Amy Lu's View

Every run has its challenges (or at least irritations) but today was the first time my run was interrupted by a fire alarm. 

Yes, this was an indoor run on the track at the gym we go to (LifeTime Fitness), and I was only about 10 minutes in, when the fire alarm went off. 

Damn. 

I had just gotten my motivation up enough to make the (short) journey from church to the gym, and went through the rigamarole of going to the locker room and changing, and finally got my ass on the track and running…and now I was supposed to stop?

So I didn’t–other people kept working out, too, and no one seemed too distressed, and I saw no signs of fire. Maybe it was clearly a false alarm–an electrical issue or something–that would be over soon? So I kept running, and I was able to get about another three minutes in before a staff person made an announcement that yes, indeed, they DID need us to leave.

Sigh. I went downstairs and grabbed my clothes from the locker and just put my real clothes on over my workout clothes–not ideal, but I knew I would need to finish my workout in some way and not having to completely change clothes again would facilitate that. 

Now it was decision time. Did I just wait for the fire alarm situation to be resolved? Give up on the gym entirely and go home and ride our stationary bike? Try to be efficient and go to Target?–but I needed some groceries and it wouldn’t be good to have those sitting in the car when I went back to the gym. 

I really hate having my plans interrupted, even, especially, the inconsequential ones, and I hate feeling like I’m wasting time. But, feelings acknowledged, frowny face noted, I had to make a decision. 

I ended up going to Walgreens (I was considering a hair dye run anyway AND I found the rather uncommon shade I was looking for), went back to the gym (luckily there wasn’t actually a fire and  I could go back), finished running (and hey, the track was pretty empty after the fire drill although one person still managed to be running the wrong way), and went to Target and got groceries. #SuccessForAmy

Yay, I ended up accomplishing my goals for today, but what is the point of this post? I could tie today’s fire alarm experience with last night’s dining debacle, another anecdote about how one of my plans went awry and I had to make a decision and got extremely stressed. (Synopsis: We had reservations at a local restaurant before a theater show we were going to, but they were so busy that they didn’t even come by to take our dinner order until after 45 minutes so I didn’t think they could possibly get us our order in time for the show so I decided we should leave and we got appetizers but we didn’t get supper, just pretzels–and wine–at the theater. Obviously, we didn’t starve, but I was wracked with anxiety and trying to make the “right” decision and I had been thinking about having their gnocchi for weeks!). 

Or, I could reminisce about past fire alarms…mostly I remember how I heard about middle of the night fire alarms being a thing I would have to contend with when I went to college and lived in the dorms and having lots of anxiety. Would I ever even be able to sleep at college and would fire alarms constantly interrupt what little sleep I got? Would I be able to find decent clothes and make my way out of the dorm in time? Would I have to stand outside in my pajamas for hours? Turns out I only had to deal with one or two fire alarms as a dorm dweller. 

Or I could reflect on how lucky I was that fire alarms were NOT a thing that I ever had to deal with as a library building manager, and something I NEVER have to contend with as someone who gets to work at home. 

(Hey, I guess I did just write about all those things!)

Is there a through line to any of this? A takeaway, a theme, much less a “moral” (I prefer “insight”). I’m afraid this is yet another blog installment of “Things Amy needlessly freaks out about” and/or “Amy delusionally expects life to conform to her trivial wishes” which wasn’t really what I was hoping my blog would be. 

But this is my blog, so it is going to be about what I feel and think and experience, especially those things that are trivial and repetitive. Of course I’m going to keep having the same silly anxieties and keep learning the same lessons over and over. I’m not going to magically change, but I do think I am at least a little more self-aware (“Here I go again”) and I can laugh at myself at least a bit and pivot and/or reframe a little more quickly. 

I can accept that my anxieties  (and therefore my blog posts) are repetitive–but in the immediate future, how can I come up with fresh and exciting illustrations and photos to capture them?

“…f*#k we have a box”

I love Valentine’s Day. I love sushi*. But combining those things this week sent me into a tizzy. 

This is a story about me getting stressed out about getting takeout sushi on Valentine’s Day. 

