On this day in 2020, I sent out the first issue of this newsletter. A whole year ago! When I started it, it was just a way to keep track of time and goings-on, a way for me to push back against my brain fog that I knew was caused by pandemic blur. Now it’s a year later; we’re still here in lockdown. But I’m still alive. My family is doing ok. That’s not nothing. And this newsletter will someday be a snapshot of what a ride this was, the way time moved both quickly and slowly. It has seen me through the worst mental health state of my life and will continue to chronicle ~who knows what’s up ahead for me~…
I read an essay this week from writer Jessica Faith Kantrowitz, who talked about Mary Oliver’s poem “The Summer Day.” The famous line from that poem that gets turned into Pinterest-worthy art goes, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do / with your one wild and precious life?” Jessica Faith’s essay talks about how this statement can cause anxiety: Why are you wasting your time? What are you accomplishing? But then she reads the poem again more closely, looking at the words that surround this line: “Idle.” “Stroll.” “Blessed.” Mary Oliver’s poem is about noticing the grasshopper, noticing the grass.
The essay is worth reading in full, and I’ve been thinking about it since I came across it. When it comes to noticing, this newsletter has helped me to take note of the small pleasures that counter the bleakness of living during a once-in-a-generation pandemic under the Du30 regime. I’ve always been a self-aware person, but writing this part of the newsletter every Sunday night has turned me into a reflective person as well. I’ve never been good at keeping a journal, but weirdly enough, writing this newsletter for myself while knowing others would read it too — that’s helped keep me accountable to sit and assess on a regular basis: How am I feeling? What’s on my mind? What do I want to remember about this awful season?
I don’t really concern myself with metrics on readership, which would make me a bad influencer *if* I decide that I really want to pivot in that direction. I don’t know that I want to monetize this, or accumulate a bigger following, necessarily. What I care about is allowing myself to be seen by people who would treat my story with care, and to do the same for others in return. I have so appreciated the one-liner comments and emails; when people send articles they think I might like; when I get tagged in posts about stuff people buy on my recommendation. I’m touched to know that some of you look forward to reading this every week.
If you are so inclined, could you please reply to this with a kind note about the newsletter or my ~content~? (Thinking about myself as a “content creator” is a bit weird, but I can’t deny that this newsletter falls under the definition of content.) What part do you enjoy reading the most? Have you been inspired in any way? Is there something I wrote in the past that’s stuck with you? How would you describe the newsletter to someone who’s never read it? It’s a good time to ask for feedback, and I could use the pick-me-up as I’ve been down with a migraine and an upset stomach the past two days. :(
Thanks for riding along with me this past year. It means a lot, more than you know. I can’t predict how this newsletter will evolve in the future, only that it will always be as authentic and close to the “real me” as I can make it.
With love and gratitude,
Pinky
Happy Anniversary, Pinky's Linkies!!!
happy anniversary pinky's linkies!!! 2 things i look forward to every week from your newsletter:
1. the diary half of the newsletter. it's so raw. so honest. and frankly, a breath of fresh air from the constant barrage of "life is good only if you self care" things on social media.
2. the budol side! i get inspiration for things to send to my own friends from you since i can only shop for them now in distance.
if i were an army, im sure i'll have a 3rd bullet :)