Dear future hubster

 Dear future hubster,  In this life I have that I might have chosen or that might have chosen me, it's easy to just get in the groove of things and just do do do (as opposed to [here comes the sun] dudududu). And while it's actually kinda often kinda hard to get into the groove of adulting when it's not exciting but rather daunting or just plain boring or involves having to interact with products and services that fail to deliver on the one function they were designed for, it is even harder to let go of the pressure to at least pretend having my shit together at presenting some semblance of order. Worrying about keeping my apartment tidy and my hair neat and my syntax correct and my clothes only moderately quirky because what if I suddenly have to impress somebody or justify taking up space.  And yes yes I know that those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind and all that jazz but first of all it's not always true and then even when it is, it...

 Dear future hubster, Ever since that June afternoon when that guy who knew literally nothing about me declared (not that I asked) "you're not gonna last 6 months", I've been- defiantly,  nervously, angrily - watching the calendar every time I ended up somewhere new. Why he felt the need to share his unhelpful wisdom is unclear,  and by now, frankly,  unimportant.  That I reacted with raised eyebrows on the outside and "watch me" on the inside is no surprise, and that he was wrong is a fact. And it's been nearly ten years,  I do hold on to my grudges.  Since then I've learned that 6 months really is not a long time - I did double that in a place that genuinely made me sick (was not fun, don't try it at home). And that lasting 6 months or a year or 15 is as much a matter of the circumstances as it is a continuous and conscious effort. That there is beauty in being new in a new place, and that beauty and excitement is very much a given, and it is v...

 Dear future hubster, I know it's been a while. Not sure if I  have to explain why, with your being entirely a product of my imagination, I guess I also get to decide what you already know, but yeah, new country new job new life etc. Having to learn where the best/cheapest/least crowded supermarket is, and how their checkout process works, and deciding if I'm willing to put up with their less than ideal workflows. Having to learn the metro directions (why does every big city have a weird circle line that can get you to the same place in 14 or 40 minutes depending on which way you go?), and to  not rely on Google maps when it comes to the tram, and rather using the local transport system's app (I don't want to download another app, please, and don't even try with your QR code menus). Having to navigate keyboard distributions that are contradictory, while 4 languages are being spoken around me, 2 of which I speak and 2 of which I kinda understand so I can't really...

 Dear future hubster, today I am going to be one of those people I usually find annoying, saying great things about somebody who's just died, not having mentioned them or their work's impact on my life in the recent or not so recent past. And maybe I am also one of those cliché girls, swearing on a book that changed their lives. Many books have changed my life though. Today's story is about The Unbearable Lightness of Being, of which I own multiple copies in at least two languages - I thought I'd read it in 3 but I'm not so sure anymore. I also distributed many more during the years to people as a sort of parting gift - if you ever meet somebody who received one from me, please tell them that it means that there was a time when I felt so close to them that I wanted to let them in on a revelation; that I wanted to share with them something I thought I'd understood about life. That revelation, understanding, interpretation, simplified to a motivational poster leng...

 Dear future hubster, if there was one good thing coming out of the lockdown misery of the early pandemic days (erm, first two years), then it must be the reduced occurence of bra-wearing, and my attitude towards free titties (my own, mostly).  I now give fewer fcks when venturing outside without said clothing item (while, I  need to clarify for historical records, I do wear other clothing items) - the number is not zero yet, but it is lower.  Who knew.