• It’s a story about me being stressed with not being able to find city parking on a dark rainy night when I don’t feel like I can see terribly well. 
• It’s a story about me being stressed about not knowing how much sushi to order.
• It’s a story about me being stressed about wasting food. 
• It’s a story about me being stressed about how long something is going to take and “wasting time.”
• It’s a story about me being stressed about not being in control.
• It’s a story about me being stressed about “making a bad decision.”
• It’s a story about me being likely to get stressed way too easily over small things (often because I imbue them with great symbolic meaning, such as “my failure at ordering the correct amount of sushi = my lack of judgment and clarity.”)

The details of the story aren’t actually all that interesting, but here they are anyway: I spent days thinking about if I should get sushi takeout on Valentine’s Day from a local spot that I’ve been wanting to try now for years. Valentine’s Day seemed like a good day for a special treat, and I would be in the area anyway because my singing lesson was close by…but the sushi joint often looked very busy so I had several doubts and misgivings. How long would it take? Where would I park? Where would I wait for the sushi? Would I have to stand outside in the rain?

I had Plan Bs, but, at the last minute I decided to order sushi. The app said it would only take 20-25 minutes for my order to be ready. 

Well, an hour after I had placed my order, I was waiting in the restaurant and freaking out. I couldn’t stop thinking about HOW I HAD RUINED VALENTINE’S DAY. Clearly, I had ordered sushi for 40 people and the overworked staff wasn’t going to be able to complete making all that sushi by midnight. 

Approximately one hour and 5 minutes after I had almost cried in the sushi place while texting Chad about my colossal failure, I sent him the above message that we had a box full of sushi.

And about 20 minutes after sitting down to our sushi supper, all the sushi was gone (the box was actually fairly small, or maybe we just eat an abnormal about of sushi, but I was happy there were no leftovers). I was reveling in the yumminess of the sushi. I was thinking I could get takeout from there again, now that I’m more knowledgeable about how much sushi to order and know how the takeout process works. 

Maybe I’ll even know– and remember–not to have a meltdown and assume the worst the next time I am literally, or metaphorically, waiting for sushi.  

*Why am I eating sushi if I’m a vegetarian? I’m only mostly vegetarian–a pescatarian who eats fish for special occasions and feels guilty about it. And, I didn’t eat that much fish in this instance because I got mostly vegetarian sushi which I know isn’t really sushi but mostly worked for me. 

“You inspire me!” a guy called out as he ran past me on the track at the gym on a recent Sunday afternoon.

This was highly unexpected. 

I did not feel inspired, much less inspiring, as I was slogging through my tedious run. While I am very grateful to be able to run on an indoor track, especially after years of Covid curtailing my gym visits, I do not enjoy it. But it’s the best of unappealing alternatives in the winter. Running outside when there is a hint of ice feels unsafe for me, and I find treadmills even more tedious, and potentially dangerous–I don’t feel coordinated enough for them. 

Why did I inspire this guy? I’m not sure, but I don’t think it was with my running prowess. This guy was definitely way more fit and muscular than me, and when he was running, he was much faster. But he was sprinting in short spurts, while I was continuously, if slowly, running. So I think I was inspiring him with my perseverance. I know his comment encouraged me to keep going, and I ended up running for an hour. 

I’m writing about this little moment because it was surprising and affirming. It made me think about how we never know how others might see us, or what impact we might have on them, even in small ways. My fellow runner definitely had an impact on me because he helped me reframe my run–I wasn’t “failing” because I was slow, but succeeding for running at all and sticking with it. More importantly, he’s inspired me to look for inspiration from others as I go about my daily life. 

(I didn’t embrace this moment immediately–I went on a quick inner emotional journey that started with confusion and annoyance. “What did this guy just say to me? Don’t talk to me when I’m running!” And yes, I did briefly wonder if he might have been hitting on me, but decided that it didn’t really matter because his comment was still sincere). 

I might be primed to think about inspiration right now because we recently listened to an episode of the podcast “On Being” featuring Dachtner Keltner speaking about awe. One of my takeaways from what he said is that people can experience awe by witnessing or learning about the inspiring actions of others. While my little run today certainly wasn’t heroic, I think it’s really cool that someone else could see something worthy in it, if only for a moment. 

If I think of “awe” and “inspiration” only as grand experiences (which they certainly can be), I’m not likely to encounter them on most days. But if I can open myself up to seeing them in more mundane things, especially in the daily efforts and endeavors of others, without being snarky or defensive or judgemental…well, couldn’t that open up all kinds of possibilities to see good, and feel good, and maybe do a little more good myself?

