Twenty-Eighteen

This was quite something. Thinking about it and going over last year’s events, I’m not quite sure how all of it ever fit into one year. As I’m writing this, I’m sitting on a red couch with a piano nearby while the wind is blowing outside, I just had some tea and mini pizzas, and, honestly, this is the best I could wish for.

And, in good old tradition (2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017): here goes. —


The months

January

Last year with a treasure hunt in Tuscan vineyards, and the new one starts with a dog by the fireplace, pretty horses, and cold, sunny days. I buy too much olive oil, wine, and too many cookies, and have significant excess baggage. Spending just enough time at home to do the laundry before heading to Asia for the first time in my life. I travel to Hong Kong for work and stroll through the streets in the mornings and at night, trying to grasp the impressiveness of this place. And then, the view from the hill, these narrow streets, the trees and roots everywhere. Have lots of very good food of which I only remember the taste, and the hope to return one day. Travel onward to a Thai island for a few days right after – it had looked so close on the map, and is still a day’s travel away. I get off a bus very tired and suddenly the air is warm and humid, and the beach is only a minute away. Trying to find a helmet to wear while riding a scooter, and even the largest one I can find sits on top of my head (yes, there are ridiculous photos). I ride a scooter for the first time, have the best pineapple I couldn’t even have dreamed of, almost blow up a gas station, climb through a cave, go snorkeling and see incredibly beautiful fish, get horrible sunburn and have to go swimming wearing my “don’t look for love, look for pizza” shirt, spend days with friends at the beach, in the hammock, and in the inflatable pineapple, floating in the water, looking at the star-strewn sky above.

February

I get home and immediately want to leave again. I quit my job and accidentally eat heart-shaped pizza on Valentine’s Day. See a Belle and Sebastian concert and visit the the local animal shelter. Other than that, it’s a pretty uneventful month with very bad weather which doesn’t really matter, I have a lot of memories to process and big change ahead.

March

Spend a lot of time with very good dogs in the park and the forest. Take a trip outside of Berlin and landed in the snow. Realise that, after years of remote work, I don’t own interview-appropriate pants anymore. Meet someone who wants to take a selfie during our first date to commemorate it, in case we last (we don’t). Have my last day at work and start an interview marathon. Rearrange my apartment. We welcome a new dog into a friend’s life.

April, May

I celebrate my birthday a few months late, and it’s the most wonderful night with drinks that taste like salt and pineapple, and beautiful friends in one of my favourite neighbourhood bars. I try to find a good dress. Still looking for a new job, I spend a lot of time preparing for interviews, in interviews, on my way home from interviews. My job search takes me to New York, where I have a lot of good pizza, go to my favourite book shop, finally see MoMA and fantastic exhibitions (Adrian Piper was so good, and I walk into a Monet painting, completely flabbergasted), and meet some of my favourite people.

There’s a gentle feeling of spring in the air and, as always, my stay is too short. A dog moves in with me [eventually, he’d only live with me for a little while, and is now thriving and living a very happy life in another home]. I go to a wedding, nervous and exhausted, get to show a favourite person around a favourite place and have ice cream in the place I used to go to every night, and have drinks and Schnitzel on a boat. I finally sleep, for once, wear a beautiful dress and look fabulous while meeting a lot of people I haven’t seen in a very long time. I briefly wave at what could have been, and return feeling so much better. When I get home, my cacti blossom.

June

Spend two nights by a lake. I’m back to work, and go to San Francisco for a few days for the first time. I’m still trying to understand this place, and how the tech industry has impacted it. I go to SF MoMA, sit by the water for a while, eat a grilled cheese sandwich and fresh yellow cherries, and watch the seagulls. This is the furthest West I’ve ever traveled, and I’m horribly jetlagged for over two weeks.

July

We sit by the canal very far in the West. Back to riding my bike everywhere I go, and it brings me so much joy. I contemplate moving house and end up not doing it. I attend a dinner with a bunch of lovely women, speak at a D&I panel and meet a few very good people. Enjoying a bunch of late-night bike rides home. Spend a lot of time in the park and by the lake.

