yum, love to eat my words (on asymmetric language skills)

when my swedish fiancé and i first started dating, we watched some episodes of young royals, a swedish drama series about a teenage prince. he attends a boarding school, and the whole show is in swedish and everybody speaks swedish—except one girl, who understands everyone's swedish but responds exclusively in english. at the time, i chuckled a bit at how ridiculous it seemed. it confused me, how she could understand so much but speak so little. my fiancé suggested maybe she was shy or embarrassed to speak swedish. i'm familiar with language-learning processes and know it's a common experience that, for example, children of immigrants end up understanding their parents but not really speaking the language. but still, knowing about it in theory and seeing it play out were two completely different things. 

fast forward a year, and now i find myself in basically the same position as that character. i've learned languages before, and haven't had any significantly asymmetric skills. but this time around, i've been particularly shy and hesitant about speaking—i care about my fiancé's opinion, and as it's his native language, i'm incredibly nervous to speak in front of him, even despite his patience and support and nonjudgmental acceptance when i do. i've faced my fear as much as i can, but i still have ended up much better at listening and reading than speaking and writing. the most recent time we were in sweden, someone stopped me as we left a restaurant, and said in swedish that she loved my jacket and had been waiting all night to see who's it was. "thank you, it was me!" i replied, in english, simultaneously proud that i had understood her and a bit ashamed that i had become what i had laughed at before. 

despite barely speaking at all, i spend my free time reading novels in swedish. how much i struggle to comprehend them depends on the day and how tired i am, but in general i can read and understand a lot, and i've gone from very young adult to just young adult books in just a couple months. 

i'm crushingly aware of the asymmetry in my swedish language skills, but today i had it confirmed with searing clarity, as i took an extensive online placement test. half the test was simply questions to assess my own level, since it couldn't very well assess my speaking or writing, but the rest of the test was much more effective than other placement tests i've taken—i couldn't just process-of-elimination my way into the correct answer unless i actually knew enough about what the question was testing. i selected a2 level to begin the test with, and as i did well or poorly, a message would pop up about recommending i move up or down a level, until it found the level appropriate for me. when i got to the reading section, the screen recommending to move up a level kept appearing. i was shocked. it felt like the test would go on forever if i kept getting questions right. 

but finally it ended, and my results appeared, along with a disclaimer that asymmetry across domains was normal, such as reaching b2 in reading comprehension, but b1 in production skills like writing or speaking. "that sounds like a much more reasonable difference..." i thought as i stared at my c1 in reading comprehension starkly contrasted to my a1 in speaking. though my fiancé pointed out that the lowest of my scores were all self-assessed; he insists i'm at least a2 in speaking, and that i rated myself too low. 

regardless of just how stark the difference is across domains for me, the fact that there is a large difference is undeniable. and of course, i knew this going in. but somehow, seeing it spelled out for me hits me like a truck. moving forward feels impossible. i feel like i've tied my own hands behind my back; now when i pick a level for a language class, i'll be stuck choosing between insanely boring but matched to my speaking level, or matched to my reading level but impossibly hard to keep up speaking. how do people even learn how to speak? how can i bridge this impossible gap? why did i have to read so much???

i genuinely regretted, even if just for a moment, that i learned so much passive swedish. logically, i don't see how knowing more words, even if only in one dimension, could be a disadvantage. but for a moment it felt like one. i wallowed in despair, and flip-flopped tearfully between choosing an a2 intensive course or a b1 regular-paced course. 

then my genius, level-headed, problem-solving (and did i mention handsome?) fiancé thought to search for "conversation" courses instead. and boom, there they were. speaking-focused, bite-sized sessions, specifically for the level i'm at. it still feels scary, but it definitely is exactly what i need. 

so i'll start that in about a month. until then, i'll try not to get too weird about continuing to further the gap between my reading comprehension and my speaking skills—because i'm definitely not going to stop reading den förlorade liljan. 

my placement test results

i have muscles!!!!!

within the past few days, i've started to notice barely perceptible visual changes in my body as a result of lifting weights. the level of asking my fiancé, "am i crazy or do i look a bit different here?" 

well last night, i felt the first physical changes i can feel when i touch and squeeze my body—i have actual muscles in my arms now!!!! right below my shoulder joint, my arm feels so much more solid than it ever has before. it's a bit shocking, there's literally more of me there than there was before. my fiancé half-joked that that's where all the milk we drank has gone! 

which makes me breathe a bit of a sigh of relief that i've been able to build any muscle at the rate i'm consuming calories—which is to say, a lower rate than is optimal according to the program we're following (called starting strength). it's genuinely a skill to eat more, and i am building it along with my muscles. 

seeing and feeling changes in my body, even just a month in, gives me so much more motivation to keep going. i'm excited to see what other changes are ahead! 

what's stopping me from writing more?

i can just publish whatever i want. i really do much better when i go for volume, so why don't i? 

this will be my third post today. feels enlivening. is that a word? idk. 

one nice thing about multiple posts in one day is it really lowers the stakes for each individual post. who cares if one is super short, i wrote three in total! 

there are so many things i want to talk about. i realized the other day if i don't try to capture them, then maybe i never will. which in some moments can feel heartening and motivating, because all i have to do is capture them, even imperfectly! but in other moments it can feel demoralizing and frustrating, because if i don't capture them now, then maybe they'll be gone forever—that's a lot of pressure. 

on the other hand, i've often had the thought (heh) that a thought is worth capturing if it comes to you more than once. or rather, any thought worth capturing will come to you more than once. or rather, don't worry your pretty little mind about any one certain instance of a thought, because if it's worth its salt, it will come back to you and you will have another opportunity to capture it. 

as i wrote my previous post about the gym, i found myself thinking, "why am i even writing this? who cares? it's probably not even helping me!" 

but also, any reps i get of describing things and working through my thoughts are valid reps. describing things that happen in the gym is actually not that easy, and now i gave myself a chance to work on it, and that is beneficial even if i don't specialize in describing things at the gym. 

ok, i'm hungry! my lovely fiancé made dinner, and i smell it wafting in from the kitchen. bye for now!

maybe i should do morning pages

maybe i should do morning pages/freewriting or something. my fiancé suggested it—he's so smart and handsome. my hesitation is...maybe it would take the wind out of my sails? like i have to treat the writing impulse delicately or something. as if writing for anything other than the blogpost itself would then make it impossible to write the blogpost. 

i'm not sure. i think part of me is also scared to uncover things. it feels safe and nice to choose something that's appropriate for public consumption, but what will i write if i just let myself exist in a space where it wouldn't go anywhere? i've done it before, by hand. and sometimes it does uncover uncomfortable things, and other times it doesn't. 

i feel myself wanting to know in advance how something will go before i do it—classic pitfall. oh well, we'll see how it goes. i'll just keep going, regardless. 

gym progress

my hands ache from the gym. we've been going inconsistently the past couple weeks due to travel and whatever else. my fiancé is sick with a bit of a cold, so he wasn't going to go hard in the gym, but i still wanted to go. actually, that's interesting that i say that, because when i suggested we go, i expressly said i don't want to go. part of me did and part of me didn't. it's a lot harder to get up the gumption when you're doing it inconsistently; this would be our first time back since returning home, and i had my membership paused, and yadda yadda yadda. just several more sources of friction than usual. 

anyway, we went to the gym. partially i felt motivated because i'm started to see the subtle shades of visual changes in my body, and i'm excited to see how that continues to develop. i've been thin all my life, but never because i've been fit or active or toned, just because i was naturally that way. people used to ask me how much i had to work out to look like i did. i'm pretty sure i felt a lot of satisfaction in admitting that it was in fact zero. 

but now i'm putting in effort, and it feels good! i'm discovering what if feels like to use my body to do hard things. according to my fiancé, who functions as my own private personal trainer, i still have more strength to explore, since i'm moving the weights pretty quickly still, but i am starting to hit the point where i'm truly working hard to do so. 

i'm no longer reporting several new body sensations to him every set, like a twinge in my left thigh or my hands hurting gripping the bar or lightheadedness, just to make sure they're in normal range. i know the movements now, even if i still need help correcting my form here and there and double-checking my work—are my hands wide enough? did i go deep enough? does my stance look weird? 

