9:27 pm ET, Delta flight from Atlanta to Shanghai
One of the best things about long-haul flights is catching up on films I don’t have time to watch because, you know, life. It only took a 14.5 hr flight, but I finally got around seeing Adam Mckay’s Vice and I am fucking amped up.
My brain is exploding with all the emotions and thoughts, so this may be the most incomprehensible dribble I’ve ever typed on screen.
(Thanks for joining.)
Originally I started writing an entirely different diatribe because I found myself in such anger and disbelief towards what we allowed the Bush-Cheney administration to get away with. But of course this is a McKay production and it wasn’t going to be one-note like that. No, they’re going to add some clever twists and turns and hold a mirror up to us, the viewer, and ask “don’t you think you’re complicit, too?” Thus, I had to trash draft 1.
First, some praise: Like The Big Short, it’s clever. It’s smart. And it had an unbelievably elegant and cheeky way of addressing some pretty fucking dense and boring content, like politics, international policies, and world relations. It was entertaining and moved at a quick pace. Would you expect anything less from Adam McKay, his creative team, and actors like Christian Bale, Amy Adams, Steve Carell, et al?
Now before I was hurtling through the air in a tin can across the Pacific Ocean, I had a bumpy check-in. The seat upgrades I tried purchasing from the Delta app didn’t go through, causing my charge to dance in some weird AMEX limbo and no seat change. Which was exacerbated by an unwelcome lecture from my mom for how her idea of handling the situation would be better. I bite down on every smart ass retort bubbling up to the surface and try to recall every piece of advice on patience from my therapist. We get through security and Nancy gets held up because of her belt. Then her watch. Then nail clippers in her pocket (what?). We’re walking out of the security area when she suddenly realizes that she doesn’t have her phone.
All this to say I was not in the mindset to consume anything that would make think. I very much wanted to tune in and tune the fuck out.
(In case you were wondering, the family friend who drove us to the airport was able to drive back and drop Nancy’s phone off. And AMEX is taking care of the weird charge. Thank you for your concern.)
Tuning out did not happen. McKay shined a bright light on all of Cheney’s shady dealings, but what was the real vice here? Was it his desire for power? Or was it something else entirely? Perhaps it was our own apathy, the quietest and most insidious of all the vices. On the surface, it seems harmless. It wields no weapons and draws no blood. But it’s no less dangerous. Because it feeds on our desire to avoid life’s unpleasant realities. Our desire for greed. Our desire to want a comfortable life, even if it means sacrificing our civil liberties and compassion.
There’s bound to be a few casualties when it comes to the common good. This is the story we tell ourselves. We tell ourselves stories every day — I had a long day at work today, so I deserve a night in instead of going to the gym. A woman stops responding to a man’s texts anymore, so the man thinks “She must be a lesbian”.
Apathy is truly a vice. Choosing to stay with the status quo or denying a reality because the truth is too much to bear or fix. There are some people who insist on separating their lives from dirty things like politics. But politics is personal. Every decision you make is a choice of how you see yourself in the world and the kind of reality you want to live in. And honestly it’s fucking overwhelming and exhausting to consider this. I don’t want to think about how global warming will result in climate refugees. Or that the bees are dying and we won’t have avocados anymore. Or how wars may be waged over clean water.
This is a constant struggle for me and one of the many subjects that compelled me to start this little blog. I don’t know what the answer is. All I can think of is the story of the guy walking on the beach that’s scattered with starfish that have been washed ashore. He sees a kid throwing them back into the ocean, one by one. “Hey kid,” he says, “There’s too many starfish on the beach. There’s no way you can save them all.” And he said “I know, but I can make a difference in the ones I can save.”
Like the kid, I feel like I’m on a beach surrounded by starfish gasping for air, living, breathing things that need care and attention. I can’t care or attend to them all, no matter how much I want to. But I can make a difference in this one. And that one. And this other one. And that will have to be enough.
So maybe the antidote to apathy is to remain open and care. And to question. To always question “why?”
Originally posted on May 1, 2019 at Alwaysatodds.com.
Walking through a grove of tea olive trees.
$5 dollar peony bouquets from Trader Joe’s
Strawberries at the peak of summer
A deep belly laugh — the kind that reverberates through your body and makes you feel simultaneously alive and close to death.
Freshly baked biscuits
Quiet evenings at home
A roaring fire and steaming cup of tea
A cherished pet sleeping soundly on your chest
Tomato and mayo sandwich
Crossing an item off a to-do list
The golden sheen of freshly baked rolls
My cousin’s kid telling me I’m the best cook she’s ever met
Accelerating onto an open road
Voices in harmony
The kindness of strangers
Crisp winter air
A space to call your own
Originally published on January 16, 2019 at Alwaysatodds.com.
