes comic, great quotes, and some life advice from Ray Bradbury. My favorite bit might be this description of how writing affects him:

I don’t actually feel like I have much choice in the matter. Yes, I can neglect my writing for a while, but if I go too long without it I start to feel a deadening of my spirit. It actually affects my literal experience of reality – I find that I enjoy everything less, including things like walks in sunshine. I find it harder to be present in my relationships. There is a subtle buildup of muscular tension in my entire body. And a lot of it goes away when I finally sit down to get a substantial chunk of writing done, even if I don’t necessarily publish it.

And I'll leave you with this quote, from the beginning of the essay:

"And that's how we measure out our real respect for people – by the degree of feeling they can register, the voltage of life they can carry and tolerate – and enjoy. End of sermon. As Buddha says: live like a mighty river. And as the old Greeks said: live as though all your ancestors were living again through you.” — Ted Hughes (1930)

Saturday, June 3rd, 2023

thank you for reading; write to me at yourstiramisu 🐌 proton dot me

#english #nyc