These are odd times (not exactly news, I realize) when every brief pang of pain or off-feeling stirs up thinking “Oh my…do I have IT?” Whether it’s flaring allergies with a little sore throat, or maybe a bit of a flush feeling, or just overall achiness and malaise, we’re on constant alert these days for signs of “it.”
Sometimes allergy symptoms are just allergies, or various aches and pains are just…transient aches and pains. Once you past 50, weird aches and sensations just happen sometimes. Before 2020, I would likely ignore these same feelings (unless they quickly became worse) and dismiss them, but now? The pandemic is turning some of us into amateur hypochondriacs.
That little corner of the mind, the one that loves to feed off fear and disruptive moments, is having more fun than the rest of us these days. My rule of thumb is always “is this a new feeling or have I experienced this before?” which, so far, is always “no, nothing new.” Usually a comforting thought, but one can’t be too cautious. Typically, I then get busy doing other things and the instigators tend to go away in due time.
As we enter this next post-vaccine behavior phase, I wonder if we’ll see case counts spike from lax behaviors. In Michigan, even though vaccinations are on a upward trend, our case numbers are climbing. This could be the usual delay in contagion and statistics, or could mean people are getting too cavalier again. Hard to draw any real conclusions.
Ultimately, this is a war waged one soldier at a time. Each of us can only be accountable for ourselves. If we’re each doing the right thing, that should be enough. Besides, similar to my option of choosing how I react to my false alarms, it’s all each of us can control.
Several years ago I tried Nomad’s pocket notebooks. While they were fun to use, I didn’t like their paper (as in, writing on it not design). Back then, however, I was a paper snob across all notebooks or journals I used. If a paper wasn’t good with graphite and fountain pens, I dismissed it.
These days when it comes to pocket notebooks, I’ve dropped my paper snobbery and don’t care as I did back then about the paper. I’m still uber-picky about paper for the notebooks and journals I write longhand in (all A6, A5, or larger), but today’s me wants to have fun with pocket notebooks. My pocket notebooks use now is solely for consumable purposes: lists, notes, to-dos, etc., all stuff done on the fly. I typically tear out used pages as I go, too, so I don’t save my pocket notebooks (there’s not much left of them when I’m through!).
I saw an Instagram post by Nomad about their new, limited Sakura notebooks and pencils. Off I went to indulge in some ORT (online retail therapy) at the Nomad site. While “on the couch,” I discovered their coffee notebooks and pencils. What follows is more of an impression than an extensive review. At the end is a gallery showing aspects of all the goodies from this order.
First, I do love how Nomad stretches the boundaries with their multiple inside paper designs and colors, and the covers usually have innovative and fun designs. For these two packs, they offered companion pencils—too tempting to pass up. Despite being Musgraves thus average pencils, the matching themes added to the fun.
The Sakura three-pack is a limited run, pink-heavy Japanese theme, and comes in a sealed envelope ala Field Note’s Packet of Sunshine (although no seeds in Sakura). The three notebooks have different cover designs (love the one with the vertical view box of a scene with the snow-capped mountain – Mt. Fuji?), and different inside cover graphics. Interior pages are a mix of layouts and light graphics, all on varying pink pages. Matching pencils are sweet design-wise, but as said, not a fan of Musgraves for writability. The primo touch on the pencils is the theme-matching custom pencil pouch they came in.
The Nomad Blend coffee three-pack was intriguing with the promise of coffee-scented inks used for the covers. The pack has coffee-toned interior pages with mixed layouts, and love the page with the coffee stain. Covers are thematic designs, but the inside covers have a coffee lover’s mix of helpful reference information. The themed pencils are naturals (my fav) and imprinted with coffee grind sizes and scale.
So did I like Nomad notebooks this second time?
In a word…mostly. I’ll have fun using them and will certainly enjoy Nomad’s approach to randomizing inside pages and carrying themes throughout. Paper quality wise, they worked good with graphite and fountain pen, but not great, yet usable in the way I use pocket notebooks.
There are two notable cons, however. The paper used for the covers is a bit soft, thus folding back the covers (even just breaking them a bit to get the photos taken) is starting in a few places to tear from the staples. I suspect I’ll have to reinforce these covers long before I use up the innards. That’s not uncommon with many pocket notebooks after some use, since they usually get beat-up from a hip pocket carry or one-handed mangling during grocery shopping. Not a deal breaker for me, but should be improved.
