Starting 2021 Off Right: Taking Down the Distressed Broccoli Emoji 

As with all other years, the holiday period is always a natural time to pause and reflect. 2020 was a year. I have a solid list of what will I take with me into 2021 and what will I leave behind, and while this list is personal and not for sharing, one thing came to mind that I thought I might not be alone in is my desire to retire the distressed broccoli emoji from Microsoft Teams. He will most definitely stay behind. 

Have no idea what I’m talking about? Maybe you don’t have access to the Microsoft Teams platform and therefore did not have the benefit of experiencing it’s functionality, or maybe you are not into emojis-at-work. On the latter point, I would argue the presence of emojis at work has never been more important to the mental health of the modern day (home) officer worker who spends an ungodly amount of time behind that damning square box.  

Like what a colleague proposed? Give it a thumbs up. Proud of the teamwork you accomplished with the team, send them a high five. LOVE an innovative idea, show it some love.

Anyway, as the functionally of Microsoft Teams got better throughout 2020, and the return to office date kept slipping from within our reach, our reliance on the video conference tool began to grow. For anyone with a curious mind, it was only a matter of time before stumbling upon the generous selection of the [completely ridiculous] emoji/sticker options. Once I found the suite of Broccoli people, it was a true jackpot moment! Game over. No going back.

I am sure Teams can tell from some equally-fancy-as-it-is-creepy user data how many times I’ve used the Broccoli people, as they became known. In particular, this guy got a lot of play:

 After all, like I said, it was a year.

So, here we are. The first working day of 2021 and I am calling on Microsoft Teams to retire ‘Broccoli Sad’ as the scroll-over-emoji name self-describes. Because we all hope that 2021 looks a lot more like this:

 

And A LOT less like this:

 

Oh and while you’re at it Microsoft, you need a shrugging emoji - please add that. Something like this:

 

The broccoli person with the question mark just doesn’t do the trick.

Operation Explore NYC

Destination: The Bronx  

It’s been almost 7 months since I’ve been on a plane. For someone who averaged 2-3 planes per month for the last few years, this is torture. So, instead of traveling to exotic and exciting places outside of New York, I decided to start taking advantage of the ‘exotic’ and (somewhat) exciting things in New York. Destination: The Bronx.

I can’t help but laugh thinking back to an encounter my sister, my friend and I had flying back to school in North Carolina after one holiday break years ago. We were in line at LaGuardia waiting to board one of those scary, tiny shouldn’t-be-commercial planes that would take us to RDU (Raleigh-Durham) when a group of older ladies asked us if we enjoyed our trip to NY. Well yes, we said. It was great to see family and friends but we were looking forward to going back to school. “You ENJOY living in New York?!,” one lady said. “So crowded. So many bright lights. Where do you even get groceries?,” she continued. We just starred back and tried not to laugh. We all knew right away these ladies hadn’t ventured beyond Times Square and that’s what they considered New York. How sad.

New York City - the five boroughs that is - is one of the most culturally diverse and rich places in the world. With so much to offer, I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t love living here! And there’s so much to explore.

This weekend’s adventure took me to two hotspots in the Bronx. Yes, the Bronx. No, no need to get your passport stamped when headed to Manhattan’s northern-most borough neighbor, although a lot of Manhattanites might think that. The Bronx doesn’t have the best rep, but it has lots of hidden gems. Home to the Bronx Bombers (the Yankees), beautiful gardens, zoos and fantastic eateries, you can find these gems hidden in plain sight. All you need to do is go find them!

My first stop was to Wave Hill with my friend Rachel. Nestled along the Hudson River in the beautiful neighborhood of Riverdale, Wave Hill offers expansive greenery, gardens, hiking trails, and stunning waterside views. Admission to the garden is only $10, but these days you need to book online in advance.

Your entry ticket allows you to spend all day on the grounds. Pro tip (learned from making rookie mistakes): if you’re fortunate to have a beautiful sun-soaked day, pack a picnic, bring a book and wear comfortable hiking shoes! The garden offers sprawling grounds where you can lay a blanket down, or grab one of the funky Adirondack chairs overlooking the Hudson. There is a small cafe on site, but most people around us brought their own food (wine included!).

