New Year stopped being about New Things.

I think it started as I slowly kissed my twenties goodbye but, I know our culture has this fascination with the concept of “New Year, New Me”. and I will admit, I did subscribe to that way of thinking for most of my life. Which meant I was really setting myself up for failure when I decided to do something or stop something cold turkey, only to find myself crawling back to old habits, old me. Feeling like a failure because I couldn’t fulfill the goals I set for myself.

New Year, yes.

But really, I’m still just me.

As I find myself appreciating the year I’m inhabiting, the skin I’m living in and the age I am experiencing, I find myself changing my perspective on the New Year. Instead of “new, new, new”, I try to look back at the things, the moments and people— experiences and thoughts too— that made me feel in the previous year.

The events that left a mark. The people who really saw me. The moments where I struggled and recovered. Moments of rest that really helped me recuperate. And in that ritual of looking back, I slowly find myself tying my twenty twenty five to the first few days of twenty twenty six. Words like “integration”, and “continuity”, coming up more than a few times on my journals. And I feel like this year, twenty twenty six, I want to live not just with intention but with intention of continuity.

Not restarting.

Not changing. But tying ribbons for the victories I will be encountering— lessons, challenges and conquests, too— and have that anchor me as I move forward. Anticipation with the intention for the future, or something like that. I don’t really know how to make that sound smarter.

In the last days of twenty twenty five, in the woods of Nagano Prefecture, just by the pile of snow— with my friend and the moon as witness— I burned two pieces of paper. There I wrote the many things I used to believe about myself. Things I knew were true about me, once. Things I held onto out of the need for survival, out of fear. Baggage that was weighing me down.

My twenty twenty five had been such a transformative year for me.
It wasn’t easy. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

And in those moments of struggle and transformation, I saw the many faces I had to put on in order to arrive where I am. And I know deep inside, I did not need them all to continue although they were necessary for the moments that conjured them.

Writing them on paper, acknowledging them. Looking them in the eye.

Then burning them. Letting them go as I thank them.
They’re now ashes; but the lessons I keep. The intention I keep. I get to choose.

The pieces of me I get to carry as I step into my becoming. Maybe that’s what the New Year is all about, at least for me. Not changing myself. Not cosplaying as someone new. But stepping into the real version of me I used to hide away.

To allow myself the privilege of becoming.

To allow myself to continue with trust in the ribbons I’ve tied to get this far.

Books I’ve been reading and their stories

For months and months I was only reading kanji and studying Japanese. So I was very excited to get some books during my short London trip. I think it activated the book-shopaholic in me, and now I want more books to read in English!

I wanted to write about the many things I’ve been loving these past weeks and months, something that’s not thoroughly shared through my vlogs and videos.

I didn’t read any English books from January until July, but I was surprised with myself that I was able to finish two books after my London adventure~

In Other Words by Jhumpa Lahiri was like looking into a mirror — finally seeing myself— the book described a lot of similarities with my life. I don’t know her but I felt so seen, so heard, so alive through the pages of her book.

I think I put it on my list one day some years ago because of reasons already forgotten. I like to dive into things blind so I never read about it, I just kinda knew it was about languages. On my day visiting Daunt Books in London, I wandered through the shelves labled by countries and imagined myself flipping though plane ticket itineraries as I read the labels.

“Sweden, Spain, Germany, Italy, Rome, Venice…”

I coulnd’t help but stop by my city, Venice. The book was just there, seemingly lost.

You see, my name is a bastardised spelling of Venice. In Italian, however, Venise means ‘to come’. 

In Spanish, you can call on someone or urge them to come by saying ‘vien’.

I used to hate my name, unusual for most kids around me. They made fun of my name and sang songs about it. I wanted to be a Gemma, or a Vanessa.  A common name everyone knew how to pronounce or to spell.

But as I walked by Daunt Books in London, —wandering aimlessly amongst the books that don’t spark anything in me— but collectively made me feel like I’m part of something— I had a purpose. I find myself in the Italian section. Venice, books about Venice, books set in Venice, all about the ancient city and the history of the lagoons.

I find a lost book. Out of place in the sea of books about my namesake.

“In other words” 

I never got it because I told myself, “no more books, I’m studying kanji”.

