HI, THERE! Did you know?

Each year 100 billion of new pieces of clothing are produced. Women buy around 68 new pieces of clothes each year. On average, 1 clothing item will only be worn 7 times before it is forgotten. 85% of all clothing produced will end up in a landfill within a year.  The fashion industry is responsible for 10% of the Co2 emission affecting our environment. You can make a positive impact on the environment by: 1. Buying less, but fairly produced high quality pieces 2. Buy second hand clothes. 3. Swap…

In Memory of Korner Six.

“I think you are afraid and are looking for ways to distract your self.” These are the words that came out of T’s mouth as I kept blurting different blog names out loud. “I’m not afraid” I said. “I just don’t know what to do next and I need to channel my energy somewhere.” It’s true. I have three pending projects on my mind. One that is already alive and somewhat known on the world wide web. And two that are in the pipeline. I am also about to be…

Waiting for the apples to bake.

Okay, I think my MacBook Air is soon entering retirement. The battery just dropped by 6% in a matter of two minutes. I guess that is what happens after seven years of faithful service.  It’s a foggy, November morning and I’m baking apples with cinnamon for breakfast. A bit of a usual breakfast for me, but unusual times call for unusual breakfasts.  Covid cases are rising, presidential election discussions are in shambles on Twitter. It’s like the Comedy of Errors but in real life. Somehow though, I feel more connected…

The curious case of wanting nothing and something.

It’s a balmy Wednesday evening I’m sitting outside with the curious case of wanting nothing and something at the same time.  A part of me would like to me amongst a group of friends, talking, having a drink. This is the something. The other part of me feels tired by the idea of being in such a situation. This is the nothing. And the in-between part, is me wondering whether I’ve already given this world the best years of my socializing life. Or maybe my socializing moon is in retrograde. Either…

I want to age like wine.

At some point throughout today I had the thought: I want to age like wine. Slow, steady and full of body.  I want to offer myself to this life as a nice glass of red wine that is sipped slow and steady. Instead of as a tequila shot that burns going down to later be felt straight in the head.  I’ll take the time. Time to acquire all the flavors of myself within my own barrel fully trusting the delight of the awaited first glass.

What is the point anyway?

Not sure there is a point, but maybe that is the point? Why do we do what we do? Like sign up for a Substack account without really understanding how it works. It’s like getting in a rental car and driving off without fully understanding what all the buttons do around the steering wheel. True story. It happened to me. I only realized how dangerous this jump for excitement to hit the road can be once my friend couldn’t figure out how to turn on the fog lights. Or when…

10 Years Later (Part II): Back to My Life, Back to My Swiss People

Writing part I of my 10 Years Later reflections was so easy. Talking about my experience of leaving Utah felt like a natural flow. Trying to encompass everything of actually living in Switzerland? Not so easy. I’ve literally spent the last 4 days trying to write part II and 14 revisions later, I realised it’s just not going to happen. I thought typing away my feelings would help clear my thoughts, but it only showed me how overfilled the last 10 years really were and how I still haven’t processed…

10 Years Later (Part I): When I Woke Up for the Last Time Calling Utah Home

It was the morning of April 26th, 2009 when I woke up for the last time calling Springville, Utah my home. I have flashes of frantic last minute suitcase cramming. Wondering if I had packed all the necessary items to start my new life. Trying to pack up your life in three suitcases is no easy feat especially when you have no idea what that new life will look like. I remember my mom insisting she cut the ends of my hair because “how could I arrive to meet my…