The Unadulting Society

my sketchbook is full of repeating patterns. spirals, cross-hatching, concentric circles. i draw them when i'm overwhelmed and it's like my hand is saying 'shhh, shhh, shhh' to my brain. repetitive motion is underrated. it's not boring — it's grounding.

I'm 47 and I bought my first LEGO set in 35 years this month. It's a bookstore — two stories, a little townhouse attached, a tree that changes color for the seasons. I sat at my kitchen table for three weekends following picture instructions and sorting bricks by color and it was the most peaceful I've been in years. All of which is to say: joy doesn't have an age limit. Whatever little thing you're doing that brings you light — keep doing it. The world will tell you it's childish. The world is wrong.

i skip the pilot of every show i watch. always. pilots are awkward and the actors haven't figured out their characters yet and the lighting is weird. i start at episode two. i don't care what i missed. if it was important, they'll flash back to it.

i have a theory that fidget toys and hobby tools are cousins. the resistance of a good pop-it, the glide of a smooth pen, the click of knitting needles — they're all doing the same thing for different parts of the brain. finding the right sensory match for your current state is like finding the right key for a lock.

i watch shows with the subtitles on even though my hearing is fine. some people hate this. those people are wrong. i catch SO much more dialogue. the subtitles reveal jokes i've missed for years. my partner hates it. i will never stop.

the great british bake off is not relaxing. it's STRESSFUL. people crying over scones. custard disasters. THE HEAT IN THE TENT. i watch it through my fingers like a horror movie. i love it but i'm not relaxed. i'm never relaxed. the tent is a pressure cooker.