Happiest of New Years, Joy Friends. It is not yet mid-month, so my timing for this newsletter isn’t consistent with the other three I’ve sent out, but I feel a surge of energy at the moment and have lots swirling in my head, so here we are.
Now that I’m writing this newsletter, I am thinking a lot about joy. And with that, emotional regulation. And how depression and anxiety and fear factor in. And questioning if it is really possible to understand the human brain. And if emotional regulation is even a good thing. And how sometimes I can feel totally normal one minute and then the next want to walk with my arm outstretched through the crystal aisle of a department store for fun.
Normal? Eh.
This newsletter is about the messiness that is life and the joy that is found in the corners and cracks and sometimes the joy that is right in front of us; so obvious we have to smile. The latter was something I was fortunate to experience over the holiday break, as Tyler and I spent 10 fun-filled days with family in Michigan and Tennessee. We are both very grateful to have good relationships with our families, and don’t take for granted spending time with them.
I won’t lie and tell you the whole thing was joyful. I fought a cold half the time, went through a super pack of NyQuil in three days, felt triggered in some conversations and said nothing and then got mad at myself later, and saw Vice (new movie about Dick Chaney) and got massively depressed about the state of the world (I left that one for Christmas – such an uplifting choice!). One of the coolest things we did, though, was go on a driving tour of Detroit put together by my dear friend Natalie, who is a creative genius.
I hadn’t been to Detroit since 2003 when I worked as an intern at a PR firm and lived at my friend’s Dad’s extra condo on Woodward Ave. Back then, Detroit was abuzz with excitement with the early days of Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick’s reign. Kwame was billed as the savior of the blighted city and he promised to bring it back from its depressed state. I remember seeing him at the Detroit International Auto Show and feeling giddy. If selfies were a thing back then, I for sure would had snapped a creeper pic with him in the background.
Well, a few years after I left and moved to San Francisco, it was revealed that Kwame was a pretty rotten dude. He’s currently serving a 28-year prison sentence. After hearing about that and settling into my life on the West Coast, I didn’t think much about Detroit.
Not until Christmas Eve 2018. Tyler and I woke up equipped with Natalie’s driving tour, printed on multiple sheets of paper. News of Detroit’s revival, its booming tech scene and Dan Gilbert’s (Quicken Loans founder) investment in the city had made it to San Francisco, and we wanted to see the thriving city for ourselves. The tour was A-MAZING and brought us a tremendous amount of joy. We drove through areas we didn’t know existed, saw local hot spots and even saw the actual Shaggin’ Wagon from Dumb and Dumber (apparently the owner of watch store Shinola loves the movie and bought it).
By far my favorite stop was The Heidelberg Project, a multi-acre plot of land in the middle of a run down neighborhood that has been transformed with multiple art instillations. Tyler and I didn’t know what we were looking at at first. Following the address Natalie gave us, we turned a corner to see a house painted with huge multi-colored dots. Then a burned out car decorated with stuffed animals. Then naked dolls with nails through their heads. Then televisions stacked strategically on top of chairs, stacked on top of crates. Burned car ceilings were propped up on rocks and painted pastel colors. The surrounding houses were all painted with wild colors. Some of the art dazzled us, some made us cringe, all of it made us think.
Tyler and I climbed out of the car as if we were in a slow motion film sequence. We didn’t say a word. We walked from instillation to installation, mouths agape, sometimes glancing at each other with either smiles or looks of bewilderment. Turns out, The Heidelberg Project was created back in the mid-80s by an artist named Tyree Guyton who grew up in the neighborhood, came back after being away for a while and felt distraught at its crime and destruction. He’d lost three brothers on the streets and, even though he was angry, his grandfather encouraged him to, as the website says, “pick up a paintbrush instead of a weapon and look for a solution.”
The result is a stretch of land that is now world-renown, visited by thousands every year and a major attraction in Detroit. There have been a number of retrospectives on The Heidelberg Project. To me, it is truly incredible. Revolutionary. To think that one man created a cultural attraction made from love and light and the quest to create community in the middle of 1980s Detroit, and that it has stood the test of time is the definition of joy. It made me think that even in the depths of the depths, there is always light.
There is always joy.
Very important disclaimer: I am in the “delicate flower” phase of this newsletter, so I would like to request zero feedback - Z.E.R.O. - other than overtly positive comments (i.e. “love it, Katie!” “this is awesome!”). I may want constructive feedback on this project at some point, but today is not that point. Thanks for understanding and respecting the delicate flower inside me.