There are several small gardens and greenhouses labeled with each specimen, making the stroll not only beautiful, but somewhat educational. Surrounded by all the greenery, Wave Hill offers a serene escape from the bustling energy of the rest of the city. You’ll think you’ve stepped into the Catskills instead of off the 1 train (or Uber, or Metro North, or your own car...take your pick on transportation - we went with Uber this time!).

 Photo cred: Rachel Mann 

After a relaxing afternoon, I ambled over to Arthur Avenue to meet up with my friends Jaime and Zack for a long awaited return to this iconic Italian haven. Stepping onto Arthur Avenue is like stepping back in time to a time when the neighborhood was Italian. Think…Sopranos Italian.

 

Italian specialty shops line the streets. Looking for a fresh cut of pork from an Italian butcher? You got it. Looking for Italian butter cookies and fresh olive bread? Take your pick of bakery. Looking for an authentic Italian meal, and some imported wine to wash it down? You’ll definitely find it here!

 

As soon as I was introduced to Arthur Avenue about a year ago, I’ve been clamouring to go back. And had there not been wedding diets for Jaime and Zack’s wedding, and a pandemic, chances are high I would’ve been back way sooner than a year.

Pro tip: Lots of Arthur Avenue restaurants do not take reservations, and unless you know some big bosses or want to avoid getting to know some big bosses, the wait could be extremely loooong. Head over there on a Saturday in the late afternoon (4pm) and peruse the Avenue. Pick up your cookies, cannolis and baked goods before dinner, because the bakeries close around 6-7pm. Put your name down on a list at a restaurant by 5pm and be prepared to eat early if they can take you right away, otherwise you could be looking at wait times of 1-1.5 hours. Worth the wait if you have to! In non-COVID times there are places to grab a drink (and perhaps a small carb-induced snack) while you wait. Oh, and be sure to come hungry! After all, those delicious dishes are not going to eat themselves! 

(Not pictured: all of our delicious eats!)  

Inspiration Through the Eyes of Babes

If there is one thing I can confidently say I am fantastic at, it is vacation. For someone who has always lived the “work hard, play hard” mantra, “vacation harder” was always a part of my way of life. By ‘harder’ I don’t mean some sloppy spring break-esque trip. On the contrary, actually.

Travel has always been an outlet for me to explore new corners of the globe, try new things, meet new people, and most importantly, open my mind to new ideas and thoughts. It usually provides a much needed reprieve from the stresses and anxieties of the day-to-day, leaving room to, quite literally, free my mind, giving way to new doses of inspiration. Whether the sun is involved or not, traveling has always been my boost of vitamin D; the energy refresher needed to plow through whatever lies ahead…until the next vacation.

Once the pandemic became all too real in March, I knew vacation and travel this year – and frankly for the foreseeable future - would look quite different. I held on to hope for as long as I could, but as I watched pre-planned trip after pre-planned trip slip away, there was one beacon of hope still on the horizon: a ‘girls’ trip to the beach in Delaware with my mom, sister and two nieces in mid-August. We planned it in late June when I think all of us were losing it for different reasons, and needed something to look forward to. The house suited everyone’s needs and came with a generous last-minute cancellation policy – crucial in these times – and so we locked it in and watched week after week, day after day, as Delaware was on and off the ‘COVID watch lists’, on and off, on and OFF…

So we went. And I am so glad we did.

Over the course of the week – with my laptop and work phone safely taking their own vacation back up in NY – I wanted to make the most of the time with my precious nieces, now 4.5 years old and 7 months.  

Back in 2015 when I participated in the Nudge Global Impact Challenge in the Netherlands, there was one session that was part of the program that I will never forget. Children from one of the international schools came in and we had a discussion with them about the ways of the world, through their eyes. How do they understand and look at the world we’re living in? The conversation was awe-inspiring to say the least.

Why?

There’s that old expression, “Out of the mouths of babes.” That’s why. Unfiltered. Raw. Laden with emotion and truth as they understand it.

The week with my 4.5 year old niece (actually, 4 and ¾ according to her) took me back to this moment. It made me realize again how much we conform as adolescents, young adults and then into adulthood, and how much joy in our lives we lose in doing so.

Oh to be a vivacious 4 and ¾ year old again when…

·       The thrill of a bunk bed lasts for days even though the novelty should’ve worn off after bumping your head several times

·       You question absolutely everything. You’re not doing it to be a pain, or annoy those around you, but you’re doing it because you’re so eager to learn. Your curiosity abounds and you just want to know why

·       You don’t always do as you’re told or as you should. Everyone still loves you anyway.

