Studio Update 13

By: Gabriela Yareliz

I saw this image this morning, and this is how I felt walking out (more like running out) of the grocery store with my eggs, the other day.

I was so tired yesterday, guys, that I woke up tired.

Two days ago, I saw myself in a video moving my hands like a sign language interpreter, and it hit me, I can’t keep looking homeless chic (and yes, I can say that because I have been, in fact, homeless). I didn’t feel good, and I didn’t feel like myself, so this week, I have been wearing makeup. Yep. #normalcy

Speaking of FaceTime and videos— I now have an obsession with muting myself. I do it for fun now. I do it because I can. So cool. Not sure how this will play out in public, once we aren’t social distancing. And speaking of social distancing— right on time, the City of New York texted me and told me just now, “Stay at least 6 feet from others.” You heard it here for the hundredth time. Roger that.

It’s almost like Goop knew I was feeling homeless because it sent me an email today encouraging me to buy (get this) an $85 lipstick, so I can look cute on Zoom. (That was the headline). If you don’t believe me (it’s absurd, I know) I am inserting a photo here. Such things exist. They should not, but they do. Who does Gwyneth think I am?

If you have followed along here, you know I appreciate Goop. But this isn’t aspirational; this is stupid.

If that is the price of the lipstick, it better clothe me, act as hairdresser, be edible (this is a crisis, so we got to think of these things), and give me a Goop-worthy background on Zoom calls.

Speaking of Zoom, my cute Ma had me test out her Zoom “office hours” with her at noon. We did it!

My neighbor just started sawing things outside. (Yikes!) I think the fence is a distraction so people look and just say, “Ahh cute fence!”, and they really are making a secret bunker out there. The chainsaw sound was alarming, at first— but speaking of projects (one thing leads to another here)— instead of buying a ridiculously priced lipstick (or supplies for a bunker), invest in your community. Find a place where you can donate for masks (one here), sponsor a hairdresser or hourly worker in your community, buy this cool healthcare hero tote where every penny goes to making masks, support an org that delivers food to the elderly and sick— there is something we can all do.

Ok, I did my yoga, I did my Bible time, I worked hard like I was trying to buy that Goop lipstick, and now, I am off to eat something. (Probably an egg I risked my life for— never thought I would say that about an egg that didn’t come from my ovaries). Sending you peace and love from NYC.

Studio Update 12

By: Gabriela Yareliz

I didn’t read, today. I felt like that was missing from my day. I read for work and my morning readings, but I didn’t sit down I with a book. I did wipe books down with a Clorox wipe.

I did laundry (with many precautions— so I am exhausted), and I cooked my lunches for the next three days.

I am just grateful for health. We begin week three in isolation. I will be talking to my plants in full paragraphs and not just sentences by the end of this.

My two cents: pray hard, encourage others, set boundaries with toxic people and repetitive news cycles. Break all bad cycles. (This is good general life advice). Seek out peace. It requires intention.

Wish I had more to say. Sometimes, it’s not about what we say but about what we don’t say.

Studio Update 11

By: Gabriela Yareliz

First, I wanted to say I got the eggs. Yep. I was crazy enough to get the dang eggs, garlic, oat milk (ugh, I know, I am one of those people), and some cookie mix because Lord knows I am sick of seeing everyone baking on Instagram. (I never bake. It’s one of those things I am truly being influenced on).

This morning, I FaceTimed with my ma (it was lovely), while simultaneously building the courage to venture out. I kept imagining my jeans and puffer jacket as some sort of hazmat suit in my mind. It was raining, so I ran down the block to the corner store and straight to the back where the eggs are (right next to some shelves that happened to have Caprisuns— I am not making this up).

Gabrielle Bernstein (author and self-proclaimed spirit junkie) was going to lead a meditation for anxiety, today, and she sent me so many texts and emails today that this was the cause of any anxiety I experienced today. She needs to relax. (Kidding. Hugs, Gabby).

I flipped the page on my planner, and the next section is for spring and April, so I couldn’t just flip the page. It was time to sit and meditate and reflect on the past month and the future month. So, I had to sit my butt down and reflect and write my “praise report,” to express gratitude for all the things I lived in March. That was interesting!

I FaceTimed my brother and laughed. I FaceTimed a friend and laughed. FaceTimed my love and laughed.

Something that stood out to me today was that I feel we all have a collective feeling of helplessness. We wish we could do more. Our medical personnel and first responders are out there being heroes. They really are. I want to say, though, that this doesn’t diminish the role we each play in our spheres of influence and communities.

I have heard people say they wish they could help and be like these heroes, but I want to remind everyone— life is hard. Life is long. Each of us has a story. We have had to show up in the past and be the heroes of our own stories. At the risk of sounding like Mariah Carey (oh man), there is a hero inside of each person who is trying to be the best they can be in this life.

To the people who have helped elderly parents and friends, you are a hero. To the people who are or have been single parents, you are a hero. To the parents trying to instill values in their children that go against all society holds as normal, you are heroes. To the ministers who serve their communities, you are heroes. To the teachers who touch our lives, root for us and inspire us, you are heroes.

If there is anything we have learned from this, it should be that when we take an oath, so to speak, to love someone else— we become heroes. That’s what defines a hero. Not a profession, but sacrifice and care.

Think back on your story. I am sure you have been a hero, and tomorrow, show up as that hero for the people directly around you.

Studio Update 10

By: Gabriela Yareliz

Update from yesterday: so, the neighbor made a cute wooden fence during yesterday’s Zoom calls. He didn’t sign it to me through the window; I just got nosy and investigated with my invisible binoculars. (Sometimes, you have to do what you have to do to stay informed. You have totally done it, where you take a photo of something and then later zoom in. Don’t fake innocence).

Today, I did church at home. My boyfriend was also live-streaming, and we were texting each other. Made my day. It’s like the equivalent of the whisper or passing of a note— except coronavirus edition.

I spent hours reading my Bible. It was so peaceful. Nothing like reading verses and still getting chills after reading them for the hundredth time. God’s Word is truly a living document.

I did yoga with Adrienne. I am working on the crow pose (is that what it’s called?). You lift your entire body with just hands touching the ground. Magic. I told you guys— I will be levitating by the end of this quarantine.

I am down to two eggs. Soon, I will be in my neighbor’s yard doing an Easter egg hunt, but instead of the candy-filled plastic ones, I will be looking for real eggs and not even his new wooden fence he built will be able to keep me out. Ha! (Kidding. I will search for eggs at the grocery once I decide I am crazy enough to go all the way to the back).

I did a retinol face mask, today. (I am glowing, guys. Glowing like the sun we didn’t see today in NYC). They keep jacking up the heat and then turning it off. (No better time to be profusely sweating, suddenly).

Lastly, I was reminiscing with my boyfriend on FaceTime about food we ate while growing up. Do you guys remember Caprisuns, Tang, Vienna Sausages in a can? How did the FDA even allow blue colored juices on a shelf? (I guess it still does).

My conclusion: If we lived through that, we are invincible. The City of New York just texted me. I must now go distance myself.

xx

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.