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essays

Personal essays from Krisis on everything from parenting to immigrant life to driving, and much more.

on new (old) holidays

June 26, 2022 by krisis

On Friday I got to experience something for only the second time in my life, and for the first time I can recall: celebrating a new public holiday for the first time.

That public holiday is Matariki, which marks the beginning of the Māori lunar new year here in Aotearoa New Zealand. It is a holiday that predates British colonization of Aotearoa, marked by the first rising of the Matariki cluster of stars – known elsewhere in the world as Pleiades or “The Seven Sisters.”

Image by Snepter from Pixabay

Fun fact: In Japan, it is called “Subaru”!

Ironically, if we were still living in America, we would’ve had this experience a year earlier, with the introduction of Juneteenth in 2021 just a week prior to the earliest of Matariki dates (which shift each year, since they are based on the lunar calendar).

When we first arrived in New Zealand, it was to a commonwealth country who celebrated the Queen’s Birthday as well as the traditional Guy Fawkes Night with a major late-spring fireworks display.

While it was fun to get to witness that spectacle for the first time from atop a windy cliff face near our old home (now populated with a new cookie cutter houses), even as new immigrants we sensed that celebrating a thwarted assassination of a British king was an odd fit for the one “4th of July” style holiday celebration of the year.

Luckily, we got to learn about Matariki the next year through the then-4YO’s kindergarten. This is something that I’ve found to be common to many immigrant experiences here in Wellington. Kindergartens – or “little schools,” as they’re often called here – often rely on a foundation of cultural education that trickles up to parents who might not learn it. That’s especially true if the parents are pakeha (i.e., white European), who are busying themselves with integrating into a society of other older pakeha who grew up in a time where educated rooted in Māori tradition was eschewed.

Little School is how we learned about Matariki, how we came to understand that saying karakia or singing waiata were not prayers to a specific god in the sense I understood (and reviled) from America’s separation of church and state, about the traditional cloak of Korowai, and about how sitting on tables is tapu.

All of those elements came together for the kid’s first Matariki celebration at Little School, which included all of those elements in a special evening session. While other kids volunteered their favorite traditional waiata, our 4YO insisted E and I join her in a trio rendition of “On the Run” from Steven Universe.

Oh, this kid.

Yet, as weird as her request was, it was celebrated by the entire class, who were happy to hear her sing a song with her family that mattered to her.

That indelible memory of the celebration and inclusion of Matariki stuck in our minds, which is why it stuck out when Jacinda Ardern’s Labor party added making Matariki an official public holiday to their platform for the 2020 national election – which they won with a clear majority.

Of course, Americans living in America got to have this same experience last year, with Juneteenth! Americans around my age and younger tend to assume that holidays always have been and always will be because we don’t recall how they’re just days that the Federal government decided to turn into observances.

That explains some of the surprise around Juneteenth becoming an officially-recognized holiday last year – the first new one in America since Martin Luther King day in 1983. But Memorial Day was only fixed to a specific day in 1971, and even Thanksgiving wasn’t pinned to a standard 4th Thursday of November until 1942!

I’m thankful that we have been in New Zealand to experience the birth of this new holiday together as a family. I’m also thankful to be alive to witness New Zealand adopting an indigenous holiday at the same time American codifies a holiday celebrating emancipation and African-American culture.

I especially love that one of the themes of Matariki “celebrate the present.” 2022 was the perfect year for me to celebrate that for the first time, as more than ever before I am focused each day on what I am doing to be a better person in the world creating moments worth remembering.

Filed Under: essays Tagged With: holidays, Juneteenth, Matariki, New Zealand

extra sleep sunday

June 19, 2022 by krisis

Last night I slept the sleep of the dead. This morning, too. Really, all day.

I was already nodding off in my chair after dinner. I barely made it through supervising kid bedtime activities. Then I was out again for fifteen hours of pure unconscious bliss until late in the morning, when I woke up, ate breakfast, and then promptly took a nap.

Image by 愚木混株 Cdd20 from Pixabay

I’m not sick. I hadn’t worked out extra hard. I slept perfectly fine the night before. I just needed extra sleep.

No, not just needed. Wanted. Desired. Craved.

It was glorious. Pure luxury. 5 stars out of 5, would sleep that much again.

Something not enough parents explain to you as a non-parent or an expecting parent is how rare extra sleep will be for at least the next decade of your life.

