.SOMETIMES RAW.

Hey, you! It has been a while. What a year, huh? Still wearing that damn mask though. Really nice to be able to see people again. Like real people. Sorry, am I talking weird? I am not? Oh good. I am a little self-conscious about that. A year in isolation is bound to throw off the old social skills, right? Haha. Ha. (nervous eye twitch) Can we hug? Are we doing hugs right now? I apologize for asking to hug you and then becoming so embarrassed when you said, “No thanks,” that I just did the “hang loose” sign for one full minute at you. I kind of forget how to act around people. Do we have to wear the mask the entire time? But hey, I am really liking this restaurant we are sitting in with our physical bodies. Say, can we talk about how when we walked in here a minute ago, I straight up screamed? I was just so stunned to be inside of a business. You get it, I am sure. No, I am not vaccinated yet. Are you? You got seven shots just to be on the safe side? Good for you, I guess. You got your green passport, too? Wow, that is so great. Oh, you really think I put others in danger because I do not get the vaccine? Others? Why? You have no clue but you read it somewhere. Ah, okay. Let’s talk about something else okay. And here comes the waitress. I forgot how to order.

Okay, be honest with me. Was it weird when the waitress told me where the bathroom is, I said, “Thanks, I have only gone into two bathrooms for a LOOOOOONG time, so I am not sure where all the other ones are anymore!” Was that a strange sentence? Wow, sorry, I was gone for so long. I must have not been listening when she said where the bathroom is because, haha (nervous eye twitch), get this, I somehow wound up in the bathroom of a completely different restaurant. Is that normal? And men were in the bathroom at the same time. Unisex toilets? Oh, it is pride month. So much new stuff to get used to.

Sorry, did you just say that your OTHER friend is meeting us here? Wow, uh, I did NOT prepare for that. Do we need to sit apart then? Social distancing? Baby elephant? Does he need a different COVID test when he wants to join us? Not older than 48 hours? But he needs to wear black pants and a red shirt if he wants to join us, right? Didn’t this new rule come out yesterday? About the mutation of the Indian virus? The Kappa, Delta- something? But ASTRA ZENECA is supposed to help with this mutation of the virus. So you can get seven vaccines but only if you have brown hair and a moustache. Or beard, but it needs to be grey. I don’t even think I remember how to meet another person. Do I recite to them the plot of an old movie that was in the movie theatre in February 2020? Do I tell them the plot of a different movie? Could I just say my name twice, clap my hands, and pay?

Just realized that if I say my name twice, they might think I have two names. I wouldn’t want that! That would make me seem like a FUCKING WEIRDO. And I am not a fucking weirdo, right? Hahahhaha! HAHAHAHA! OH GREAT. THEY ARE HERE. HI, I AM DANIELA DANIELA HENRY, AND I HEARD YOU WERE COMING HERE, FROM THIS GUY, WHO IS A FRIEND WITH BOTH OF US, AND NOW YOU AND I ARE ALSO FRIENDS, TOO.

Whew. I think that went well. So, what are everyone’s home addresses and full job titles? We need to fill out this form over here. THE FORM! Do you guys have cars? What are your license plate numbers? They need this information, too. And your blood type. Also, they need to know when the women are ovulating and how many avocados I eat in a week. And lemon. Oranges optional.

Is it weird that I ordered two bowls of the same soup? I didn’t know how big the bowl would be, and I am starving. Why are you guys looking at me like that? Okay, wow, I definitely blacked out for a moment. Oh, it wasn’t a moment? It was 25 minutes? And I was just staring into space? Socializing is hard now. Really takes it out of you. Does anyone else feel the intense need to sleep for several days? Would it be weird if I just closed my eyes right now? NO, OF COURSE, I DON’T WANT TO GO HOME. I AM HAVING SO MUCH FUN OUT IN PUBLIC WITH YOU, MY TWO BEST FRIENDS.

Wow, that was so much fun. Okay, so what do you guys want to do now? Should we walk down the street to go to another restaurant? Oh, you both have to go! Okay, totally! THat’s fine! HAHA! THat’s fine by me, I will allow it. Haha! Not like I am in charge of you. I am not. I am not the queen! This isn’t my court! You are not my little dancing jesters! You are my friends. You are my two great friends. Haha! LOL. Is that a thing? Do people SAY “LOL,” as a word? I cannot remember! Hahahhaha, why can’t I fucking remember?

WAIT, YOU GUYS, before you walk away, does anyone remember where my apartment is? I know, I know, I have been inside of it for a loooooong time, but this whole experience was honestly so stressful that I think it erased everything else that was previously inside of my brain. Which was basically, baking things, cooking, watching things on Netflix. Is that normal? I am not being weird, am I?

Guys……??? Hello….???