It may have become a cliche during the pandemic to talk about “small wins,” but I think that’s a worthwhile concept to hang on to, long after we’ve (hopefully) dialed back on the hand sanitizer. Let’s hang on to noticing, and celebrating, the small wins of ourselves and others. 

This is all reminding me of the “Real American Heroes” Bud Light ad campaigns of the late 90’s. Wikipedia says the ads used “mock glorification” (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Real_Men_of_Genius) to praise accomplishments that were actually pretty silly. I’m not a fan of Bud Light, but I definitely enjoyed those commercials and thought they were pretty clever (although I’m sure a deep dive into them could uncover some content I’d now consider problematic). I’m sure I could also spend hours debating the actual merit of some of the “heroes”: Mr. Inspirational Poster Writer definitely sounds worthy of admiration to me! 

What I remember most about the ads (and I’m not claiming this is accurate) is that the “heroes” were sincerely doing their best and were passionate about what they were doing. Yes, there are times when quality definitely matters and excellence should be recognized, but there is something to be said in giving an “A for Effort.” I’m learning to appreciate that people’s interest in something is interesting (and even inspiring), even if I’m not interested in the subject of their attention. 

So I’m on the lookout for inspiration. I’m ready to be inspired by others’ enthusiasm, and kindness, and dedication, and curiosity, and creativity, and bravery, and quirkiness. I’m going to rely on the inspiration of strangers, coworkers, acquaintances, costars, family and friends. Of the inspiration of you, yes YOU!

In the immortal words of the band Chicago: “You bring feeling to my life, you’re the inspiration.” 

Don’t let a cheesy 80’s band down! 

As we enter the Year of the Rabbit, I (of course) did some Googling and read that this year will be a time for introspection, peace, meditation, and calm.

This surprised me. I’m no expert on rabbits, but I do not think of them as symbolizing any of these characteristics or activities. I think of rabbits as being jittery, anxious, excitable and distracted. 

Yes, I identify with my version of a rabbit. 

But perhaps my symbolic rabbit (let’s call her Mabel as I think that is the name of my plush Grandma’s Marathon rabbit) has the potential to be more. Just like I proposed in my last post about the possibilities for Couch Potato to have multiple and expansive identities, Mabel can be more than what others, or herself, expect her to be. Not that Mabel has to give up being her typical, comfortable, on-brand self (let’s call it “energetic”)–but she doesn’t have to be limited to that. 

I’m sensing a theme with two blog posts in a row on expanding identities. Why does seeing others and myself  in new ways appeal to me so strongly? Am I just inspired by the new year? Am I feeling a mid-life urge to shake things up a bit?

I know that one specific, useful, and thematically appropriate Year of the Rabbit way I could expand my M.O. is to practice mediation–but I don’t expect that to happen in the near future. This isn’t because I don’t see the value of meditation, but it just feels so not like me, so uncomfortable to me. Which of course is one of the main reasons I should try it. I think meditation is useful and helpful for everyone, but especially for those of us who really struggle with slowing down and sitting (literally and metaphorically) with our thoughts. 

I’m not giving up on ever meditating, and in fact aspire to–someday. Until then, I’m open to easing into meditation with meditation-adjacent activities, such as my daily dance break when I try to just focus on dancing and the song I’m listening to. 

I’m clearly not meditative, but what about some of the other characteristics of this new Chinese year? I especially wonder if I’m introspective. I think about my thoughts and feelings a lot–but I’m not sure that’s introspective as much as narcissistic and obsessive. I don’t reflect as much as I perseverate and ruminate (yes, I really wanted to use those words because they sound cool). 

Still, this attention I pay to what’s going on with the inner me could be the basis for something more reflective and meaningful. I could go beyond just thinking about what I’m thinking and wonder WHY I’m thinking and feeling something and what it might mean and what I might want to do with that insight. 

The Year of the Rabbit–at least in its introspective, peaceful, meditative, and calm aspects–doesn’t really seem like a year for me, but maybe I can make it my own, at least sometimes. 

The next time you see me flailing around like an unhinged muppet, consider that I could still be feeling calm and peaceful under all that frazzled activity.

