Studio Update 9

By: Gabriela Yareliz

I put on perfume, today. I did the dab-dab on the pulse points after my oatmeal breakfast. Yep. I was ready for Friday. I put on some eyeliner, and smiled into the mirror like I was going somewhere. (You know the smile. The one where you tilt the head slightly and purse your lips into a smile like an Olsen twin— icons).

This getting ready was no accident— we had an all staff meeting and second meeting on Zoom, and I knew I would have to click the dreaded video button. I did. (The perfume was just for me because clearly, we aren’t there yet with technology).

Because I miss the South, a good Cracker Barrel and women who drive trucks, I ordered two books by Kristy Woodson Harvey. Those suckers better be good. She is apparently the new voice of Southern fiction. We’ll see about that. (Raises an eyebrow with iced tea in one hand).

Today was a beautiful day. I first noticed it when I had to close my window because of the aforementioned Zoom calls that had to happen. My neighbor decided to start a project around that time. A project that included a hammer. I don’t know what they are doing back there. First I saw him with a plastic bag (sacred treasure in NYC where they are now banned) looking like he was picking something, and then later, weird hammering. He is probably building a bunker back there. I need to get him to sign me the details through the window because you know— social distancing.

Speaking of signing— because I do FaceTime and Zoom like every day, I have taken my ethnic gesture-as-I-talk to a whole new level. I find myself making hand motions as I talk, as if I am the woman next to Governor Cuomo in the press conferences. What is happening? We are losing it.

And because of this fear of losing sanity, it was another prison break day. I went out for a social distancing walk with my handsome boyfriend who brought me a care package because he is so sweet. We walked at a distance toward the blue water and saw that trees had flowers on them, and the daffodils were out. It was a beautiful spring day.

I learned to pay a bill online because let’s face it, I am not going to be standing in a post office to get stamps any time soon (and how old am I, anyway?)

We passed a laundromat selling toilet paper, and we saw (but did not touch) some old pay phones that still remain in the neighborhood. (Those probably have viruses still unknown). And then, during my first walk of the week, the City of New York texts me that I better be home. I was like, “People, I have been home, and now I want to breathe fresh air six feet away from my handsome boyfriend who drove all the way to see me to stand six feet away from me.” They have no chill. I am not walking around with an entourage in the lower east side.

One social distancing walk a week without COVID-19 texts from our panicked mayor. That’s all I am asking for.

Today, I lost a fingernail tip while making ginger water— don’t ask, but it was worth it, and here we are.

We are isolated, my left index fingernail is short as hell, and NYC just texted me, “Stay home as much as you can.”

I will be here, if you need me.

Studio Update 8

By: Gabriela Yareliz

Do I choose eggs or life? I started off the morning debating whether it was worth risking my livelihood to get eggs at a NYC grocery store. It’s not. You see, I am a vegetarian, and I avoid dairy, but I do eat eggs on occasion. Not often. But sometimes. There are seasons where there is not a single egg in my house for weeks at a time.

I have been eating some of the eggs in my stash like a wolf in a children’s story lately, and as I have seen the number diminish, I seriously weighed going out to get some. Unnecessary. I am gonna be vegan ‘til Easter, ha. I want to live until Easter, at least.

The numbers of COVID-19 cases keep rising, and I don’t want to set foot in a grocery store. Sitting there wiping each container and box with a Clorox wipe in my entryway makes me sad. (And I actually like to clean. You can call me Monica).

I think those of us who come from a background of trauma and loss like to feel that false sense of security. You know, the extra soap, the overpaying a credit card and ending up with a “credit”, and that extra set of eggs— you know, in case the apocalypse. Don’t worry guys, I didn’t go crazy getting toilet paper, but thinking about it— it’s probably the same principle. The root is fear of lack. Anyway, no extra eggs. All is good here.

I ate a peaches n’ cream oatmeal (like the ones we used to eat when we were kids), and I was “linked” on LinkedIn to a high school mentor. He was the coordinator of our program. He always holds a special place in my heart. He was sort of like a father figure to me in that difficult time. I had a lot of deep conversations with that faculty member. Very adult conversations about loss, values and resilience. I am sure no one else had a clue or cared, at that time. But while many around me were consumed with their boyfriends, sex, drama and the future, I was still very much trying to find meaning in who I was in the present. Having someone who listened meant the world. LinkedIn, you haven’t linked me to a better person. It made my day.