·       You run head-first into the ocean, not bothered by the weight of the floaties trying to pull you up. You have your eye on the prize and nothing is going to weigh you down

·       You insist on playing with a boogie board, laying it flat at the water’s edge. You lay on it and pretend to paddle out, just like the big kids, and then you stand. You truly believe you, too, are surfing.

·       You are fiercely independent but ask for help when you need it - you can’t reach the sink to wash your hands, you need help to open up a new toy. You’re simply unashamed to ask for help, because again, eye on the prize.

·       You constantly use your imagination and again creativity abounds. No kids to play with and surrounded by boring adults? A stuffed animal (or stuffy) becomes a best friend and you’re off on a wild adventure together

·       Your eyes open wide at the sight of a treat; a fresh, homemade ice cream cone, and even a packaged peanut butter cup.

·       You sleep deeply, your mind wandering in dreamland, fully recharging your energy for the next day

·       You love the simple things: a good book, a funny joke, and a good meal. Your energy is endless. You love deeply, laugh meaningfully and live vivaciously.

I am reading a memoir right now and there is passage that struck me:

“ My mother’s lip quivered with fear and courage as she said, “I have not seen my daughter this alive since she was ten years old.”

…

After that day, I began to ask myself: Where did my spark go at ten? How had I lost myself?

I’ve done my research and learned this: Ten is when we learn how to be good girls and real boys. Ten is when children begin to hide who they are in order to become what the world expects them to be. Right around ten is when we begin to internalize our formal taming.

Ten is when the world sat me down, told me to be quiet and pointed towards my cages:

            These are the feelings you are allowed to express.

            This is how a woman should act.

            This is the body you must strive for.

            These are the things you will believe.

            These are the people you can love.

            Those are the people you should fear.

            This is the kind of life you are supposed to want.

Make yourself fit. You’ll be uncomfortable at first, but don’t worry – eventually you’ll forget you’re caged. Soon this will just feel like: life.”

 

I keep rereading this passage over and over and internalizing it in my head for two reasons:

1.     I, too, have been writing* a memoir of sorts; I have a similar passage about when I can first recall my own spark began to dwindle. I am about 9 years old and in third grade. I remember where I was. I remember what I looked like, what people said. I remember why my own vivacious personality started to subside. But you’ll have to wait until the book is published to find out more…

 

Anyway, self-awareness of something is always a good start – when you recognize something in yourself by yourself; however, when someone else says something and it resonates so deeply, you might start to look at it a bit differently and interpret things differently than before.

*Half of this memoir is jotted down and scattered in notebooks, and the other half is ‘written down’ in my head; I will write it for real one day…when I have time…[insert big sigh here]

2. I can’t help but think of my own niece. If this is true, if I am not unique and this is a real thing, she might only have until 9 or 10 (or 8 even – kids are so much more advanced these days!) to keep being this wonderfully vibrant kid. She’s basically halfway there already!

I wish I could tell her to cherish these next few years. But that would be wrong. I shouldn’t be telling her to enjoy the next few years; nobody should. What we should be doing is teaching her to never stop enjoying and never to conform. We need to start being better role models for the kids around us, allowing them to truly choose their own path instead of forcing them to stick to the pre-determined one.

So, that’s what I am going to try to do. If not for myself and my own sanity, for my nieces. And I am putting it out there so someone holds me to it. Because we all know, once the last article of now-clean-again-clothing has found its place back in the closet and the suitcase is neatly stacked away in storage, you’re on borrowed time to either put that newfound vacation inspiration into practice, or sink back into the mundane of the pre-vacation grind with a cluttered brain full of things that really don’t matter.

Don’t Know Where to Start? Read This.

It’s been about two weeks since the protests started in the US, calling attention to the most under-addressed social injustice in American society: racism.

I have quietly admired all those who have been speaking out - posting stories, images, quotes. Quietly, but not idly.

I use the word admire because I truly admire those who were able to process and mobilize quickly. I was not. I needed to read, to talk, to watch and to listen. I still need to read, to talk, to watch and to listen.

As someone who usually moves so quickly from one thing to the next in my personal and professional life, I’ve come to realize that most things don’t actually matter. They just need to get done and that’s why it is easy to fly through them. When something truly matters, it deserves care, attention and time. After all, you crawl before you walk, right?