Unitarian Universalists don’t have a bible. Although we often find inspiration in the Christian bible, we’re not obligated to revere any specific text. We’re encouraged to open our hearts and minds to wisdom and meaning we may encounter in a variety of sources.

We do receive guidance from our church – we have a hymnal filled with beautiful and profound hymns and readings among other resources. Many of us develop our favorite sources that comprise our personal and local congregation “bibles.” I’m pretty sure Mary Oliver’s poem “Wild Geese” makes the cut for many. 

Chad and I are doing our best to add the children’s picture book “Couch Potato” by Jory John to the canon of our church, Michael Servetus. This past Sunday I read it during our church service – the second time in the last twelve months. I also read it during the height of the pandemic when our services were entirely via Zoom. 

It’s not surprising that Chad and I find great wisdom in a children’s book. My “Frog and Toad” blog challenge started after I read a couple of Frog and Toad stories for church services. (Frog and Toad stories are definitely part of our bible). But why are we so drawn to “Couch Potato”?

We used it most recently to illustrate one of the themes of the sermon Chad gave: that we should be careful about becoming too “centered,” too comfortable in our beliefs and practices and ways of being in the world. 

On the surface, it’s a simple, if highly delightful, book about a literal couch potato, who discovers he doesn’t also have to be a metaphorical couch potato. That’s a great takeaway, but what makes it spiritually meaningful?

Beyond the message of not getting stuck in a spiritual or lifestyle rut, it’s full of little nuggets that can speak to us at different times and in different circumstances.

Personally, I was especially moved after days of cloudy gloom by the line: “The sun seemed brighter than I remembered.” Definitely a call to truly appreciate the seemingly mundane things we take for granted. 

I was challenged by the line: “We might watch the clouds. There’s no big plan. We just see what happens.” No big plan?! How about a small one? Or, perhaps I could explore what it would be like to sometimes not have a plan?

Speaking of possibilities…I was inspired by Potato realizing that he didn’t only have to be a couch potato, or be limited to being only one potato of any type:

“It makes me wonder…what if I don’t always need to be totally comfortable?…Because it turns out that I’m more than just a couch potato. I’m an amusing potato. I’m a smart potato. I’m a kind potato. I’m an entertaining potato.And I’m a sit-on-a-hill-and-watch-the-sunset potato.”

This feels like an especially timely message at the new year – at their best, resolutions encourage us to try and be new things.

Having more than one identity or role in life can be disconcerting and make us feel off balance, but it can also open us up to a fuller life. And just as we may yearn to be more than one narrowly defined type of person, we should support others as they expand beyond our conceptions of them.

The day after the Sunday service, I set out to read an article from one of Chad’s seminary classes, (“The Perils and Possibilities of Multiplicity” by Cynthia Linder) and it was about this very idea: we all have multiple selves that we need to have the courage to explore and honor and integrate.  

Okay, I don’t believe in fate, but maybe I need to sometimes be a Fate Believer Potato because this article was really just the academic version of Couch Potato!! What are the chances that I would read these insightful writings back to back?

Maybe there IS a Supreme Deity and it’s a potato. 

At about 2:00 this afternoon, I noticed my brain wasn’t fuzzy and that I was able to think clearly (or as clearly as I ever can). 

I officially declare that my “I’ve recovered from Covid” moment. As I think back on it, I’m pretty sure majestic orchestral music played while a beam of heavenly light shone down on me. 

I tested positive for my first–and hopefully last–case of Covid on January 4. Yes, poor Chad literally started the new year with having Covid, and I followed in his footsteps just a few days later. It was actually a type of relief when I officially had Covid because I didn’t have to try and avoid Chad and constantly worry about getting Covid anymore. 

Of course, in the hours since that hallelujah time of feeling over Covid, I have become slightly congested, because there doesn’t seem to be a hard and fast line between Covid and non-Covid life. I definitely feel much better than I did, but I think I’m going to continue to have some lingering Covid-related irritations. Not Long Covid or anything serious, but just a “I had a lot of mucus in my head for several days and that takes a while to resolve” situation. 

The world probably doesn’t need another–or any–blog post about sinus congestion, but I’m definitely following the “write what you know” adage, and for the last twelve days I’ve known Covid. Having Covid means I’ve known congestion…and tiredness, frustration, anxiety, and gratitude. 

