I offered this confession as part of my confirmation into the Mennonite Church of Haarlem. While I recognize a few details that make me chuckle or cringe, much of what I believe today is reflected in the words below. At the time, I believed this church was the most at-home I would ever be able to feel at church. After I moved away to Amsterdam, and after years of being a spiritual nomad, I discovered All Saints.

Sometimes, when bad news arrives, I think to myself “argh, just when I was beginning to think life was nice and steady!” Today is one of those days. I’m immediately thrown off, though mostly by the scenarios playing out in my head. Not because of the particular fact of which I learn.

It has been snowing in Amsterdam. As the years go by, I’m having trouble understanding whether I’m experiencing the effects of global warming, or whether I’ve never paid attention to what was always in front of me until now. It is likely a combination of the two. Either way, it is sad to see Amsterdammers retreat into their homes after two weeks of shorts and drinks in the sun.

This morning I got acquainted with the immigrant anxiety felt by Chinese-American journalist Jiayang Fan about her desire to speak accentless English. In an episode of one of my favorite podcasts, This American Life, Jiayang participated in a game show designed around a talent she claims to possess: the unique ability, inspired by her anxiety, to tell at what age a Chinese-American person came to the United States. The show gave her recordings of three people to prove herself. (She got 0 out of 3.)

I am notorious for never grasping how many people know how much about what. To save myself from any further embarrassment I won’t spend my time here telling you what the app is about. The team does that nicely over here. I do think I have something to say about what Scriptogr.am came exactly at the right time for me.

When I first set foot in the Old Catholic Church to attend an All Saints service, I knew I had found a special place. Today is the third time I make it to their service, which is always on the second Sunday of the month.

I’m in that supremely annoying stage of prospective dog ownership where I casually interrogate dog owners at parties, curious about their pet’s behavior and the techniques employed, and then silently judge them for their mistakes, exchanging contemptuous glances with Anja in the process.