I have a tons of questions. And a “if you don’t like something, change it” mentality. 

So, if you don’t know where to start, it’s not too late. There’s a lot out there to read/watch/listen to. Through conversations I've had or things I've come across in traditional and social media, I’ve narrowed down the below list to just a select few items I’d recommend if you’re looking to educate yourself.

My recommendations (so far):

READ

• The Case for Reparations
• Your Black Colleagues May Look Like They’re Okay — Chances Are They’re Not
• Op-Ed: Kareem Abdul-Jabbar: Don’t understand the protests? What you’re seeing is people pushed to the edge

WATCH/LISTEN

• George Floyd, Minneapolis Protests, Ahmaud Arbery & Amy Cooper | The Daily Social Distancing Show
• 13^th
• Pass Over  
• The Daily (NYT Podcast) 

DONATE

• Minnesota Freedom Fund
• Black Voters Matter
• Campaign Zero
• A Better Chance

VOTE! VOTE! VOTE!

Faith in Humanity

I am not a religious person, nor would I consider myself very spiritual. In fact, on the surface, I am a pretty skeptical person, especially with those who I do not yet know. I can be reluctant to let newcomers in. Yet deep down, I have this faith in humanity.

In times of crisis, we see people at their best. We also, unfortunately, see people at their worst. Weeks ago, when I was still in NYC contemplating if I should join my mom at her house on Long Island, a few people around me were worried about increased crime in the city. Will people start looting the shuttered shops? Will those who were laid off turn to other means to pay their rent, feed their children, or keep their lights on?

I can’t say this played a big role in my ultimate decision to join my mom, but I will tell you this. Crime in NYC is actually down. And my ‘uber safe’ neighborhood on Long Island? I’ve heard cases of cars being broken into on the quiet suburban streets, and within my first days here, had my own terrifying encounter going to pick-up dinner one night where a man persisted to get into my car WHILE I was in it. It happened. I’m fine. That story is not the point of this post.

Over the last few weeks my mom and I stumbled upon a series from France called A French Village. Over the course of 7 seasons, we get to know the people of Villeneuve, France as they survive the German occupation of the country, and their small village throughout the duration on WWII. We’re currently in the middle of season 3, which takes place in 1942. We’re hooked, even though we know, ultimately, what will happen and how this story ends.

Even still, the show is tantalizing. I can’t help but think that part of the reason for that is how the writers develop these characters. You see the demise of several locals as they sheepishly give way to their occupiers and turn their backs on their neighbors and friends. But you also see the rise of heroes and heroines who risk everything to join the resistance. It’s humanity persisting at its best. You can’t help but cheer for them when they go on their dangerous missions. You breathe a sigh of relief when they succeed; you sit and contemplate ‘why’ when they don’t. But whatever happens, it’s this idea of faith in humanity that keeps you hanging on, coming back for more.

There’s a famous quote from Anne Frank that always sticks in the back of my mind: “I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are really good at heart.”

Those hallowing words, decades later, still ring true.

What am I getting at here? Honestly, I do not know. I sat down to write this blog to share a funny anecdote about a lady in Florida on a mission to return a driver’s license to its rightful owner. So, I guess faith in humanity can take on many different meanings. It wears many different hats.

At some point in mid-April I received a notification that I had a message on Facebook. I rarely check my Facebook these days, but curious by the message, I went to take a quick look. I didn’t recognize the name – we weren’t connected as friends and from the first few lines of the message – something about a lost Driver’s License – I automatically assumed it was someone who had been hacked, or was trying to hack me. So, the skeptic in me ignored it and closed out of the site.

A few days later, my birthday rolled around. I received some messages over the course of the day from friends near and far, so headed back to Facebook and something about the message again caught my eye. I clicked on the lady’s profile – one mutual friend. Interesting.

Our mutual friend was a good friend of my sister’s, so I texted her to ask her friend who this person is and if the message was legit. Almost instantaneously my sister wrote back, sharing that the lady who messaged me was a cousin of her friend, but her account had been hacked before, so just ignore it. However, she was going to contact her cousin to ask if she was, indeed, behind this.

Turns out, she was! Here’s what the message said:

Dayna.. I found your expired driver’s license (expired 4/30/17) on Deerfield Beach the other day. Interesting to see when and where you lost it.....like message in a bottle. Message me...

