I got on the plane and took my seat. The plane was a bit older than I expected, but still nice. I was one of the first ones to sit down and proceeded to people watch, as the crowd walked in. I should also mention, I was excited to fly first class, so excited, I booked a flight that went from Denver to Vegas (south of Denver!), then Calgary (back up north), then Saskatoon, because the fare was cheaper and I could fly first class within company policy. Pathetic, I know.

Within a few minutes of sitting down, a familiar face walked in. Where have I seen this person before? Asian man, bearded, long hair, wearing a super colourful Dragonball Z jacket. The flight was leaving from Vegas, was he famous? Yes. But from where? A click and I remembered. 

The year is 2013, and in one of my many brief random acts of hyperfocus, I decide I am going to be a DJ—on the side obviously, play at friends’ parties, a chill casual side gig. It all started because I was really into mashups like these—remember when the internet was this easy?—a few years before. Ah, that’s where I knew him from!! Back to the plane, side gigs aside. It was him, Steve Aoki, cake-throwing, high-energy, DJ, producer, musician, EDM legend, and he was sitting two seats away from me.

He walked in, in a really calm demeanour and put his colourful jacket in the overhead bin. I pulled up my phone, texted my husband and sister immediately, and proceeded to watch other people’s reactions as they walked by.

Boomers had no clue who he was, including the guy who was sitting right next to him. But I could see millennials and gen z’s eyes go wide when they walked in. We departed, the flight was short and easy. We both ordered chicken for lunch.

When we landed in Calgary, I thought, that’s it. “Well, that was fun, remember the one time I saw Steve Aoki from afar in a plane?” That’s a lame story to tell. He left the plane, and so did I, and we both proceeded to the immigration line. “Nice to meet you, sir” I overheard an immigration officer say to him.

We passed immigration and I realized that was my chance—one long empty hall, me, and him. “Well, that was the easiest immigration line I’ve gone through”, when I realized, the words were already out of my mouth, floating in echoey hall. “Yeah, that wasn’t bad”, he replied, “Where are you from?”, “I am from Brazil”, “And why did you trade Brazil for this?”, the weather outside was miserable. “Well, [insert my classic explanation about how Brazil is great, but the quality of life is better here]”, “And you’re Steve Aoki”.

He told me he was playing the next day in Winnipeg, and asked where I was staying in Vegas. “That’s a weird flight route” he replied when I said I was coming from Denver. All I said was “Yeah, I know”, like the route had nothing to do with me gaming the system to fly first class. He asked if I knew the easiest way to the domestic departures area. We chatted and walked towards the D section, even though I knew my gate was over at C somewhere. At some point, I thought, “I have to ask for a photo. How else am I going to tell my husband and sister this happened?”, “Can I get a photo with you?”, he agreed politely. We took a photo and wished each other a safe flight.

It’s probably going to be another couple of years before I get to fly first class again. From now on, though, anytime time I sit in one of those roomy chairs, I’ll remember that one time I met Steve Aoki on a plane.

March Highlights

Just a girl turning 33: After too much debating on whether I should do it or not, I ended up throwing a small party to celebrate my birthday with a few close friends. I decided to go with a dinner party theme (although no dinner was provided), loosely inspired by “Saltburn”. I thrifted most of my decor items, and it ended up being a fun night of chatting, singing and celebrating. I am excited to do this again, maybe even with no specific reason to celebrate.

Seeing Denver for the first time: Denver was… average. It reminded me of Saskatoon, but bigger. Still fun to check out another city in the States though. Some of my highlights were solo dining, wearing office clothes for a change, attending an exhibition opening at the MCA (Denver’s Contemporary Art Museum), visiting a small women-run market, Meow Wolf and a Denver Nuggets game.

Other honourable mentions

• Going to a Noah Kahan concert and using that as an excuse to make keychains with song lyrics.

• Running my furthest run ever—7K in the books. I’ve been really into running lately (and way too deep into #runtok to admit). Look out for photos of me in a tight little running vest in May’s recap.

• Finishing Bell Hooks’ Tudo Sobre o Amor, Novas Perspectivas (Everything about Love, New Perspectives). This was a gift from my little brother, which made this great book even more special. I would recommend this read to anyone ready and looking to explore ways to love themselves and others more.

That’s a wrap, thanks for reading. And thank you for all your kind and loving messages over on Instagram. I am glad I am doing this, and able to share it with you. See you again next month. 💌

Because of North American influences, though, growing up I knew that there were places where all four seasons were clearly distinguished. Disney cartoons and blockbuster movies taught me that spring was all about flowers and planting a garden, and summers were all about enjoying the sun and playing outside, although I had access to both year-round. Fall was about leaves falling outside, and winter was all about snow, although I had never experienced either. It wasn’t until my 20s that, I had a glimpse of what a life with four seasons looked and felt like. It’s been almost thirteen years now, and so far, I can say… I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. 

The best way I can describe how I experience living in a place with distinct seasons (if you can call Saskatchewan that) is like having a second circadian rhythm, a stretched circadian clock that layers life out in the most inconvenient and (sometimes) fantastic ways.