today my accomplishment was bracing appropriately during my deadlift sets. when i first tried deadlifts, i got lightheaded and dizzy, so i transitioned to romanian deadlifts instead (starting from a standing position and lowering the bar past my knees and back up again, rather than lifting the bar from the floor) and breathed through the reps rather than taking a big breath and bracing. that helped a lot, and gradually the lightheadedness has been decreasing. so today i tried bracing again—though still doing the romanian variation—and managed to make it through without getting significantly dizzy. i was shocked at the difference in made in my ability to move the weight. i had started to have difficulty lifting the weight into the starting position, but when i braced, suddenly it was so much easier. it was so cool to access a new level of strength, and feel the difference so clearly. 

one silly thing i'm still doing is putting the bar down strangely afterwards. since i'm doing romanian deadlifts, sometimes i start with the bar elevated at about shin/knee height and grab it from there, rather than having to lift it off the ground in order to get to my starting position. so then after each set, when i go to place the bar back on the shin height rack, somehow i make strange unnecessary movements, like suddenly my knees are going out to both sides to make way for the lowering bar, or i start using my arms more than i should, or i start collapsing my chest rather than keeping it raised. my fiancé has tried a few different cues to get me to set it down better, but we haven't yet found one that works. he tried telling me to just treat it like another rep, which i tried, but somehow still did it weird. 

i realized i'm subconsciously trying to do Setting The Bar Down rather than just...setting the bar down. no matter how good my form was for the deadlift set i just completed, when it comes time to set the bar down, i go into Setting The Bar Down mode, and my brain is convinced that means i need to add in a bunch of extra physical effort—which manifests in weird and unnecessary movements. 

i do feel a bit silly that i'm doing that. but i've also gotten so much more accustomed to receiving feedback and attempting to change my form based on it. it's still emotionally hard to fail, or do a movement wrong, or feel stupid for still not getting things right. but by now, i've learned to trust in my handy dandy handsome fiancé personal trainer, and also trust in myself. i've seen the improvement i've achieved by following his guidance, and i know if i keep going, i can keep improving even more. 

a hierarchy of priorities

1. publish something, anything

2. publish something i want to talk about, even if it's poorly written

3. publish something i think is well-written, that i'm proud of

publishing every day has so many ups and downs. i find myself constantly questioning why i'm doing this, and reminding myself of my priorities, which are roughly what i've outlined above. 

i want to tackle so many things. it's not every day that i feel up to tackling the big things, and that can feel demoralizing. but those days are important too, and even on those days, i can follow through on my absolute priority, which is to simply publish something. the more i can make the publish button my best friend, the better. i don't want to be caught unprepared when i suddenly get inspired with something good. the less friction the better, even if it means some days i post utter nonsense. 

the more often i publish, the more often i can catch a thought as it flits across my consciousness, and capture it as imperfectly as i may. the impetus for choosing this topic today was a realization that if i don't write down these thoughts at all, then they could literally just be gone forever. whereas if i can even gesture at what i'm thinking, then later i can access it and expand upon it, edit it, disagree with it. but i can't do that if i never wrote it down at all. so that's my second priority: capture something i want to capture, even if it's bad. 

the more i do of both of those things, the more chance i give myself to write something i'm proud of. maybe it means i won't have to work so hard to pull something out of thin air, because i already have some stuff to work with. maybe it'll keep me in the groove of inhabiting this tinkering space, so i feel more at home when i want to work hard on a piece. 

do you only know how you feel about something once you leave it behind?

we're back in berlin! this time for the last time—we're officially moving away in a couple months. 

i've lived here with my fiancé for a year, though it hasn't felt that long. we've been away almost as much as we've been here. 

we returned home by car yesterday after our most recent weeks-long stint away. i was excited reunite with berlin, but as soon as we hit the city, i felt my stress levels rising. i didn't want that to be true. i like it here, despite some annoyances here and there. but coming back for what i now know to be the last time seems to make all my grievances loom larger, until they're the only thing in view. 

i make a silent plea. "berlin, please don't make me hate you."

sirens wail, traffic snarls, graffiti shrieks. the city that refuses to be tamed. i guess i should expect nothing less. 

i look out the window and wonder if you only know how you feel about something once you leave it behind. it reminds me of a somewhat questionable pro-tip i used to have for uncertain relationships: if you imagine breaking up, what would you breathe a sigh of relief to not have to deal with anymore? are those things you can deal with and work through, or are they dealbreakers?

sometimes we only give ourselves permission to face the bad stuff once we've decided to leave the thing behind, whether it's a city or a partner. breaking up with berlin means admitting its flaws. i hope if i do that, then i can embrace it with vigor these last few precious weeks. 

when i think about it now, it feels less like a moving away from here, and more of a moving toward a new future. none of my grievances were enough to truly be dealbreakers, but i'm breathing a sigh of relief to leave them behind regardless. i'm sure i'll find a slew of minor grievances with our future home, too, along with its delights and treasures. 

it doesn't feel great to write badly about berlin before i've had a chance to properly sing its praises. on the other hand, writing helps transmute my negative emotions; i don't need much help processing the good times i've had here. 

i'm thankful to this city for uniting me with my love—it wouldn't have been as easy to join each other elsewhere. i'm thankful for the edge, the grit, the sass. i'm thankful for the alcohol-free radlers and the delicious vietnamese food. i'm thankful for all the hardship that has helped me become stronger—i faced so many fears here. 

thank you, berlin! 

a sunny afternoon in our beautiful berlin apartment

late post to unchange the tides

posting early yesterday was great for morale. unfortunately i spent all day in the car today, so it's past midnight now that i'm sitting down to write. i'll at least write something, but tomorrow i'll try and write early again, because that really seems to work. 

spending all day in the passenger seat was great for pondering, but now that i'm here in front of a blank page, i forget all that i pondered. 

our drive home felt somewhat like a video game. at some point we drove across a bridge that disappeared into white haze on all sides. it felt like we were driving into heaven. 

i woke up at various intervals asking what country we were in, bracing myself for how alien i would feel interacting with the gas station interior—albeit on an underwhelming scale of not-that-much to yeah-kinda-a-little. 

later we drove past three giant wind turbine wings, that was cool. at first it wasn't so cool, because they were taking up two whole lanes, leaving none left to pass them. but they were going a decent speed so we didn't mind too much. then when a third lane finally appeared, we got to drive the whole length of each wing in awe. it was dark out and they had what looked like christmas lights attached to the bottom of each wing. the scale was humbling. 

we also saw more wind turbines, ominously blinking red in the darkness. from far away all i could see was the red blinking lights, about a dozen on each side of the road, at various towering heights. they all blinked on and off at the same time. total darkness one second, then two dozen red lights the next. 

at one rest stop we switched places so i could get some practice behind the wheel. i know how to drive, but only automatic, not manual. i've been trying to learn, but haven't done so for months. i felt like i forgot literally everything, including which pedal is which. there wasn't much room to practice, so i just reversed out of and forwarded into some parking spots a couple times.

i had hoped i would be able to remain calm this time—panicking unnecessarily tended to be my issue before—but alas, i did panic my way into giving up halfway through the first try to make my fiancé tell me again from the beginning exactly what pedal i'm supposed to press when. thankfully by the second try, my muscle memory seemed to kick in after all. 

i felt bad about how it went. i had hoped it would go better. my fiancé said he was proud of me and reminded me how long it's been since i've practiced, and how much more quickly i picked it back up this time. 

and sure, that's all true, but sometimes i wonder if i should feel bad sometimes. it always feels like there's a way to justify or excuse why i'm not doing as well as i want to be; at what point is there just not way out of feeling bad about how i'm performing? 

i mean, i tend to feel like there's no use feeling bad about where you're at. that won't help you get better any faster, and will probably even hinder you more than help. where you're at is where you're at, and you can't start anywhere but there, so might as well accept it and find some joy in the process. 

food for thought for another day, i guess. i'm tired!