Huh. My ID? In Florida? But I never lost an ID. Ever. It was issued in 2009, and expired in 2017. Did I lose it years ago and just forgot?

Still super skeptical, I wrote to her to find out more. Most importantly, where did she find it?

Then the story gets better. My new Facebook Messenger-pal told me she was doing her daily routine beach walk when she noticed something floating. My ID literally had washed up on the shore. Like a message in a bottle, she was so intrigued and determined to connect and return it to its rightful owner.

She asked a few questions back: Was I ever in Florida at Deerfield Beach?

I was in Florida dozens of times over those year visiting my grandparents and seeing friends. Could it have been dropped then? But I still swear I never lost an ID. Wouldn’t I remember? And also, I never was in Deerfield Beach, although I did spend a lot of time north in Boca and south in Ft. Lauderdale and Miami.

Then she asked: How far do you think this license traveled?

And that’s when it hit me.

When I moved to the Netherlands, I gave up my US ID in February 2017 in order to get my Dutch ID. If this ID was set to expire in 2017, this would’ve been the only ID I had at the time to give up. It was my current license. Could this have been the ID that was turned over to the Dutch government? It actually had to be…

So how far did this ID travel? Across the Atlantic! Truly incredible.

My new friend insisted on sending the ID back to me. In fact, in our last correspondence, she ended with “I’m sure it has a story to tell...”

And so it does.

Perhaps a bigger story than what I initially intended to share today. Perhaps.

Re-finding Your Voice

April 18^th. I am sitting here watching the rain fall down from a gray sky. I have not been outside (obviously), but I know from the weather app it is about 49 ̊F. Not winter, but still clearly not spring. This weird in between where you don’t have to be outside, but can still feel there is a chill even though the flowers around you have begun to bloom.

Today was supposed to be one of my best friend’s wedding. I was am one of her co-Maids of Honor. We would probably be getting ready right now – hair, makeup. Preparing for the pictures we were meant to take this afternoon, leading into the beauty that is a Jewish wedding ceremony, and then the wonderful celebratory party.

It is so easy – in these times in particular – to sit here and paint a picture of what would’ve been, or what should be. But that’s not helpful. It never was. Not in pre-COVID-19 times. Not in the present. And not in the future.

Instead, I am trying to focus on the good. It’s raining and cold – the new date she set in a few months’ time will hopefully be warmer and sunnier. We FaceTimed – our ‘getting ready’ today was talking about what was on the menu for our respective brunches. She and her fiancé were ordering from a local hotspot that has been on our lists for a while. I am so glad they are going for it.

I sent them a bottle of wine to enjoy – one of their favorite blends from Italy, where they were supposed to be honeymooning in a month’s time. I sent it not to remind them that it won’t happen in May, but that the best is yet to come and they will go, one day.  

It arrived just as their order did. She showed me their lavish spread – French toast with fresh cream and berries, pull-apart bread (a Maison Pickle specialty!) and a farm-fresh looking omelet (‘looking’ because they are in NYC. No farms around…). Two glasses of champagne sit in front of each plate.

I try to ignore the two computer monitors and Bloomberg terminal keyboard hidden just beyond the beautiful bouquet of roses, on the other end of the table. A stark reminder that this space is now all-in-one: a place to enjoy a delicious meal, and a place of work.

I sent back a sad picture of my lame attempt at two fried eggs, although very nicely dressed in Everything-But-The-Bagel seasoning and some fresh herbs. Not meant to bring myself down by means of social comparison, but to further exemplify how great their meal looks and how happy it is making them. With quotes coming from our text conversation like, “Holy shit this breakfast,” “The French toast is like cloud pillows,” and the occasional joke, “And they say you don’t get to eat on your wedding day…”, I know it is working. I smile at my phone, although they cannot see that. I hope the crying-of-laughter emojis I am sending back are bringing a smile to their faces too.

Later we will do a Zoom happy hour with the bridesmaids and groomsmen.

Today we are all happy and healthy. We have so much to be grateful for.

Less I sound like I am too psychologically well adjusted for these strange times, I should probably pause and share that I’ve been taking an online course at Yale. It’s called ‘The Science of Well-Being’, and is billed as being one of Yale’s most popular courses.  

I am learning so much through this course. So much about myself, and so much about human behavior in general. Most notably, I am learning to identify those moments that bring us down, that take away from our happiness, and solutions to overcome. And maybe one of the most surprising revelations in all of this is that our intuitions are often wrong. They lead us down this path of miswanting, which, surprise, surprise, leads us towards a downwards spiral of unhappiness.