Or, if they do tell you about it, they make it sound like it will be purely out of spite. The spite of a tiny rage-bomb of an infant who will never sleep. Also, the spite of your partner, who will never again be willing to cover for you for the morning so you can catch up on sleep.

And then you’re like, “of course they will, we both love to sleep in, they’ll never do me like that.”

Here’s the actual secret I’ve discovered, as someone with a kid who has always slept through the night and who has an amazing parenting tag team partner:

Parenting programs your brain to believe that sleeping extra means danger.

I’m not sure if it’s evolution at work or a result of our modern lives, but I find this is true even when my kid is many miles away on a camping trip with said parenting tag team partner, leaving me alone in the house to sleep to my heart’s content.

As a parent, oversleeping is always a scary prospect. It equals not checking on a diaper in time. Or a hungry kid trying to forage for their own breakfast. Or missing school dropoff. Or simply getting your kid up so late that their sleep schedule is ruined for days to come.

They’re all dangers external to your own well-being, so they’re an impossible alarm clock of anxiety to turn off. It’s not the same as hitting the snooze button as you tell yourself you don’t mind having to take the late bus to work. At some point, you stop being asleep because your brain is trained to spring into action.

Over the years we adapt. We affirm ourselves with statements like, “I’m a morning person now” and “I cannot imagine wasting that much of the day.” But the truth of the matter is if we want to sleep the sleep of the dead, usually it involves feeling like death rather than doing it just for the lazy weekend joy of it.

That’s why last night was so delightful. It was a random act of drowsiness. I couldn’t even tell you the last time I slept that long in a single sprint of unconsciousness apart from being ill. I didn’t have a single damn reason I needed all of that sleep and I got it anyway.

And I’d do it again. If my brain would let me.

Filed Under: essays Tagged With: parenting, sleep

Harbingers of Failure

June 17, 2022 by krisis

Earlier this year in a jaunty bit of Q&A with Twitter followers, my comic books colleague Adam from the Battle of the Atom podcast asked me the following question:

“Why do you hate the good stuff sometimes?”

Adam was mostly asking about comics, but this is a question that has followed me my entire life. Any of my friends who have gone to the movies with me has asked the same question.

Image by Yatheesh Gowda from Pixabay

It doesn’t matter what the thing is. You can hand me a random stack of anything: comics with no credits, new albums by unfamiliar artists, or even a selection of burger condiments. it’s all the same. I will enjoy a consistent amount of each sampling, and I will tend to prefer some of the unpopular stuff while eschewing some of the most most mainstream items.

I always thought this was because I have unique wiring in my brain. I thought it was that certain tropes or styles simply lack appeal for me.

I’m sure that’s true, to some extent, but I’ve recently learned that it might also be because I am a “harbinger of failure.”

I first heard about this concept last year while watching a 2017 episode of the British quiz show QI, or Quite Interesting, as gleaned from a 2015 MIT News article on a study conducted by two MIT professors. Here is how QI summarized it:

The difference between the next big thing and a turkey is that there are people who will always buy the turkey – as in the American showbiz term for something that flops commercially.

There is a kind of consumer called “harbingers of failure”, whose always buy a new product that later goes on to fail. Thus, people with a “flop affinity” are in demand from people in market research because they are good at predicting what products will go on to be unsuccessful.

The Massachusetts Institute of Technology analyzed 10,000,000 transactions at a chain of convenience stores, and they found that people who buy the nail polish that fails are also the people who buy the ice cream that fails. Harbingers of failure in the past have also bought watermelon-flavored Oreo biscuits and a range of ready-meals made by the people who made Colgate toothpaste called “Colgate Kitchen Entrees.”

The moment I heard this explanation, I recognized myself in it.

More on that in a moment. First, let’s talk about the flipside of being a Harbinger of Failure: disliking popular things. [Read more…] about Harbingers of Failure

Filed Under: essays Tagged With: Wolverine

the spider in the mirror

June 15, 2022 by krisis

For over a year, a spider lived inside our car’s driver-side mirror.

I suppose it might not have been the same spider the entire time. It might have been an entire intergenerational spider-family.

I’m sure that the spider (or spiders) lived there, somewhere in the gears that adjusted the tilt of the mirror, rather than paying an occasional visit, because of their omnipresent web.