early post today to change the tides

i started writing a different post, one i'd like to write well, but then i decided to write this one first instead, to get one out there early and relieve the pressure for the day. then i can perhaps work on the other one at my leisure the rest of the day, or maybe take it easy and enjoy the pressure-less hours. 

what comes easiest to me is meta-discussion about the process of writing. this is what i post about on days where i feel stuck and low-capacity. it does feel good to have a topic to fall back on, but that also means that the more i fall back on it, the more of a coward i feel. 

it's actually quite difficult to choose what to write about every day. my goals are perhaps too lofty and amorphous; i want to capture what life is like for me, but also articulate my thoughts, but also improve my writing skills, but also describe the whole process. listing it out makes it sound easier than it feels; surely all those can be done simultaneously. but when choosing a topic, it feels like i pick one of these at a time, thus failing to address the rest. 

describing my emotional experience of the process is my comfort zone, and i struggle to choose topics outside of my comfort zone. though i can often pinpoint something i want to capture, i struggle to actually follow through, either because i fear i won't have anything to say about it once i start, or i fear i won't capture it well, or i fear i don't have an appealing angle on it.

last night, after i published my blogpost for the day, i felt so down on myself and hopeless. i felt the weight of just how bad my writing can be. it felt like such a monstrous effort would be required of me any time i wanted my writing to be even semi-decent, and in that moment it felt like more than i would ever be able to muster. 

but as i attempted to articulate my feelings to my fiancé, i capitulated, conceding that despite all my struggles, if i could just manage to keep hitting the publish button, then on the days when i felt up to expending the effort, i would be in the position to capitalize on it because i'd already be in the habit of showing up. 

today i woke up still feeling bad. i wasn't even sure exactly why. it was exactly the sort of feeling i'd typically elect to use twitter to dissociate from, but i just gave up twitter yesterday. to my chagrin, i found myself scrolling facebook instead while my fiancé took our dog on a walk. 

i'm dressed now, though, and writing, despite it all. i still feel a bit bad but maybe less so. i think it would feel good to give myself the rest of the day off, and return to my other draft another day. we're driving back home tomorrow, so i do need to pack—a nice physical task that will help me feel productive. 

lenten sacrifice part two: twitter

it's the first sunday of lent and i have decided i will also give up twitter. giving up cursing didn't feel like enough, and i've also been feeling much more sucked-in by twitter than before. 

"doom-scrolling" isn't an accurate description of how i use twitter. it's typically a positive-sum place for me, where i can share thoughts, be myself, and connect with friends. but sometimes i have less-expressive phases, where twitter becomes more of a scroll and less of a sketchpad. this is one of those times. interestingly, in terms of total time spent, it's much less than many other phases in my life, but it still feels like the time i am spending on twitter is not being spent fruitfully. 

on some level it feels like giving in; i usually feel in control of my social media and phone usage, and tend to disagree when people describe it as solely and objectively negative. without social media (twitter specifically), i would never have met the love of my life! how could it be a bad thing!

but it's neither fully positive nor fully negative. both can be true, and to varying degrees at different times in my life. 

when i first made a twitter account, it was like opening a fire hydrant, releasing a reservoir of thoughts and feelings and experiences. but the reservoir cleared at some point, and i had much less to tweet about. or rather, i had much less that begged to be tweeted; i can always tweet something if i so desire, but some things just spill out of me more than others. 

when i started this blog, it felt like it accessed an entirely different reservoir, with new things that begged to spill out of me. and as a result, my time on twitter become more and more passive, except to tweet here and there about blogging.

it's difficult to think about taking a full break from twitter. without it, i see much less of lots of friends. but i also think that's not a good enough reason to not take a break. friends will still be there when i come back, or maybe they'll be taking a break of their own. 

i think it will be quite difficult for the first few days or first week, but hopefully i'll adjust quickly. i'd like to spend more time doing other things, rather than passively scrolling. i'd like to spend more time and effort writing blogposts. i'd like to read more, both english and swedish books. i'd like to put effort into getting more modeling experience. i'd like to bake my fiancé more cookies. 

the "why don't we just skip today?" voice

i don't know what to write about! i accidentally skipped two days (understandably, i got engaged for pete's sake) writing a blogpost, not even in a row but two days total, and now every time i feel some resistance to writing the day's post, like if i don't know what i want to talk about or don't feel brave enough to attempt something i do want to write about, then a little voice says, "why don't we just skip today?"

maybe this is normal. maybe i struggled with habits before because i'd always give in to that voice and think it was the end-all-be-all. but why not listen to the voice that says, "do it anyway; we want this"?

when i first started going to the gym, i didn't feel much resistance. the gym was the place where my boyfriend lovingly taught me new things and looked really hot; how could i resist going there? 

but now it's the place where i fail, the place where i have to do things that i feel like i really can't, the place where i push myself even when i don't want to. after the gym today, my fiancé told me that he's proud of me. for going when i don't want to go. so many times lately, on the way to the gym i inform him that i really don't want to go. and that's all—just informing. i don't want to go, but i will. 

i do think it's a bit easier for the gym specifically, because it's something we do together, and has tangible benefits and motivations which also tie us together. i want to be strong for my sake, for his sake, for our future children's sake. 

for writing, i'm a little more likely to feel like the whole thing is a fool's errand, that i'm not getting any better and i'm no good anyway so why even try. 

i get so tired of these feelings. like well and truly sick of it. but i'm not sure they'll ever fully go away. the skill perhaps isn't disappearing them, it's the ability to do the thing anyway in spite of them. making the "do it" voice louder and stronger than the "don't" voice. 

it's not about "never giving up," it's about letting yourself give up, then always trying again one more time. i give up every single day, sometimes even multiple times a day! i feel down on myself, i feel hopeless, i feel stupid. but trying anyway certainly can't hurt, and might even help, so every time i give up, i attempt to try again once more. 

giving up cursing for lent

i decided to give up cursing and taking the lord's name in vain for lent, and my fiancé joined me. 

when i first had the idea, i told him a story about a birthday sleepover i had in middle school where my dad gently admonished my friends for taking the lord's name in vain by asking if he heard us praying out there. one friend claimed she "saved us" by immediately breaking out into a—very obviously fake—prayer. 

i didn't think anything of the story, but then my fiancé later suggested we actually do that ourselves, for real: whenever we catch ourselves taking the lord's name in vain, we turn it into an earnest prayer. 

i gotta say, what a wonderful idea. without it, it feels a little flat to accidentally say it then not have a way to correct it. we don't really have a way to correct the cursing except to replace the word with a non-curse word, and that's not as transformatively satisfying as actually redirecting the exclamatory energy into a plea for help or protection or thanks. 

it also forces us to articulate exactly what we're feeling in the moment that made us swear in the first place. for example, a car in front of us was driving erratically, and i vehemently exhaled, "jesus!" then i realized the exclamation was an expression of my fear for our and the other driver's safety, and transitioned into petitioning for an intercession on behalf of all involved, that we all get to where we're going safely. 

it feels good to work towards curbing the habit of being careless with my words. i tend to be pretty good at code-switching into non-cursing environments, but otherwise, i curse too much for my liking. most times it's not even warranted, just a habit that has gotten away from me. 

i'd especially like to work on this habit before we have kids. growing up, my parents very rarely cursed around me and my siblings, and as mentioned above, also did not approve of the lord's name being taken in vain. i'd like to set a similar example for my future kids, not just because i think it's nice to do, but because i think they are powerful words that are best not diluted and thrown around carelessly. 

the past few years, i've been grokking the humanity of my parents, and indeed of all parents. i'm blessed to have parents that love and feel called to the vocation of parenthood, but that also means i have taken for granted that "parents" are a certain way, simply by nature rather than out of active and intentional choice. 

i'd like to be a good parent for my children. so i'd like to exercise my muscle of active and intentional choice and build good habits to be the best i can be for them and for my fiancé and for myself. 

thoughts on my engagement ring

it's funny how quickly you can get used to something totally new and life-changing. from my boyfriend becoming my fiancé to wearing a new ring on my finger.