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I mean, WOW.
For as much as I travel, I somehow still find myself surprised by a few aspects of being on the road.
#1: How chill I am about crying at airports.
This is very much a thing for me. After writing my last newsletter, I sewed my “I Cry Everyday” patch on my only backpack and have worn it on several flights since. I do give a few shits about people seeing it, but then I think – eh, whatever, they can judge. No one has mentioned it. I wonder if anyone ever will. I still think it’s funny.
Upon getting to the airport in Nashville, at the end of our 10-day family visit extravaganza, my body decided it was the right time to completely lose my shit. I could not stop crying. I was in a glass case of emotion ugly crying for a solid 45 minutes. Why, you ask? Mostly, I was exhausted and wanted to be home. So I ugly cried. Tyler held my hand and I tried to shield my face from the other people in the terminal faking an interest in CNN as to not overtly stare at the grown-ass woman losing her shit at Gate 43.
I got on the plane and felt fine. No shame. Airports are equalizers. No one cares who you are at an airport. So, I think I’ll keep crying in public places, including airports.
#2: How small airport bathrooms are.
We flew Delta on this trip, an airline I have affection for because the flight attendants are mostly friendly and the legroom is way better than United (which is not saying much, but I can almost sit with my legs crossed under me on Delta, whereas I have to limit myself to only eating a salad – no bread roll – before getting on United for fear I won’t fit in a seat). Our way home from Nashville included a 45-min flight to Atlanta and then a 5.5-hour flight to SFO.
I waited to go to the bathroom until two hours into the Atlanta-SFO leg. This was one of those if-you-puke-on-planes-you-sure-as-hell-will-puke-this-time flight. I, thankfully, don’t puke on planes, but the turbulence made me think twice about the pizza I ate at the airport (a carbs-because-Delta choice). I couldn’t wait any longer, so I asked Tyler (middle seat) and the aisle guy to move so I could go. I walk into the bathroom and immediately realize it is the width of two coffins. I slither inside, try to lock the lock, but it doesn’t seem to be working properly. After a little cajoling, I think I have it, so I drop trou and someone opens the door on me.
My pants are not on.
I let out a sad yelp and slam the door on the guy’s face. Fuck, I think. That guy saw everything. I try to fiddle with the lock again and resign myself to sitting down while holding the door shut with one arm. This isn’t hard because the seat is three inches from the door, so I don't have to extend my arm much. Since the door isn’t fully locked, the infrared lights are on, not the normal bright lights that come on when the lock clicks. As I’m sitting there, I notice something on my hand. I think it is a dirt smudge – how did I get dirt on my hand on a plane? – and try to rub it off. When it doesn’t come off, I realize it’s an age spot. Sigh. I look at my other hand and notice three new age spots. Awesome. I’m getting old, sitting in a broken airplane bathroom/coffin and thinking about age spots.
I stand up, wash my age-spotted hands, and move the lock. It’s stuck. Turns out, I am apparently Hercules when it comes to fucking up airplane bathroom door locks and it won’t move. I realize I didn't have to hold the door while sitting after all. I try moving the lock again and it is legit stuck. I bang on the door. I try moving the lock again. Nothing.
I’m stuck in the coffin bathroom. I start pounding on the door at the same time the captain comes over the intercom telling everyone to sit down because we are about to experience “significant movement.” Thanks, tactful dude. That movement is already happening and I’m bouncing from wall to wall, all while awkwardly trying to scrunch my recently washed hands up by my chin so as not to touch anything. But I touch everything because the fucking plane is going down and I’m going to die here in this Godforsaken bathroom that actually is a coffin after all and omg what has my life come to.
I ring the buzzer for a flight attendant.
A woman comes to the other side of the door and YELLS, “Ma'am, are you OK? What’s wrong? Is everything alright?” I mean, airplane bathroom doors are paper thin (ask anyone unlucky enough to sit in the nearest aisle). Is yelling at top pitch really necessary?
I aggressively whisper back, “I’m stuck!”
This is now a scene. Three seconds later, she lets me out and the entire plane has turned around to look at me. Tyler, who was wearing noise cancelling headphones and watching John Wick: Chapter 2 has his headphones around his neck and is mouthing, “Are you OK?” He heard her screaming at me over his Bose headphone technology. So great.
I slide into my seat. “Oh my fucking God, I just got locked in,” I tell him. He tries to comfort me by putting his hand on my leg and stifling a laugh. I shoot him a don't-you-dare-laugh stare. I just experienced airplane bathroom trauma, and found four new age spots!
