To blog

I started blogging in the summer of 2006. You can read my first post here. I changed blogs because I thought I would follow all of that advice about making everything more "professionally" focused, but that isn't who I am. I've been relieved to see that advice and mindset recede (at least in some corners) over the last few years.

I know the momentum of activity on the internet has moved to social media, but I just can't. I do like my very focused communities--on bullet journaling and everything people are really trying to get to, Gaslit Nation, a couple of servers on Discord, and even, on occasion, my library's review boards--but Social Media 2.0 hasn't made any improvements on the 1.0 versions. Bluesky degraded very quickly into the worst of Twitter, and Mastodon is unreadable. I have no desire to get into anything Meta puts out. I know there are more out there, but I have better things to do with my time than tinker every time a new website comes out.

Weird outlier: Goodreads. I still loathe Amazon, but many of the authors I enjoy post their blogs there. Some of them have led me to other amazing books, and some of them have led me to other communities. So while it will still be very rare for me to leave a review there, I am happy to check them a few times a week.

Another great source of information: Brooke Gladstone's On the Media radio show. She has led me to some great books as well as some great authors, as well as putting on a consistently informative show. 

But I digress. Then again, that's part of what blogs are for.

Blogs are a little easier to share with the world

 

I like blogs. I like writing one (believe it or not, given my output), but I also like reading them. I mean the ones that are written for their own sake, though they may have incidentally become an income stream or enhanced another. It's not that I think there's anything wrong with making money from your blogs, it's that the ways people do it don't encourage me to read. I love the old cooking blogs (please check out Isa Chandra Moskowitz's Post Punk Kitchen for an example of why), but even if the point of every post is to get me to buy some schlock off of Amazon so you can make a percentage of a penny off of the sales, please stop writing PAGES of text to describe how to make a grilled cheese. It doesn't fool anyone, and at the end of the day almost all of those types of posts aren't informative. You don't make me feel like I've learned anything; you make me feel like I've wasted my time.

I've been loving Suyi Davies Okungbowa, Cory Doctorow, Ann Wood, Austin Kleon, Elizabeth Spann Craig, Dr. Michael Greger, and Chris Guillebeau. (I've also loved Jenny Doh, but unfortunately she doesn't appear to be blogging anymore.) These people write for a variety of reasons, but chief among them is a desire to share, which in many cases is linked to an explicit desire to *grow*. That is a fantastic thing to witness in public and sometimes even participate in, and flies in the face of yet more ridiculous advice that we have to be perfect fonts of wisdom before we can present ourselves in any capacity to the world. I don't always agree with everything they write, but I do still love the way they write. I find just about all of them inspirational in some way, however earnest that may sound.

This year, I want to find more such places to go. (Yes, sometimes a good newsletter does the trick, but there is something about the history--the evolution--of ideas and projects that I take more comfort in.) For as much as the blog has been declared dead for the last decade, I don't think that's true, and in fact I think they're coming back. So point me to the new ones as they come up, but also point me to old favorites.

The passage of time

Happy 2024!

I've been silent for the last few months because there have been things going on of a legal nature that I need to keep quiet about until things settle. (To the point that I took down a handful of posts that I wrote while things were blowing up; maybe someday I'll repost them.) All I will say is that this is not just about me but about someone extremely vulnerable, and that heightens the need for me to be discrete until I've achieved a resolution. (No, I am not getting a divorce.)

Worst case scenario is that the resolution does not arrive for another two years, in part because there are at least three different parts of the legal system my family must navigate. There is always, of course, the possibility that it won't take two years, but in my experience with the other party, counting on "the worst case scenario" is the safest bet. That's made me bitter and desperate, if I'm honest...but it occurred to me last week that this is part of why we come up with the worst possible cases. We can be mentally prepared, but we can also have some perspective. Two years is too long--this is something that should have been resolved years ago--but two years isn't forever. (And while I'm firmly planted in middle age, perhaps the news that the average lifespan of modern Korean women is 90.7 years has informed my outlook.) So the question my family and I have been trying to answer is what the next two years will look like. It's still messy and it's definitely unfair, but being able to define a time frame makes it a little more manageable.

This is not, fortunately, my whole life. I did, as of December, start transcribing my saga, and I keep thinking, you know, this isn't as bad as thought it would be. (Don't worry, I also keep finding things I'm going to need to edit, and I'm not talking about grammar or typos.) As of the beginning of January I started stimulating those other parts of my brain that respond to numbers and logic. (There's really only so much a sudoku game is going to do for you.) Sticking up for my nineteen year old self was the reason why I wanted to get into Differential Equations, but it's my middle aged self that wants to stay with it. I am as daunted as anyone else by learning something new, but with math I'm inclined to stick with it because to me math has always felt like a puzzle, and I like solving puzzles. Chemistry has a similar attraction--those equations involve a lot of math!--but Korean is to reclaim something I feel I should have gotten when I was younger. Maybe we can't go back--and ugh, why would you want to?--but we can appreciate in maturity what we would have slogged through in youth.