August

We see the blood moon over the water by Berlin Dome. A lovely friend is visiting, and we sit outside over drinks and watch people pass by, and nudge each other when we spot a good dog. Another D&I panel and meeting old acquaintances again. I take a few trains to get to another wedding, enjoy looking out the window and seeing this familiar landscape pass by; spend the weekend in the countryside, meet goats and horses, I wear a suit and my favourite bowtie, dance until the last song, walk home past 5 in the morning, and sleep in a bed that’s too short and too narrow. The stars are brighter than I’ve seen in a long time. On a whim, I buy an inflatable donut. I spend a week working from a lake house with a few friends, we go for swims in lunch breaks, float across the lake, watch the clouds and waterlilies, find a frog, make barbecue in the backyard, and have dinners on the balcony, almost seeing Mars.

September

I have visitors and get to show them around town; we spend a wonderful weekend together, going out and wandering the parks of Potsdam. I start taking piano lessons again. Spend a few days in New York, meet friends who help me stay awake with pac-man and ghost-shaped dumplings, and another friend and we share a cheese plate. I get myself the most wonderful gift. Another round of apartment rearranging. I get back to a balloon donut and brunch with my best friends and the best dogs. I find the first chestnut this autumn. I find a piano teacher and take my first piano lesson in a very long time, and it’s mind-boggling.

October

I miss New York and good bagels, and while I can’t bring the city to my home, at least I can make bagels. I go to Hamburg for a night to wander around this city again (it’s been too long) and see Ólafur Arnalds at Elbphilharmonie, which is absolutely phenomenal. Take a train back home and perform my first stand-up comedy bit; needless to say*, I’m killing it. (*Absolutely not needless, I was incredibly nervous and anxious, which is the whole reason I even did this in the first place; but that’s another story for another time.) I see Ólafur Arnalds once more, this time in Berlin. The leaves are turning yellow and we marvel at the trees by the lake. I get sweet treats from a fabulous new bakery in my neighbourhood. Friends host a Halloween party and I get to dress up and turn myself into the Pizza Witch that I’ve always been.

November

Many walks in the park, as long as there’s daylight. There’s less and less light, and it’s really wearing me out this time. I spend a particularly dark and rainy afternoon in one of my favourite museums in town and probably trying to see three exhibitions in one day was a little too much. Speak at a local meet-up. The sun is out for a few days and I hope it never ends (it does). Go see a musical and end up closing my favourite bar with the staff; have gin truffles for the first time, and it turns out they’re even better when you have them with extra gin on the side.

December

Spend the weekends with friends. Make a new batch of pizza dough. Go to New York once more, meet up with friends and finally make it out of Manhattan, have a little pizza, buy a few books, go to a social justice holiday market (and it’s as fantastic as it sounds), stand by the water looking at the skyline, and wear the bowtie again. Get home, jetlagged. Spend a few days with friends and dogs in a house in the countryside and it’s marvelous. Learn what it’s like to really fall in love with a dog. I meet calves and watch dogs playing and staring out the window, we go for long walks, make cookies, cook dinners, get milk from a farmer, have homemade gelato for dessert, unfortunately have no panettone, and I finally get to play card games again.


2018 in numbers

(I like numbers)

  • Traveled around 82,934 km: returned from Italy, went to Hong Kong, Thailand, New York, Vienna, San Francisco, Stuttgart, two villages by lakes near Berlin, Hamburg, a village by the Baltic Sea, and another village near Denmark,
  • spoke at two conferences, one of them my first management conference, hooray!
  • wrote not much, really (and as always, I wish it was more),
  • posted 540 Tweets,
  • way too many Instagram stories,
  • took more than 11,033 photos,
  • read 21 books, plus 12 Mio. words in Pocket (they say that’s 163 books, whatever that means),
  • Bought way too many books. Finally got a book shelf.
  • listened to music for a lot (my last.fm counts 14,867 songs),
  • went to see live: Belle and Sebastian, Ólafur Arnalds (twice), Welcome to Hell (a musical),
  • Quit my job. Found and started another one (yay!!).
  • made 68 contributions on GitHub,
  • accidentally quit drinking coffee regularly; probably got to around 50 cups over the year,
  • Listened to 4,839 songs and over 72,000 hours of music
  • The 11 songs I listened to the most this year:
    • Keaton Henson – Beekeeper (made it into this list again)
    • Blondie – Call me (it’s not a song, it’s a mood)
    • Santigold – Disparate Youth
    • Portugal. The Man – Feel it still
    • Django Django – Marble Skies
    • The New Pornographers – The Bleeding Heart Show
    • Sequoyah Tiger – Sissi
    • Flunk – Only You (Yuleboard Live Version)
    • Chromatics – I’m on Fire
    • Cosby – Everlong
    • Fruit Bats – Humbug Mountain Song