After a few minutes, I lean over to him to get a comforting hug, and he recoils, “Could you not hug me, please?” he asks. “I’m too hot.”
Humph. I pout and proceed to watch Crazy Rich Asians and cry three times before the credits.
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A microscopic snapshot of my inner dialogue
Has anyone else forgotten to wash the conditoner out of their hair and had to go the whole day acting like everything was fine?
Does coffee make anyone else ragey after about 6 hours? Drinking it makes me an immediate superhero, but then backfires about 63.5% of the time.
Did Brenda (our skunk, who is now gone) get eaten by the bobcat that our neighbors told us about over break?
Are onions that sprout greenery (pic above) safe to eat?
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My first acid trip
Have you ever been in a situation where you think you're the only one thinking something and then you look around and realize - oh yes - you ARE the only one thinking something? Like you are living in an alternative universe and everyone else is having one particular experience, but you are on the outside thinking how is this possible and no one is feeling the same way you are?
Welcome to my first acid trip. Before you judge, no, I didn't actually do acid, but going to a holiday extravaganza in Nashville with my in-laws, Tyler and my niece and nephew is the closest I've felt to what I imagine the experience would be.
The show was called "Holidaze," and before I go any further, I'd like to preface this story with the sincere gratitude I feel to have gone with family, to my in-laws who bought the tickets, etc. etc. Now I'll tell you my experience.
We sit down in our seats at the Grand Ole Opry, and out come a few circus performers doing acts like balancing on chair legs and women dressed like sugar plums jumping through hoops. Cool. About five minutes in, things get weird with more than 20 people on stage at all times doing disparate things and not in unison. Seven-foot tall men wearing headless suits and carrying giant colored Christmas ornaments are followed by men in reindeer onesies jumping rope are followed by a 20-foot-tall polar bear looking lost and ambling the background towards ballet dancers with Christmas trees for costumes.
What is happening? Does asking that question make me an elitist asshole?
Maybe so.
As one point, everyone left the stage to make way for a shirtless cowboy who had a six pack do a strip tease on a pole that hung from the ceiling.
It was during the strip tease that I started looking around to see if anyone else was scratching their heads. Nope. Everyone was captivated. Is this what children's entertainment is now?
Later in the show people dressed like candy canes slithered across the floor, a muscular couple did a high wire act together ending with the guy straddling the woman and pelvic thrusting on the ground (was I the ONLY ONE seeing this??). There were lights, happy music and by the end the crowd was giving the crew a standing ovation. Meanwhile, I was deeply confused.
For the record, NO ONE in my group felt the same as me. Tyler said it was the coolest show he'd ever seen, and we got in a tense convo later that night about whether or not I had a stick up my ass (the jury is still out). I'll admit that some of the acts were very impressive, but I didn't know what I was looking at half the time.
We left and walked into a nearby mall to go to dinner. I stepped through the doors, and was greeted with a series of three-foot-high by four-foot-long robotic stuffed animals being ridden by children AND adults around the lobby. Honest to God, I thought I was tripping. We walked around to see the stores and passed a makeshift stable with a sign that read "These Animals" where you could stand in line for robotic animal rides. Maybe riding one would have gotten the stick out of my ass, but I guess I'll never know.
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Things that are bringing me joy
- The car sticker above. Clearly for Halloween, but I appreciate the humor, I laughed out loud.
- Tyler and I taking a break from before-bed reading to see how good we are at The Floss Dance (shocker: he's better than me). We should have watched this video before trying.
- Spending 10 minutes admiring a group of sea otters while walking Lucy down by the water a mile from our house. It brought me joy that no one got close to them.
- The universe sending me a message from my late Aunt Normal and Uncle Rudy, who gifted me and Tyler a gorgeous set of Finish crystal for our wedding. They saved for years to afford it, and the brand Iittala, is hugely important to my family as we are mostly Finnish on my Mom's side. I haven't been able to take home the pieces until now (we got married 8.5 years ago) - because we have room now - so I've been bringing them piece by piece in my carryons for the past few trips from Michigan. While unpacking a platter the other day, I noticed the quote on the box above. My Aunt Normal and Uncle Rudy were like grandparents to me. It made my heart happy. |
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What I'm reading right now
My Mom gave me an awesome law-of-attraction book over the holidays called Write It Down, Make It Happen: Knowing What You Want And Getting It, by Henriette Anne Klauser. It instructs readers to write down their dreams and watch them become a reality. The case studies are incredible. Great read for anytime, especially the beginning of the year.
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