Hi, I'm Nina Iordanova and this is the 31st edition of Something Good, a newsletter filtered through my 🧠, 🖐, and ❤️. Coming your way every two weeks, I hope you find something good here.
Hi! This newsletter is a surprise to me because it is a) on time and b) not about my puppy. So hi! It’s good to see you again.
It’s around 11pm and I’m sitting here writing in the dark, all the lights off, Gemma sleeping. There are two empty cans of Limoncello La Croix (not an endorsement, very gross), a hair clip, a bowl of kibble, and Gemma’s confiscated toy shark on the table. The only light is my laptop screen and the city lights outside my window, and it’s kind of romantic and nostalgic.
I’m up this late because I just finished singing practice. I’ve gotten good enough now that I can enjoy it, and the 15 minutes I wanted to put in became 30, became an hour.
Being up past my bedtime reminds me of being young, letting the excitement of a late night or a good conversation or a great book sweep you away. Like there’s something worth being here for now, something that outweighs the practicalities of the morning waiting on the other side. Hey, I’m having fun now and I wanna enjoy it. I don’t want it to stop.
It feels nice to let yourself get carried away.
These past weeks, I’ve been noticing how stuck and weighed down I feel. I don't remember the last time I got lost in the joy of what I was doing. Not the feeling of, “Well this was fun!”, but being fiercely consumed by something, whether it’s work or love or creativity or creation. That feeling that makes you say yes despite the consequences, that gives you the courage to try something new.
—
Saying “I’ve gotten good enough to enjoy singing” isn’t quite right. It’s not that I’m good. I’ve just finally gotten to a place where singing doesn’t feel stifled and embarrassing, like something I’m trying to wrangle into shape. It feels kind of like the way I thought acting would, but never actually did - a channel for a feeling or a mood, a way to play.
I didn’t have my piano nearby when I found the sheet music to Mama Who Bore Me from Spring Awakening, so I sang it to the tune I roughly remembered from high school. Each time I sang it through, I caught myself vibing along to it.
Hey, that was a really good note there. That transition was solid. Good use of breath. Good hold.
And at one point on the third or fourth go-through, with no warning at all, I burst into tears. It was like stepping back into the past, when I was 18 and applying to theatre school, with so much hope and open future and dreaming of what I’d become and what I’d experience and who I’d meet.
It felt like everything that lay ahead was a possibility.
The same way it did when I left film and TV to start a tech company.
The same way it felt when that company shut down and I met Niloo, who would become my best friend and co-founder.
I don’t think I’ve felt that sense of possibility in a while. It’s cool that, of all places, singing is where I’ve found it again.
Hope you’ve been well, and that this newsletter finds you on a morning where you’re excited for what lies ahead. Even if it’s just a warm summer day with no commitments.
✨
Warmly yours,
Nina
P.S. I’m doing a virtual talk at the Toronto Public Library on June 14 on navigating failure and embracing courage. If that’s something you’ve also been thinking about, please come join!