my ring is a little big, but i still wear it as much as i can. i'm easily irritated by clothing and jewelry, so i wasn't sure how i would adjust to an item i'm supposed to wear 24/7. but even a half-size too big, the joy i get from wearing it vastly outweighs any irritation (and thus far i actually haven't been irritated by it at all). 

picking a ring stressed me out, and i wasn't even the one doing the bulk of the selection. this was a good thing. i'm the type of person who loved to borrow others' clothes when i visited, so that the resulting outfit was out of my hands and the responsibility of another; choices can be so overwhelming sometimes. 

a few times i thought i had a shape or style of ring that i felt a genuine preference for, only to discover a few weeks later i actually didn't like it at all anymore. i was horrified that i might express a preference to my boyfriend, he'd pick a ring based on said preference, and then i'd end up hating it. 

but that didn't happen at all! we converged on a few qualities that would be preferable (simple, classic, sparkly), and i let him do the rest. 

caring about an engagement ring sometimes comes off as superficial. or maybe it's specifically that caring too much about it is superficial. i would have said yes if he proposed with a piece of string! but i'm also very happy he chose such a beautiful ring instead. i didn't think it was possible for him to pick one that feels so right when i myself didn't even know what that would look like. 

wearing something so beautiful is also just a constant source of delight and awe. it sparkles differently in every situation. i see new colors, new facets, new depths every time i gaze at it. and wearing it makes me feel so pretty myself! though my fiancé made sure to remark that i should feel pretty without it too; and i do. 

the first time i washed my hands after the proposal, i looked down at my hands with confusion. was i supposed to take it off? was i supposed to leave it on? was there some sort of newly engaged handbook somewhere i could consult? i'm actually still not totally sure. 

photo by glawk_40

how he proposed

i can't believe i didn't see it coming! it was not a surprise that he was going to propose, but the when and where and how was a total surprise. i didn't think he'd manage to actually surprise me, because i knew it was going to happen eventually and expected to sense it coming. 

it was valentine's day. we were in iceland, in a remote village up north, for the second year in a row, though the year before it had not coincided with valentine's day. this year, we did an early valentine's day at the blue lagoon, which was a lovely wonderful perfect day, so i didn't expect we would do anything special on the actual day of valentine's day. 

when i woke up, i noticed an unfamiliar and unassuming paper package on the table of our little wintry cabin, but even then i didn't think twice about it. when my boyfriend—strange to call him that now, but i'll continue with this terminology as appropriate, as that's what he was to me at the time—woke up, he presented it to me and wished me a happy valentine's day. i opened it—a beautiful white blouse that had caught my eye when window shopping the other day. and a bra and panty set to match—both a gorgeous design, and strangely enough: white. an odd color for a lingerie set. in my head i thought, "hmm, that feels a little bridal." yet that was as far as the thought went. i later found out the bridal connotations were accidental, or at least not consciously intentional; he had simply chosen a set to match the blouse. 

then we had some coffee, got dressed, and headed up the road to the house the rest of our friends were staying in. i don't remember what we did for most of the day, but at some point, a couple of photography-interested friends asked if anyone wanted to take some portraits. i didn't hear that part, i just heard my boyfriend say, "hey, wanna go take some portraits?" to which i of course readily agreed—who doesn't love a good couple portrait? 

still nothing was indicating "proposal" to me, until i went to the bathroom right before we went out to take the photos. having a moment alone, it hit me that this would be quite an opportune moment for a proposal. wait...could it be??? 

i shook off the thought when i noticed how totally un-nervous my boyfriend seemed, and how utterly nonchalant our friends were. they chattered eagerly about lenses and sensors and printers. surely they wouldn't be having a photography nerd-off if there was a proposal imminent. i later discovered they had no idea the proposal was happening. and to be fair, the nerding out likely still would have been happening (i love having passionate friends). 

i also discovered later that at this point even my boyfriend didn't know the proposal would be happening—at least not at that exact spot at that exact moment. the initial plan was to take a walk down the road, and have an entirely different friend film it on his phone. but as our photographer friends snapped photos, my boyfriend realized that was actually the moment. he stealthily texted the intended videographer friend to get outside ASAP—it was happening, now!

the next thing i knew, he had gotten down on one knee and asked me to marry him. of course i immediately started crying, and also apparently immediately removed my gloves in a surprisingly lucid move, despite feeling totally taken aback and reeling. we also both noticed pretty quickly that we heard no camera shutters—the photographers had looked away for a moment, engaged in conversation, and had yet to realize what was going on. but they caught on quickly when my boyfriend called their name and they turned to see him on his knee. 

at this point, i was still simply crying, my hand covering my mouth in shock—then i realized i hadn't answered yet. "YES!" i breathed. "i forgot to say yes!!!!" 

it felt like an eternity, but was probably only 20 seconds that i had left him hanging. though even before i verbalized my answer, he knew my tears were me crying affirmatively. 

he—my fiancé now—delicately placed the ring on my finger. it was stunning. i had no idea what kind of ring i wanted, just something simple and sparkly, and he knocked it out of the park. it twinkled and danced in the winter sun. 

now that the waiting and secrecy were over, all the preparatory hijinx began spilling out of my fiancé: what the original plan was, moments he thought it had been foiled, pivots he had taken, and how he had called my parents the other day instead of his boss like he had told me. i felt a sigh of relief that i hadn't realized i was holding in—i was worried he hadn't talked to my parents in advance! 

i cried fresh tears. i couldn't believe we were really engaged. 

soon enough, we went inside to celebrate. we had bottles of sparkling wine to toast to our engagement—we had been the ones to purchase them at the airport upon arrival, under the guise of being needed for some unrelated workshop or closing ceremony. i hadn't suspected anything there, either. 

it turned out to be a perfect balance of intimate and shared. only a few friends witnessed the actual proposal moment, but so many were around to celebrate with us just a few hours later. 

it helped me ground in this new reality. when we first started dating, i felt a bit of imposter syndrome saying the word "boyfriend," as it was my first ever serious relationship, and i had spent so much of my life with my identity firmly anchored in "single." now i was experiencing this anew with the word "fiancé." but having so many friends around to witness this change helped me acclimate to it quickly. 

my fiancé. you better believe i will be wearing that word out while i can. a strangle liminal word; he won't be it for very long, in the grand scheme of things. 

he got it right when he said, just before he got on one knee, "every day with you is better than all the days before." 

that's exactly how i feel about him, too. and now we get to spend the rest of our days together. i couldn't be happier! 

photo by glawk_40

tired thoughts

i forgot to post yesterday! so busy and tired. oh yeah, we had a bedbug scare so that occupied my mental space. we didn‘t get to bed until 4am and had to switch to a new room instead of our little two-person cabin. so it‘s not particularly surprising that i forgot to sit down and write a blogpost. it‘s past 12:30am now and i only just remembered i haven‘t written today either. i almost skipped again today, but my boyfriend—nay, MY FIANCÉ! said i could just write it on my phone. he‘s so smart and reasonable and hot. so here i am writing on my phone! avoidance compounds so quickly; i don‘t want to fall out of the habit. i‘ve been quite proud of myself for sticking with it so far. so i‘ll at least publish this little blurb! better posted than not. good night! 

we're engaged!