This is a lot of fun, I swear

One of my sons will be leaving home at the end of the month to finish up his degree. It is bittersweet for me, as it is for most parents in this situation: I know he needs to leave, but I'm heartbroken that he has to. My husband and I will have only one child left at home after, but it is only a matter of time before he stretches his wings as well. 

In other news, I started playing with social media again, though between Discord and the Bullet Journal University community, I've been on it for longer than I'd thought. I've been dallying with Bluesky...and wow has it taken on toxic Twitter vibes really quickly. Signed up for Mastodon as well, but I suspect that won't be any better. I also suspect that I am just not cut out for this anymore. There was part of me that missed discussing things like politics with like-minded people on social media, but as I've encountered an incredible amount of people defending the Houthis this week, I'm starting to remember part of why I walked away in the first place. I am more than a little uncomfortable to realize that the spaces where I feel most comfortable are mission-focused and/or paid for. That is kind of awful. We shouldn't have to pay for a digital home anymore than we already are.

I have solved nothing, I know. I guess you can see some of the other appeal math has for me.

Deb in the City

Farewell, Richard Cory

My brother-in-law, a generous, successful person whom everyone enjoyed, died the Thursday before Thanksgiving in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. He had everything people are told they should want, but it wasn't enough.

Maybe we need to redefine success and re-examine what we're supposed to want.

I have many things I could say, but perhaps it isn't my place to say them. I can say, however, that if something looks too good to be true, it is. 

Have uncomfortable conversations. Be vulnerable, even if it means you're going to be shot down and hurt sometimes. Be messy, and blink a few times when you're told to be perfect. A life filled with angst and doubt is better than a perfect portrait. 

‐--

Richard Cory

'Whenever Richard Cory went down town,

We people on the pavement looked at him:

He was a gentleman from sole to crown,

Clean favored, and imperially slim.

'And he was always quietly arrayed,

And he was always human when he talked;

But still he fluttered pulses when he said,

"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

'And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—

And admirably schooled in every grace:

In fine, we thought that he was everything

To make us wish that we were in his place.

'So on we worked, and waited for the light,

And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;

And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,

Went home and put a bullet through his head.'

- Edward Arlington Robinson

‐--

Goodbye, JB

Deb in the City

Treats aren't all they are cracked up to be

Meeting in the middle of the morning that prevents me from seeing my sons today (but I do get to see them tonight).) So I thought I deserved to treat myself to breakfast.

My dear reader, when will I learn?

It wasn't bad, but it wasn't as good as I can make. This goes without saying, and not because I am unusually talented but rather, well, an adult. More irritating is that I paid a premium for something that wasn't very healthy, in spite of my best efforts.

But there wasn't going to be any treat that was going to make up for not eating in my own kitchen, and that is probably the real problem.

Deb in the City (no, seriously, I insist)

--
Sent from my GO FLIP 3

Happy birthday to me!

I do plan on celebrating a little more than a matcha latte and a piece of
chocolate -- but for the record that wouldn't be so terrible if that were
the extent of what I did today.

I have much to celebrate. A sister who is autistic and nonverbal has been
having a number of scary symptoms for several weeks. My mother, who has
been her primary caretaker, is suffering with her own issues...etc. Suffice
to say that getting my sister in for a procedure yesterday required not
only the help of another sister, my husband, and some kind nurses, but also
the planning I'm known for. And maybe a couple of minor miracles.

I am happy to report that she is fine or will be in a few weeks. Of all the
problems it could have been, this is the one that I would have picked.
Thank you, universe.

I also celebrate that I feel so much better for this birthday than I did
for the last one. I had just left what turned out to be my final chemo
session the day before, which required me to be in the hospital five days,
but I could only endure four. And that day also featured the chest pains my
team was watching for, and which ultimately determined that my sessions
were ending. It was not the worst day ever -- I had my family -- but this
one is already better. Indulging in an early morning walk instead of
sitting in the dark for a few hours is even better than the latte.

Finally, the last few days have been tempered with more bitter news.
Another close relative learned that a health problem they had vanquished
years ago had returned for a repeat performance. It is frightening, since
this person is now that much older. However, and I mean this, in this case
that may turn out to be a good thing, not least because it also means
medical science has had that much longer to improve.

Aging can save our lives.

Let's endure those bad days and scary times so we can enjoy early mornings,
matcha, chocolate, good news, and family.

Deb in the City

PS The latte was very good

--
Sent from my GO FLIP 3

I am done drafting!

No, really, though I don't blame you if you don't believe me.

I have been working on drafting this speculative fiction project since 2017. In my defense, it's a lot of story. Also in my defense: family health, my health, and the pandemic.

Also in my defense: you can only guess how long it took me to draft my second novel, which I actually started writing more than twenty years before the first. This story had also been rattling around for about two decades before I started writing it. Also, the story is actually sixteen different pieces of varying lengths, although that might change.

But did I mention that the draft is finally done?

