Letter to October #30

Dear October,
      I've been thinking a lot about advice lately. I think I have this notion that someday, the right piece of advice will come along at just the right moment, and when I hear it everything will change. I'll admit: I'm a bit of a self help junkie. I've probably read the same recycled advice over and over again in various forms, from the mouths of hundreds of different people. What makes me think that any one notion can be the catalyst for turning my life around? From a young age we are fed these stories of lightbulb moments, and life-changing realizations, but do those moments really exist, or do we only hear that "life-changing advice" at the moment when, consciously or not, we have somehow already decided to make a change? Can an idea really push us to act on something?
Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of ideas. There's nothing I love more than having an idea I thought I understood presented to me in a new way. I sometimes wonder if the same old advice I've read hundreds of times actually sticks with me, but today I stumbled across an old e-mail I'd written, where I gave this advice to a friend: "Everything counts, no matter how badly it turns out, no matter how long you waited to start, no matter what perfect picture you have of it in your head, and how far from it the reality turned out to be." I let myself get defeated over little things, and yet all along I was somehow carrying this idea around, that the results don't have to be perfect, on time, or even complete to be valuable, especially when it's only yourself you're accountable to. (Obviously, I don't want to cut myself too much slack when it comes to creative habits and projects, but I often let little failures get in the way of the big picture.) I feel like this speaks to the slipperiness of ideas, and it makes me wonder what else I've forgotten, and how much of my own advice I don't actually put into action.

Laura

Song of the Day: Skin by BOY

Letter to October #29

Dear October,
      Today I wrote a letter to a girl who lives on the other side of the globe. Our lives could not be more seemingly disconnected, and yet we both like art and podcasts and it turns out she has killer taste in music. Even though it was technically the internet that made being pen pals possible, I still think the real hero here is words on paper. There's a care that goes into a hand-written letter that just can't be translated into a text message. There's a gravity that comes with knowing that a small cluster of paper traveled thousands of miles to appear, like magic, in your mailbox. While waiting two weeks for a response isn't ideal, it makes the slow, ongoing conversation that much more special.
       In this world of lightning fast connection, I think we can learn a lot from letters. In a world of over-sharing, they ask us to curate, choosing only the most meaningful aspects of our lives to share with others. They ask us to reflect and to question, and most of all, to appreciate. Sometimes I wait months for a response to one of my letters. Occasionally I find myself feeling annoyed at the delay, wondering what's taking them so long to reply. The minute I see a letter in my mailbox, though, any annoyance I felt dissipates like smoke. The only emotion I have room for is joy.  Even the best text messages I've received haven't been able to rival that feeling. Write someone a letter. It's good for your soul.

Laura

Song of the Day: Next Year by Two Door Cinema Club

Letter to October #28

Dear October,
       I've always struggled with habits. The deceptively simple act of doing something day in and day out is difficult for my flighty mind to latch on to. As I've mentioned before, I love the idea of routine. I love the simplicity of it. I crave morning tea and contemplative walks and a protected time and space for my writing. I could give you lots of excuses for why I stopped writing to you, October. I could tell you that I've been meaning to write for the past week, but every time I open my computer I feel guilty for all the days I've missed, which for some reason makes me want to write even less. I've learned that relaying excuses rarely fixes the problem. The only remedy is showing up, which is what I'm attempting to do. A little late.

I suppose a bit of catching up is in order. October, you've been both cruel and wonderful. The past couple of weeks has played off of my insecurities. For a few days, I felt completely worthless for no real reason besides disappointment in something I was putting too much of my identity into. I've been stressed beyond belief, but also humbler, more grateful, and more determined. Thanks in part to a lovely visit from my boyfriend, I'm back on stable ground. That doesn't mean things are quite where I want them to be, though. Far from it. I feel disorganized, restless, and just as scared as ever. I'm trying to be braver, to push myself in areas that I've been holding back in. I want to write more, make new friends, find some sort of community. I've been toying with a new project, standing at the edge of everything I'm comfortable with creatively, and considering diving in.

Meanwhile you've been cooling down, October, releasing some of your warmth to November's icy fingers, and today you were downright frigid. In true Iowa fashion, the wind almost nocked me off of my feet coming out of my dorm. I've decided to take it as a sign. Not a sign that things will be miraculously better. Not a sign that I'll finally stop procrastinating and write a novel/short story collection/cookbook. Just a sign of change. A sign of commitment, even the flimsiest sort. I'm starting  with a renewed resolution to post a sentence a day on the Tumblr I stared with my friend. The original goal was for me to post my favorite sentence from whatever I'd written that day, and for her to post a page from her sketchbook. Our performance at these tasks has been sporadic at best, but I'm still proud of it. I'm not promising perfection - in fact I know I'll probably fail at some point. But what I'm going to attempt to avoid is a not posting anything because I feel guilty for falling behind. Progress is progress, even if it's a little late.

