This past weekend, I drove out on my own to Boston to table at the Multiple Formats Art Book Fair. This was my second year tabling there, but my first time doing it alone, and I even drove quickly enough to catch a few risograph workshops:
I stayed for one night. Itās a four-hour drive each way, and I surprised myself with how well I was able to handle it on my own.
At the start of owning a car, Iād have been lucky to drive more than an hour or so before needing a break. I once rode shotgun through the entirety of both islands in New Zealand ā nearly 2,000 miles of road ā despite having a driverās license šĀ
Most would say that I have a knack for sleeping ā thanks in large part to long family drives down the east coast and daily commutes on MTA trains and buses that often stretched over an hour. This is very helpful as a passenger and very unhelpful as a driver, so Boston was a good test of how far Iāve come.
from point A to B
Iāve always been late to learning how to get from point A to B. I learned to ride the subway when I started high school; was taught to ride and maintain bikes during my sophomore year of college; and never found myself in the driverās seat until after graduation. Yet I found comfort and joy in all three modes of transportation, from sleeping on trains, biking up to grab lunch with friends across the boroughs, and now driving for hours with a good playlist and a void to shout in.
a resting mindset
When I got back on Sunday, I understandably spent the day indoors to rest and recover. It had been a long time since I had allowed myself to just sit down and do nothing in particular; I took a midday nap, played Flinthook on the switch, and watched an Adam Sandler movie with Laika while drinking hard kombucha.
At some point in the last few years, I became part of what I had often lamented about: the NYC āhustle culture.ā Always thinking about ongoing projects, new ideas, and anything that could keep me busy and creating against the clock. The deeper ingrained I got within my communities, the more I felt the need to keep up, produce, and prove myself. New sketches, new websites, new zines, new hobbies.
It wasnāt until I had āaccomplishedā driving to Boston and back for a tabling event that I even considered giving myself a day for leisurely activities. This was only the second movie I watched this year ā an extreme sign of my downward trend in the last half-decade:
It gave me some pause. Why did I feel the need to accomplish something before I could reward myself with leisure? To cross an item off of my TODO list; to go to the gym; to travel; to make something new. To push myself forwards before taking a rest.
The longer my lists grow, the more apparent it is that itāll never be fully empty. There will always be work to do, projects to launch, features to build and zines to make. I still need to learn mandarin, and I still need to open my sketchbook. I still need to, still need to, still need toā¦
acts of euphoria
Every few years, I have to remind myself of the things that bring me joy. I labeled them my āeuphoriaā lists ā the things that gave me highs and reset my system whenever I was in a rut. They were simple things: an engaging movie; a bike ride with a good playlist; a solid climbing session; hours spent writing, thinking, cooking with a nice drink.
I often prioritized these activities, because, well, I didnāt have a lot of motivation back then. Why work harder when you can relax instead?
As Iāve discovered the benefits of putting in the work to make things with others, show them at events, and share them online, Iāve also found that my day-to-day euphoric activities have been the easiest to lay aside. I built up a compulsion for working in front of the computer, eating take-out and losing sleep over making, making, making something for others to see without giving myself the space to enjoy a few hours unencumbered.
a balance
I struggle with balance, but I hope this year that I show a little more love to myself. Iād like to find ways to nurture the art & community aspects of my life without sacrificing the joys that I have outside of them.
When I think back to how I was raised, I was always told to do the things that make me happy. I was never really pushed to succeed, and I think, in some part, that I accomplished a lot because the joy I grew up with gave me the energy to push through difficult problems.
So, maybe Iāll do those things that I enjoy doing. Not because I feel like I accomplished enough to deserve it, but because I show up better for myself and for others when I do them.
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