 

photo by duderichy

lifting weights at the arctic ocean and other highlights of the day

we woke up in our perfect little two-person cabin to snow blistering all around us, while we lazed in our warm bed with windows all around. the cabin is so tiny that i resolved to unpack and organize our belongings in a reasonably efficient way, or else we would spend the entire stay overrun with our luggage and clothing. the before and after was dramatic and satisfying—a lovely gift to future us. 

a couple hours later, we went to the local gym, which was surprisingly robust for a remote village of a thousand people. they had a swimming pool, basketball court, hot tub, and sauna, in addition to the weight room. and the view! it was located right on the coast, with treadmills right in front of the giant windows that showed dark arctic waters and a few mountains beyond. five of us had come together to work out, two of whom ended up spending the session as my boyfriend's newest gym protégés. it was helpful and inspiring to see their form improve so much so quickly under his direction. it was also heartwarming to see how much they also enjoyed his coaching. another highlight of the gym excursion: since my boyfriend was teaching others, i ended up moving on to my own exercises, self-directed this time, as opposed to boyfriend-guided like every other time. i felt confident and comfortable executing my bench press protocol, but i felt like i floundered when i did my deadlift. even so, it felt good to run through it all on my own; when he's available, i tend to lean on my boyfriend's eye rather than my own proprioception in evaluating my form. 

after dinner—we were on cooking duty—we were pleasantly exhausted and hopped right in the sauna, then into the big giant hot-tub that's the size of a pool as the snow continued all around us. we got back in the hot tub later when it was near-empty of others, and i floated on my back as my boyfriend's hands supported my gently from underneath. the hot water, gentle support, and willing surrender combined to allow me to relax more fully than i have in recent memory. though my body was submerged including my ears, my face was still above water and thus was gently bombarded with snow flurries as a floated, and a grin never left my face. 

now we're back in our cabin. my boyfriend is sleeping sweetly next to me, as i fight the sleepiness myself to write this post. the snow has finally died down outside. and now i'll go to sleep, too. 

my view as i rested between sets at the gym

tips for seeing the aurora borealis

1. if you're in iceland—or anywhere else the aurora is likely to be—look up. keep your eyes on the sky. you definitely won't see it if you never look up at the sky. 

2. check if the sky is clear; if it's completely cloudy, you likely won't see any aurora, but if there is minimal to moderate cloud coverage, you could still have a shot.

3. if you see anything that looks vaguely weird or cloud-like, investigate further—it could be the beginnings of or low-level aurora. 

4. if you see something potentially interesting, stick with it, don't write it off if it's not immediately spectacular. 

5. if you see something potentially interesting, use your handy-dandy aurora detection device—your cell phone camera. iphone seems to work best. at low levels, it can be seen by your phone even if nothing is visible to the naked eye. pull it out and check at regular intervals. if you seen any spot of color, it could be aurora—stick with it and see what happens. 

6. if the something potentially interesting starts becoming a bit brighter, even if there are no colors visible to the naked eye yet (it might just look like spectre-esque smoke or thin clouds). it changes second to second, minute to minute. it can get much much brighter one second, then dance around the next, then disappear almost completely. 

7. if it's not immediately spectacular, don't get discouraged; or at least don't give up entirely. all aurora events are not equal; the existence of low-level auroras does not mean they are never truly spectacular. 

8. as much as you can, minimize the external light around you. find the darkest spot around and keep your eyes peeled for anything interesting. 

9. read this xkcd comic for more information/inspiration. 

my boyfriend in front of the aurora. the color was not nearly as vibrant in person, but the shape definitely was. we watched it for nearly twenty minutes, and were rewarded with many different shapes and dancing formations, in various levels of brightness. 

a perfect day at the blagoon

how does one do justice to a perfect day? how could i ever describe it in a way that honors how it felt? in these situations i feel most comfortable describing the meta-experience of how i feel about describing the perfect day. but doing that all the time means i am taking the coward's way out. so i guess i will try. 

today was a perfect day, so let's start there. my boyfriend and i arrived in iceland yesterday, and today spent the day at the blue lagoon, a milky blue geothermal pool with mud masks and saunas and steam baths and more.

the blue lagoon is the sort of well-oiled tourist machine that has thought of anything and everything you might need or want during your visit. they had a swimsuit-drying machine about the size of a hand dryer, where you put your swimsuit in and held it closed for ten seconds. they had waterproof phone cases available for purchase so you could have your in-lagoon photoshoot with peace of mind (though i did wonder how often they have to fish someone's phone out of the pool—it's so opaque that if you drop it, good luck recovering it on your own). they have a complimentary mud mask and non-alcoholic beverage included in entry, both to be enjoyed while soaking in the warm geothermal waters. 

one of the most luxurious parts of the experience was the privacy afforded by the ever-rising wafts of steam. there were hundreds of people at the lagoon at the same time as we were, but the steam reduced the visibility so much as to often feel like we had the whole place to ourselves—or at least a five-meter circumference around us. 

there were also so many little nooks and crannies of the lagoon that we had no problem finding our own corner, whether it was alone in the vaguely yonic, half-submerged steam bath or alone in the far end of the supposed-to-be-cell-phone-free area, where we found the smooth, solid lagoon floor give way to yielding goop, before the craggy lava-stone edge of the pool rose away from where we lay. 

my boyfriend is always heart-wrenchingly handsome, but seeing his clear blue eyes against the pale blue milky waters and perfectly brilliant sky, with the sun reflecting on the water and the steam rising around us, i truly could not believe just how beautiful he was. i felt the happiest i've ever been. 

i wrapped myself around him and floated weightlessly in the warm water. i dipped my head back and submerged my hair, which reported makes dry hair drier but oily hair less oily and thin hair less thin—so i took my chances and drenched it, though i had covered it in conditioner and tied it up as instructed. 

as if this wasn't sensory heaven already, i was further delighted when we applied our complimentary mud masks, from two employees inside the pool—rather than at the designed poolside mask bar—wading towards us offering the complimentary mask from a bucket in their hands. 

i spread it on my face, careful to avoid my eyes—i had kept my contacts in, though advised the silica in the pool could be irritating; the warnings had also stated that the silica could damage eyeglasses as well, so i preferred to wear my contacts. though i did spread some on my other body parts too, my face was the only part that stayed on, as i couldn't help but submerge the rest to escape the cold air. 

but the cold air making contact with the mask on my face? that was incredible. entire body submerged from the neck down in calming, steaming water, while the mud dried on my face pulling it pleasantly taut and keeping a constant, refreshing chill all over. 

in between lounging in the water and various steam rooms, we also lounged indoors and both started reading new books. we had hoped there would be a more extensive lounge area indoors—preferably something horizontal—but we made do. i had just finished my first reading of pride and prejudice the day before, and my boyfriend started it now. i started a new swedish book i had brought along on this trip, and hoped it wasn't too hard for me. i got through a few pages, between stopping to look out over the lagoon and asking my boyfriend which part he was at whenever i heard any hint of a reaction to what he was reading. this was to my absolute delight—it was much harder to share my reactions to certain passages before he had read it, as i had to cobble together a preamble of context every time i wanted to share a funny line. 

after we had had our lounging fill, we had dinner at the lava restaurant, which looked out over the lagoon. the restaurant was almost entirely empty, so our reservation would have felt a bit overkill, except that it meant we were seated at the most sought-after view, pictured below, which the website had explicitly stated they could not guarantee. the food was good and the interior aesthetic matched the name—crazy how volcanic a red spotlight over craggly rocks can look. 

our reservation was a bit too early to catch sunset, so we hopped in our rental car and drove somewhere we might be able to see it well. after 10 minutes of a roller-coaster gravel road, we finally made it to a little bright orange lighthouse, with 360-degree gradient views all around us. 

we drove back into the city as the sun made its final goodbye, then walked to meet friends once we had dropped off our stuff where we were staying. it was a colder night than yesterday, and my boyfriend offered for us to take the car over, but i preferred we walk, even if i should have put on another layer. 

walking turned out to be the right choice. as we walked, we started to see vaguely cloudlike formations above us, but much fainter and fickler. the shapes gained a pale greenish hue and formed a line above our heads, as if we were following a path lit by magical faeries. it was the first time my boyfriend had ever seen the aurora borealis, and it was on the most perfect day i could imagine. we skipped and yippeed with glee, and repressed the urge to insist everyone we passed also look up and see it. 

it came and went along our entire walk over, sometimes brighter, sometimes almost gone entirely. once we arrived, half our party had come outside to see it for themselves after i sent a photo in the group chat. some groaned in disappointment, discovering in real time that low-level auroras are best viewed via long-exposure (of only a second or two) phone pictures. 

but give it an hour or two, or even thirty minutes, of just staying in one spot and letting the aurora work her magic, and magic she will indeed give you. it never got intensely bright or showed many colors this night, but it certainly danced and morphed and merrily filled the sky. 

i really couldn't be happier. 

