Floating Over Magnetic Fields — mnchrm vol. lvi
Hello, fellow travelers. I’d also like to welcome a handful of new subscribers since the start of the year. This is Monochromatic Aberration, a newsletter by me, Ian Battaglia, where I write about writing, what I’m working on, photography, etc etc.
To those of you new to the list, I try and send out the letter every other week, on Mondays. Well, you may be aware it is not Monday, and not the first week of the year. Whoops! That’s sort of a microcosm of how my different goals for the year have been going; a few I’ve been killing it on, a few I’ve done half-heartedly, and a few I’ve been dreadful about. As is tradition.
For example, I was so excited to tweet out that I had a perfect track record of writing a daily journal entry… and have since broken my streak. (I’m getting caught up, I swear.)
I rarely feel like I’m in a groove. I can do something daily for two weeks straight or longer, and just drop it on accident without even thinking too much about it. I sort of keep expecting to figure out how habits work, and yet every year, it continues to be a struggle.
I used to write these big blog posts reflecting on the previous year, setting goals for the next one, and have since stopped. Someone suggested to me to simplify; less big plans, and more doing the right thing, and not doing the wrong thing. So far, that’s been a positive change.
I also struggle with trying to do too much at once, probably just over-ambition and lack of focus. This year, I’ve reorganized what I want to do again, made better plans for how to accomplish my intents, and have been working on sticking with them. To varying degrees of success, but it’s a work in progress.
I spent a week in Florida over New Years, briefly escaping the Chicago cold. I never do this; I haven’t flown since a vacation my girlfriend and I took two years ago; but her family offered us the tickets, and how could we say no?
Being on vacation is funny. One of the last family vacations I took as a kid I got so anxious about the break in routine I considered leaving early. I’ve mellowed out a lot since then (A LOT), but still struggle at times with having a new schedule dictated to me. Being on another family’s vacation took the pressure off, though; no option but go with the flow.
I ended up reading a lot on the beach, and taking a lot of photos I’m really happy with. Some of the winners made it to my Unsplash page here, and I did two “10 Best” roundups on Instagram, here and here.
Have I ever mentioned I’m not great with flying? I used to get serious motion sickness as a kid—now it’s not so bad. Still, the motion of a plane, the motion of a boat, even sometimes (though rare) the motion of a car can make me feel unwell. I couldn’t focus on much during the plane ride, so I mostly spent the time looking around the cabin, reading in tiny flashes, trying not to think too hard about the shifting horizon.
On the return journey, we flew home at night. It was nearly raining when we took off, and inclement weather carried throughout the region. Once we got up to cruising altitude, I ventured peeks out the window. I was struck by the view of passing cities, passing towns, at night. The criss-cross of lit streets at night form a plane window is beautiful enough as it is, but how they carried in the fog and through the clouds, blooming up and away from the earth into the sky…
For some reason, I was struck by this image, and imagined to myself that I was floating over magnetic fields, before realizing that I was, in a way; floating above and through a series of waves and fields on the way home.
I thought about the dark spots between towns. I thought about how many more stars I was able to see in Florida than in Chicago. I thought about how the little towns that feel so far away when you're in one or driving between them, and how that distance is collapsed instantly when you are allowed to glide above them.
On the way into the city, the lights came on in the cabin, and the head flight attendant told us we'd be experiencing bumpy flying into Chicago, the mere suggestion of which put me on edge. I anticipated it the rest of the way there, but we must have managed to avoid it, because the decent into the city was among the smoothest flights I can remember.
I had been excited for the day off yesterday, but ended up spending most of it in a haze. I think I stayed in bed too long. The whole day felt like it had already passed by the time I got around to anything, even though it wasn't that late. It was more just the atmosphere, like I felt that something was off.
Similarly, I spent half of today feeling ill. I think I ate something bad at lunch. I'm not sure if this is just me, but when I feel even a little sick, or sore, or unwell, I suddenly forget the effortlessness of feeling whole. The illness / ennui / malaise becomes my new normal almost instantaneously, and the idea that there's some sort of "well" to aspire to becomes wholly lost.
As part of my optimism for the new year, I've been trying to do more things, be more social. I'm usually a pretty antisocial person, often electing to stay in or stay in my routine rather than break out and try something new. I met up with an editor I've been working with for a while, and talked shop. I met a friend at the gym who was kind enough to run me through a workout.
Best of all was going to an in-person writer's group / pitch workshop, as part of Study Hall. A group of freelance writers all met at a woman's apartment, discussed different pitches and ideas we were working on, and gave advice to one another. It was so cool not only to hear the excellent ideas others have, but just to interact with like-minded writers, trying to write about what interests them, build better bylines, and make money.
I didn't present a pitch I was working on, though I have a few I want to send out this week. Instead, I tried my best to listen and offer advice, as well as took copious notes. I learned a lot, think I formulated some of my own ideas to write about, and sappy as may be, really just had a nice time hanging out with a bunch of writers. Excited for the next one.
I think I'm going to try my best to just do as much as possible this year. I'm going to try and write my novel, ship off pitches and short fiction at a strong clip, meanwhile continuing to learn Japanese, getting better at cooking, advancing along the path of meditation, not to mention the skills I'll try and pick up and improve this year. I easily get distracted, so I'm trying to log progress on these things and keep myself on track.
But this year is about cultivation for me. Grow the things I'm working on, and planting at the seams. I'm going to launch my own little literary journal this year, and want to continue to reach out. Maybe I'll start making photography youtube videos. Maybe I'll make a podcast or two. Maybe I'll start a patreon...
If you thought you were getting out of this without an anime recommendation, you were dead fucking wrong. Right now I'm loving Eizouken. It's an anime from Masaaki Yuasa (DEVILMAN CRYBABY & NIGHT IS SHORT, WALK ON GIRL) about three girls who start a high school club with the intention to produce an anime. It's a love letter to creativity, an elegy to all those who caught a Miyazaki film as a child and though, 'What is this?'
Oh, and WEATHERING WITH YOU by the new Miyazaki, Makoto Shinkai (YOUR NAME & 5CM A SECOND) is in theaters in the US now. See it while you can! It has really stuck with me.
It's hard not to waver between optimism and pessimism for the new year, the new decade. But I'm currently riding high on the optimism side. I was really blown away at the end of last year seeing people share on Twitter how much they'd progressed in different mediums and fields. A decade is a long time. You can pick up and master almost anything in that time.
I've advocated in the past against relying on the new year, or even just the start of a new week to turn over a new leaf. Yet, I can't help but feel excited. I've always wanted to draw, and tried to start in fits before. In a decade of practice, I could become really good, and so could you. You could learn a new language. You could become a world-class photographer. You could achieve enlightenment (this sounds like a joke but isn't. Check Culadasa's THE MIND ILLUMINATED).
I'm not quite sure what I'll be able to achieve mastery in, or at least proficiency in, by the end of the year, let alone the decade, but I can't wait to try.
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Stay strong, fight on.
Your faithful commander,
– I