I’ll explain. Think about waking up to a warm sunny day, it’s Saturday, and you’re meeting your friends outside to grab drinks. That energy—that’s summer energy. Except this Saturday lasts three full months. Someone died? You have to work and your boss sucks? You had a disagreement with someone you love? It doesn’t matter, it’s summer. As soon as we get consistently warm days, and enough sun to temporarily cease our semi-permanent vitamin D deficiency, I feel summer energy coming and flooding my body. And, I won’t lie, it fills my cup. I love it. I wish I could stay in it forever. But, part of me still struggles with how precious and rare summer days are here, while growing up they weren’t. I often feel burnt out by the end of summer, feeling like I miss time and space to introspect, while also feeling I could’ve made better use of the warmer days—an impossible balancing act.

Spring and Fall often feel like a string of days in anticipation of whatever is coming next. And winters, oh winters. Whatever the summer energy is, winter is the opposite. If summers give me a boost, winters weigh heavy on me—smiling is harder, moving is harder, being is harder. Everything demands a bit more energy and effort. And, while finding happiness in summer is easy, finding it in winter is like looking for my keys when I’m late to leave the house, a struggle. 

The extreme temperatures play a role in it, but the isolation is what affects me the most. Winters in South America were cold, especially without heaters and insulated walls, but winters were also full of parties with plenty of dancing, eating stew and memory-making.

I am not moving back to Brazil anytime soon, although part of me wishes that will happen sometime. I guess I just miss the abundance of warm days, with no rush, always knowing tomorrow is going to be another warm day, and if it wasn’t, the next day would be. For now, all I can do is hang in there,  spring is around the corner. 🌼

What I watched this month

My movie fever severely subsided in February, and I don’t have as much to show for compared to January. But here we go:

• ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Poor Things: I really liked this movie, and want to rewatch it sometime. Although it was a male view of white women’s experiences, it was nonetheless about women’s experiences, something still somewhat rare. I couldn’t quite decide whether Emma Stone’s acting was great or terrible while watching, as it made me kind of uncomfortable. I guess it was great, she won an Oscar.

• ⭐️⭐️⭐️ American Symphony: is a Netflix documentary about a multi-Grammy winner, and how he navigates life as his wife is going through cancer treatment. It was a good reminder that everyone is going through things under the surface, even if appearances or social media say otherwise.

• ⭐️⭐️⭐️ Naomi Osaka: this is a three-part series about the world-famous Japanese tennis player. The show was super well done, to the point I couldn’t binge it, because I needed breaks to feel and process what she was going through. Osaka is so real, and her feelings are relatable. Neither hero nor villain, she’s finding her way.

Honourable mention this month to Love is Blind. The show is more and more giving Hunger Games vibes, especially during the reunion, and I’m here for it.

What I listened to

• ⭐️⭐️⭐️ A Court of Thorns and Roses: I am not usually a fantasy girly, but something about this audiobook kept me going. The beauty and the beast vibes were close enough to the original plot to keep me engaged knowing what was going to happen, while the mysterious blight kept me intrigued for a good chunk of the book. I don’t think I would’ve been able to hold my attention if I were reading the book, but it was an engaging enough listen.

What I did

February brought a bit more of the same, and not much new happened. Here are this month’s highlights:

1. Miguel’s love for trains is stronger than ever, although Mickey Mouse and Sonic made progress on his interest list.

2. Enjoying a solo night, with some pasta and a movie.

3. When your date is more interested in trains.

4. My love for indoor cycling is taking a hiatus, I’ve been enjoying running lately.

5. Brazilian music classes are still a hit.

6. Chaos before bedtime.

What I watched

I started 2024 on a movie kick. After reading some NY Times articles about potential Oscar nominees, I decided to sign up for Letterboxd and watch the most hyped movies of last year. I didn’t necessarily have a goal to watch all the best picture nominations, so I picked the ones that I thought I would like the most, and some other random movies (not from 2023) that ended up crossing my path. Here are my one to two-sentence thoughts with very little to no explanation.

• May December: People are crazy. I love-hated every single character. The guy that plays the dad should win an Oscar, I felt for him so bad.

• Anatomy of a Fall: Shit happens and sometimes we’ll never know why. The kid was so brave as all his parental figures fell (literally and figuratively) apart in front of him.

• Past Lives: This one hit close to home, and the final scenes made me cry. Sometimes I think about humans and migrations and how globalization is great, but also f* us in many ways.

• Saltburn: Maximalism, shock value, and social class theories packaged in a remake of “Talented Mr. Ripley”. Murder on the dance floor” is living rent free in my head this month.

• Society of the Snow: Shit happens and people are crazy resilient. Also, it’s always nice to watch a movie in Spanish.

• Talented Mr. Ripley: I started watching this before Saltburn, and ended after finishing Saltburn (go figure), but couldn’t help noticing the similarities. I wish I had watched it at a different time.

• Autumn Sonata: A Swedish gut punch. I watched it because my therapist asked me to. Don’t do it.