baby's first airport lounge

i always forget how long a travel day becomes. sure, the flight legs may only be a couple hours each, but add the layover, the two-hours-early arrival, the even-early wake-up, and of course any delays—not to mention that once you get there, you still have to get from the airport to your actual destination! 

that tricksy little last leg always slips my mind, until i find myself exhausted, bladder-full, and hrustrated (that's my new word for hungry-frustrated; i've previously also tried hrumpy—hungry-grumpy). 

today was a travel day, and as it always does, it stretched and stretched. delay here, delay there. i don't mind travel days, but sometimes the enjoyment of the traveling process means i forget to take into account just how taxing it all is. 

my boyfriend and i have traveled quite extensively in the past year—his grandma is always lovingly badgering us to just stay put in one place for a while. but today was a travel day unlike any other thus far...today i experienced an airport lounge. 

i'm endlessly fascinated how you can hear all about what something is like, yet experiencing it yourself is still something else. knowing about something in theory and seeing it for yourself are just two entirely different things. you can't prepare or pre-knowledge your way out of reacting to the reality of it in front of you.

we didn't even experience this lounge to the fullest, barely scratching the surface of its amenities—but the amenities went from abstract things other people do when they visit the airport, to something i could genuinely do in that moment, that would entirely change the course of my day, like shower off the airport grime or get some much-need horizontal sleep if any of the "rest cabins" had been free. 

what did we did take advantage of was the buffet. there's no better time to first experience an airport lounge buffet than when one is freshly hrumpy and hrustrated from weightlifting-induced ravishing hunger. i usually have a very clear limit of how much food i can eat in one sitting. at this buffet i surprised both myself and my boyfriend by devouring two full sized portions of chicken curry with rice, and not long after we left, i was starving yet again. 

it was the best food i've ever had at an airport. and it was free! ok, not free, but all-you-can-eat, and included in the lounge price so as to feel free. i was used to food that tasted much worse and felt much more expensive. i didn't know this was possible!

there's something incredibly satisfying and world-opening about a luxury experience actually delivering on being a luxury experience. 

it's like how recently, i've gotten my nails done at an actual salon for the first time ever, and they're so superior to a cheap set of diy press-ons it's almost unbelievable. 

overall my first airport lounge experience was quite lovely. i think if i would have actually used the showers it would have been too much for my wee brain to comprehend—what do you mean you can be totally clean and refreshed halfway through a travel day?!

anyway, i couldn't be happier. i didn't even mention my boyfriend's generosity to our seatmate on the plane or how he helped push a stranger's snow-stuck car recently. i actually can't believe how wonderful he is and what an amazing life we have together. 

fancy cheesecutter from the airport lounge

today's tired thoughts

i'm so tired. if i wasn't so tired maybe i'd find a more interesting way to describe this feeling. maybe that's taking the coward's way out (i'm back to admonishing myself for cowardice for lack of ambitious attempts in the last few days' posts—this is at odds with another part of me that champions my ability to show up with whatever capacity i have on any given day, even if that's sub-ambitious). 

anyway, today's post will not be ambitious in a way that satisfies the former. i'd just like to ramble a bit and attempt to capture some thoughts. no more, no less. 

as i said, i am very tired. it's a heavy sort of tired, but pleasantly so. i've been fending off a nap since 5:30pm (it's now almost 11pm). my muscles ache, especially my legs, increasingly so as the day progressed. and the hunger! i've been insatiably hungry all day, even after i just ate a meal. 

yesterday, i lifted weights. for the week prior, i had not lifted weights, as i had been sick with a cold. before i got sick, i had an inkling that my recently increased tiredness was a result of the few weeks of lifting i had been doing, but i couldn't say for sure. i don't have a very long-ranged sense of my day-to-day physical condition—my chief concern is the present, and the rest sort of falls away, including whether i've had a headache in the past three days. 

but now, returning to lifting after a week off—i can truly feel the difference. without my noticing, my body had reverted to some previous baseline. one single day in the gym and i feel a major difference in my body. this hunger and tiredness were definitely not there 24 hours ago. 

when i'm trying to build a new habit, it feels disheartening to have to take a break very early on. i'm afraid the break will grow and grow, until the attempted behavior change is just a long-forgotten destination in the rearview mirror. 

with exercise, however, this is the second time i've started to build a habit and taken a break early on...and the break has actually been helpful to feel the difference in my body between doing the habit and not doing the habit. the stark contrast cements my determination to keep going, rather than the break convincing me to just give up. 

feeling a difference in my body is exciting, and a little bit scary. i've never been strong, never really been In Shape. i don't know what that version of me will feel like, will be like. maybe it won't feel much different than this change i'm feeling today; maybe it will just feel like the me of today rather than the me of two days ago. but maybe i'll feel wildly different; i don't know! 

getting stronger feels big and important. i'm excited to keep going. even though i often don't feel like going to the gym, it feels really good to go anyway, to conquer something hard, to become someone i've never been before. 

the kind of person who...

making any sort of change can be a bit unsettling for me at first, especially because i'm awash in thoughts of "am i the type of person who [makes such a change]?" 

this is both an internal and an external concern. on the inside, it can feel like leaving behind something that feels like a part of my identity. on the outside, i worry that people will assume all sorts of things from seeing the new behavior instead of whatever i did before. 

when i first got an activity tracker to wear on my wrist, i got a $20 knockoff one from amazon. wearing it felt like it necessitated disclaimers to anyone who mentioned it, because yes, i was now someone who wanted to track my steps, but no, i was not someone who had a few hundred dollars to spend on doing so, and certainly was not someone Into Fitness, though i did want to exercise more. 

the internal battle at the time felt like betraying the part of me that was severely dysfunctional and wanted nothing more than to just lie down. wearing a knockoff fitbit to track the 500-step walk i just barely managed to drag myself outside for felt dishonest somehow, though unfortunately—as far as i know—they don't make a product that would showcase that particular information. not that i would have wanted to—it sucked to feel and be dysfunctional. but that was my true, honest experience nonetheless, and wearing something that broadcasted the opposite idea felt strange and uncomfortable.

despite this seemingly unavoidable transition period where my identity adjusts to my new behavior, i don't tend to let it actually prevent me from making the desired behavior change in the first place. 

a month ago, i started lifting weights. i've never been a person who "goes to the gym," though i've successfully found enjoyable group cardio exercises here and there throughout the years. "strength training" and "resistance training" and "lifting weights" and "going to the gym" were all things i had heard recommended, but as to what that actually entailed, i hadn't the faintest clue. 

thankfully the identity adjustment this time hasn't been quite so thorny, as i haven't had to navigate it alone—i've been my boyfriend's dutiful protégé. asking him every question under the sun has helped alleviate my gym-virgin ignorance and made it easier to feel like it's somewhere i belong. it also helps that he well and truly Sees me—at his side, changed behaviors feel less like an identity crisis and more like an identity expansion. 

and after all, i'm still just me. i just sometimes go to the gym now. 

We Have Daily Blogging At Home

I recently saw a post about the next iteration of the Inkhaven Residency, a month-long writing bootcamp. 

The crux of the residency is that participants write and publish a blogpost every single day, for a whole month. I had heard about it previously, but the details hadn't stuck in my mind—only the impression that it sounded like a cool and effective bootcamp. 

So imagine my delight when I came across it this time, to find that the major focus is what I fell into doing all on my own—daily blogging! It felt like an affirmation that wherever it is I'm going, I'm heading in the right direction. 

The marketing page for the event includes an inspiring quote, which added to my convictions: "Whenever I see a new person who blogs every day, it's very rare that that never goes anywhere or they don't get good. That's like my best leading indicator for who's going to be a good blogger."—Scott Alexander,
Dwarkesh Patel Podcast.

I used to feel an aversion to writing workshops and the like. I don't think I was ever able to articulate why —hmm, ironic?—but it's something akin to not wanting to learn music theory for fear that it would hinder my ability to write songs from my own heart and mind, rather than learning the supposed rules and accepted methods for doing so. 

Feeling that way always felt a bit silly, but then again, feelings often don't hold strict to logic and reason. It was the way I felt, and that was that. 