One more learning: gratitude is one of the strongest strategies for finding, or recognizing, happiness. And sharing gratitude can be incredibly powerful. So…while I’m not going to give away anything else from the course, I will implore you to take the course. I am only halfway through and highly recommend it. Oh and the best part, it’s being offered for free right now through Coursea!

The truth is, months before this Yale course entered my life, timed simultaneously to my move back to NYC, I was confronted with a lot of uncomfortable truths. Was I happy? What am I doing with my life? Why did I come back here? And, maybe most importantly, where do I go from here?

It was around that time that I started thinking of our lives as a paradox. Take childhood for example. 18 years of learning and growing. You test the waters by trying so many new things. You see what sticks, develop hobbies and talents. You are shaped by those around and your experiences. The positive and, maybe more importantly, the negative, mold you.

So, here’s the paradox. You spend X amount of time doing all these things throughout your childhood that seemingly make you happy. And then one day you become an adult, and you don’t do them anymore. Why is that?

For me, those were things like acting and playing soccer. Let’s stick with acting for sake of example here.

I saw my first Broadway show at age 5 (Les Mis). Complete side note: I know you must be wondering, who takes a 5 and 8 year old to see Les Mis?! As a disclaimer: my sister and I knew every word to every song, but clearly had NO idea what was going on. I think we were too fixed on the fact that kids were in the show – young Cosette, young Eponine, and Gavorche.  We memorized the lines to their songs and would annoy the babysitter on a Saturday night by singing them over and over and over again. And then our parents took us to see the show and I was bit by the theater bug.

I was in my first play in 2^nd grade (age 8). I remember what I wore. I remember how being on that stage made me feel. And when I think back on that day and that moment in time, I was, without a doubt, happy. Very happy.

Fast-forward a few years to 8^th grade (age 14), and I vividly remember stepping on the stage for the opening number in Pippin. We’re all about to launch into ‘Magic to Do’, and I remember thinking to myself at that exact moment, “If this is the high people get when taking drugs, I totally get why they do it.” To this day, I constantly refer back to that reference point as the epitome of happiness.

I continued acting through college. In fact, I have a whole degree in it. Yet, when I graduated, I was so absorbed in finding that perfect job that a UNC School of Journalism graduate should get. I wandered down that path, and for the last 10 years, I completely disregarded this immense source of happiness.

Over the years people did ask me if I missed acting. I was always honest in my answers, but also realistic: “Yes, I do BUT…” there’s always a BUT: “I’m acting every day at work, every time I get up to do a presentation, talk to a reporter, etc.” or, “I don’t have time. Being in a show requires full commitment and attention. I travel too much. My work hours are too long. I could never make that work.”

So in December of last year I sat there. And I thought about the above. And then I finally did something about it. I signed up to start taking classes at HB Studios, a studio where I studied in HS and college. The classes ran from January – March (ended just in time for the pandemic to roll in). 

Classes were on Monday nights from 7:00 – 9:30pm. I had to get myself from White Plains, NY to 120 Bank Street in the West Village. You can Google it. That is far. And it requires you to leave work ‘early’ at 5pm. But I did it, and with the exception of one work trip that was planned before I signed up, I did not miss a class.

Those Monday evening classes gave me the boost of energy I needed to get through a full work week. That is no exaggeration. Just the truth.

So, why call this blog ‘Re-finding Your Voice’? Well, quite literally, that is what I did last night. I once participated in singing competitions, sang in choirs, sang in shows. Last night, in quarantine, I did some Friday night karaoke with the help of YouTube. I recorded a few songs on my phone. The first few were absolutely terrible. I do not think I have sung for anyone – sober, at least – since I took my last round of voice lessons in ~2012. Maybe that’s next. Who knows?

But one thing is for sure, it’s amazing how happy you can feel when you make time for the things that truly make you happy. And yes, while it took some time, I didn’t need a Yale course to help me figure that out :)

The Return of the Blog...

March 29, 2020. New York City. Trying to find my willpower to do something anything again. It’s been 7 months and 2 days since I moved back to New York from The Netherlands. 7 months and 2 days since I told myself I would start blogging about my new adventures re-discovering my home upon my return. I had the new name picked out since I knew I was moving home: The Adventures of NEWAmsterDayna. Thank you to the Dutch for colonizing New York in 1624. You made that too easy.

