Back, and Only Slightly Better

One place that has kept my spirits up throughout the pandemic: The Huntington.

I started this post at the beginning of January. Before January 6. I should have known better! What was I thinking attempting to get back in the swing of things while 45 was still in office? With things changing seemingly daily, I couldn’t bring myself to wrap up a post and put it out there.

Even now, following the (I’m going to be upfront with my views here) abhorrent outcome of the trial on Saturday, it’s hard to feel settled. Who am I kidding? Does anyone feel settled now? I’ve been sharing with friends that I’m more antsy and angsty than ever, possibly because there’s a light at the end of the tunnel in the form of a vaccine, and it makes the days drag on that much more. It’s like a very depressing version of senioritis.

It’s been many months since I’ve posted, and I feel really weird about that. After all, the premise of this blog is finding joy by extension of noticing the big and little things that make you happy. And if there was ever a time when we needed that kind of mindfulness, it’s been the past ten months. But, I’ll tell ya, I just couldn’t write.

I usually write not only because I feel like I have something to say, but because it’s a way for me to process what’s in my head. Here’s the thing: as a single person who has had more than her share of complex (mostly) one-sided conversations with her dog in the last year, the last thing I wanted to do was spend more in-depth time with my own thoughts.

I’ve continued to read my favorite blogs all through the year, marveling at how those writers deftly tackled this difficult time, while still producing inspiring, comforting, even fun content. On the other hand, I couldn’t figure out how to talk about my own discomfort without worrying how I might be offending someone who could be going through a much more difficult experience. I know plenty of people who lost their jobs, and some who have lost close family members. I am quite fortunate to have not experienced either.

And then I wasn’t even sure what kind of content to create. I could write about all the things that have brought me comfort during this strange time. There’s the afghan my mom crocheted for me that I frequently burrow under, and recently I’ve discovered that wearing a knit beanie indoors is like a weighted blanket for my brain. I bought a fake fireplace that looks like an iron wood-burning stove. I wear only elasticized clothing. I scroll on my phone for far too long before turning out my light because I need to see as many pretty pictures and cute dogs before I close my eyes so that those images hopefully prevent my brain from slipping into a long, vivid stress dream. Which it inevitably does, anyway.

But the vaccine is starting to be distributed, and with it, the possibility to make vague plans for an unknown date later this year. For me, those plans mainly mean hugging my friends and family. And that possibility gives me a glimmer of optimism. With optimism, my urge to write returns. So maybe it’s time for the blog to come back.

I may not post weekly just yet. Honestly, there’s not a whole lot going on for me to post about! I do want to start to research places I’d like to visit next. For now that will have to make up for traveling itself. And I’ll tell you about things I’m enjoying and that are on my wishlist.

So, I’m back. But better? Meh. I’ll get there. We all will.

Robyn Kern is the Tangentier. A long-time writer based in Los Angeles with a degree in screenwriting and an interest in mindfulness, many tangents led her here: a place where people can come to find and share inspiration, dwell in each others' passions, and learn how to surround themselves with what they love on the daily.


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