from the margins of a restless mind

I was in London very briefly a few weeks ago. I was originally supposed to go for the development of a play I am working on but Events Occurred and that timeline has shifted1. So the trip became a much-welcomed time to catch up with my uncle and two close friends whom I miss very much. One of these friends, Eleonora2, gave me the most beautiful notebook for Christmas. It’s from Blackwell’s and is one of those notebooks hidden inside a binding of an old-timey looking book. The pages are heavy and thick and when I am writing it makes me feel like if I were to lay down my fountain pen (obviously), I might take a turn about the room, or - if I was feeling particularly adventurous, perhaps - even a walk around the grounds before coming back and putting more thoughts on paper. It’s a beautiful gift … and I had absolutely no idea what to do with it. I was already travelling with no fewer than three notebooks. They all serve their purpose and, no, they cannot cross-contaminate. Anyway. I found myself Christmassy now in France at home, wanting to write something for my substack but not wanting to bring my computer into the lounge where everyone was reading and chatting and generally have a Screen Free Time.

AND THEN: A BRAINWAVE.

I have hands. I have pens. I have a new notebook. (the telling of this story has become somewhat unwieldy and gotten away from me). “I shall write down my posts by hand”, I decreed. Sitting next to a fire. Under a blanket. How perfect. If I may be so bold, it was - and I realise I used this word twice, perhaps even thrice, in the last post but, dear reader, are we not at this close of the year of our Lord 2025 in need of a little delight bordering on whimsy - delightful.

Thus a resolution was born3.

I am hopeful that this new habit might mean that these posts will happen more regularly, which brings me to the change of my substack name. I’d named it A Mug of Tea for Your Thoughts back when I created this in (??)uary earlier this year. But the name - well, I never really liked it. I didn’t change it because a) I wasn’t posting that frequently so I wasn’t putting that much thought into this space and b) I think there was a little bit of fear around putting said thought into it. Changing the name or evidence that I’d thought enough about this writing to change the name felt like a vulnerable admission that I, in fact, did care. About something I told myself was: silly, meaningless, didn’t matter, was just a bit of fun.

But sitting in front of the fire writing with my fountain pen in my cozy yet fancy notebook, I realised I did care. A lot. And I wanted to treat this space with care. And that started with liking the name of the whole fucking thing I’ve created and want to fill with odds and ends.

So *drumroll*

welcome to *drumroll continues*

This name is a product of an afternoon of brainstorming with my mom and brother. I reread posts that I’d written4, I thought about the growing list in the back of my notebook (I forget, did I tell you that I am first writing these out by hand in a notebook??) of ideas to ponder for future posts, I considered what I wanted this space to feel like and why I’d wanted to create it in the first place. After much deliberating between footnotes and margins, leaving (and grieving) the mug of tea, and whether the word restless is too negative, this new name was born. And I felt so excited. You know when something just clicks into the bottom corner of your heart and you think “ah yes, you should’ve been there all along”. I know this is just a small space for now but it’s something I enjoy. And shouldn’t that - for fear of being too genuine, I pause to take a breath and then continue - be celebrated?

Which brings me to my second point:

I want to take my creativity more seriously.

I am TIRED and BORED of not taking my work, my writing, and what I enjoy more seriously. I’m done feeling embarrassed. I’m done letting dreams feel unattainable because they don’t involve a corner office or a 401(k) (did I get that right?). I am so happy to go MY WHOLE LIFE not knowing what a KPI is5.

So despite my previous protestations, I am setting resolutions6. Here’s to the courage I need to admit that I care about the work I do and the things I create. I am excited about this. I am taking this7 seriously.

I shall continue, however, not to take myself too seriously. That feels important for health (both mental and physical). I don’t particularly want a serious life (see previous comment on delight and whimsy). But I do want to put effort you can see, effort that can be tracked, effort that can be judged into work I care about. And I am going to feel good, even proud, of that fact.