5 things I’m currently digging right now:
Season 2 of Friends From College on Netflix. It’s dark, it’s cringe-inducing, it’s funny, and I really love the costume design and styling. I watched episode 2 with Nancy and we were so obsessed with this white ribbed tank Cobie Smulders wore with a printed Proenza Schouler midi skirt — so much so that I tracked down the stylist for the show and DMed her (and she graciously responded!). In case you were wondering, the top is by The Row and it’s sold out now :( But truly, these people are horrible to each other and I’m here for it.
My Oxford Year by Julia Whelan. If some AI algorithm downloaded everything I liked and turned it into a book, it would be this. I’m barely a chapter into it and I’m already in love.
Single Parents on NBC. Co-created by Liz Meriwhether, who also created “New Girl”. It’s adorable. It’s hilarious. It’s a heartwarming show about families, only unlike This Is Us, you’re not emotionally cutting every week. Just watch it.
Engraved calling cards from Terrapin Stationers. Instead of printing a bunch of cheap cards with information that may change or get outdated, I splurge on some nice cardstock that show just my name and I handwrite my contact details. People seem to really get a kick out of it, so I just ordered some new ones for work.
Cashmere beanie by Meg Cohen. Because it’s fucking cold.
Originally published on January 15, 2019 at Alwaysatodds.com.
Alt: Not another goddamn Hedi Slimane/political/OMG what a time to be alive think piece.
One of my favorite movies of all time is You’ve Got Mail. There’s a scene where Tom Hanks (Joe Fox, the owner of a Barnes and Noble mega bookstore at a time when Amazon was just a twinkle in Jeff Bezo’s eye) apologizes to Meg Ryan (Kathleen Kelly, a small children’s bookstore owner) for putting her out of business:
Joe Fox: It wasn’t… personal.
Kathleen Kelly: What is that supposed to mean? I am so sick of that. All that means is that it wasn’t personal to you. But it was personal to me. It’s PERSONAL to a lot of people. And what’s so wrong with being personal, anyway?
Joe Fox: Uh, nothing.
Kathleen Kelly: Whatever else anything is, it ought to begin by being personal.
I’ve been thinking about this scene a lot recently. There are so many people saying, “it’s not personal, it’s politics” and as a form of self-preservation in this dumpster fire of a time we’re living in, I try to tell myself to stop taking things so personal as well.
But try as we might, it’s nearly impossible to separate your feelings from what’s going on in the world — even fashion.
Last week, Hedi Slimane’s first collection for Celine was unveiled to a cacophony of outrage. Critics were lambasting his designs for being out of touch, even anti-woman. Many fans considered his pieces to be antithetical to Phoebe Philo’s Céline, which was beloved for its feminine tailoring and sophistication. On the surface, the intensity of the reaction was extreme, but given that the show happened in the middle of all the Kavanaugh circus, was it truly surprising?
Maybe if there were different circumstances, the sound and fury for Slimane’s Celine would have been at a 5, but it was at an 11. Bluster is the accessory du jour and outrage is the new black. Slimane is a more than capable designer with a strong point of view and LVMH trusted him with an idiosyncratic brand. He is not deserving of the level of outrage that occurred, but dismissing his critics without considering the context or lens they viewed his work with is short sighted (and it’s a little disappointing that Slimane himself is not sympathetic to that). CONTEXT IS EXTREMELY IMPORTANT. What we wear and how we style ourselves is woven into the fabric of our lives (ALL THE PUNS 100% INTENDED AND I APPROVE THIS MESSAGE), and perspectives and politics will inevitably be woven in as well, making it all exceedingly personal.
I don’t believe Slimane was attacking women — he just designs for a different woman — and I think comparing him to Trump is a far-reaching claim. But I do think LVMH is sending a confusing message to customers of Céline. I think Slimane revealed a collection that was so drastically different and lacking of past Céline, it was jarring for many people (honestly, give the guy his own label, for fuck’s sake). I strongly believe that the timing of his show was noteworthy, albeit completely unintentional. I think many American women, upset at the hearings in DC and realizing that they didn’t recognize their own country any more, looked to Paris Fashion Week as an escape. And when they realized they didn’t recognize one of their favorite fashion houses any more either, it got too much. And the flood gates opened.
It’s easy to look back on the good ol’ days and wax nostalgic about how there was more civility and people worked together for the common good. Those days were also slower. People had more time to process their thoughts and how they felt. But now, gut reactions has replaced reason and I find it pretty devastating. Is sympathy or consideration for another person’s environment/circumstances dead? There’s still a part of me that holds onto the believe that no, it’s not. That civility and consideration happens more than the news feeds and chyrons let on.