I am so grateful that I had a mild case of Covid (which I attribute to being fully vaccinated and boosted, praise be) and that I’m not in any high risk categories. Having Covid was annoying and unpleasant, but not life-threatening–like it was for my sister, who had to be hospitalized because of Covid. I never had a fever, body aches, a cough, or messed up sense of smell and taste. Mostly I was just congested, and that didn’t even seem that bad (I could usually still breathe through my nose) until it started to feel never-ending. 

I’m also really grateful that I have plenty of sick time and can work from home and I didn’t have to try and take care of children or aging parents when I felt icky. 

The most challenging thing for me about having Covid was it was a powerful reminder that I am not in control–at least not to the extent I usually can pretend that I am. I couldn’t will my head to clear up, or summon up more energy. I couldn’t decree the at-home tests would have a negative result. (I learned that people can still test positive after 10 days but that doesn’t mean they’re contagious and the CDC guidelines say that can be out of quarantine: https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2022/06/30/1108615724/positive-test-isolation)

Covid didn’t care that I had plans and that I really wanted to go to play rehearsal. (Although I am extremely grateful that I didn’t actually have to cancel that many plans and that rehearsal-via-Zoom was a good option). 

It’s not surprising that I felt frustrated that I couldn’t be around other non-Chamy people and do the things I wanted to do, but I also started to get worried that after spending so much time sequestered at home I wouldn’t be able to function out in the world. Maybe I would emerge from having Covid as a person who was mostly equipped and motivated to hang out on the couch watching “Interview with the Vampire” (which OMG is AMAZING and a definite upside of Covid is it gave me the time and inspiration to watch it). 

I also had similar fears about my ability to re-enter the world during the Covid lockdowns of 2020/21, and that time did help me realize that I actually do like spending more time at home and that having more downtime is a good thing for me. So I guess if having Covid transformed me into someone more comfortable with and qualified for extended TV and lounge pants time that would be okay, too. (I don’t think that’s happened though–yesterday I went to church and accomplished some things and it felt really good and energizing). 

I’d like to say that having Covid has given me more appreciation for my health and everything my body can do (even when it doesn’t look quite like I want it to in a particular dress) and more empathy and compassion for people who are dealing with chronic illness. And it has–but I know that as I move farther away from my Covid time, the insights I’ve gained will feel less real and I’ll need to keep re-discovering them. 

One Having Covid Life Lesson I do think I will retain is that Jacob Anderson and Sam Reid (stars of “Interview with the Vampire”) are extremely attractive young men.

To reflect on the passing of 2022, it seems like a good idea to consider things I’ve learned this year–big things, little things, profound things, silly things. I’m grateful for all these life lessons, discoveries, and mini-epiphanies (I’ve already blogged about some of them under the umbrella of gratitude) and am amazed how knowledge can come to us through intention (and Googling) and seeming accident.

22 things I learned in 2022 (in no particular order):

1. Dry shampoo is bad for you (me/us).
2. The difference between a content inventory and a content audit (I took online classes on Content Management and Information Architecture and I actually learned quite a bit but this is nice snippet)
3. I might like flavored coffee a little bit.
4. I really like scent diffuser sticks.
5. I can do a home Covid test without it being a big whoo.
6. I can keep houseplants alive (at least for 10 months) but I don’t know how to start a Chia Pet.
7. “Freudenfreude”–taking joy in others’ success, the opposite of Schadenfreude–is a thing (according to the New York Times) and I want to experience it more often.
8. There are a lot of weird and obscure Grimm’s fairy tales out there (I learned this from the play we did this summer). 
9. If I don’t shut the refrigerator door so hard, the water bottles will fall off the top of it less often.
10. A skirt I haven’t worn since the pandemic started still fits.
11. How to get text messages on our Chromebook.
12. Avatar did NOT come out in the 90’s when we lived in Iowa.
13. When I am purchasing latch hook kits I should make sure they have pre-printed canvases.
14. I am interested in CBD/THC seltzers.  
15. Jodie Whittaker (Doctor Who) is younger than I thought.
16. Having a new working can opener really reduces my stress levels.
17. I can complete a marathon with a less intensive training program.
18. Como Park is a great place to see free live music in the summer.
19. Don’t order top shelf bourbon from The Times (restaurant/bar in Minneapolis).
20. I should have reading glasses with me whenever I’m out in the world (except for when I’m running).
21. I should let loose and be more expressive when I sing and not worry so much about being cheesy.
22. “2022” is a really fun year to write/type and I think I’m going to miss doing that. 

