Gess

I’m going to attempt to journal the way I always do, without expectation that it will be read by anyone except my friend Cole. We’ve been exchanging writing every week for a year and half. Sometimes he writes songs, and sometimes I write poems. Mostly we just journal at each other. It’s a charming way to bolster a friendship, and I’m proud of our consistency, if not my content. He might know me better than I know myself, by now.

I woke up late, after going to bed early. It’s been luxurious to sleep as much as I want. I’ve been taking time off of work for about 6 weeks now. I’m lucky enough to be in a situation that allows for it, even though I’ve never made much money. I wouldn’t have been comfortable taking the time if I didn’t feel at least somewhat secure. But amidst my languid summer days (that I aspired to fill with art and learning), I often feel I’m falling short. There’s some mirage of how I should be spending my free time that evaporates as soon as I actually have the hours in front of me. And then I feel like my indecisiveness is getting the better of me. My two friends and I talked about the fig passage from The Bell Jar yesterday while wandering around Longwood Gardens, and I wish it was less relatable. Making choices is such a key part of participating in life. I mean really, truly, participating. Why do I find it so difficult? I guess many of us do. Constant input from tech certainly isn’t helping. I feel mildly overwhelmed most of the time, and I’d consider myself well adjusted…

After I finally decided to get out of bed, I showered and shaved my legs, then made some black tea like always. I went out into the garden to harvest. My guy and I planted a few different kinds of tomatoes, two different types of eggplant, herbs, peppers, and potatoes. The potatoes didn’t take. I snipped some shishito peppers, tomatoes, two ichiban eggplants, and put them in a bowl. There’s something primally satisfying about growing your own food, but the trials and tribulations of gardening never cease. The cherry tomatoes are small and taste too sour. The romas are a bit flavorless too, but for making sauce that doesn’t matter much. The heirlooms taste wonderful, but they’ve been splitting easily. The shimmers have been the MVP of this season’s small crop of tomatoes—they’re pretty and tasty, and have had none of the issues of the others. The eggplants are doing well, but I wish we’d planted zucchini instead, because I prefer them. I also like how big they are when you grow them yourself. My sister’s zucchinis last summer were like chubby baseball bats.

I did some chores, checked some messages, prepped some food, and before I knew it it was noon. I took my dog Miko for a walk to a nearby park. He’s got a bum leg that doesn’t seem to bother him much, but whenever he chooses to lift it for the entire walk I get worried. My poor little boy. He’s much more prey than predator. The park we go to is a bit sad, but there’s shade and grass, so I’m glad to have it.

When I got home I felt some creative energy, so I prepped a sexy scavenger hunt for my boyfriend. It’s going to be part of our three part date day on Sunday, but I wanted to have it done beforehand. I wrote clues on little pieces of masking tape and put them on the back of risqué polaroids. I hid them all over the house. I liked building anticipation for the day. And I’m glad that it comes easily to me to do special creative things for my partner. Of course, it feels easy because he gives in kind.

After hiding the last clue, I drove over to Formation Wellness for a massage I’d booked a few weeks ago. It felt too hot to walk the mile over. I didn’t want to come out of the place all woozy and then have to walk back. If you haven’t been to Formation, I highly recommend it. The therapist I booked has magic hands. She helped me with some back pain concerns by really digging in deep to certain muscles. I’m doing my yoga teacher training in the fall, and I’m hoping to get through it without hurting myself. An occasional massage would probably help tons. I left feeling like I could sink into the ground. But a peaceful heaviness. Supremely relaxed.

I’d mostly fasted until about 5:30 and then I badly needed to eat. I made fresh mozzarella from some frozen curds my mom gave me (it’s easier than you think), then toasted a slice of her homemade sourdough. I drizzled the toast with olive oil, put two fat slices of mozzarella on it, then topped those with sautéed eggplant and tomato, garden basil, and balsamic glaze. It was lovely, and healthy. I savored each bite, and opened the door to let the breeze in. I always feel proud when I make beautiful things, just for me. On lazier days I microwave Trader Joe’s dumplings and call it dinner. But now I have a partner who loves to cook, and I’m spoiled accordingly.

I cuddled up on the couch with Miko and watched some of the show Industry, which I realized I hate. The dialogue all feels so obtuse to me. I thought, I have plenty of books upstairs to read, but I just turned off the TV and shut my eyes for a bit. I felt a tingle of erotic energy. It's been a long week with my boyfriend away, and I've been eager for him to come home. I sometimes think back to how it was to be single, without another person to pour all of that energy into. I like my life better now.

Then I started thinking about the mundane. And how so much of life is just that—small things, gentle things, boring things. Finding meaning in the mundane feels like a pillar of wisdom. The corniest clichés usually are. My thirties have been very much about finding my own pillars of wisdom. And this day is a reflection of some of the conclusions I’ve come to:

Quality of attention is paramount. Take good care of yourself, because it’s the foundation of everything else. Savor beautiful quiet small things. Be enthusiastic and creative in your relationships. Cut away the noise.

I’m trying so hard to keep the most important things in focus. My mind likes to derail me sometimes. Like many of us, I’m occasionally convinced everything is going to collapse. But nothing is the end of the world except the end of the world. (I picked this up from a self help book about codependency). I wrapped up my musings, gave my dog a kiss, and went upstairs. The consistency of my bedtime routine is helpful, but sometimes it isn’t enough to relax me. I tossed and turned for an hour and half before finally, thankfully, drifting off to sleep.