Now that I've started in on the process of actually writing, and wanting to actively work toward improving, I no longer feel that way. Even just a month in, I see my shortcomings so clearly. I see the draw of attending workshops to address issues that others have made it through already, that will take me potentially hundreds of tries to conquer, if not even more. 

For now, I'm happy to keep working through them on my own. I'm not yet stuck and floundering—seeing my shortcomings might prove enough to address them yet. I don't have any trouble making it to the "publish" finish line—this workshop seems much more helpful for those who do. 

Though daily blogging with help from admirable mentors does sound cool, I've got daily blogging at home. 

One Year Living With You

One year living with you. Many more I'll spend by your side. Hand in hand, stride by stride, on cobblestone or mountain, field or ice. 

For me, you are the church at the top of a hill; the rush of warm air indoors after a dark, wintry promenade; a handsomely weathering copper roof; a pair of contacts worn right-side-out; the spark of kosher salt in a chocolate chip cookie; the instrumental break of a song, crescendoing all the better after everything that came before. 

My now, my now, my now. 

❤️

thoughts on daily blogging

when i started this, blog, i fell into a groove of posting every day, once a day. i know myself, and i predicted this would become a Rule i would feel pressure to adhere to, but i also felt like it might be a reasonable frequency to keep myself publishing consistently. 

i was right on both counts, it seems. i did fall victim to the pressure more than a few times, which resulted in not-so-great feelings about doing the writing part itself. i made some adjustments after that, aiming for writing earlier in the day rather than leaving it as some due-at-11:59pm nightmare assignment. 

that worked well enough that i was able to reconnect with the "wow this is fun" feeling, and didn't even need to adhere to that new rule, of not leaving it until the last minute. it's currently 11:09pm and i'm feeling just fine!

posting at a daily frequency has indeed kept me In The Game. perhaps at a later date i might find more space to work on longer or more ambitious pieces, but for now, i'm finding a nice balance each day of what feels right in the moment, whether it's just a "what i'm thinking about" post, a meta-post about the process, or a more ambitious post, attempting to create a coherent piece or to describe something that's important to me. 

it's also feeling like no big deal to hit "publish." i can tell when it's time to do so, and sometimes even when by some measures it might be "too early" to do so. i find the wonton publish-anyway maneuver to be quite delicious. 

today i was pondering the creative process, and how it seems to have three modes: creating mode, editing mode, and sharing/publishing mode. the way i operate is maximizing the time spent in the creating and sharing modes, and intentionally and sparingly deploying the editing mode—which takes the most energy, and can cause an unwanted decrease in the other two modes if left unchecked. 

in order to work like that, i also have to keep my ego in check. no single creation determines my worth as a writer or creator or whatever i'm doing. i work this way knowingly: accepting the tradeoffs. i know that if i spent more time in editing mode, then i'd very likely find better ways to say things, or polish up my work. but i also know that my identity doesn't rest on my doing so: i can handle publishing unpolished work because i know that i prioritize posting at volume over optimizing for quality. 

sometimes this makes me worry that i will never produce work to my full potential, because what if i'm cowardly avoiding applying all three modes at full throttle? but i quickly shake that thought off. what's the point of "potential" anyway? it doesn't exist. what exists is what i do now, with what i have at my disposal. 

some days that's more, and some days that's less. i'm developing a good sense of what i have in me each day, and writing a post accordingly. i think showing up fully doesn't mean forcing myself to try at ambitious amounts every day; it means showing up, with what i have that day, and giving that, again and again. 

if i had never started this blog, i would have never discovered just how much i have to say. i am continually amazed at how many words i can produce when i simply sit down and let myself do it. a blank page doesn't scare me anymore, not quite the way it used to. a page full of my own words doesn't scare me the way it used to, either. at least not right now. i know it will change day to day. 

sometimes i marvel at how i can successfully capture any thought at all. i have so many in a day, each one resulting in a cascade of others, it's a wonder i can choose and stick with any at all. sometimes that feels like the entirety of the skill of writing: the ability to pick one path from impossibly infinite options. 

i could say anything, anything! managing to say something is a win every time. 

On Language Courses

In the U.S., if I mention any of my foreign languages to someone, almost without fail they will mention how they spent years learning a language in high school and don't remember a lick of it. I don't say so, but in my head I think, Well, of course. 

Even if the curriculum is decent and the teacher is good, a class in school will simply never be sufficient for getting someone to fluency in a new language. If you can let that go, then you can approach learning a new language in adulthood with fresh eyes. 

I do think I got some value out of my language classes in school, but I took from them age 11 to age 19 or so without making much tangible progress in the language I was learning at the time, Chinese. It was only once I made friends with Chinese exchange students in college, and starting having lunch every day with a good friend, only ever speaking Chinese together. 

My proficiency skyrocketed, and I realized that maybe a dream of mine—to be someone who was good at learning languages—might actually achievable after all. 

Once I got a taste of success, I discovered a wide-eyed, stay-up-until-5am passion for language-learning. I went all in learning Chinese, still taking classes and having conversations every weekday at lunch, but I also started filling my free time with character practice and consuming any relevant YouTube video I could find. 

At some point I decided to add Korean in the mix as well, but my college didn't have courses, so I studied totally on my own, visiting my communications professor's office hours whenever I had any questions—she didn't teach courses, but she spoke native Korean and was thrilled to have someone to speak it with. 

I then studied abroad several times in a row, in both China and Korea. In China I specifically chose an incredibly intensive program, with a 24-hour language pledge and a curriculum that added 30-50 new characters each day. 

In Korea, I was starting from a much lower level, but tested into the level just above the very lowest, after spending only 4 months self-studying. However, when I came back again later that year, I was placed once again in the level just above the very lowest. But there were less students in the winter term, so my class ended up being a bit higher level than my summer course, just by chance. 

The thing was, in the summer course I was so proud of myself for making into a level higher than the lowest. But I really struggled to keep up. I could never catch when the teacher said we were taking a break—all of a sudden everyone would just be standing up and leaving the room, to my surprise. 

And of course, it hurt my pride to be placed in the same level in the winter term. But I realized I could follow along so much better than before. I realized it wasn't actually a practical goal to just shoot for the highest level you could test your way into—attending a class that's slightly below your level was actually incredibly beneficial. 

After college, I kept up my language-learning here and there, but I didn't take another language course until I moved to Germany last year. I was starting from barely above scratch, so I started with an introductory, intensive, in-person course. A few months later I decided to look for an in-person Swedish course as well, and managed to find one in Berlin. I had a bit more Swedish than I had German, but I was still just a beginner, so again I chose an introductory, intensive, in-person course–that ended up being taught in a mix of German and Swedish, as the rest of my classmates were German.

Just a few weeks ago, I started my current language course. We travel a lot, so I decided to choose an online course this time. And only once a week, but for a longer period, so I'd keep consistent. And below my level, because I still insisted that was beneficial. 

However, I think this time I may have undershot too far. The class is too far below my level to really be helpful. I thought it would be good for me, because I understand a lot and read a lot but have barely any practice speaking—but most of my classmates have barely any experience with the language at all, in a way that isn't conducive to those of us who are more advanced-beginner. 

And actually, all the choices I made with this course seem to be working against me. I didn't choose an "intensive" course this time, because I thought it was merely describing the course frequency not the language of instruction. I've taken exclusively classes-taught-in-the-target-language for so long, I actually forgot that there are any that don't do it that way. So now, it's being taught in more German than Swedish, which is I guess good for my German, but not really for my Swedish. 

On top of that, the online part means there's basically no opportunity to accommodate mixed-level activities. With in-person courses, you can pair people off according to level, or give worksheets out and then give extra worksheets to those that work fast. Online, if you don't utilize breakout rooms...then we're all just stuck doing the same thing with each other; we can't even all practice simultaneously, only one person can ever speak at once! So we're going at a snail's pace, and not even getting the depth that would make a snail's pace worth it. 

So, what have I learned in the process about choosing an effective language course? 

First of all, it should be part of a balanced language diet: you need as much exposure to the language outside of class as you can manage—don't expect the class itself to "make" you fluent without you putting in effort. 

