In many coming of age films, there is a scene where a teen thrusts their head out the window and screams into the wind to emphasize the freedom they feel in that moment. I had a similar experience—minus my head sticking out the window—last week as I began my five-day exploration of Maine.
This is the second year I’ve set the goal to publish a blog post each week, but unlike the first time, I’ve struggled to experience the creative inspiration that a deadline typically generates. In the past, the weekly publishing requirement compelled me to write some of my favorite posts, but instead of finding that to be the case this time around, I’ve published many posts that make me cringe when rereading. Because of that, I’ve decided to eliminate that goal to focus on higher-quality posts in the future.
Most people who are around me for more than a few hours discover that I am an introvert. This typically comes as a bit of a surprise since I tend to be confident and outgoing, but it’s usually evidenced by my need to briefly slip away during long group activities. Are you starting to understand why I go by “most boring person” yet?
Before we get into today’s post, I must admit that I did use a dramatic title to get your attention because, like an obsolete YouTuber desperate for views, I am not above click-baiting my followers. With that being said, I do need help when it comes to one of my goals, so I am using my blog as a form of accountability.
The word “oops” has many connotations. For instance, one might say it when they spill some water on the floor, or they could quietly mutter it when they’re cutting someone’s hair. Unfortunately, it was the latter that caused the “oops” I heard today.
Easter Sunday is already a special day because of what it represents, but this year’s was particularly memorable because of the circumstances surrounding it. As anyone who hasn’t been living under a rock knows, the COVID-19 outbreak has ravaged the world, forcing people to be apart during many milestones. My family thought that would continue to be the case during Easter, so you can imagine how grateful we were when we found a way to be together.
One of the best parts of sharing memories with someone is the enjoyment that comes from discovering the different perspectives you have about the common memory. With that in mind, I’ve decided to start a series called Dueling Memories where I share a one-sentence memory with someone and then provide three prompts for us to each answer. We then bring our notes together and view the shared memory through our unique perspectives.
I like to think of myself as a pretty tech-savvy individual, but that has notion has been seriously challenged ever since I started working from home. Upon learning that I was going to work remotely, I considered quite a few things. I wondered how it would feel sitting in my mid-century modern desk chair (immensely uncomfortable), how the lack of a commute would start my morning (a little jarring), and if I had forgotten any files from the office (thankfully, no). However, throughout all of my thinking and worrying, I never once wondered how video conferencing would be.
Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I, like many other people around the world, have been cooped up inside my house for the past week and want nothing more than to avoid thinking about the widespread disease. The problem is that it’s quite difficult to avoid it when there seems to be a new negative development described in detail every time I go online. And while I do hope to write more uplifting things in the future, it’s honestly been too tough to switch from my negative headspace to a creative one this week.
“You don’t know how to enjoy yourself. Americans, you work too hard; you get burned out. Then you come home and spend the whole weekend in your pajamas in front of the TV.”
I am well aware that starting a blog post with an Eat Pray Love quote all but admits that I am a middle-aged soccer Mom trapped in the body of a young man, but I couldn’t resist since the quote perfectly ties into the theme of today’s blog post.