I have to get better about these posts. Sitting down to write them earlier in the day would likely help. Maybe there’s a way for me to work on them throughout the day or something. Whatever it is, I have to figure it out because these little posts aren’t cutting it.
Category: Dear Diary
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August 22, 2023
A year ago today, I picked up Genevieve and Eloise. They had different names, Wynonna and Loretta, respectively. I wanted French names, not ones that sounded like characters in a Western. Genevieve is named after a passing fancy from my university days. Eloise because it’s just a lovely name.
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August 17, 2023
A “hard launch,” I’m told, is when you post a picture of you and your partner on Instagram after having kept it a secret. A “soft launch” is when you post a picture of you and your partner on Instagram at the end of a gallery of related photos after having kept it a secret. Hannah posted a picture of us on her Instagram Stories today while we were waiting to board at the airport.
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July 30 (31), 2023
What a difference a day makes. We woke up in the hotel all right. I suggested that we get breakfast before showering and packing up so we did. We had a lost-in-translation moment: the receptionist told us that they have a “small” breakfast in the mornings but we understood that to mean a “short” breakfast because of the way that “petite” can be used in French. It was, in fact, a small breakfast.
At the coffee machine, I punched in a French Vanilla. I got a cup full of hot French vanilla coffee-mate. The option I should have chosen was Café French Vanilla. Again, another small lost-in-translation moment. Ordering a coffee and breakfast sandwich at the first Tim Horton’s we saw on the highway proved to be a complicated experience, too.
After we sorted that out, got some coffee in us, and ate a bit, we drove out of Quebec and into New Brunswick. Almost immediately we felt better. That artificial border changes people. During the entire drive, the sun was shining and the clouds floated gently in the sky. Our conversations were vibrant and our stops were pleasant. As the sun was setting we arrived at the Confederation Bridge, an engineering marvel that I’m in awe of.
After getting lost on the roads of PEI and driving down a bulldozer lane way, we found our way to our resting place for the week. We were welcomed with open arms, given a drink, and took a couple of hours to chat. Now, it’s time for bed.
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July 29, 2023
After a nine-hour drive, we have ended up in a hotel room that feels like something out of Fawlty Towers, without the superfluous little staircase, but complete with the ‘70s vibe. The carpets are patterned with alternating strips of two different shades of red separated by alternating strips of two different shades of grey. The widths alternate, too, between thick (~5 cm), medium (~2-3 cm), and thin (~0.5-1 cm).
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July 23, 2023
Creativity is a funny thing. We seem to value it very highly in our private lives but dismiss it too easily in our professional ones.
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July 18, 2023
The last couple of days haven’t been bad but things haven’t felt like they’re going right. It’s as if all of my actions are being tempered by a tension band. Nothing is impossible but it’s a little harder and sometimes I just don’t have the strength to follow through.
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Moving things inside
I never thought that making pens would become what it has for me. I can’t even tell you exactly how it started. I remember a conversation with my dad in February when I asked him about his experience with using a lathe in Karachi, Pakistan to cut marble. As if by magic, about a month later, I had my very own lathe and a beginner’s pen turning kit.
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Angry All the Time
It was only a few years ago when I found out that the therapist I was seeing in high school was for anger management. I don’t recall what exactly I thought the reason was then, but if I had to guess today I’d say it was because I was sad. Most likely, I was both, sad and angry.
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I’ve stopped writing because I’ve been making pens
Not too long ago, I started a small business making and selling pens. To date, I’ve sold three pens. I’ve made around 40, many of which have been gifted. Technically, two of my sales were mechanical pencils. To the same person.
I’m absolutely in love with making pens, so much so that there are nights I forget to eat. Turning pens is great because I love pens. Making them is just the bee’s knees, as far as I’m concerned. But there’s something more that pen turning gives me that I never anticipated: time.
After work, I’m beat. On most days, I’m already tired by the time I’ve parked my car in the morning. When I get home after work, I make some tea, have a snack, and then do some work for SANA Stationery & Gifts. It takes a jolt to get me up off the couch but the momentum is quick to set in. Then, I miss dinner.
It took me a while to notice, but a couple of weeks ago I caught myself thinking while working at the lathe. Turning the wood was my focus but thoughts unrelated to woodworking were pouring out of my mouth as words. I’ve noticed, too, that my mood has a real impact on how I approach turning. Simply put, pen turning is the mindfulness practice I never knew I was looking for.
Everything from quitting my job and moving to some remote farm somewhere off far away to my high school crushes has crossed my mind while I’m at the lathe. Some thoughts are more persistent and demand more attention than others. I don’t feel in control of which ideas will present themselves, but I do feel in control of the ideas themselves.
Turning pens has its own rhythm. Some tasks require significant focus while others are more routine. These two states ebb and flow to the patterns of the pen. During the ebbs, my thoughts have a chance to backfill my focus. They’re all trying to squeeze through the gate, like fans in the front row.
What’s most beautiful about the whole process is that a pen appears at the end of it all. Pen turning gives me a chance to process my thoughts while also helping me remain engaged with a task and be productive. It’s a double-scoop of my favourite ice cream in a sugar cone.
The tragedy of this story is that I haven’t been writing as much. My podcast, which I was hoping to get back into, has fallen to the wayside. My apartment isn’t as clean lately.
I’ve been telling myself that I need to write more, that I should start a nightly journalling routine. I don’t as much as I’d like to. At this point, I think that writing my thoughts down is the only way to move forward with them. My morning pages are a bit more interesting of a read, I think; though, they’ll never be read.
Still, I can’t let go of the irony in this situation.
Check out SANA Stationery & Gifts on Etsy.
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My Favourite Drinking Glass
Visiting my folks always brings back a flood of memories. This isn’t the house that I was born into but it is the one that I left. Even still, it’s full of things that remind me of all of my past.
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