Issue No. 4
On crawling back into bed
On crawling back into bed
Sometimes I get worn out. I think we all do, right? It’s part of being human, but that doesn’t mean it’s always well accepted. This morning I had planned to get up, make coffee, write for a couple hours, get those pesky dirty dishes done, and maybe bake something that makes my house smell good. I did anything but that. I got up, sleepily made myself some pour-over coffee, and sat in my living room with the steaming cup in my hand until I could see clearly. While sitting there, I caved and ordered a book I’ve been wanting off of Amazon. There is always a need for more books on my overflowing bookshelf, right? After a while of sitting on the couch, buying books, and scrolling through Instagram, I made my way back to my room and opened the blinds. Icicles are hanging from the gutter like a line of '70s fringe, decorating my house with the mark of winter. I light a candle and turn on my space heater. After taking some Advil for a lingering headache, I crawl back into bed with more coffee, a bottle of water, and a book. I stay here for a long while.
Sometimes there are days anticipated to be productive or creative, but when all some of us really need (or have the energy to do), is make coffee, climb back into bed, and read or fall back asleep. Somtimes that is okay. Taking care of ourselves isn’t always the most popular or outwardly productive thing to do, but it’s necessary, especially in the middle of winter when some of us are trying so hard to keep up but our fingers and toes are cold, lips are frozen, and mind is numb.
So here are to the February days of tiredness and much-needed self-care. A newsletter commemorating the fact that it’s okay that creativity looks a bit different at times. And also a spontaneous effort at poetry:
Driving home on a Friday night,
the setting sun shining brightly in our eyes.
We’re slap happy,
laughing hard about something silly.
I have a slight headache and I’m tired
but I tell myself it’ll all be okay.
This is all I could ask for, all I can take.
Living open-palmed enough to receive the beauty
in front of me on the highway.
Things I’m reading RN
GENERATIONS OF LEAVES by Lyndsie Manusos — The other morning, my friend Lyndie posted on her Instagram page that this short story of hers just got published in Passages North. I read it two or three times while my coffee got cold sitting beside me. It’s the best short story I read in a long time! I definitely encourage you to go give it a read.
If Winter Feels Extra Hard This Year, You’re Not Alone by Corinne Purtill — This is one of the articles I read this morning after climbing back into bed. From the NYT, a soft piece that will make you feel less alone and less of a failure if you’re spending your Saturday back in bed when there is a sink full of dishes waiting to be washed in the kitchen.
The Weight of a Piano by Chris Cander — I just started this book, but I wanted to mention it anyway. Not only is the cover beautiful, but Chris’ writing is poignant and descriptive without being too overbearing. She makes a whole chapter about a piano being constructed fascinating and beautiful.
How are you liking this month’s Mixtape? Did you have any song you enjoyed? I find myself having SYML’s instrumental song “I Wanted To Leave” playing in the background a lot while I’m working or writing. You’re welcome to leave a comment on songs you’re loving right now (click on that little speech bubble next to the heart button below). In the meantime, enjoy this Mixtape for a few more days!