I know I learned more than these 22 things in 2022, but this is what I can best convey (and remember) as I write this post. I’m looking forward to discovering what I will learn in (and blog about) in 2023. 

I used to be afraid of the dark. Now it just makes me mad. 

I was afraid of the dark not just when I was a kid, but also as an adult, well into my thirties. I’d probably still be afraid of it depending on the circumstances, but now I rarely encounter, or worry about encountering, situations where I find the dark scary. 

In fact, I actually prefer the dark sometimes. Okay, I actually demand it–especially when it comes to sleeping and I find almost any amount of light irritating. My change for light tolerance is perplexing and irritating for Chad, particularly when he wonders, “So now I can’t have a reading light in bed? Didn’t you used to be afraid of the dark?” 

Well Chad, people change. Context matters. 

I’m trying to keep this insight in mind as we “celebrate” Winter Solstice time. For while I like darkness in my bedroom when I’m trying to sleep, I do NOT like it out in the world when we have less than 9 hours of daylight. I also do not like the cold, and while maybe I could handle long nights, long nights while I’m freezing my ass off is a hard NO for me. 

I’m declaring this in the spirit of authenticity as Chad and I just led a Winter Solstice service yesterday. We shared several beautiful and insightful readings (from others) about the value of the Winter Solstice–not because it signals that days are getting longer and we’ve survived the worst of this dark winter hellscape, but because there is meaning and value and sacredness in the dark in and of itself. 

I appreciate that, I even believe that, but I don’t feel it. While I can somewhat appreciate “darkness” and “winter” as metaphors, I pretty much despise and loathe every literal aspect of our current cold and dark weather and climate (and I didn’t even have to do any shoveling because of this last storm. That’s what Chad’s for. Hey, I somewhat earn my keep–I clean the litter box and take out the garbage and recycling when the weather is decent). 

I’m not JUST venting/bitching/complaining–I think unless we honestly embrace how we feel, our metaphors and spiritual insights lose their power. If I’m not upfront about how much I hate this time of the longest night, I won’t really find any meaning in either dealing with it or leaning into it. 

Maybe someday I will learn to appreciate, even prefer, the dark and cold environment, just like I changed my mind about dark bedrooms. (I just hope any change of heart isn’t because of climate change). But until then, I’ll stick with celebrating the Winter Solstice with the “Thank god/goddess/universe/bourbon that at least the days get longer from here.” 

Because of Amnesty International, I know there is a proverb (Chinese, according to Google) that advises “Better to light one candle, than to curse the darkness.”

Well, I’m going to light one candle, AND curse the darkness. And have some bourbon. And try not to knock over the candle. And appreciate how good it smells (cheap sugar cookie scented candle from CVS bought last night for aforementioned Solstice Service) and hope the scent doesn’t trigger sinus issues (at least not ones worse than that already triggered by alcohol and tea). 

If I ever get to a point in my spiritual journey where I do appreciate darkness and cold, it will be all the more profound because of where I currently am and how far I will have traveled/progressed. And if I get “stuck” here, at least I made it this far–and warmer, longer days are coming!

Now that the faux turkey leftovers from Thanksgiving are finished (they lasted three days!) and our oven is once again filled with chips and crackers (although still basically debris-free), I feel it’s time for a traditional reflection on what I’m grateful for. 

When I pause to reflect on all the many things I have to be grateful for, my heart usually first turns to food (and beverages) and clothes–the little delights and treats and comforts that bring physical pleasure into my life and make me feel good. While I continue to love all my mundane indulgences (many staples remain as part of my life, a few have lost their luster or worn out, and a few new ones have been discovered), I want to avoid yet another blog post about food and drink and clothes. 