Bits and pieces

  • Learnings: Realised how hard it is to make friends as an adult (still working on it, but I got very lucky a few times this year).
  • Best decisions: Starting a new job. Not moving house. Taking piano lessons again. Not dating anymore (for now, sigh).
  • Endings & beginnings: a bunch.
  • Change: Went through some big personal changes, which I’m really excited about. I’m, probably unsurprisingly, turning another year older next year, and still grappling with it; also still thinking a lot about this thread, and what it means to be the age that I am.
  • People: many good ones.
  • The day I ran out of fucks to give: January 29

2019

Doing more of the things I greatly enjoy and am not doing enough of: Meeting friends, meeting new people, making new friends; protesting; dancing; practicing piano more frequently and learning exciting new pieces; cooking better food for myself; baking more. I’d like more dogs in my life, more nights out, more park time, more good books, more photography, more ice cream, more learning, more floating on lakes, looking up into the sky.

The biggest lesson I learned from my piano practice over the last months is: even on good days, you’ll rarely play perfectly, and that’s okay. But don’t let it keep you, don’t restart – when you fail, what matters most is that you find a way to recover, maybe even with grace (or at least a little dignity), find a way get back on track, and keep going.

And on this note: happy 2019 to you. May it be a good year for you.

February 2018

Found

  • What I hadn’t been looking for.
  • 5€ in the street and left them there.

Wrote

Watched (or saw)

  • The void
  • Belle and Sebastian live

Overheard (or said)

  • “You should really get onto teleportation. It helps with so much.”
  • “Another friend just got engaged. I think I only need another ten casual dating scenarios and I’ll be ready to settle.”
  • “Have two shots for me tonight!”
  • “This relationship is just an attempt to figure put how long it takes us to get absolutely sick of each other.”
  • “:donut: :donut: :donut:!!!!!!” 
  • “I won’t return to Berghain. I just disliked the customer experience. The music was too trashy also. The people were strange. Lots of folks from Brandenburg. But the sound system was nice.”
  • “I’ve developed some tolerance for being made feel like I need to apologise for wanting to order a coffee in Berlin cafés.”
  • “I don’t want to spend 350€ on a Christmas party DJ.”
  • “I didn’t laugh at you, I was laughing with you. — You just hadn’t gotten the joke.”

Was

  • Out late
  • In organising mode
  • Running after a bus at 2am
  • Out very late
  • At the animal shelter
  • Very sad
  • Very excited

The best pictures

  • The day the sun came back
  • The snow at 5am
  • A reflection in a lightbulb
  • The sunrise at 6:25am
  • This GIF, open in a browser tab on the side of my monitor:

First times

  • Making spring rolls
  • The 2018 Grand Thai Curry Fiasco

Did

  • Not travel for a whole month, for the first time since May 2017
  • Lean out the window
  • Miss someone
  • Jump
  • Anti-sadness-Karaoke
  • Turn a conversation with a stranger into the script for my first movie
  • Jump the shark

I did…, although it was a bad idea

  • A lot of things, actually. Too many to list here.

Had

  • Board games night
  • Homemade Thai curries
  • Risky Whiskey
  • Homemade pizza
  • Lots of time with good dogs
  • Heart-shaped pizza
  • Conversations about Alpacas
  • Plans
  • Heart-to-heart conversations
  • No coffee for 7 weeks in a row. By accident.
  • Puppy time
  • Breakfast (with coffee)

Read

Books I finished

  • None. Reading game not strong this month. (But I sorted my book collection, if that counts.)

Learned

  • A sad phone call with a crying puppy in the background really helps the mood.
  • Some things about feedback

Overheard (or said), pt 2

  • “I’d relocate to San Francisco just to troll you.”
  • “Marriage is also kind of a scam.”
  • “There is a micro universe in your tool box.”
  • “You should start your own moving company.”
  • “You negotiate like you were North Korea.”
  • “I think we’d just bore each other.”
  • “Negative anecdotal data is one of the strongest forces in the universe.”
  • “I’m taking the ‘confident mediocre cis white man’ approach now. It really helps!”
  • “You have style, and I don’t.”
  • “It’s always kind of impressive to see the limitlessness of entitlement in action.”
  • “I’m pretty sure you learned English through reading poetry.”
  • “What’s your name?” – “Lena”. – “Like my mother. I should call my mother again.”
  • “Friday night is no time to be fearful.”
  • “I’m impressed and a little scared.” – “You should just be scared.”