The other con was about the coffee scent on the coffee pack covers. It’s not really there except lightly with unfortunately a strongish chemical smell. In true scratch-n-sniff mode, the scents come up a bit, but so does that other odor. Still, that wasn’t a feature I cared about (more curious than anything) but I’m delighted with the paper tones and varied layouts and graphics, and the inside cover references and coffee rating/review blocks are pretty cool. But for me, I’ll have to air out these notebooks in the sun before I can use them due to the odor.
Overall, these Nomad notebooks will be fun to use. My suggestion to Nomad is to change the cover stock to something stronger, and/or add a third staple to help reduce the covers coming off too soon.
You can check these out at Nomad Notebooks online shop. Note that I purchased these myself and they were not supplied by Nomad for review.
Just as what is considered rational or irrational differs for each person, in the same way what is good or evil and useful or useless differs for each person. — Epictetus
A classic definition describes character as “traits that form the individual nature or some person or thing,” or my particular favorite from Samuel Johnson’s early dictionary, “a particular constitution of the mind.” Both point to an attribute developed or formed through some influence, education, experimentation, or simply good luck. One might say our character is a set of internal mental rules determining our actions and reactions to situations, other’s opinions, or helping us through that difficult intersection of “where I want to go” and “where I should go.”
Character is usually our guiding moral compass. My father, in his love for me and desire to instill necessary tools for later in life, would repeat the mantra “it builds character” to me whenever I didn’t want to do something. Although he never explained the what or why of it, his persistent repetition must have planted a seed early on, slowly growing into an awareness with deep, healthy roots.
Part of my character has always harbored a tolerance for many things, but especially in accepting others as they are. I’ve never felt racism and prejudice were a part of me. Yet, I am now at odds, as many are in these times, struggling over differences.
Now it seems we’ve amped up a difference rebellion, morphing us into a divided species. It’s complicated trying to understand and explain this widening gulf between us. This blind and deaf indifference to other’s viewpoints, coupled with bias bordering on hatred, didn’t suddenly appear out of nowhere.
Western thinking seems to seek a band-aid for this wound that does not heal easily. Ancient and Eastern philosophers would suggest, rightly so, that we focus instead on uncovering systemic issues beneath the wound if we hope for a lasting cure. But band-aids seem quicker, allowing the luxury of applying then walking away. Like our over-dependency on antibiotics and the harm that causes, we’ve unsuccessfully followed a cure-the symptom thinking too long.
To be honest, I’m struggling for the first time with a bout of intolerance, one sadly of the times and aligned with a popular finger-pointing: you voted for “them” so you’re responsible for this mess. Unfair? Probably. Contributing to closing the chasm and begin the healing? Definitely not.
I’m still searching to find my internal moral compass setting to help me re-point in the right direction, but it’s not been easy. I can rationalize away my reluctance by claiming age-earned curmudgeonliness, but that’s a cop-out. This current, emotional infection I have to forgive and forget on this one issue feels like a well-entrenched demon in my psyche. It seems easier to wrongly adopt that age-old adage, “let sleeping dogs lie.”
I offer no immediate answers, other than it’s a work in progress. Recognition, they say, is a good first step. And publicly sharing these thoughts is metaphorically a gauntlet tossed at my feet to fight the intolerance and get on with life.
Will I accept the challenge, or take the ignoble path of avoidance driven by contrived mental justifications? Time will tell. Like so many in our current culture, I need to change these thoughts and actions. By doing nothing about it, I’ll be abetting worse demons in the years ahead.
It may seem odd or grim that I’ve been binging on World War II documentaries lately. The first few were true documentary series with film footage from the time across many episodes and mostly focused on the Pacific theatre of war. The current HBO MAX 10-episode mini-series, The Pacific, is an amazing production recreated with actors and is extremely period-accurate and realistic. Unlike many Hollywood war movies, this series shows what it probably really was like: the frightened kids, poor logistics, horrible conditions, unfathomable carnage, and more luck to survive it than mere bravado.