Besides movies, I watched “American Nightmare” and thought it was an average true crime, and made considerable progress on “Succession”. I could write a whole lot about Succession, but for now, I’ll just say the writing and jokes are solid, and watching it has helped me significantly detach myself, and my personal worth, from work, in a good way.

What I listened to

One of my goals for this winter is to spend more time outside. So, I bought some base layers, and committed to walking our dog whenever the weather outside doesn’t freeze my exotic lashes. Here’s what I listened to during my walks:

• How to Keep Time: This is a podcast series by The Atlantic, and “How to Keep Time” is their fifth (?) season. The themes they cover, throughout all the seasons, are really interesting to me, things that are extremely complex to grasp, yet very mundane — like the passing of time, connecting with others, finding happiness, and building community. The episodes were short but interesting, and the content of this last season was part of what inspired me to write these posts.

• Retail Therapy by Sunday Scaries: This podcast is a peek into the men’s world. When I listen to it, I escape to a world where I am a white millennial male with not a single worry in life. There’s something about how the hosts talk through pop culture topics that is relatable and fun.

Honourable mentions this month to “Huberman Lab”. I can’t decide if Huberman is a douche spreading bro science around the world, or just an American guy that likes science and academic research; and “Raising Good Humans” for those walks where I just needed to hear I am a good parent, and I everything is going to be ok.

Music-wise, Noah Kahan absolutely dominated my playlist this month. We’re going to a concert in March and I can’t wait to sing “Stick Season” at the top of my lungs with my girls.

What I did

Whoever said January is a long month, was probably right. I did so much over the last 31 days, here are some of the highlights not in chronological order:

1. Hosted supper to celebrate my sister’s engagement, and hosted a karaoke night

2. Refreshed my workspace with a new mouse, a mechanical keyboard and a walking pad

3. Set up a new play space for Miguel in the basement

4. Finished reading “Study for Obedience” by Sarah Bernstein and gave it two sad stars (it was just not my vibe)

5. Tried cross-country skiing for the first time, and was reminded that some of my hip muscles still exist and will complain when bothered.

What I felt

All and all, January made me feel small. As the time stretched into 31 long low-light days, I grappled with the idea of meaning and “what matters”, as I always do. After saying goodbye to loved ones this month, I was called to focus less on work and zoom out, and see life as a whole; walking and Saskatchewan's endless blue skies helped.

I took it easy and was not ashamed to admit it. In doing it, though, I worried about falling behind, or not delivering as much as I should be. But, I was also able to find joy in small moments. Let's see what February has in store.

At lunchtime I bought a huge orange—

The size of it made us all laugh.

I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave—

They got quarters and I had a half.

And that orange, it made me so happy,

As ordinary things often do

Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.

This is peace and contentment. It’s new.

The rest of the day was quite easy.

I did all the jobs on my list

And enjoyed them and had some time over.

I love you. I’m glad I exist.

— Wendy Cope”

I feel I want to explain to you what we’re doing here, before we get into the things we’re here to see and hear and talk about. Let’s start there. 

I have been on a sort of quest to find my footing for the last while. 2023 was a rough year. About a year ago, I started therapy. I was unhappy and too scared to admit it. How could I be unhappy? I am healthy, I have a beautiful family, a home, and I am financially comfortable. I could not possibly be unhappy, I had no right to be. When I finally decided to take the leap and talk to someone, things started shifting. 

Months went by, as I went through stages of understanding and grief. I opened threads that were tied tight and sealed deep down within me. I revisited memories and finally cried about things that happened decades ago. At first, all of me was really stuck in understanding “why” it all had happened, why me, and why that way. I searched for all the whys I could possibly try to find. I found some, but not many. Spring came and summer went by, and I was consumed by a steady low drum of anger. Not loud enough to make me yell, not quiet enough to give me room to be. I wanted to change the past, and change people, but I couldn’t, and that hurt so bad. 

As I got familiar with the feeling of being powerless about it all, I rarely regretted having started the journey, though. The more I dug, different pieces of the puzzle appeared, out of order, some with no place yet, but all were parts of me that I had left behind somewhere — feelings that were long lost, or never felt, compassion for me and for others, long-awaited understanding. The only way out was, and still is, through. I started giving myself more room to feel, and cry, and show others that I was going through something. The ones closest to me have been hanging in there with me in this journey, and I am so grateful for it.

Somewhere along this path, I noticed that social media was putting unnecessary pressure on me. I wanted to be a part of my friends’ lives, but the world of irrelevant information that came with it was too much for my addicted-prone neurodivergent brain. So, I left, and things got… quiet. It hasn’t been that long, and, although, I certainly enjoy the feeling of not having spent hours scrolling every day without an end in sight, I do miss the ability to share and receive short updates from friends and family — A newborn’s first smiles, a special night out with loved ones, graduations, engagements, random photo dumps. 

That’s where this place comes in. A home for sharing memories, away from the algorithm’s dementors. A place to slow down and reflect about life, and how it’s actually been, good and bad and the 90% that is in between. A place to share with a small, but really special group of people. A pause in between scrolls, to just be. A short read, like grabbing a coffee, or going for a walk. And, once you’re done, if you’re ever so inclined, hit reply and send me an update about your world, I’d love to read it.