I am taking the month of September off. I will not touch the story until October 1 when I am ready to start transcribing. In the meantime, I'm going to delve into the myriad projects that have been making the back of my head itchy, including but not limited to:

• my "personal knowledge management project" which includes taking "temporary" notes from just a few more books and going over my other notes to turn them into permanent notes
• differential equations
• chemistry
• learning more of the Korean language (at this point I think I need a conversation partner, or will soon)
• planning a thrifty kitchen renovation
• sending out newsletters again
  

I want to say that's all I'm going to have to do for the month of September, but it isn't. Some are joyful -- going to my sister-in-law's wedding -- and some are excruciating (dealing with a parent's declining health as well as procedures for a sibling's health issues). I suspect this month is going to be busy, so this is a good time to not feel the pressure of the story weighing on me. (Thank goodness for exercise.)

...and to celebrate! I'm really bad about marking milestones, but this one is important. Maybe a banger cake for my birthday at the end of the month? A good restaurant? A movie of my choice...no, never mind. But...something, even if it's just a satisfying math problem. Because this is a big deal, and it was a long time coming.

Deb in the City

I'm not that way

May and June were a little tight around here. Several big bills came in at a time when our income was a little lower than usual, and we had a bill due in a few months that we were putting funds aside for. It was tight but it wasn't desperate by any means; we were in no danger of not being able to pay bills, and when minor emergencies came up, we could attend to them. But anyone who has ever suffered from financial hardship for extended periods of time knows how traumatizing it can be. As with all traumas, they can be triggered with surprising ease, never mind what you intellectually know and even believe. 

Thus in June I found myself developing a very bad case of hives, and on top of that the insomnia that frequently haunts me became unbearable. I remembered something I had read in the book Move the Body, Heal the Mind about the value of more intense exercise in getting some sleep, so I decided to follow the author's plan. 

The first day found me bored out of my mind. I walk all over the place, but for this more intense, half hour walk I decided to go into one of the many green spaces near my home. It really is lovely, but after three laps around the body of water I thought I was going to jump out of my skin. However, it worked: I slept really well that night. More intense exercise does work, but I could not repeat that experiment.

The second day called for a warm up and then circuit strength training. The exercises were very doable, even though my right hip was strained, but it was still a little boring. (But again, it worked.) In desperation, I jumped onto YouTube to find something at least for the warm ups.

I stumbled upon British trainer Lucy Wyndham-Read. Her workouts are very doable and creative, and the fact that she's my age makes me take her a little more seriously. After one session, I was hooked (and, yes, my sleep has been great). I'm spending no more than thirty five minutes on my workouts (unless I'm really inspired), I'm working up a sweat, and I feel good. We're basically doing low-impact circuits of approachable light calisthenics (my downstairs neighbors just don't appreciate my higher-impact movements), and it's..fun.

It's fun, and I feel good. It's been a while since I had that combination from physical activity, and it was noticeable. I'm someone who's been physically active most of my life, so why was this different? And since this was the case, why had I spent so long tormenting myself with yoga and Pilates?

I think it comes down to performance, and once again that makes me cringe.

I just can't anymore

 

I once read something in an old Glamour magazine in the late 90s (don't ask for more specificity than that) in which someone said training for a marathon made them feel like they weren't just working out, they were now being athletic/practicing a sport. At the time I nervously nodded my head and started doing the exhausted kind of math I did in my late twenties. Must be serious about working out to the point of being an athlete...no matter how much time that took out of my already punishing schedule.

I was disturbed to realize how much I had taken not only seriousness but athleticism to heart (and no, not because of this one article). And it's probably obvious that I was very aware of what people thought of my physical activity, whether I wanted to acknowledge it or not. (Who knew being the last one picked for dodge ball stayed with you this long...)

I was a yoga teacher, and I was a Pilates instructor. When I stopped teaching, I was then a Walker, even when I had young children, and even when I was suffering with cancer. And I always felt like I should practice -- and I mean, practice -- qigong more. And even when I did something that was less doctrinaire, it had to be "fusion", or at least conscious of those modalities. And even when it wasn't, much of it was informed by the principles of dance.

Well thank goodness for weight training...except that always had to be done "correctly". I don't just mean form -- please, your form is extremely important if you lift weights! -- but the methodology -- the thinking -- behind all of the moves had to be logical. Squats, deadlifts, and shoulder presses were my holy trinity, because they got your whole body and you wouldn't waste any time and that was what people who were serious about weightlifting did.

There were many times when I would exercise and I would feel better afterward, but it was always tempered with "how can I improve?", "did I do that as well as I could have?", "did I do it correctly?", and, of course, "what would other people think?" The hell of it was always -- always -- that unless I did something unapproachable for many people -- walk for a really long time, do something that required a lot of core strength, or push into my flexibility -- my modalities were silly or girly or not going to give me Results or just not serious enough and why was I bothering? 

Honestly, a lot of times I hated working out, but for the last week I haven't. And did I mention that I feel good? That is worth me no longer having a respectable identity. I am not a yogi. I am not a Pilates practitioner. I am not a qigong student. I am not a dancer. I am not a weight trainer. I am not even a super duper walker. 

I just work out. And I feel good. Oh yeah, I also sleep really well.

Deb in the City