This time has forced a lot of us to really weigh what it is that we care about. It has bewildered me that people acknowledge the meaning or value of certain things now, as if they had never done so. (Better now than never). Maybe my way of living is heavy, or that background of loss has instilled this in me, but I like to think life is solemn, every day.

When I say goodbye to someone, every day, I know that it may be the last time. I am grateful for every single rent payment, every single grocery haul, every single “got home” text, every single plus I get to buy for myself. Every day. I don’t think I realized how many people don’t live like that, until now. (Maybe that’s naive. Maybe their existence is lighter).

Today, I got some lovely news of an engagement. It’s beautiful to see in these times that there are people who do know. They know what they value, they know life is so fleeting, they know that each moment is a gift, and we may not get the next.

I hope every person living through this solitary hell realizes what they value, what they are grateful for, what they want, and the many, many gifts we receive along the way.

Knowing these solemn truths of life is worth more than diamonds.

Studio Update 7

By: Gabriela Yareliz

Greetings from the studio. I did venture out today, to the basement, to take down my recycling. Yes, crisis is no reason to stop recycling. I was met by an old woman huddled in the corner of the elevator. (There are no stairs to the basement). She was clutching a scarf to her mouth.

My first thought was, Lady, do you need me to step out? She looked at me, eyes peering over the scarf and from underneath her baseball cap. “I don’t want to get sick. I am not sick, I promise. I hope you aren’t either.”

At this, I just smiled at her, took a deep breath and pressed the elevator button with my key— “I don’t think I am sick either.” The doors closed and locked us in.

Here is the deal, in NYC, even something as simple as taking down your recycling requires the touching of common surfaces. Our mailboxes, our elevators and buttons, the common entry door handles— there is no escaping our shared terrain.

It’s crazy how the same thing that comforts us, (the company of others), can also fill us with fear.

My day was filled with Zoom meetings. I refuse to turn the video on. I am not in the mood to be seen, just heard. Typical of me. I have seen the interiors of half of my colleagues apartments, their cute kids and their sleeping cats. I have also discovered some of them wear glasses.

God bless the power of the mute button. We need to learn to mute certain things in life the way we do in Zoom.

The rain and wind beat down against my window, today. I know it doesn’t work this way, but I think we are all secretly praying, each little face in each little window, that the rain wash away all our fears.

Studio Update 6

By: Gabriela Yareliz

I have been following the situation in Italy pretty closely. I watch little Italian news clips, and I watch some of my favorite quarantined Italian celebrities’ videos, thanks to Instagram stories and the live feature.

Today, while I was listening to a video, I realized that I understood every word in Italian. (I am gonna be a native speaker by the end of this quarantine). I remembered in high school that while I was studying French at school, I was determined to learn every language I could get my head around. Our high school library had a ratty, yellow Italian language book. It looked like an old book that had been donated to the school. I checked it out at the beginning of the school year, and I would go every couple of weeks to renew it.

The rule was you could renew unless someone had expressed interest in the book or a person was on some sort of waiting list. There was never a list for this book. (Of course). Finally, the librarian, who was also the cross country coach, looked at me and said, “You know what kid? No one wants this book but you. I will let you keep it until the end of the year.” (He was clearly tired of my biweekly renewal visits).

I turned that thing in on the last day of school. I read that book and worked through the workbook style exercises. Every chapter. That random investment that I made because it mattered to me now means that I can watch people live with no subtitles, and I can be a part of their world and they can be a part of mine.

That’s why I love languages so much. I want my world to include as many people as possible. I guess I say this to share that right now, you may be bored and quarantined. The truth is that you can use this time to learn something that can add value to your life and to the lives of others. If it matters to you, go for it. It doesn’t have to always be practical, but it should bring you joy.

Ciao, amici!

Studio Update 5

By: Gabriela Yareliz

I accidentally said Kenny Chesney died. Nope, it was Kenny Rogers. I always do that. I always accidentally kill the wrong person in my head. I once said Larry King was dead. I seriously believed it. Nope, he is still getting married and getting divorced (has he not heard of dating?).

