My need to believe in something otherworldly soon shifted from the Holy Trinity to the Universe and its constellations. Like many other millennials, in my darkest times, I became obsessed with Astrology, but my half-assed commitment to understanding what I was praising became prevalent in my worship once again. Despite being on track with the most popular Astrologers of the moment and eagerly waiting for the weekly prediction to be released, I never really delved into what my specific zodiac sign actually entailed. Up until recently, the most I knew about being a Virgo was that we’re hypercritical and picky and that being born on August 24th makes me a cusp. But yet again, I was meticulous in my consumption of astrology, and I was unhealthily relying on my weekly reading to find an answer to the misfortunes affecting my life.
I was never the type to try and match my astral chart with my crush or loved one, but I did expect popular mainstream astrology to be able to tell me why things were going the way they were. Somehow, I was always able to use their general forecasting as a justification for whatever messed up pattern recurrently disrupted my well being. Clearly, my own poor choices were never taken into consideration as a crucial factor. Knowing that the Universe was the matrix of my demise or depression relieved me in the same way that I would seek comfort in God as a teenager. Read more
In the globalized world we live in, we sometimes feel we must seek our fortune far away from our original homes. Often, this leads us to sacrifice parts of our lives in order to fit into the standards of whichever industry we operate in because our autochthonous surroundings do not provide the same opportunities or space for growth and success. This gruesome reality was quickly snatched from before our eyes over the course of the past few months, as many of us were locked away in our small, overpriced city apartments. All of a sudden, the idea of moving “back home” didn’t sound that outrageous after working remotely became the norm, and Zoom provided us with the opportunity to pop bottles from the comfort of our affordable Ikea couches, without the need to spend time stressing over outfits or commuting. Sweatpants will do just fine.
But at Miilkiina, we have been taking local tradition and talent seriously since our inception, and now more than ever, the conversation must be perpetuated. Localized talent is crucial to preserving cultural tradition, the authenticity of a project, and, last but not least, in the proliferation of a sustainable method for both a particular economy and its environment. During an era where carbon emissions have become currency, it is vital to reconsider our stance on building in our own city. Not to mention that we are literally legally obligated not to cross borders until science finds a resolution for the mayhem we currently find ourselves in.