Sunday Brunch
Beasties & Bruises
Stella and Choccy patiently waiting for the cows to cross meadows
(For Future Reference this week is blended throughout Brunch, instead of a separate section:)
I have been trying to wrap my head around a few things these past three months (ever since leaving Zalanpatak), but so far unsuccessfully. The year leading up to my departure was so gruelling that I still feel a bit battered and bruised. Mum asked me if my upbeat, chirpy morning attitude was real or a little performance. I am in a kind of “fake it until I make it” mode. If I pretend to be chirpy, then maybe eventually I will be, for real.
My mood and state of mind affect the way I approach Substack. When my stress levels rise to the point where I lack enthusiasm and lose my sense of humor, I know I am in a dire situation. But that’s where we are. I am learning that it is OK to admit I am not OK. At all. At the risk of sounding silly and making light of something that actually weighs quite heavy I am feeling quite “glumpy”.
I tried to cheer myself up and Googled “best joke”. I found this. It did not make me laugh. Fringe’s best:
https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c8erpgy727jo
Writing still keeps me somewhat sane. The flow isn’t quite there yet the way it was before, but at least it is no longer stagnant. I also read a lot. The current top three on my Everand app is:
Post Office by Charles Bukowski
Cultish: The Language of Fanaticism by Amanda Montell
Anxious People by Fredrik Backman
Bukowski told me that “you have to die a few times in order to truly live”. Amanda Montell I found through her podcasts while researching Cults in Costa Rica (a future feature for the new Save It For Therapy). Montell’s Wordslut I have also saved, to read when I work through my list of gender topics I intend to explore. Backman I follow on Instagram ever since his legendary Simon & Schuster speech on procrastination and creativity. He does manage to make me laugh.
Perfection is another form of procrastination?
I asked my mother to take a photo of me in the woods. It was the last warm day of the year. Warm enough to wear shorts and this fantastic blouse I bought at a small design fair in Bucharest. It has text written all over it. In English and Romanian mixed together. Exactly the way I talk to my dogs.
I didn’t like the pictures mum took and was a bit disappointed. It seemed the perfect moment for it, the camera on my Iphone is excellent, so why did the photos not come out the way I wanted? The next day I did use one of the photos for my profile post here. Maybe that my mum took it, is enough. (I also need to update the text, as much of what I wrote on the outset of this Substack newsletter no longer applies, but I don’t have the heart yet to adjust the numbers and names of our pack).
My beasties are my saving the grace. The way they are adapting to an “on leash” life (from which I wish to liberate us again ASAP) makes me proud. We are still utterly clueless when it comes to dog etiquette, but we are no longer afraid of hockey balls and dead pine trees. Stella drives dad loopy with her trail of fluff, but secretly they have chats about walks and treats. I have Puss Puk permanently parked on my lap or belly where she purrs away my nerve pain. If anyone should be hosting healing retreats in Costa Rica it should be her. Maybe I can turn this Transylvanian Baby Bagheera into a guru, or at least an animal spirit guide.
Then newspaper de Volkskrant informs me that in the future pets will be a thing of the past. Volkskrant:
https://www.volkskrant.nl/columns-opinie/opinie-hoeveel-we-ook-van-ze-houden-het-is-niet-oke-om-dieren-tot-huisdier-te-maken~b6d521bb/
I also found this, by Henry Mance, author of “How to love animals”:
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2021/may/01/how-to-love-animals-by-henry-mance-review-the-case-against-modern-farming
Today is my grandmothers birthdate. I did not think of this when I selected photos for this week’s picture essay from the cancer expo, which was held on this exact same day 12 years ago. I had intended to write the first part of the new gender series and address how uterine cancer and a radical hysterectomy affected my womanhood. Something else came out instead.
For a while I have been promising fiction. This week I finally deliver with Hurt. Dysfunctional relationships keep coming back in my short stories, so I may want to reflect on this a bit more in depth. In Safe It For Therapy for example. For now I will leave you with just a brief introduction.
To be continued…
XXL