It didn’t matter if the previous web had been whipped off by Wellington’s world-famous wind, rained off by Wellington’s prodigious mid-day and all-night storms, or just gradually worn away over the course of a drive on the highway. By the next time I left the house via car, the web would be back in full force.

Image by Thomas Breher from Pixabay

I brushed the web away the first few times I noticed it, until it dawned on me that the same spider must be deliberately spinning it again and again. At first I was a little bit grossed out. Eek, a spider! Lurking right outside my power window!

Yet, what was that spider going to do to me? The mirror was controlled electronically from inside the car. The web didn’t especially obscure the mirror, and at high speeds it quickly dissolved. I had never actually seen the spider, even when brushing off its web early on in its residence. It had found an apparently cozy little artificial burrow that would protect it from predators. Apparently it was eating decently enough on the bugs that would get tangled in the mirror itself, though I never saw any evidence of those, either.

All I knew was that there was a fresh web on the mirror every time I get in the car.

(I suppose there might have been some amount of spider-leavings going on behind the mirror, but I assumed that between the rain and the occasional electronic adjustment it was effectively self-cleaning. Either that, or we had a very tidy spider. No, I don’t want to consider the alternative. Moving on…)

This grew to be part of my daily landscape in Wellington. I saw my family every day. I ran into the same parents at school pickup. I chatted with the same cashiers every weekend at the supermarket. And, every time I arrived at my driver’s side door I would note that the web had been recast from the last time I saw it.

Then, disaster struck. Not all at once, mind you, but a disastrous chain of events began to unspool. [Read more…] about the spider in the mirror

Filed Under: essays Tagged With: spiders, Wellington

(un/)settled

June 9, 2022 by krisis

Last week I threw away some expired prescriptions from at least a decade ago.

I know what you’re thinking. “Krisis will really blog about anything to keep up these regular posts. Maybe we’ll get a YouTube show reviewing the contents of every trash can in the house.”

Honestly, I wouldn’t rule it out. But, I promise, this trip to the trash can was particularly significant!

When we bought a house back in 2010, in many ways my life entered “accumulation mode.” I never had that much space to fill before, or a space that felt so permanent. After an entire life spent in rentals, I finally felt like I could have and do stuff. I’m not just talking about my comic collection! Having a house also lead to me fronting a full band, learning to play bass, writing a book, and making a huge career pivot.

In short: I felt settled. That extended to more than my stuff. It came with a feeling of psychological safety.

Image by tookapic from Pixabay

Then, almost exactly five years ago, we packed that entire life into a shipping container. We had fewer than 90 days to go from committing to our move to hopping on the first of three flights en route to New Zealand, so the packing wasn’t very discerning. All of the comics, musical gear, kitchen appliances, and expired medication got boxed up regardless of if we’d ever want to see them again in New Zealand.

Even though we’ve long since unpacked all the essentials, in some ways I’ve been living out of boxes for the past half decade. Heck, I needed an almost 90-episode web show to motivate me to unpack all of my collected editions! It’s not unusual for E to send me on a scavenger hunt through the garage for something we haven’t seen since leaving America.

This set me back to a mindset of everything in life being temporary. Having to move again in 2019 when I finally felt at home in our first rental in NZ made things even worse and it was compounded by our deportation scare in early 2020.

I was back to being unsettled.

If feeling settled came with a warm, tingly feeling of safety, feeling unsettled again introduced a constant, low-level of buzzing anxiety in the back of my brain.

I still bought stuff and did new things, but it felt unsteady. Imagine cooking a big meal while wearing roller skates. Would you whisk and chop as confidently? Would you clean up as you cooked? Would it be easy to lift a heavy pan into a hot oven? Or, would you do everything more slowly, with less certainty and more mess.

That’s how being unsettled feels to me now that I know there’s an alternative – slow, uncertain, and messy.

Here’s the thing I’ve slowly accepted about the rollerskate-cooking that is my ongoing immigrant life: forcing yourself to be physically settled helps with feeling mentally settled, and the opposite is true as well.

Sometimes that’s buying a new shelf to improve the clutter. Others it means inviting friends over for dinner, because that is a thing we can do.

And, sometimes that means unearthing a box full of expired prescriptions I haven’t dealt with since 2012 and tossing them all in the trash.

Filed Under: essays Tagged With: Anxiety, Immigration, New Zealand

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