So, why now? Well, when your home becomes the new epicenter of a global pandemic, why not?!

A lot of friends around the country and around the world have been checking in (thank you!) after seeing and hearing about the growing number of COVID-19 cases in the United States, and the staggering percentage in New York State (and subsequently New York City).

The last two weeks have been daunting. That’s putting it mildly.  

I’ve been working from home since Friday, March 13^th. Friday the 13^th. The irony was not lost on me given the events of the day.

If you followed my adventures the last few years via this blog, you know I don’t really ever write about work. That is intentional for many reasons. I spend so much time working that when I ‘turn off’ to do something else – to write, to see friends, to travel, etc. – I like to keep things separate. That, and also what happens at work does not belong out on a public blog. I intend to keep it that way.

But I will say this. I spent two years working in crisis and issues management in Amsterdam, and I’ve never been more thankful for that opportunity. Nothing can fully prepare you for what is going on right now. There is no playbook. No guide. But it did teach me a lot. More than I ever could’ve imagined. And for that I am truly grateful to those who taught me.

In my current role, I am part of my company’s COVID-19 task force. It’s been a busy few weeks. It’s been an emotional roller-coaster. It’s been 24/7.

Week 1 was ‘not so bad.’ I say that lightly. There was little sleep, and no shutting down, but there was this weird energy, or adrenaline rather. We didn’t know what was going to happen next. We were exhausted, and hit with major challenges, and emotional circumstances but we somehow made it through. Everyone adjusted to the new normal. It was not bad using video conferencing technology. 

Week 2 was, for me, a complete nightmare. I live alone and that’s never been an issue. But what makes this different is that in ‘normal times’ my life outside is so full. I am always busy working, seeing friends, seeing shows, traveling. The amount of time I actually spend at home by myself is so limited, that when I do have a day here and there to just ‘rest’ it’s always been a welcome reprieve.

Week 2 for me felt like a suffocating trap where the walls were closing in. Even though I made an extreme effort to get up and get dressed (real clothes, no sweats!) every day, it was the harsh realization that this is the new normal. It was the harsh realization that video conferencing is actually extremely exhausting. It was the harsh realization that back-to-back meetings all day without taking a moment to get up and move, or shut the damn camera off, is not only draining, but damaging for your physical and mental well-being.  

It was also the harsh realization that this is my third time in isolation in just 4 months. Quick recap of what you missed when I wasn’t blogging:

• I had an emergency appendectomy two days after Thanksgiving and was bedbound for a few weeks. Ok, so I wasn’t totally isolated. In fact, I was lucky enough to be surrounded by my whole family, whom I love dearly, as the episode took place while celebrating the holiday at my sister’s outside DC. BUT, it was a form of isolation: I missed all the holiday parties, I missed Christmas in NYC (I mean, why even bother moving back to NY if you’re going to miss out on the happiest season in the city), was in excruciating pain and couldn’t move for weeks, and when I thought this would be a grand time to catch up on all the TV I never get to watch, I got stuck mostly watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse with my niece. When I finally made it back to NY, I was still too weak to do anything or see anyone.
• I had the flu in February, which basically knocked me out and took me out of commission for pretty much 3 weeks. I think I made it into the office 2 or 3 times over the course of those 3 weeks, and I saw my friends even less. It was pretty bad.

Finally healthy and rearing to go, back in the gym, back out and about and bam: enter COVID-19.  The most uncertain, unprecedented thing to happen since, dare I say, 9-11. Week 2 was a lot to handle emotionally.   

But I sit here today, with a new sense of renewed energy. I have no idea where it came from, but I am thankful I’ve found it. I am healthy when so many around me are not. I have food when so many around me do not. I get to work safely inside my own home when so many around me cannot.

What’s it like outside? I know that is what a lot of you are wondering. Well, it’s not fully the desolate picture of a New York frozen in time that is being painted on some news programs. It might be in Midtown – a bleak Times Square void of tourists and using the larger-than-life screens to remind people to stay home, social distance, and thanking our healthcare workers and first responders for being on the frontline of this war.