So here is a list, in no particular order and by no means exhaustive, of some things I’m thankful for that more or less are somehow connected to the last year:

• Finding one of my dresses from high school, and my 1985 high school yearbook, and my hair crimper (which still works) in case any of these relics are needed for the upcoming one-act I’m in, which has a 1985 setting (in a way)
• Chad starting seminary
• Taking voice lessons at Sarah Jane’s Music school and my incredibly supportive teacher
• Resuming in-person church services (while still having the option to stay home and use Zoom)
• Gigs for our band Pigeons from Hell, including our return to the Driftwood Char Bar this week!
• Covid vaccine and boosters, at-home Covid tests, and NOT getting Covid
• Every time we still have room left in our recycling bin
• We had our credit card returned to us after our server at Crooners accidentally gave it to another customer
• Successfully saving socks from StanLee
• That our new neighbors on both sides of our house are cool and don’t seem too perturbed with StanLee’s shenanigans. I’m especially thankful that the three dogs who now live next door are pretty chill about StanLee and he even seems to be friends with one of them!
• Getting a new phone after mine was “lost”
• Air freshener diffuser sticks 
• Wordle
• Thankful every time I find my car after I go somewhere, anywhere, and park it–but especially at a State Park
• Houseplants that I got from Chad for my birthday are still alive
• Getting a haircut and now having layers
• My home office (although I still need to organize it better)
• Midterm election results
• That I successfully ran the Twin Cities Marathon (it was inevitable that I would mention this)
• Our new furnace/AC and a new refrigerator
• Our couch (and that cats aren’t destroying it)
• I had my toenail successfully removed and was able to run fairly soon afterwards (yes, this was a planned medical procedure that I’m happy to describe more in person)
• Coming up with a title for a blog post!

“We were just two people being wrong. We don’t get to have a special name for that.”

–Chad

Chad explained to me that we were just wrong, not special, as I was wondering if we had recently experienced “The Mandela Effect” by misremembering that the movie “Avatar” was released in the mid-nineties. We didn’t simply get the release date wrong, but we subjected our friends who were part of the conversation to a whole little story about how the movie came out when we were young and living in Iowa and too cash-strapped to see a movie that we weren’t seriously interested in. We were justifying why we’ve never seen the movie–too poor when it first came out and then we just never got around to it, our story went. 

“The Mandela Effect” does indeed refer to a false memory, but it involves several people having a false memory of the same thing–not just two people. I only know that there is a name for this phenomenon because the hosts of our beloved podcast, “Too Beautiful Too Live,” have talked about it on several episodes. The name comes from the apparently common and shared false memory that Nelson Mandela died in the mid-eighties. 

Chad and I weren’t just mistaken about Avatar, we were convinced we were right and reacted with disbelief when our friend Polly Googled the movie release date and informed us it was 2009 (when we certainly could have easily afforded to go see it). “That can’t be!” we exclaimed. “That must have been a re-release of a director’s cut or something.”

We eventually simmered down and accepted the truth. It was a humbling and disconcerting experience for me. While the release date of Avatar doesn’t have great implications for my life, I can’t help but wonder what other facts and stories I’m convinced about that haven’t happened, or happened in substantially different ways than I remember. 

One trippy theory about The Mandela Effect is that it’s caused by the existence of parallel universes–that the mass misremembered events DID actually happen–just in an alternate reality. Maybe, but that still doesn’t explain why some people remember the other reality. Well, maybe the theory does get into that, but I didn’t want to do that much Googling. And while I do enjoy pondering alternate realities, one where “Avatar” came out in the mid-90’s probably isn’t that different than this one, at least not for Chad and I. 

I did do enough Googling to learn about the really cool word “confabulation,” which means “false memories a person spontaneously generates, often to compensate for holes in a person’s memory” (https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/mandela-effect). We don’t confabulate intentionally or maliciously, it just happens. So while I probably shouldn’t say Chad and I experienced The Mandela Effect, I think I can accurately say Chad and I were confabulating about the movie Avatar. 

Or, maybe I can designate my own effect! From now on, when Chamy misremembers something together (which is pretty special in its own way), it will be known as “The Avatar Effect.” (Please note–this should NOT be confused with “An ‘Avatar’ Mandela Effect,” which is apparently a thing where people misremember a scene from the movie about the characters having “hair sex” https://wegotthiscovered.com/movies/a-curious-avatar-mandela-effect-questions-the-existence-of-navi-hair-sex/. Don’t ask me to explain, I still haven’t seen the movie).