My father was a career naval officer, serving near the end of the war, and later as a pilot during the Korean War aboard a carrier in the north Pacific, then held a desk job until he retired when I was in high school. Since we lived in base housing throughout my growing up, my friends and I didn’t play cowboys and Indians, we played soldiers. Some of my fond memories as a 10-year-old living on the base at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, were those moments after DEFEX (defense exercises) when my buddies and I would go out exploring and find cool stuff left or lost by the soldiers. And while this isn’t a pro-war upbringing story, it is one of how WWII was the last war we fought united in a just cause. Later in high school I would forget those days playing soldier and peacefully protest our Vietnam War involvement (and escaped getting drafted).
Why I found these long documentaries and mini-series interesting about an insanely brutal conflict fought over 80 years ago with so much death and waste, was a bit of a mystery. I realized around the sixth The Pacific episode there was a parallel in deaths and loss, and a nation’s citizen involvement, between World War II and our current pandemic war. Both were times of collectively fighting a known enemy, but in WWII our foes were visible, whereas our pandemic war’s enemy is invisible.
Back in the ‘40s, patriotism pulsed strongly across America and played a significant part in why we prevailed. Now it seems we battle both the unseen enemy and a portion of our society who deny the science and ignore the rules of engagement that could help us win this war sooner. Back then, we eventually prevailed from superior manufacturing and technology. Today we are beginning to use the only “bullet” we have to fight this invisible invader: vaccines for the masses. Yet we may only prevail if we can unite under a common cause and be willing to do everything to keep ourselves safe and those around us.
After WWII, those who survived and returned had a hero’s welcome, but many returned scarred in unseen ways. We who hope to survive this current war will get to embrace a new “normal.” Those whose denial and selfish behavior contributed to themselves or others to suffer or die, sadly will probably carry the unseen scars of this pandemic war for the rest of their lives.
I’m well past that infamous moment in a man’s life where he suddenly buys a red convertible, or a fancy watch or laptop he doesn’t really need, or dyes his hair dark again and sudden appears in public with a much-younger woman on his arm.
No, I’m beyond those impulsive fountain-of-youth siren calls, but not immune to having a later-in-life moment of feeling good vibes from long ago, wondering if I should get back to that early passion.
I’m talking about the urge to pickup playing guitar again, this time via a modern, digital modeling amplifier with effects and mods preset to mimic many brand amps and well-known band sounds. Add to that the latest in amazing luthierian wonders from PRS guitars and I’m ready to remember (try at least…) all those songs I used to know lead licks to, plus catch up on all the great sounds since. Purple Haze I may be coming back!
Now, to be fair, any pursuit of music is a wonderful, creative endeavor regardless of when. Music has always been a constant in my life, vastly more listening than creating. In high school and into college, I played at being a guitarist in bands pretty seriously (and likely in part because the chicks thought it was cool). In college, selling off gear for other obligations plus interest in other things, seemed important at the time (it wasn’t, but that’s water under the bridge).
Fifteen years ago, I met a guitar collector and told him about the ‘69 Fender Stratocaster and ‘65 Gibson ES335 w/Bigby I owned and sold in the mid-70s. He ruined my day when he mentioned the pair were (then) worth close to $50,000. I probably didn’t get more than $500 when I sold them.
About ten years ago I got the guitar itch and picked up some acoustic gear but didn’t stick with it. Had thoughts of songwriting and open mic nights, but again, other “stuff” in the way. I sold that round of gear (and not ironically for less than I paid).
Now, with the pandemic, my life without obligations but time and funds available, coupled with listening more to the music I loved and played way back when, the thought returning to it showed up again. YouTube’s amazing depth of videos, from breaking down how to play riffs to interviews with my heros back then to gear reviews and stories, hasn’t helped deter this idea.
This story today doesn’t end with me telling you that I bought the gear, although admit there’s a fat shopping cart out there waiting for me. Also, in my defense, it is my birth month, so clearly I need to spoil myself somehow.
But as I’ve learned with major purchases as I’ve grown wiser, I’ll wait a bit to see if a) the idea is still exciting, and b) my choices still feel like the right ones. Stay tuned (pun intended!!) to see how this flash of youthful whimsy turns out.