It was a lost copy, a display copy. I’m usually the person who prefers a new copy.

A fresh print.

I asked the book manager if they had a new one. He said their system’s a bit different. If I buy this one today, a new one will surely be delivered tomorrow. He asked if I wanted to order a fresh copy and it’ll be here tomorrow. I’m only in London for another day and a half and I had to take a cab to go to this area so I hesitated.

He checked the system and found three more copies on-hand. He pointed me to the direction and I went, hopeful. 

I checked the aforementioned shelf, three times in case I missed it. Nothing. Finally, I had one last stroll around, grabbed another book in my list and proceeded to check out.

He asked it I found my book, as if it was already mine even before he scanned the barcode. I said I gave up and I’ll take the display copy instead. He asked if I was sure, examining the book with a worried tone. I said I’m happy with it, adding that I might not be able to come back tomorrow.

He scanned the items, I asked for the tote bag as a souvenier, too, and I paid.

I’m not the best at maths so I didn’t really notice but, when he pulled out the tote he said in a calm, kind voice—, “and this is a present from us, as compensation. Sorry for your book.”

Like I already owned it. Like it was already mine, just waiting for me, until I got to London, until I got to it. Until I found it amongst books about Venice.

I was surprised and shocked but ultimately I gave him the biggest smile. A big thank you, he smile and said “see you”.

I went out of the store and jumped with joy. It made my day, that book manager made my day and it wasn’t even noon yet.

When I excited opened my book, it was a bit worn out. But I smiled. There it was, passed from hand to hand around that glorious bookstore. Perused by strangers, both locals and tourists of London.

It was waiting, it was breathing, it was living within that bookstore. Seeing the life and the countless stories carried in and out of it. Until it reached Venice. Until it found me. Now I take my book, and I place it with a fond smile on my face amongst my other things, my other books that have been living with me. I say softly, “welcome home”. I finished reading it even before I arrived in Rotterdam. 

呪文のような名前、私に特別な魔法をかけた。

Now, I’ve learned to love my name. There is always something coming. I am always coming and going. I find strange things, familiar things, unexpected things because of this name. I live it, I didn’t know it but it was for me all along. Thank you, Papa. 

I wish you could see. The world as it opens for me. 

I relate to a lot of Jhumpa’s experiences and she captured the many contradicting feelings involved with liminal identity, foreign-ness and language-learning in a beautiful and emotionally masterful way. It resonated with me and echoed warmth from the back of my heart to the fingertips of my unseen soul. I thought, “if I wrote a book, I’d like it to be like this”.

So that’s me. Kinda cheesy but it’s true. In my journey towards self-acceptance, compassion and self- love, I find this book to be a delicate flavour accompanying my mellow travels through this life. A familiar and exciting new freshness I didn’t think I wuold find. Thank you Jhumpa. We’re miles and miles apart but somehow, we are somewhat the same. And I know I’m not so alone. Thank you.

I also finished The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle. Now, almost finishing The Artist Way by Julia Cameron. All books I got from London at the same time. Somehow my psyche just grabbed these three books. Somehow something in me knew that I was craving for change and healing. the fascinating moment of sponteniety has been helping me reconnect with my instincts as an artist. The books have been such a joy to read and I find myself spending evenings away from the screen and just enjoying taking notes and reading. I reflect on my own experiences and how my state of mind is now, able and open to receive these messages.

As I continue to work towards my goals, as I continue to read more and more, I’m very eager to see where this journey takes me next. What about you? What books have been accompanying you these days? What are the stories that have shaped your journey and what are the books you continue to re-read and love each and every time?

Turn Intention Into Action

Coffee culture and Third Wave coffee in the Netherlands is strong and flourishing. Next to Scandinavian countries, the Netherlands is the next biggest consumer of coffee in Europe. And though I can never relate to the Dutch “drinking and going out” culture, I can definitely connect with them through the love of a good cup of coffee. The city centre of my little town alone boasts six different cafés serving freshly-brewed espresso every single day within a two hundred meter radius.

In a bigger town like Amsterdam, I’m sure there’s more than double, maybe even triple, that amount. And as someone who loves café culture and coffee culture in general, I find it exciting trying out new cafés. Whether it’s new places popping around my town, or new aesthetic cafés I discover around bigger cities in Holland.