Listened to

  • Flunk — Only You (Yuleboard Live Version)
  • Albin de la Simone — Le grand amour
  • Phoebe Bridgers — Funeral
  • The Killers — Run For Cover – Naderi Remix
  • Abay — THE QUEEN IS DEAD
  • Alex Turner — It’s Hard to Get Around the Wind
  • Wolf Parade — Lazurus
  • The Czars — Paint the Moon
  • Lost Horizon — She Led Me
  • Oneohtrix Point Never — The Pure and the Damned
  • Belle and Sebastian — Show Me the Sun
  • Lambchop — In Care of 8675309

Thought about

  • Gracefulness
  • Choices
  • Performative feminism of cis white straight men online
  • A theory: at any given point in time, someone somewhere in the world will play Amazing Grace.
  • Learning
  • Growth

Have a lovely March, and wonderful adventures!

Berlin, Winter (October 2017-February 2018)

There’s always this one day in the year when it shifts, the day when all of a sudden, the subway station is warmer than the outdoors again. That’s when you know.

This is the fifth month of winter. There’s not enough sun for all the sad people here anymore.

We try to stay close to keep each other warm. The wind is too harsh and we keep drifting apart, except for the times when the storm hits harder than usual and the rain is so strong that we have to stand closely under the supermarket roof, looking out to water smashing down from the sky, feeling each other’s elbows in our sides and smelling each other’s scents, waiting for the rain to stop, while the slushy machine that’s on all year keeps slushing ice to the sound of Radical Face: Welcome Home.

Oh, the rain. It’s always the rain. It makes the bushes in the back yard below my apartment look like palm trees, it makes my hands cold and my body shiver and the water run through my hair and drip onto my face and first it wets my glasses, then it makes them foggy every time I enter a warmer place. Clear vision is a rarity these days. I have to remind myself to blink from time to time, as a means to make sense of the world right now. As a means to remember the world as it is right now. Because what the world is, is something that makes me want to run, and not run in the good ways like I did in early autumn, when I’d sprint to catch the traffic lights and go for park runs and play catch with the tiniest dog in the world. This is a time when I want to run and hide, or, better, sit on a train and ride it until Endstation, last stop, and stay there forever.

Recently, I read a story of a microwave and two people who are forever stuck in almost kissing, and it reminds me of you. I walk around the corners, blocks, I leave my thoughts in the streets. I spend an entire walk thinking about the cultural implications of house shoes. Little children mostly treat me as a roadblock, and I appreciate the grand gesture in their pure avoidance. I’m counting my steps. I like counting things: steps, stairs, doors, corners, windows, holes in ceilings, books in shelves, pictures on walls, tiles in bathrooms. Most of the time, I’ll only notice that I’m counting again when my head is already beyond ten. A bunch of dried flowers lie on the step in front of the antique book shop. And as, for once, the sun comes out, the day goes by and it’s about to set again, I just stop and stare, stare at the sunset as if it was holding any answers. Outside of a shop, big wreaths are standing outside, and flower arrangements of red roses, the kinds that come with their own stands and backdrops of evergreen and bows to hold them together. CONGRATULATIONS, one says. A big sign above the door reads NOW OPEN. A man walks out of the shop, he has a beard and a melancholic look on his face and as I look at it all, I want to cry over the beauty of life.

I stand on a platform, waiting for a train to the airport, and someone is wearing your perfume (I can smell it over the crowd). As I get on the packed train, I sit across from someone, and without any conversation, we arrange for each other to have as much room as we possibly can, to ensure we’re both comfortable in between it all. After the arrangements are done, for the first time, we briefly look each other in the eyes and nod in respectful acknowledgement, and for the fraction of a second, I feel genuine human connection.

The train stops, I see a woman on the opposite platform. She’s wearing a green coat and bites into a peach, leaning forward. The peach juice drops on the ground. A plane from Munich arrives and nobody is waiting for anyone on it. At a different gate, a woman is waiting. She’s tall, with curly brown hair, and bursting with joy. In one hand, she’s holding a long red rose wrapped in foil; in the other, she has a huge white poster, WELCOME HOME written on it with permanent marker, in giant letters full of impatience and anticipation. She has the excitement of the world written onto her face, and as I look at her, my heart feels like it will just burst with love. The plane I’m on is packed, and the person next to me has broad shoulders. I spend the flight thinking about the radiation of the warmth of the almost-touch of another person.

