joy amidst a restless brain: a brain dump
it's summer, but why doesn't it feel like summer yet?
📍Where is coriils? En route to Austin. But I live in Vancouver now, I’m excited and restless and looking for balance. See below.
When life starts transpiring all at once, how do you hold together a scattered brain? If I attempt to simplify the chaos I’ve created, I return back to the general pillars of this 20-something life: work, travel, social, family, hobbies, love, rest. For the past 4 years, I’ve cycled through these at a relentless pace, as if I’m trying to fit a lifetime of memories into a decade. But what I haven’t had to think much about is creating a home. The Toronto area will always be home, and has been such a stable return after countless flights to and from Pearson.
And 4 years after that brief summer stint and 5 years after originally moving all my things out of the city, we’ve made it back to Vancouver. A signed lease and everything, as permanent as it gets (for me at least). It feels so so good even though my brain feels like it’s never run faster.
If it’s summer, then why doesn’t it feel like summer? Where are the simmering summer vibes?
I have music on more often – blasting on my Google Home, shuffling in my headphones, complementing the always-on inner monologue. It’s a byproduct of moving into my own apartment (!) but it’s also telling me that I’m bouncing with energy more than usual.
Perhaps it’s pressure to make the most of my time here, because what if life pulls me away from this beautiful city again?
Perhaps it’s pressure to know the next move in my career now that I’m almost at my one-year anniversary. What are we maximizing for in career, is it income or is it lifestyle? Is it flexibility or is it the next rung?
Perhaps it’s the lingering thought about how pursuing a corporate career is a choice, and what else I would pursue if something else provided similar stability? If I earned $100k through writing, would I be willing to quit my job?
Perhaps it’s the concept of settling that’s unsettling, even though every part of my lease is as flexible as it could be. Perhaps it’s how I’ve decided to return to a familar life, rather than starting a completely new one, something that I historically like choosing.
The only goal I have for June is to release all of this anxious energy, and enjoy the effects of the most concrete commitment I’ve made in a while. To get to the summer vibes, we have to make way for them – give the summer space to happen, rather than planning all of it for once.
So instead of a bucket list of completable items, or my 2025 bingo card, this summer is for finding the little repeatable things in life, ones that are easier done when you live a walkable distance from your friends, ones that are more exciting in a vibrant city, ones that are more beautiful when you’re closer to nature, ones that are enabled by living on your own, ones that are shortcuts to presence and gratefulness.
how to enjoy life once you've moved to your dream city: a hypothesis
bring your purple blanket to the beach and lie down in the grass with a book from the library
log off after doing a proper close-out of your work day, with your to-do list organized for tomorrow without overdue items
find opportunities to be on and near the water, kayak around in circles, make it a race, all time on the water is time well spent
stay in on certain days and admire the view, buy a protein out of your normal rotation and cook a new recipe, spend the evening watching TV or if you’re in the mood, maybe type up an entire substack
bike to your friends’ house, deliver a fun bakery item spontaneously, bike for longer than 30 minutes when you get your own bike now that you’re not bound by the city bikes, bike until you don’t feel like biking anymore
watch the sun sparkle on the water, watch how the sun leaves pastel streaks behind the mountains, don’t stare at the sun, put on sunscreen, appreciate it in little ways while it’s out
walk to random parks downtown, take random routes that you don’t usually take, bike to a cafe that’s out of the way and out of your neighbourhood, wander the city like you used to when it felt brand new
make new friends, make enough friends so that you’re able to bump into people on the street
visit new pho places that you haven’t been to, remind yourself that it’s not a tragedy that the food scene has changed since you last really lived here, treat this as a renewed challenge to find the hidden gems and to eat everything this city has to offer
also eat at regular times, don’t skip lunch, don’t skip breakfast, remember that you’re a more functional person when you eat and that making time to make food is a valuable use of your time
go on dates, be open-minded, remember that some things can’t be rushed
read as much as you can, in the genre you’re craving. leave books that don’t resonate. read on different benches, read on grass. read on the balcony, read in your reading chair. read on the rooftop of the central library.
figure out your favourite local coffee shop – find out which one is the quickest, find out which one you can work in, which one has good matcha, which one you want to be noticed at.
go to farmer’s markets and cook dinner with that day’s finds
make spontaneous plans
call people randomly
To yearn for a place is akin to yearning for a lifestyle. To yearn for Vancouver is to crave the restfulness it brings me.
I always write for myself, but I also write to manifest my ideal and to have something to reflect on when I look back at June 15, 2025.
I write to extract my key expectations from a jumble of half-baked inklings. I write because it’s like asking a question in class, someone out there is wondering about the same thing so it’s always worth putting yourself out there.