the may dispatch

what a strange little month, no?

Hi folks. Lots of new faces around lately—welcome and thanks for joining. I've been doing these little monthly dispatches since March: more personal than my average newsletter, I suppose, which is why I often paywall them. Being vulnerable is not something that comes easily to me. But I really enjoy writing these. I do so throughout the month, jotting down little observations and happenings in real time, emails to myself that I later combine into these somewhat rambling essays.

And May was a weird little month.

This is how the first half of May felt.

The first week of the month, I am greeted by a stray bit of pollen in my eye, nose, and/or throat every time I step outside. I can sense a reader might think this is hyperbole, but it's not: really, every time. Once a day I fear I've gone blind, before the furious blinks and the tears miraculously subdue the little imposters. I've cried in public before a few times and not because of springtime—spring-induced crying is preferable. Everyone knows it's just the pollen. We're in it together and isn't that nice.