Sidebar: people always think you can only learn a language if you started young. But adult learning is great! You know how to learn, and you can put in as much effort as you want, which is what will get you the results you're looking for. Pre-adult learning tends to take it for granted that learning is something that teachers do to students or do for students. As an adult, you can take control. 

Second, optimize for a course that's taught primarily, if not exclusively, in the target language. This way, even if you take a course that's slightly below your level, you're getting great exposure to the language, and getting used to operating in it as much as you can. 

Third, if at all possible, take an in-person course. Online courses are fine, but if the other features of the class are not a great fit for your needs, then online will just exacerbate those issues. 

Fourth, do some experimenting to find out which level works for you. This may even be different at different points along the way: when you feel overwhelmed, try a level lower than where you thought you were. When you feel bored or under-stimulated, try a level higher than where you thought you were. That may sound obvious, but I really do think it's helpful to think about, especially because no course will be catered to exactly what your "objective level" is, if there even is such a thing. Language learning is asymmetric and chaotic! 

Fifth, and this is incredibly important, you must actually give a shit. If you want to learn a language, then put in the effort to learn the language. If you try a language course and you find it lacking, then try again! Try differently! Keep going! Even a shitty language course, done consistently, will get you further than never working on your language skills at all. 

Creating in Whispers and Shadow

My creative process has always been done in whispers, beneath the cover of the night, until the moment my creations were brave enough to stand on their own two still-a-bit wobbly legs. Hushed but enduring; done while I was home alone, which I made sure happened often. 

I lived alone for five years, so this was—almost—no problem. Apartment living meant I still kept my voice down so my neighbors wouldn't hear, but nevertheless, I persevered whisper-strong. 

A year ago, I had to make some changes. I moved in with my boyfriend—so in love we spent every waking (and sleeping) moment together we could, and showed no signs of stopping. I no longer had infinite alone-time to be creative; sure, I could still whisper, but one room over from a potential overhearer doesn't feel quite as safe as one whole apartment over—even if said overhearer is one you're madly in love with. 

I took this change in stride and set about to find a method of creative expression that would give me the amount of psychological safety I'd need. I had succeeded in finding this just-right spot in my comfort zone before, and I knew I could do it again.  

Thus, I began writing. If talking aloud was no longer viable—rambling in YouTube and TikTok videos to untangle and articulate my thoughts about the world—I'd embrace the silence and work within it. 

I also pushed myself bit by bit to expand my capacity for out-of-the-darkness, collaborative creation. I knew my shadowy shame was holding me back; I was able to still create in spite of it, but if I really wanted to unlock my creative potential, I'd have to work to let go of as much of it as I could. To whatever degree felt tolerable, I invited my lover in on my creative process. 

Thanks to my persistence, I tackled my first long-form project. I had even shared the idea with my boyfriend brainstorm-early, before I had it fully together—though I did wait until I had a full-blown idea, not just a little scrap. I asked for his input. I didn't let my embarrassment or doubt prevent me from following through. And within four months I had finished it, presenting it to him immediately for his thoughts and suggested edits. 

A ruthless and steadfast editor he was—I cried, in a good way. It was exactly the sort of editing I would have wished for, if I knew I'd someday end up writing. It was the kind of feedback I would myself give to a loved one who had written something they cared deeply about sharing with the world—shearing superfluous fluff; applaud-highlighting noteworthy articulations; turning each word, sentence, and chapter around in the sun to see it shine just right. 

I wept through my gratefulness for myself, too: that I had decided to be brave. He made my writing so much better than it would have ever been without him. 

A year or two prior, I would have answered editing suggestions with red-faced regret and not-quite-sure defensiveness. This time, I faced the blinding rays with my shoulders squared—rewriting entire sections for clarity, accepting suggested sentence-tailoring after suggested sentence-tailoring, and rejecting any that went too far. Another win—I didn't let the feedback turn my work something else—only more of what I had wanted it to be. 

I write this blogpost now on a giant, gently lilting ferry, the waves crashing lazily and silently below as my boyfriend sleeps lightly on my shoulder. I'm tapping diligently away, but only after several minutes spent blank-screen-staring, gathering the courage to start—what if he opens his eyes before my draft-hazy words are fit to be seen?

But I did start. I lowered the screen brightness dark enough to feel safe. I scrapped my initial topic idea that would have felt a tad too ambitious to attempt with a pair of might-open eyes so close beside me. 

I crawl my way to the light once again—still quiet, but ever-increasingly glimmering and sun-spattered.

My view from the ferry. Adding this photo post-publish: I hadn't noticed the setting sun shining on my screen until immediately after hitting publish. Beautifully apt. 

organize the closet, even if you're moving out

sometimes i wonder if it's worth it to tackle a big home project if you plan not to stay there very long. my boyfriend and i just bought these huge ikea closets/wardrobes, and we haven't yet organized them (though they are thankfully at least put together). turns out, we might not be staying here as long as we initially thought, so now there's the question of whether we should just leave them unorganized, or go through the effort of organizing them even though we might not even bring them with us. but we don't know exactly when we might make the move—it could very well happen that we leave it unorganized because we're "leaving soon"...then months and months might pass and we still don't have an organized clothing storage system. i'd like to organize the closet. even if we move out super soon. living in a functional, beautiful home is a worthwhile endeavor, no matter how long or short your stay. life is NOW, not in a few months. 

Advice for Surviving New Environments

Go all in. 

Don't resist the change—embrace it however you can. You don't have to leave the old environments entirely behind, but put in an effort to fully experience the new one. I moved from the US to Germany. I go to church in German, I immediately signed up for an intensive beginner German language class. I changed my phone settings to military time, changed my calendar to Monday-first instead of Sunday-first. Fahrenheit is the last hold-out, but I switch often to gradually acclimate myself. 

Let yourself unfold. 

Don't get caught up in who you were in previous environments. Interact with this new environment and let it change you, let yourself emerge anew. I crave different foods in different places. As soon as we cross the border into Sweden, I start craving Max hamburgers. I never remember they exist until that exact moment. I never miss them while we're in Germany or the U.S. or anywhere else; in those places I have entirely different cravings. 

Acclimate yourself to the feeling of being in an unfamiliar environment. 

Every new environment is new, but the feeling of being in a new environment is increasingly more familiar to me. We've been to church in so many different countries and languages, and though they're usually Catholic churches—and thus follow roughly the same structure—every place has slight differences. I used to get severely embarrassed if we stood up or sat down at the wrong time. Now I don't even flinch. If I stood up and everyone else remained seating, whoops, guess I'll just sit back down. 

Let yourself feel whatever it is you feel. 

You will feel dumb. You will feel rude. You will feel antisocial. Even if you are doing your absolute best, you will mess up now and again. Feeling bad but pretending you don't won't do you any favors. If I mess up and feel embarrassed or stupid, I simply have to feel it completely—either in that moment, or cache it for later and cry it out to my boyfriend. Doesn't matter if objectively it "wasn't a big deal" and "no one noticed or cared;" irrelevant! If you feel bad, let yourself feel bad. Then pick yourself up and try again. 

Learn to take feedback gracefully. 

I used to take feedback pretty poorly. It hurt my feelings and my ego, and I always took it personally, no matter how hard I tried not to. At some point, this got old; and it couldn't last very long if I wanted to swim-not-sink in the half-dozen new contexts I dropped myself in at once: I moved to Germany, I began living with my boyfriend, I was in my first relationship period, I was learning how to cook, I was learning how to drive stick-shift. Every day I was doing something completely unfamiliar to me, and every piece of feedback I received chipped away at my aversion to it. It still bristles a bit, but now I'm much better at receiving feedback, which helps me adjust to new situations much faster. 

Let your experience soften you, not harden you. 

I've been in so many new situations and environments, doing my absolute best to behave normally and politely, and there are just so many ways I can mess up or not know what's going on or accidentally be a bit impolite. I could simply never know all the ways to behave until I learn them, often the somewhat-hard way. And now I have so much more empathy for anyone existing in a context foreign to them—in fact if anyone at all, ever, behaves in a way that seems strange to me, I assume I'm missing part of their context that makes their behavior make sense.