This is the Age of Outrage. And like fire, outrage can be stoked to burn, but it can also be captured to warm and transform. Of course it’s easier said than done. Even as I write this, I struggle with my containing my anger. The ego in me wants the last word in every debate, to crush anyone who voices an opposing view. But isn’t it just as powerful to slow down? Maybe we can take the first step of acknowledging the context a person is operating in before deciding to engage or walk away.
Again, easier said than done.
This fascinating article on the shipping company of the fashion world. (NYT)
If you’re filled with despair, a reminder of the things you can do for your community or to get people out to vote.
This tweet is hysterical.
Originally published on October 5, 2018 at Alwaysatodds.com.
Months of planning and prep and getting all your ducks in a row won’t prepare you for the colossal loss of your old life.
Sure, you’re heading towards the unknown. Hell, these aren’t even uncharted waters — you’ve been here before! In a way, you’re going back to a life you’ve known before.
But it’s different. Because you’re a different person now.
Like your vocabulary has expanded — you know how to identify your feelings a little better. You’ve learned how to draw your boundaries a little stronger, and when people try to cross them, you know how to push back a little harder. You’ve learned that speaking up for yourself isn’t self-indulgent; it’s a goddamn right.
And you’re still learning. Like how to be kinder to yourself and allowing yourself to feel all the emotions. You don’t have to apologize to other people for crying. It’s ok. It’s also okay to have your own political convictions. And it’s incredibly ok to say “NO I WILL NOT DEBATE YOU” because as Laurie Penny writes, thinking that you can change someone’s mind by debating them is a lot like teaching a goat to dance — the goat will not dance and you’ll end up pissing him/her off.
So that means realizing that certain relationships have limits. You are incredibly lucky to have relationships with people where you can be unapologetically you and they will love you no matter what. For the sake of some relationships, you will have to bite your tongue repeatedly because 1) you don’t have to debate them (see above) and 2) going into the same argument and expecting a different result is the definition of insanity.
Even though you’re returning to a place you called home for most of your life, these are big changes. You want this and you’ve been looking forward to this. But you’re also saying good bye to a path you thought was going to be a forever direction. And you’re closing a door on a career you’ve been thinking about since undergrad, when you’d occasionally skip classes to watch The West Wing on Bravo (before you bought the DVD box set and eons before Netflix did everyone a favor and streamed them). Ghost ships. This is a loss and you’re allowed to grieve. Not giving yourself a chance to sit and feel everything is just delaying the inevitable.
In a few months, the dust will settle and you will get your bearings. You will look back on the initial months and wonder why you fought it. Things are not perfect, but everything is okay and that will do for now.
Originally published on September 28, 2018 at Alwaysatodds.com.
Quote of the day:
Activism is my rent for living on the planet.
— Alice Walker
As if you needed more evidence on how diversity is better for the world, here's a letter from director Martin Scorsese on how "diversity guarantees our cultural survival" and the Scientific American on how diversity makes us smarter.
This Instagram account of 100 postcards for the first 100 days of the administration. As the bio says, they're "Always respectful, mostly disagreeable." And entertaining, too.
When you start to feel like everything is out of control, here's a reminder of what you do have control over:
Roasted strawberries with Pimms, balsamic, and ginger — sounds like summer!
"Hot Ones" is an entertaining series where celebrities get interviewed while they eat hot wings. Padma's bed picnic sounds like an amazing idea:
The episode with Key and Peele remains one of my favorites.
Originally published on February 8, 2017 on Alwaysatodds.com.
I remember the first time I saw violence. I was 3 years old and I watched my babysitter's husband slam her head against the wall — once, twice, four times — and wrap his hand around her neck. Their three children were hiding in the oldest child's room, sobbing, while I peeked around the corner to see if the silence that hung in the apartment was a sign of safety. Clearly, it was not.
The first time I saw racism, I was 8. I was at the Martin Luther King, Jr. Center in Atlanta on a school field trip and we were viewing an exhibit on the history of lynchings in the south. There were rows and rows of black and white photos — photos of someone's husband, brother, wife, sister, child — dangling lifelessly from the trees. And throughout the exhibit, Billie Holiday's "Strange Fruit" played. I didn't sleep a wink that night. And to this day, I can't hear "Strange Fruit" or Billie's voice without feeling a shiver down my spine.