Laura

Song of the Day: When the Nights Get Long by Jukebox the Ghost

Letter to October #12

Dear October,
       Today you were blustery and bright. I was restless and a little stressed. We keep our window open and the wind knocks the papers off my desk. It's a little strange, coming back to an empty room with papers flung about as if someone had tossed them into the air. My life feels a little like that right now. Scattered by unseen forces, and I'm scrambling to pick up the pieces. The strange thing is, there's beauty in the mess, and beauty in stooping over again and again to collect the parts of my life that matter to me. Every day I rearrange them on my desk, I stack them in piles, finish some things, throw other things away. I try to weigh them down with something, but then the wind comes back and they scatter again.
It smells like fall now, and I don't mean that it smells like the maple syrup from the Quaker Oats factory (though sometimes it smells like that, too). So October, you're magic, and I just have to remember to breathe it all in.

Laura

ps. I just watched Frances Ha on Netflix, and I recommend it to every twenty-something who's ever dreamed of becoming an artist, who's ever dealt with loneliness, who's ever felt like they were floating and couldn't find their bearings. Just the right amount of realism and whimsy.

Song of the Day: Two Birds by Rachel Sermanni

Letter to October #11

Dear October,
      Today, my mind is on other things. It's difficult to reflect every day, to try to cull what you've learned in the past 24 hours. Today my thoughts are filled with everything I have to do tomorrow and the day after that. I got to talk to my best friend today, which was lovely, of course. I went on a rushed, mad dash through an art museum because we got there right before closing time. I thought a lot about what I needed to get done, and didn't get very much of it actually finished. I have some good things on the horizon, October, it's just a matter of figuring how to get all this other stuff out of the way so I can enjoy it when it comes. I await the day when I can write one of these letters an proudly proclaim that I was productive, that I managed to get things done while still having time for fun things. Who knows, maybe that day will be tomorrow. But right now, I'm playing catch up for all the things I was blissfully unaware of yesterday. So it goes.

Laura

Song of the Day: Ballad of Oregon by River City Extension

Letter to October #10

Dear October,
       Sometimes I have these seemingly unremarkable days, where I learn a new song on my mandolin, or read a book for several hours, or just chill. Most of the time I regret this at the end of the day. I chastise myself for hardly leaving my dorm room, for not talking to more people, for not doing something "productive." But tonight this feeling of gratitude washed over me. For a few, fleeting moments, everything I experienced today felt like a miracle. I can type in the name of practically any song into Google and find the chords to it. If I don't remember how to play a chord on the mandolin I can find a diagram for it. There's a stack of books in my room that I can keep for up to six weeks, for free. When I get tired of reading, I go onto Youtube. I watch Jen Campbell, a writer and bookseller, talk about the project she's doing where she is writing 100 poems in 48 hours to raise money for a charity called The Book Bus. I am amazed at the scope of information that is available to us with just a single click, twenty-four hours a day. I am amazed that such a simple, quiet day can make me feel this way. Not every day has to be amazing. Not every day has to be exciting or new or even interesting. There's something to be said for stillness and quiet appreciation. It sounds cliche, and it's actually a lot harder than it sounds. To be grateful, you have to give up your preconceived notions, the complaints you cling to, fall back on. Being grateful is, like anything worthwhile, an act of courage.
So anyway, here I am. Computer on my lap, blankets around me, listening to my favorite evening playlist. There are a lot of directions this day could have gone. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

Laura

Song of the Day: Early Morning Riser by The Weepies (This song just makes me happy)

Letter to October #9

Dear October,
       Some questions:

1. Why does watching five episodes of television in a row make me feel worn out? Isn't it supposed to *not* require thought and effort?
2. Why do we avoid the things we most want?
3. How did pumpkin spice take over the world?
4. How do YOU feel about pumpkin spice, October? It seems like you'd be the definitive authority on the matter.
5. What makes language demand to be read aloud? I'm reading How to be Both by Ali Smith, and I find myself mouthing the words under my breath. It's like a compulsion- her words just flow. 
6. If I spend all of my time and energy consuming other people's creative work, what time is left over for me to do my own?
7. Is there a threshold for consuming other people's work? Is there a point where we just raise our hands and call "Enough!"? Maybe there is merit in consuming less so that we can listen to our own voices for a little while.
8. Is the internet making us kinder?
9. Why are we obsessed with kid geniuses and child prodigies? Why does being talented faster have any more merit than achieving incredible things at 90 years old?
10. How the heck did it get to be midnight already?

Lots of things happening in my brain today.

Laura

Song of the day: Keep Your Head Up by Ben Howard

Bonus material!
Some of the things that lead me to these questions:
1. This fantastic interview with Fran Lebowitz on the Bullseye podcast
2. The most recent episode of Radiolab (not directly related to the above questions, but listen to it and it will make you question your reality. Also it's just a really good story)
3. This entire pumpkin spice tag on The Consumerist
4. The first 80 pages of How to be Both  by Ali Smith (That's how far I've gotten; can't comment on the rest of it yet :))