a moment of presence for your monday <3

miscellaneous thoughts about a coffee shop, instagram, and the birth of spring!

where i’m writing and witnessing from:

Lately, I’ve been coming to a small coffee shop about five minutes from my apartment to write. I first discovered this place three years ago while studying for the nclex. It was summertime, and the floor to ceiling windows opened to the sunshine and gentle breeze coming off South Lake Union. Had I not been stressed to the brink of my sanity about the exam that seemed to hold my future in its hands, I would have gulped up the moment with delight.

Today, the weather is wearing its typical February attire—cloudy and cold. Still, there’s a couple sitting outside with their tea. They’ve left their puffer coats on. Personally, I’ve opted for the embrace of the cushiony leather couch inside. I’m wearing a light green cardigan and golden bee earrings as a prayer for spring.

The woman sitting outside is crying and I wonder if this is why they’ve chosen to sit outside. Was their looming conversation so charged that they felt it would disturb the coziness inside? I hope she doesn’t stifle her tears on my account. Let them flow, I want to tell her. I’m not scared of your sorrow. The sight feels sacred to witness.

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instagram’s grasp:

I decided this morning that I would take a break from instagram for today. And maybe tomorrow. Instead of checking instagram, I’m examining my relationship to it. In my morning journal entry today, I wrote about this compulsion I have with instagram specifically. In comparison to the broad majority of my generation, I’m fairly untethered to social media (Gen Z averages about four hours on social media per day). I deleted twitter when e*on m*sk took over and I never missed it. I check tiktok occasionally, but have significantly cut back on my doom-scrolls lately in an effort to be more present. Instagram, however, has a firm grasp on me. Where does it come from, I wonder? Is it comfortable dissociation? Is it merely the dopamine hit? Is there somewhere deep within me that thinks affirmation behind a screen will grant me societal approval? If I am honest with myself, it’s probably a mix of all these things.

The truth is, I really value instagram! It has connected me with niche communities that aren’t as easily accessible in my physical day-to-day. It acts as a canvas for self expression. I love to choose just the right song for a post on my story and have been known to curate aesthetically pleasing grid posts. Whenever my dad grumps about social media being evil, I remind him that without his facebook account he may never have reignited friendships from his past. Similarly, if my siblings and I weren’t on instagram, we might struggle to stay in contact with our former exchange siblings who live in various time zones on multiple continents.

Instagram can also be an incredible educational resource and gather unprecedented momentum for global movements. I think of our beloved Motaz and Bisan (go follow them @ motaz_azaiza and @ wizard_bisan1 immediately if you don’t already!) who have documented their experiences on the ground in Palestine for the world to see. Without them and others like them, our exposure to this genocide would be filtered through the bias of media outlets that have consistently published falsehoods. I am incredibly grateful for the way instagram has been a gathering ground for folks fighting for Palestinian resistance, despite meta’s attempts to silence us. I have been shadowbanned for the last week or so and I know many others speaking up have experienced similar suppression. Still, there is more global support of Palestine than ever before in large part due to social media’s influence.

my valentines day instagram post, and also the post that cut my engagement by 50% lol (damn you, algorithm!)

Undoubtedly, there are countless benefits to the platform and yet, it makes Raveena’s the internet is like eating plastic ring deeply resonant for me. I find it intriguing that an app that allows us to exist under pretense and falsehood can simultaneouly be an avenue for authenticity. I have had beautifully transparent and healing interactions on the app. Like many things in life, it exists on a spectrum between helpful and harmful. I think my relationship to instagram bounces around that spectrum often, and I think I’m okay with that. Maybe being conscious of my relationship to social media will be what makes the difference.

A while back I implemented screen time limits through the settings on my phone. I’m thinking maybe I’ll designate hours of the day that are “no media” hours too. My hope is that this will foster a bit more intentionality in my instagram use so that it slowly becomes less compulsive. I invite you to join me in this journey of conscious consumption, and would love to hear what techniques work for you!

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noticed in the neighborhood:

The rosemary plants in my neighborhood are blooming. Did you know their dainty violet flowers are edible too? My partner uses them to garnish soup. I use the fresh herb on popcorn (with shredded parm, a heavy pour of butter, and sea salt) and as protection, hung by my doorway. The fragrant daphnes are also blooming. I had to google what these lovely little flowers were called when a whiff of them drew me in. I was delighted to see how aptly they’re named. It’s become a habit for me to send loving breath to the plants I pass on my daily walks. What a privilege to be in communion with the flora and fauna of my environment. Lately, I can feel spring gently whispering down my neck. Almost. Almost.

flowering rosemary in my neighborhood <3

I wrote this poem a few weeks ago. The part of winter just before spring seems like an apt time to share it.

is it enough?

i’ve spent my whole life in yearning and expectation
always on the brink
always almost
once im a teenager 
once im an adult 
once i graduate
once i move out
once im in college
once im 20
once i graduate nursing school 
once im a nurse 
once i make lifelong friends
once i get a new job
once i pay off my loans  
once im not a nurse 
once im partnered 
once im 30 
one im financially stable 
once im wiser 
once im 50 
once i figure out what the fuck i am doing with my life 
once i’m dead

im starting to think 
that maybe i could 
just make a home right here on the brink

maybe it’s enough to taste the tangy punches 
of the pomegranate aerils i sprinkled on my morning bowl of granola today 
maybe it’s enough to be in plenty of debt 
and enjoy a nice dinner anyway 
maybe it’s enough to have a cluttered kitchen 
and a never ending pile of laundry 
and the worlds most affectionate dog to come home to 
maybe it’s enough to get a kiss goodbye and goodnight 
and get soaked walking from my car to the front door in the rain because of 
how far away i had to park 
maybe it’s enough to cry in my parents bathroom 
and scream in my busted car 
maybe it’s enough to cry at the sunset 
to sing to the moon 
maybe it’s enough to lay on the couch all day long, 
never changing out of the graphic tee and sweats i slept in
maybe it’s enough to walk right up to the edge of what’s next,
look excitedly over the cliff side, 
and decide not to wait for the jump off to be content 

Thanks for coming along on this sporadic little post. May spring whisper to you too, wherever you are.

As always, hank you for your presence,

kenzi <3