Sigh. Respect, Kenny Rogers, respect. It was interesting listening to an old interview of his on the Bobby Bones Show. So interesting how we can hear someone who is no longer with us. That always gives me chills. Like when I go to a museum and they have a clip of a former president giving a speech. Chills! (I also acknowledge that I am a nerd. I stamped our national park passport ceremonially like it’s a rite of passage. THIS IS WHO I AM).

Maybe, someday, when I am gone, someone will read this. It will be my way of still talking. Except I am not as cool as Rogers. Dolly Parton isn’t my BFF.

I listened to my morning show, live (I usually listen to the previous day on podcast). I went to work. I spent a long time staring at and playing around with a contract structure. It was one I had never seen before (learning in the time of quarantine). After much internal turmoil, prayer and begging for God’s help (more like telling him that I didn’t know what the hell I was doing)— I got it.

It was a rainy, gray day. I opened the window for a bit. I skipped lunch. I oddly felt like I was in the mood to fast until dinner, so I did. Dinner was a very millennial avocado toast.

I FaceTimed a good friend and my love. I know for a fact that a lot of people had a rough Monday, today. I hope you didn’t.

If you are looking for something to be grateful for— we are alive. Alive like Kenny Chesney.

Studio Update 4

By: Gabriela Yareliz

Today, I read a fiction book. I don’t usually read fiction, but when I saw this one takes place in the South and Reese Witherspoon liked it (it’s her birthday today, after all), I started reading it. So far, it’s good. So, thank the Lord for The Giver of the Stars and Yoga with Adrienne.

Guys, I am determined to use this time to get ripped. Like, I mean ripped. There will be no stress eating here. I am gonna be a strong little yogi after this. I swear to you, I will be sitting cross-legged and look like I am levitating but not really— it will all be my arms subtly holding me up. Just wait. I won’t even shake. (Even I am laughing out loud with this). I will be so strong I will hoist myself up back into my apartment in half the time, next time I roll out of my window. (This will likely happen when I reinstall the AC in the window. Kidding.)

After reading for a bit while sunbathing by my window (roasting like a little potato), my love came and surprised me with TACO BELL. Yep. You read that right. First, he braved the cold to take a social distancing walk with me. And then, he surprised me with a care package that included guac and burritos. He is truly the best and sweetest. (If you are reading this, love, I love you.)

This made my day. I got to see my love and eat a taco. Can’t wait for the day when I can hold a taco in one hand and his hand in the other. Better days are coming.

Studio Update 3

By: Gabriela Yareliz

It was prison break, today. Kidding. Well, for some inmates, it really was. That’s beside the point. I left my house! (Despite the inmates). Through the front door; I didn’t roll out of the window (this is a true story, I swear).

I marched out of the door, and I saw the blue water. I saw the blue sky— pale blue like those face masks those bastards hoarded so quick that the rest of us were left with nothing to bedazzle or hang up at the end of this mess.

I saw a barber shop in full swing (everyone wearing the treasured and rare masks). Police were on horse, elderly people were taking advantage of the elder hours at the grocery. People with dogs had their excuse to be outside on the leash. Some little trees were loaded with flowers. Spring!

I participated in a livestream church service and a conference call adult bible study class. We were doing the most, today.

I did another Bible study and FaceTimed with family and my love. There is something about people. When you are an extrovert, being with loved ones injects you with life.

I gave my little green cardigan a break today. I have been wearing that thing like a St. Patrick’s uniform. (Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me, etc., etc., the St. Patrick sentiment is real). Christ, be the face mask I don’t have.

Tomorrow, I need to wash my hair. It’s starting to look like the hair in a meth addict mug shot. Our shut down begins tomorrow.

The New York Post has said we all basically have Corona. They need to chill. We don’t need this energy.

My vibe right now: Gwen Stefani’s Sweet Escape. (Milk rap and all). Boom. Woo-hoo, yee-hoo.

Studio Update 2

By: Gabriela Yareliz

Who are you quarantined with? That’s all I could think about, today. Maybe it’s on my mind because I have no one to be trapped with. So many people complaining about spending too much time with certain people.