So I decided to try six cafés in Amsterdam, for the first time. Judging (from my very subjected definition of a good cup of coffee) their atmosphere, staff and service, and the quality of their coffee. As well as enjoying new areas of Amsterdam I have yet to discover~

Visiting 6 Cafés in Amsterdam | vlog

Petit gâteau

Technically not a coffee place but a specialised French patisserie in Amsterdam. They make high quality, delicious mini gateaus, they have croissants and other pastries and the best part, they have a small but great tea selection along with their delicious coffee. Haarlemmerstraat feels like a secret street slightly away from the busy ones usually crowded by tourists but once you find the café, I encourage you to try out some of their cakes and maybe spend some time enjoying coffee.

Haarlemmerstraat 80, 1013 EV Amsterdam

Café Nobuya

A cute and quaint place over at Herenstraat. On the way to the café, you can admire the canals and the scenery of the city but it’s still tucked away that you’re not overwhelmed by tourists. I recommend trying their mochi donuts (so soft, so good, nothing like it in NL imho) and the champion of their menu, the Matcha Blueberry drink~

Herenstraat 28D, 1015 CB Amsterdam

BOCCAA COFFEE

It’s usually busy so finding seating can be a challenge BUT the coffee and desserts are well worth the commotion. Bonus, their matcha latte is also good!

Kerkstraat 96H, 1017 GP Amsterdam

UN.COMMON

A small space but the exterior is so aesthetically pleasing and inviting it’s hard not to spend time here enjoying the cacophony of strangers—both Dutch and English alike— while gazing outside their big window, people watching.

Eerste Constantijn Huygensstraat 63H, 1054 BT Amsterdam

CAFECITO °C

They have many branches across the city and it’s a great motivator to explore a different branch to see if the vibe in that part of Amsterdam is any different. I visited the one on Van Baerlestraat and basked under their sunny counters with my flat white. I am always a sucker for white and copper aesthetic and Cafecito gives you just that.

Van Baerlestraat 83, 1071 AS Amsterdam

LOCALS Specialty Coffee

The name is quite confusing because I know two other cafés outside Amsterdam with the same name but different brands lol

But I’m talking about the specialty coffee nook by De Pijp. Staff are cool and they play cool music while you wait for your coffee. The cortado is okay but I really enjoyed the Matcha Strawberry!

Ferdinand Bolstraat 21-B, 1072 LB Amsterdam

Sitting alone with my flat white, my journal or book, listening to strangers around me rave about their week or their love lives makes me feel as if I am a part of the scenery. though I am more and more comfortable with my role as an ever-moving, liminal bossqueen, sometimes I do wish I had a place where I could go— where people recognise me, greet me and ask me how my week’s been— and feel like i’m a part of something bigger than myself, bigger than my apartment. A third place of some sort.

I’m comfortable being the alien, being the unknown, being the other. But at times when I feel like I’m catching up with a friend, I pick a café where the seats are packed together. When I feel like I need a push getting my tasks done, I sit at a café where laptops are allowed and where students go to do projects and brainstorm. And when I’m feeling particularly overwhelmed, I sit outside a café terrace on a cold day, knowing nobody would even dare to disrupt a slice of peace I’m enjoying with my cake slice.

Coffee and cafés kinda gives me that satisfaction. That break. That level of community and camaraderie people may find when they go out to bars and pubs (I don’t drink alcohol).

Maybe it’s just a place where you get a paper cup with black liquid. Maybe it’s a chain. Maybe you like the sweet coffee drinks more. To each their own. But I hope the next time you happen to find yourself in Amsterdam, or when you notice a new specialty coffee pop up in your neighbourhood, you’ll take a chance and try.

I hope you’ll get a chance to taste that’s something that’s more than coffee.

~

What other coffee places in Amsterdam do you recommend? I’m curious to know and I will always go out of my way to try new coffee. Thanks for reading!

What it feels like to start over at 30

Walking with Fear, Failure & Art

A write a love letter to my little self, and my older self simultaneously as I wrote this piece and made this video.

