it's 10:43pm, so hi
Hi.
I have no links to send, and no things to plug. No new podcasts or articles or wild ideas that I want you to give thoughts on.
Truth is, it's 10:05pm on a classic Thursday and I miss writing. I miss this little community I've built in this newsletter. I didn't know I did, but I got in bed and felt my keyboard begging to be touched. Not to work. Not to make anything of use. Just to say hi. Happy Thursday night. Happy moment. Hi.
Most nights when I get in bed, I turn on some mood lighting (candles, string lights, but christmas tree tonight of course), set up my fan next to my bed (can't sleep without it), make sure water is within reach, then I pick a playlist. Background music isn't a requirement for journaling about my day, but it's nice... and slightly necessary, out of guilt. Last year, I bought an obnoxiously expensive sonos speaker ($500+) that I had to promise myself I'd use like wild. Hence, the nightly background music. At the start of this email, I clicked "wind down" which lead me to "christmas jazz" and to no ones surprise, it was far too upbeat of a score for the evening. I've now moved to some bass heavy, lyricless mix that's fine, I guess. Nothing to write home about. And yet, here I am.
I was supposed to go on a date with Kristina tonight, but she has a very random, very contagious eye infection that's filled with ooze and pain and a lot of no thanks. Instead, Tyler and I ordered Chipotle and tried to beat random strangers in Fifa (online soccer). It's hilarious how much you can care about something that has next to no meaning. We were literally standing. Cheering. High-fiving. Screaming. We were putting on a show for an audience of none, like our lives depended on us beating RickyFutbol938.
We didn't win. Like, not even really close. But I know that when I'm 50 with kids and a spouse and too little time and too many plans, I'll remember nights like these the most. The nights where I had exactly 2 decisions to make — what to eat and what to do next. The nights where I made something really insignificant feel like the biggest, most important thing I've ever done.
Creating meaning is fun. What a power we have to be able to do that. It's like a magic wand that makes anything special or weird or traumatic or insignificant, or the most memorable. Our bodies and our minds and our hearts and our every little vein knows and feels the things you give weight to. It actually remembers. If you say something matters — it remembers. If you say something hurts, it will look out for it next time. If you say someone or something is worth celebrating, your body and mind will do everything it can to celebrate it or them again and again and again. I never want to take this power lightly. I want to be mindful of the moments I give meaning to — I want to let the good ones sink in to my core. I want to walk the bad ones out the door — thanks for coming, but you can't stay.
This might make no sense. It could all seem like a bunch of very random, very unrelated thoughts that mean nothing to you but everything to me. Like something I shouldn't have sent to a few hundred people. To that, I say, whoops, and I hope you have the best weekend.
Oh, and enjoy your special power. It can change your life.
Talk soon.
Your friend,
Taryn
P.S. If you have friends, family, or idk anyone really who might like to be subscribed to this newsletter — help a sister out and it forward it on. You can also send them to my website or this landing page specific to the newsletter. Okay, love you. Bye.