Do we really just barely tolerate one another? Why are we always fighting? Don’t we realize how lucky we are? Also, I love when people don’t like who they are quarantined with yet they chose this person. It’s bizarre to me.

Choices have weight.

We (NY) are officially shutting down on Sunday. Locked down. It’s happening.

Life has been pretty quiet. I thought about the next time I will see certain people, and just the possibility of it being so far off brought tears to my eyes. I had a knot in my throat. (Not COVID-19– just emotion). Some things aren’t up to us. Other things are.

Tomorrow, I am taking a walk. I need to get out of this apartment. It’s happening. We must make the little choices, even if they are small.

We must walk sometimes, even if we walk alone.

I am gonna go to a tree-lined street and walk until I see the glittering blue water.

Studio Update 1

By: Gabriela Yareliz

Hi guys,

I thought I would write a quick update from my studio. I heard somewhere that even if you don’t find importance in what is happening or if you feel it’s mundane, you should still share what is happening in your world.

New York City feels a bit post-apocalyptic, once again. The first time I felt this was during hurricane Sandy. The last time I rode a train was on Monday.

Self-quarantine and sheltering in place— whatever you want to call it— is tough when you live alone. I spend more hours working from home than I do on a regular day when I ride the gross trains.

People are talking about how they will end up divorced after this, and I am here like the chin-chin man from IG in front of the mirror. (“Thank you for coming. Chin-chin.”)

I have been sleeping up until the buzzer, and then getting up, reading scripture, supplementing and starting the work day after brushing my hair. I will do my first calls and tasks while simultaneously putting on deodorant and moisturizer. I need to get better at this new routine, admittedly. I still listen to a bit of the Bobby Bones Show, which always puts a smile on my face.

I will work for 8-9 hours.

Today, I tuned into the Instagram live with Italian rapper Fedez and Andrea Bocelli. I cried as they projected it from the balconies. My crying was interrupted by a weird knock. I was convinced this was one of the many inmates they are releasing in NYC because no one wants to deal with the implications of this virus. After a half hour, I opened my door (chain still in place, of course. What am I? An idiot? No.), and I saw a package, but it was for the wrong apartment.

I picked up the package and left it at the correct apartment while ringing the doorbell and running away. I then came back down stairs and got my own actual mail. The census sent me a second threatening letter asking for my mandatory participation. I just sent the government my tax check. They have no chill.

I then went back upstairs and washed my hands, sanitized my hands and then did yoga after I convinced myself my hands were clean enough.

After this and work, my boyfriend suggested we go get food. I said no because these food establishments are gross on a regular day (like someone bribed the food code people level) and he has elderly parents. I am not in the mood to be responsible for someone’s death. I could be one of those asymptomatic, cute carriers with no idea that she is a virus transporter. Not today, Satan.

This is me, right now. Just like the government, I have no chill. In the rainy mornings, I crack my window open and let in the fresh air. I haven’t gone on a walk yet because I just imagine myself encountering some newly released inmate who wants my Taco Bell (because of course, in my head, a walk includes Taco Bell) and me dying on some random side street. I am strong and independent.

Here we are. First day of spring. My favorite season. It’s my third day working from home. Reporting live from NYC. I am lying sideways in bed with my head and hair hanging off. Peace. Stay home, friends. I am off to dream of nachos and long hugs. Andrea Bocelli will be singing in the background.

Writing on the Wall

By: Gabriela Yareliz

I am cleaning out my office because a new adventure awaits. My eyes fell on quotes I have on post-its on the wall. The first is by Will Durant, and it says, “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence then, is not an act but a habit.”

Other quotes on my walls say:

“A man who procrastinated in his choosing will inevitably have his choice made for him by circumstance.” Hunter S. Thompson

“If it’s truly important, schedule it. Is it a dream or a goal? If it isn’t on the calendar, it isn’t real.” Khaled Hosseini

“We believe in human kindness.” Folks at Magnolia

“Never underestimate the power of hope.”

“Death and life are in the power of the tongue.” Proverbs 18:21

“I am with you always, even unto the end.” Jesus

And my favorite quote, which was on my door: “They thought they could bury us. They didn’t know we were seeds.” Mexican Proverb

These quotes really shaped my approach to my work and life, and they will continue to. I hope they inspire you as much as they inspire me.