A/N: I spent way too much time trying to convince myself I don’t need to make this video. I sat on this script for a long time, trying to piece things together, wondering how I could convey this message. I then decided to sift through the very few videos I have of myself, and then decided that maybe it’s okay to take videos of how I am now. It was scary making this video and it was too raw, too much of myself. But isn’t that what art is all about? Showing yourself despite your fear of being seen, being perceived. Talking about what’s inside you for aching strangers to see, read, watch? This video is not perfect but it’s here.

I feel so much writing this, recording it and finally making the video.

If the messages in this video connects and resonates with you, I just want to say you’re not alone. It’s okay to start from scratch. You’re not late. You’re not old. You’re doing your best.

Do it for you. Walk with fear. You got this, friend!

Where do we go from here?

As a child I’ve never really belonged anywhere. We were always moving. I was always changing schools. I don’t remember any friend I’ve made during elementary school. I actually don’t even know if I made much friends or if I got along with my cousins at all. 

There was always this distance between me and everyone. I don’t know. 

What I do know is that I stayed inside and I drew. I drew and watched movies, and watched  anime. I stayed inside and tried to draw the characters I watched. 

I thought that was my thing. Art. Drawing.

I wasn’t the pretty kid. I wasn’t the smartest kid. Certainly not a sports kid. But I was always the art girl. And so I tried to form an identity outside my physical appearance. I caught the art kid identity as it was budding and I held it tight.

Even when life threw curve balls, stones and boulders at me, I held on to that bud.

I knew what i wanted out of life despite it’s start being so rough and hard. And I thought that it was good because a lot of people didn’t know what they wanted out of life. 

When I was twenty five, I was able to replant that bud. Slowly water it. Start. Practice. Practice. Practice. Learn, learn, learn. Drawing every single day.

It was hard, it was tiring, it was fun, it was scary. Eventually, I grew an intimate but solid audience and community, I leveled up my illustrations. 

ONIBENI has more than 600 finished illustrations in her portfolio. Not including, of course, rejected sketches, abandoned sketches and practice drawings. From 2019 to 2022. I showed up. 

I showed up for my dream, hoping it would blossom. More than  600 finished illustrations in four years. 

I thought that was my thing. Because I knew what I wanted out of life. I knew what I wanted to do. 

I thought that, if this was the thing that’s been planted in my heart, I could run with it and if I work really really hard, it will happen to me.

It didn’t go as planned. I had to stop slowly. Hoped to slow down an engine that’s been going 300 miles per hour for the last four years.

Then, I went away for a year. No art. No drawing. Just grieving. Just thinking. Just living outside my identity as an artist. All the while, thinking: What if i continued? What if i pushed just a little bit more?

What if. What if. What if. 

What if I was just not good enough

What if I was wrong

What if I just stop? 

What if I wasn’t as good as i thought I was. 

“Where do we go from here, Future Beni?”

One important thing: I’m 30 years old.

I’m thirty. And I feel inadequate. I feel like a failure. I want to relaunch, I wanna do it again. I wanna do other things, too.

And I am afraid. And I don’t know if I should do it because there is this thing that’s like a black fire in me, and it feels like my insides will eat me alive. 

I’m afraid of many things. And the taste of failure never truly goes away.

It’s smeared all over you. It stays. It lingers. A wound gone bad. There’s so much fear. Fear because I know the taste. I know the taste of working 13 hours a day— showing up, doing every single thing for a small business that didn’t take off. 

I know the burnt taste of nights where it was easier to stay awake drawing than sleep with my thoughts, “are you sure?” “there are better, younger, more popular artists out there”.

“This isn’t going to happen for you”

“You’re too late,”

“You’re not good enough”

“You’re not even that good, so why are you trying?”

“You’re too old.” 

“You’re too late.“

And it does feel too late. It feels like any further effort will amount to nothing. 

I used to say, “I quit ONIBENI because it wasn’t happening for me”.

The more I uttered those words the more my demons grew stronger.  The more they banded together, against me. Stopping me. It’s scary. It’s tiring. It’s a constant back and forth. 

So I thought: okay if you’re not gonna give me this. Maybe it’s time to look for a job. 

I spent a year looking for a job. 85 rejection e-mails received. One phone interview. One factory tour. One zoom interview. One proper irl interview. And then, nothing. 

Is it me?

Maybe it is me.

Maybe I AM NOT THAT GOOD after all. 

and I’m already thirty years old. 