Sometimes I look at fellow passengers on the subway and imagine what their lives will look like in fifty years. On a Friday morning and another train, I look down on my phone to adjust the music, as I hear someone say my name, question mark. I look up and it’s G., we haven’t met in years, again, and how come it never feels like years, but always is years, and how come that G. is one of these people with whom you just know, know that together, you could’ve been something, but you never were and never will be, and there’s the biggest sadness and sweetness in it. It’s the brutal beauty of subjunctive.

It’s a Sunday morning, and as I walk home at 5am, the snow is falling on my face and rests on my hair. The night is sweet and fading away like the taste of vanilla ice cream and I stay in the street, watching the snow flakes hit the ground and slowly melt away.

Hold on, love. It’s too soon to wake up.

Drinkable Haribo, wise Sloths, and the truth about Quokkas: November 2016

I wrote

  • “I GOT THE VISA, LOL” (it was a very desperate “LOL” though)
  • Too many texts
  • About friendship
  • “Actually, it’s about ethics in software development.” – “… … … !!!”
  • “I have no idea about Christmas markets. Every year, I try to be out of town before that’s a thing again.”
  • “stoptimezones2017.com”

I read

I found

  • out how amazing a tea of fresh ginger, a little bit of fresh mint, and lemon juice is
  • A supermarket
  • Summer

I watched (or saw)

  • Good Girls Revolt
  • easy
  • Modern Family
  • The super moon
  • Rocky Horror Picture Show
  • Verdi’s Un ballo in Maschera
  • The sea at night (euphemism for: total darkness)
  • Gilmore Girls – A Year in the Life
  • A skyscraper during sunset
  • Rainbow-coloured flowers
  • The two prettiest dogs (and they both looked a bit like sheep)
  • Brooklyn Nine-Nine (actually, I didn’t really watch it – I fell asleep every time I tried watching it)
  • Up

I said

  • “I’m waiting for you at the dog parking space.”
  • “Read more of my unsolicited advice in my upcoming book ”The audience doesn’t know what you don’t know’ and more speaking advice I should never have given”. In a book store nearby in spring 2017.”
  • “I’ll take any reason to get my friends together for drinks.”
  • “You can’t just mess up our schedules like this.”
  • “If I were a superhero, I’d be SUPER TENSE WOMAN.” – “………”
  • “Aaaaaaaaall byyyyyyy myyyyyseeeeeeelf…”

I was

  • On a train
  • Relieved
  • At the Opera
  • In full on panic mode
  • As ready for a vacation as one can be
  • There
  • On a plane
  • On another plane
  • IN STRAYA
  • On the internet again
  • On the most cluttered taxi I’ve ever seen
  • At the coworking space
  • In the park
  • At the most pretentious place on Earth
  • Sad
  • Extremely unrelaxed (or super un-chill, or so; English is hard)
  • Worried
  • Relieved
  • Lonely
  • In the back yard under a tree wearing sunglasses and enjoying the fact that I could see the sun

I did

  • Rearrange my furniture (again)
  • Bring pizza
  • Write a packing list
  • Reschedule meetings
  • Try to chill
  • Burn the tip of my thumb while trying to light a candle
  • Google signs of jetlag
  • Dress up as Luke Danes from Gilmore Girls (yes, I had the shirt, the base cap, and, of course, the beard)
  • Make plans
  • Toss all plans out of the window
  • Take a skyscraper selfie
  • Not see a Quokka (and I’d like to thank everyone who did not point out to me that what I had seen was definitely not a Quokka; thanks for leaving me these 15 minutes of joy, until I googled and found out that it had been a Possum :'( )

I did…, although it was a bad idea

  • Not sleep
  • Go shopping
  • …on a Saturday
  • Decide to re-write a 30-minute-presentation from scratch ?
  • …less than one week before the conference ??? (yes, we all knew it was going to happen)
  • Try to take a 30-minute-nap (and wake up 4 hours later) ???

