I pulled up my website just now riding a wave of enthusiasm and energy, excited to announce that I’m back to writing and posting my doodles. Then I saw my post from eight months ago, titled, “I’m back, baby!”
It’s winter break from nursing school, so I have a ton of time on my hands and no nagging feeling that I should be studying for pharmacology instead.
I had a podcast idea about a year ago where I would tell the story of an object or place’s rediscovery, like Machu Picchu or a stolen painting. This led to a heated conversation with a coworker about Faberge eggs, and I lost my momentum. I think I might try to do a running series on rediscoveries— tell the stories, think about what it means for something to be “lost”, etc.
I was also thinking about posting a quick snippet of my weeks, as told by what I’m eating, what I’m watching, what I’m listening to, what I’m reading, and what I’m googling.
We’ll see what comes to fruition. Quarantine has been a lesson in giving myself patience. There’s nowhere to be, no one to see, and nothing to do; I have absolutely no reason to feel guilty about not doing enough. If I write something here, I do. If not, I’m probably making ice cream or doing literally anything else, which is completely okay.
