Doux Comme Miel

Morning

My normal routine was interrupted today when the restaurant where I usually sit to work was booked out by some Google event. 

The guys offered to let me sit on the terrasse with a cappuccino but the kitchen was closed and I was hungry. Maybe I should have gone home to get back into my pyjamas but I felt certain that I wouldn’t get any work done if I did that.

And this is Paris afterall, there is no shortage of restaurants and cafes where one can sit and do work. I do actually have a backup place that I don’t come to often because the servers are less friendly with me. But maybe that’s because I don’t come as often.

The vibes outside today are horrible. It’s grey, there’s lots of construction going on, it’s cold again after a week of sunshine and warmth. I’m struggling a bit to keep my energy high enough to do the work that needs to get done. 

But despite the shitty vibes, I am encouraged by the support I’ve been receiving for the reels I’ve made on instagram and the new substack I started. 

So I’m at the backup place, enjoying my food and still considering going home to take a nap. I don’t have anything profound to say or share, I just didn’t want to neglect this space.

Night

It’s late, and I find myself unable to focus on the work I’m supposed to be doing.

I feel like the energy around me in my community, in the world in general is deeply, profoundly sad and upset. 

Despite this deep “knowing,” for whatever reason, I seem to only be able to express myself through words that don’t feel like enough. Through limited thoughts and ideas of what to say and how to act.

I want to scream! I want to cry. But there is no one here to hear me or console me. The only tool I have to cope is my phone. And so I keep picking it up. Peeking through my little portal into the world in the hopes that I will receive some good news by message. Or that I will be able to find some solution while sifting through the sludge that is social media. 

I made a video. In it, I’m upbeat, but really it’s a call for help. 

It’s a cry for attention because I live alone and everyone is busy and has their own problems that are so much bigger than what I can help with. I offer up my kind words because that’s all I have to give. 

I feel simultaneously wise and insightful and plagued with childlike ignorance.