I had

  • Another cold. (This winter is hard.)
  • More hot lemon juice
  • Meatballs
  • Aioli
  • Thom Kha Gai
  • Pizza
  • Sweet Potato Pancakes
  • Scotch
  • A drink with Haribo (I kid you not; and it was fantastic)
  • A Bagel on the longest day
  • Toothache
  • Soup
  • Garlic bread
  • Granola on the balcony
  • More Meatballs
  • A bagel
  • No coffee

I heard

  • “Let’s get married.”
  • “Stay away from the Koalas, they get you Syphilis.” – “????!”
  • Some very good news.
  • The first person who approached me about plans for new year’s eve
  • “I broke my ice cream cone.”
  • “I don’t think there are sexually prolific koalas… thats a sentence I never thougjt I’d ever say.”
  • “It might be time to harvest sloth hair for the future of medicine.”
  • This article says that it would be the best solution to kill all koalas.” – “??!”
  • “Sloths know something that the rest of us don’t.”
  • “Do you know this amazing website www.youtube.com?”
  • “I’m too relaxed.”
  • “Let there be nothing but our love – Estinto tutto, tutto sia fuorché l’amor.”
  • “Boarding complete.”
  • “I know you said you wanted to take a break. But… don’t.”

I learned

  • I can make people fall asleep by telling them about my experiences in server administration.
  • How to say “mate” like a proper Australian. … Ok, that was a lie.

I listened to

I thought

  • About moons
  • About big life choices
  • About career plans
  • About the concept of home
  • About ways to get a Wombat to come home with me and love me forever <3

“No cilantro, please” – September 2016

Last night, I spent 8 hours fixing a ton of broken content on this website (which also meant that all my other evening plans fell through). In that process, I stumbled on my old series of “monthly diary with bits and pieces that are usually completely out of context” again – and noticed that a month had just passed. So I thought I might as well write one.


I found

  • Roses

I wrote

sptmbr_1

I said

  • “No cilantro, please.” (I still got cilantro.)
  • “I am SO going to endorse you on Linkedin!” (Never happened.)
  • “You do not ‘yo’ me. I am not a ‘yo’ person.”

I was

  • At a conference
  • Happy
  • Nervous
  • Desperate
  • Sad
  • Alone
  • Excited
  • With my favourite humans

sptmbr_3

I did (1)

  • Carry boxes (and furniture)
  • Carry a couch all by myself (it was a super light couch, but don’t tell anyone; I looked super cool and super strong carrying that thing just myself)
  • Dye my hair green (only temporarily though)
  • Throw a keynote that was ready completely out of the window, and started writing it all from scratch – two weeks before the conference date
  • Walk around nervously in circles
  • Try purple eyeshadow (and liked it)
  • Keynote View Source Conf Berlin

sptmbr_2

I did (2)

  • See the fireworks
  • Have celebratory pizza
  • Take a post-conference-recovery-day off (and thank past-me for it)
  • Get new glasses
  • Get a massage
  • Lose the sad puppy eyes
  • Get two proposals (yes, there’s more to these stories; no, I won’t tell; no, I’m not getting married)
  • Meet someone I haven’t seen in 3 years
  • Watch a movie
  • Find the perfect summer outfit. On the last day of summer.
  • Get a free pain au chocolat (which was then stolen by a gang of sparrows gone wild).
  • Carry a pizza box
  • Make a choice

sptmbr_4

I did…, although it was a bad idea

  • Start always having two cups of coffee on my desk, to ensure a stable, interruption-free supply chain. (It sounded like a good idea.)

I had

  • Coffee
  • Coffee
  • Coffee
  • Kombucha
  • Späti Coffee (and it wasn’t as bad as it sounds)

I realised

  • In how many ways writing is a craft – and can sometimes feel like almost manual labour.

I read

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I heard

  • “I have finally understood your life strategy: for every non-coffee thing, you have to do a coffee thing.”
  • “This looks SO romantic!” (it wasn’t)
  • “I brought you a gift!” (One of my all-time favourite sentences.)
  • “I’ve never seen you so relaxed at a conference during daytime.” (I never was so relaxed at a conference during daytime.)

I listened to

  • Girls in Hawaii – Misses
  • Ravens & Chimes – Division Street
  • Heifervescent – Deep Sea Diver
  • Santigold – Disparate Youth
  • Creedence Clearwater Revival – Have you ever seen the rain (that’s another story for another time)

I thought

  • “So this is goodbye.”
  • About mutual fangirling
  • About learning and pain
  • About familiarness, and how it sometimes never completely fades; and how gestures, motions, sounds
  • “I wish it were Friday night already.”

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