And I have to start from scratch. And I’m scared.

I’m thirty and I am starting from scratch. 

Dear Future Beni,

I don’t know if I should take this leap. I’m so scared I could faint. But there’s this feeling in my heart. If I don’t do this, there is no point. It’s either I put my everything on this, everything on the line —not that I have much to begin with— or just d_e. 

I’m thirty and I am starting from scratch. 

And it’s okay. I’m learning that it’s okay. 

This unreal and unrealistic expectations set by our parents’ generation, our peers and the media: having the house, the nice things, the kids by the time you’re 27? If you have this, if you have all of this and you’re at this stage of your life—I’m happy for you. I genuinely am.

But for the majority of us, especially with the current state of the world, it’s not that easy. 

I don’t want to be pessimistic but I sometimes think “future Beni, maybe it will never be easy”.

I’ve experienced the lowest and the darkest times of my life early on, and I believe that this isn’t even as worse as those dark days but the fear is always so strong. 

Especially without friends to hype you up.

Especially without a family to support you 200%. 

Especially when the voices inside of you: doubt, frustration, insecurity is often so loud, so natural, no normal. So convincing. It’s hard to be your own cheerleader. 

But in the past few years, I have had the luxury of alone time. True alone time. No external noise but sitting alone with your inner noise. I’ve had the alone time to reflect, alone time to enjoy my own company and alone time to process the many things that I’ve experienced. Not everyone is afforded such luxury and downtime, unfortunately. 

As I close my twenties, I experience something unexpected and new. A familiar and yet novel kind of peace and understanding for the experiences I’ve had and am having in my life. 

We can be afraid. It’s better to feel afraid. We are afraid because it’s an instinct deep within us that is meant to keep us safe, even though those instincts might not be relevant in this modern day. 

These feelings are here, the unknown is here. 

I’ve been learning that we are the only ones to decide when we fail. And that is when we fully stop. 

I’m learning that it’s okay to feel these intense feelings, it’s better not to label them as good or bad. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel hopeless. It’s okay to feel angry. It’s okay to feel. 

then,

Once you’re done feeling and processing everything, you can pick yourself up again. You can walk with your fear. You can start from scratch. Even at thirty. At fourty. At fifty. At seventy. 

You’re not chasing anyone and no one is running behind you. This is your life. This is your timeline. This is your own pace.

No one has taken the same path as you. Up until now, no one has had the same experiences as you. No one has stepped the same steps as you.

So why are you running after a shadow that’s not meant to be guiding you? 

Why should you compare your journey to another?

I’m afraid. I’m so afraid I cry myself to sleep thinking about my art, my dream. Thinking about where to go next. 

“What if I fail?”

“What if this is it?”

“What if I’m not good enough?”

“What if I don’t get the job?”

“What if they don’t like what I make?”

“What if they don’t like me?”

“What if I’ll never lose weight”

But you’ll never know. Nobody actually knows.

You’ll never know unless you keep going. You can only be certain of an outcome once you’ve decided it’s time to stop. And though there is courage and strength in learning when to stop, when to let go: have you asked yourself?

“Is this really the best I can do?”

“What if I can go further?”

“What if i kept going anyway?”

「後悔のない人生」That’s what i want. 

A life with no regrets. 

So what if…

What if you were wrong?

What if you just stop and think… on the other side of this self-doubt spectrum?

What if you believed that you were capable?

What if you believed you are brilliant?

What if you believed you are hardworking and that you have the capacity to act on your dreams? Chase them?

What if you have perseverance, grit and determination inside of you? A potent mix that’s better than sheer talent. 

What if you showed up?

And walked with fear?

And so I walk: forward. Along with fear, holding my demons gingerly along the way. With my chest proud—battered, tired, not as physically strong and reckless as I used to be ten years ago— but relentless in this pursuit of self development, learning and trying. 

It’s okay to be afraid. I’m afraid. Everyone’s afraid. You only do yourself a favour if you still do it anyway. 

And no, don’t do it for anyone else. 

Do it for you. 

You are the evolution of your little self. And the seed planter for your future self. 

Do it anyway. Be afraid and do it anyway. 

Walk with fear. Because you’re not alone. I’m walking with you too.