“Do not save what is left after spending, but spend what is left after saving.” —Warren Buffett

On my way home the other day I stopped at the traffic light and saw a car (Audi Q7) that came speeding around the corner before it stopped. The volume of the music broke my inner quietness and was drowned out only by the squeal of his tires when the light changed. The driver (who looked like my ex) wore a leather jacket, sunglasses, and smoked a cigarette that he casually flicked out of the window.

We didn’t exchange any words. I don’t even recall him looking in my direction. I don’t care about the person or how he acquired this car. I am passing no judgment on him because this is a story about me. When I saw him, a surprising thought entered my head. I told myself, “I could drive a car like that if I wanted. I could purchase a car like this anytime. But I choose not to.” There are, I suppose, a few cars on the planet that I could not receive enough credit to purchase. But for the most part, there is nothing stopping me from driving an expensive, flashy car. Except for maybe one thing. I enjoy living within my means. I like knowing I spend less than I make. I mean, I could take expensive vacations, buy this car, purchase expensive clothes, purchase more luxurious furniture but I find a significant amount of pleasure knowing my expenses do not exceed my income. I don’t need to rely on working overtime to afford things and pay off my credit card.

Staying out of debt means I am not being hunted down by creditors. It means I am not carrying a financial burden from my past while also trying to provide for the present. It means I have the freedom to make choices with my excess income. It means I can save if I want, give if I want, or spend if I want. I enjoy a significant level of freedom that others may not experience. This allows me to sleep better, carry less stress, and live a more calm, relaxed life.

Our society works hard to convince us to outspend our means and then provides a thousand ways for us to do it. And from the outside, a life built on credit may appear the life desired. With its bright lights, bold colors, and flashy impressions we are able to make.

But I will choose something different for my life. I will choose calm and peace and the knowledge that I have chosen responsibly. For there is a wonderful joy to be found in it. I know there is a number of uncontrollable circumstances that may make this choice impossible for some. Tragedy, medical emergencies, or unexpected career downsizing as examples. But for those who still have the choice, I don’t think you will ever regret spending less than you make. I love my life with less.

The other night, I found myself in the most unlikely of places: In the back of a car with my boyfriend whom I dated in high school…..

It was late at night, and as the car wound its way through the streets, his face flickered in the glow of blinking streetlights. When we stopped at a red light, he leaned over to whisper in my ear. “I don’t love you,” he said. “And I never have.” Then I woke up. It was all a dream. But as I went about my day, I remained haunted. Why did my subconscious want to tango with someone I haven’t seen or spoken to in many years?

Joan Didion is one of my favourite writers. She wrote, “We are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not.” Even though I agree with Joan, this point has never been my strong suit.

My past selves were sometimes mortifying. They wore strange outfits and said awkward things, then staying up too late worrying about it. They sometimes made errors in judgement that, while necessary for learning, I would rather not relive. But lately, in these months spent largely at home, I have been forced to confront them. My brain replays the old memories like syndicated reruns of a show. For me, this pandemic has resulted in a surge of vivid, bizarre dreams due to changes in stress and activity, sleep patterns, and pretty much every facet of my life. Long-forgotten memories resurfaced. Some nice, some bad. They appear not only when I am asleep, but often in the midst of some innocuous, everday task. Obviously, this pandemic needs to be over.

My former selves have a lot to say, and as it turns out, they have not gone far. For example: While I waited for a cup of coffee in front of my coffee maker I had a flashback to the coffee machine and its similar sound at the police academy’s cafeteria. The flashbacks of the things I did, said, and the things I wish I had said to colleagues. To the boss who could never find the stapler. Another boss who threw things and screamed at me. The job I quit too soon. The job where I stayed too long. There is a lot more where this came from, but I will leave it at that.

These memories are inside me like a matryoshka doll. The more time I spend with my past selves, the more I discover that embarrassment runs in both directions. I not only uncover old disappointments, but also old dreams. Things I wanted but was too afraid to try. My younger selves demand to know what happened, and I have no suitable response. I decided the only way out is to confront them. I began keeping a notebook. If the memories can live on paper, I thought, maybe they won’t feel the need to run around my head. Sometimes, I feel lighter. Other times, I feel like I have immortalized the very thing I wished to forget.

When writing fails me, I look around. Watch. Whenever I get too caught up in my own internal chatter, I talk to others and observe. I imagine what the people behind each mask loves, is stressed about, sad about, looking forward to. I bask in feeling both connected and blissfully, inconsequentially small. Everybody has shit to deal with. And it is interesting to hear and picture all the rooms and places these people have occupied. Where they have been. At twelve. At thirty. At fifty. Sometimes it would be nice to turn back time, albeit with the benefit of experience.

Even when it seems like the scenery is stagnant, I am subject to constant reinvention, like the annoying upgrades threatening to overtake my computer and phone. My former selves are here to keep me company because I made peace with my past. And most of the time I go about my days (and nights) without the shudder of remembrance.

So, coffee is what I will have. Here in my kitchen. Now.