On the Upper West Side, where I live, it definitely is quiet. More quiet than usual. At night I can hear the horn from the Metro North trains roaring – that is over 3 miles away. That is weird. I hear people at 7:00pm clapping for the healthcare workers from their balconies or windows, and my apartment does not face the street. The stores on Columbus Avenue that I would normally pass every day are shuttered – coffee shops, flower shops, the cleaners, a deli. All closed. All with their own version of a heartfelt message on the door urging passersby to stay home and do their part in flattening the curve so that one day soon the stores can reopen. I pray that will be the case.

For my big adventure today, I went to the grocery store. I’ve gone two weeks without going. Could I try my hand at delivery? Sure. But truthfully, the horror stories of systems not working and limited availability are not enticing, and I really needed fresh air. My logic: it’s raining out and gray. We’re in the middle of a pandemic. How many people will actually be out?

So I filled my handbag with all the essentials: extra pair of gloves, hand sanitizer, tissues. I put on my rain boots, zipped up my coat, put on my washable Lululemon gloves, grabbed an umbrella and off I went.

Originally I thought I’d go to the smaller market that I like to frequent. It’s nice to shop local, and also I thought it would be less crowded. However, whilst discovering my newfound willpower to ‘do things’ today, I also decided tomorrow, March 30^th, I am going to start the Whole 30 program again. And this meant needing to go to a bigger grocery store to stock up on some specific ingredients.

What’s Whole 30? Read here. But basically: no dairy, no gluten, no sugar and no alcohol for 30 days. That would bring me to my birthday: April 30^th. Why in the world would I do such a thing to myself right now? Because it will help me maintain that willpower. It will help me gain some energy. It will help me feel good. Wish me luck!

So, I ventured out to Trader Joe’s. A mere 6 blocks away. I passed very few people on the street. It is strange, this new society, where everyone looks away for fear of catching a whiff of breath coming from someone else’s mouth. There are lots of people with masks. If you do happen to catch their eyes, I can’t tell if they are showing that typical polite, neighborly smile underneath the mask. We, New Yorkers, are not a society that speaks with their eyes.

I approach the store and am not surprised to see the line wrapped around the building, expanding up 92^nd street. I join the queue. 6 feet behind the couple in front of me. A man approaches. He gets in line. 6 feet behind me.

My glasses fog up almost immediately. They are sprayed by the mist coming from the sky. I wore them because I have not yet received my new order of contacts and I am running uncomfortably low. I won’t take them off to wipe because I don’t want to put my gloved hands near my face and risk touching my eye. Foggy glasses it is. Oh well. It could be so much worse.

As I catch up on episodes of The Daily podcast, the line creeps along. The couple in front of me moves up. I do too. Maybe too many steps too fast because they turn back and give me a ‘look’ as if I just said something nasty to them. My bad. I took a few steps back. I can’t help it. I’m a fast-paced New Yorker and I’m not used to this. Give me a break!

I finally round the corner and am back on Columbus, only about 20 feet from the store. So close, yet so far. Even though I have my big coat on, it’s damp from the mist and I am starting to get cold. I can tell the store is one in-one out, as it should be and knew it would be, to control the crowd in the store. Between the cold and the line, if I close my eyes tight I can travel back in time. When else would I have felt this way? Perhaps 10 years ago waiting outside to get into some club on the Lower East Side during winter who also had a one in, one out policy. But I would’ve been surrounded by friends. Those were different days.

A loud noise snaps me back to reality. It’s coming from the police car stationed outside the store watching the line. It blasts some pre-recorded message over the megaphone – something about social distancing. I can’t pause the podcast quick enough with my gloved hand to fully catch what it was saying. But I don’t need to, I already know. I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. This is truly unreal.

And then my mind drifts again. This looks like a scene from East Berlin, or any European country east of the iron curtain in the 1960s. This doesn’t look like New York.

Cabs zip by with the advertisements on top aglow – one Broadway show after another being advertised. I think about how I was supposed to see Mrs. Doubtfire – the new musical – with two of my best friends on April 7^th.

But we will do it one day. I don’t know when. No one does. But one day. I will get to cook some delicious meals this week with all the amazing food I just bought. I am blogging again. I am home, safe inside. I video chatted with several friends this weekend, and will catch up with another friend tonight. I watched two fantastic limited series on Netflix this weekend: Unorthodox and Self Made. And I read a good part of a book.

Life goes on. We adapt to this new normal, one day at a time. And I pray for the health and safety for not only those near and dear to me, but for the world.

Until next time…

Dayna