I was reminded of these memories when I watched Raoul Peck's documentary on James Baldwin, I Am Not Your Negro. It was a sobering and much-needed watch because it reminded me that while I may feel that things are especially bad now, it's not new. The only difference is that I've gotten better at recognizing it. I also left the film feeling a deep connection to Baldwin. Here was a man who is weary of the world. He was the son of a country that often refused to legitimize him, so he left Harlem for Paris. But as much as he tried, he could not separate himself from his people, so he returned. In the process, he lost friends and lovers. The FBI even tried to label him as a threat to national security. But he persisted. And he wrote.
"I can't be a pessimist because I am alive," he once said during an interview. "To be a pessimist means that you have agreed that human life is an academic matter, so I'm forced to be an optimist. I'm forced to believe that we can survive whatever we must survive. But the future of the Negro in this country is precisely as bright or as dark as the future of the country. It is entirely up to the American people and our representatives -- it is entirely up to the American people whether or not they are going to face, and deal with, and embrace this stranger whom they maligned so long."
"I can't be a pessimist because I am alive." That is now my motto for 2017. And yes, it is entirely up to us to deal with the blemishes that the American experiment comes with. It is already beginning to make a world of difference:
[S/O to my friend Monica for pointing these silver linings out to me.]
And that's only the beginning.
I do not accept the premise that this recent surge of activism and fight is too little, too late. It is only late when we are all dead. To find something worth fighting for is life itself. It provides sustenance for the soul. I may be fatigued and worried about the state of the world, but I have never felt more alive or been filled with more purpose. There may come a day where someone somewhere will prove my optimism to be foolish, but until that day comes, I will let my existence be my battle cry.
"There is nothing great about the America that Trump thinks he is going to make; but in the end, it is the greatness of America that will stop him." – Former Department of State counselor from the Bush Administration, Eliot A. Cohen, on Trump underestimating the resilience of Americans and their institutions.
James Baldwin was not only a novelist, but an essayist and part-time film critic. His piece, "The Devil Finds Work" is a sharp analysis of race and America and cinema. I'll never look at The Exorcist the same way again.
On a lighter note, The New Yorker essay "I Work from Home" hits way too close to home.
Beautifully and thoughtfully designed by its owner, James F. Carter, this house has bookshelves by the stairs, in nooks, and crannies. It's the stuff of my dreams.
Originally posted on February 4, 2017 at Alwaysatodds.com.
Even if it swayed with grass instead of being covered in concrete and dog shit, the city would be far, far too small for you. You’d feel the ring roads like a corset. You’d smell succulent fields outside, and be wistful. But you’d make the most of what you had. You’d follow a labyrinth of old roads, relying on the wisdom of long-dead elephants, now passed down to your matriarch. You’d have the happiest kind of political system, run by wise old women, appointed for their knowledge of the world and their judgment, uninterested in hierarchy for hierarchy’s sake, and seeking the greatest good for the greatest number.
I wish I could be an elephant. Beautifully written.
Originally published on January 26, 2017 at Alwaysatodds.com.
ANONYMOUS: What is the fucking point anymore? Protests ended. People are becoming numb. No one cares to speak up anymore? Are we not going to fight?
COQUETTE: The point is to live. The point is to keep going. It's okay to let the vigilance mellow into something less acute. It's not about intensity anymore; it's about stamina. Dig in, hold fast, and keep a calm and constant pressure as the pendulum swings.
Sooo things are not great right now. We have a figurehead who blatantly ignores facts and lies to the public, prioritizes popularity over policy, nominated woefully unqualified candidates to staff his cabinet, is actually directing federal tax money to move forward on his plans to build a massive wall on the U.S.-Mexico border, and A LOT OF PEOPLE ARE ANGRY.
Because as one (fictional) American President once said, "America isn't easy". And for some time now, we've forgotten about that. We've forgotten that the path to progress isn't a straight, paved road — it's rough, filled with valleys and peaks, quagmires, and bumps. We've forgotten that we cannot rest on our laurels — that keeping the rights and privileges we get to enjoy is a constant battle. And while I don't normally like taking on an alarmist tone, liberty is always under threat.
But that doesn't mean life as we know it is over. [If life was a Disney movie, this is probably the point where I'd break into song. But alas, it is not.]
I refuse to be apathetic. I'm gonna live. And goddammit, I'm gonna be kind. I will choose to be delighted, every. Day. When things get hard, art will be my god. I will find sanctuary in the works of writers and artists to make sense of complicated emotions. I will do my best to be intentional. I will avoid matching vitriol with venom. The anger and despair I feel after reading the latest news headlines? I won't allow them to wash over me. I will absorb it. I will tap into its reserves to contact my senators and representatives. I will go to more rallies. I will read more books and essays on conservative ideology. I will tell my mom I love her, even when she breaks my heart by parroting chyrons from Fox News.
Don't mistake my optimism for acceptance or delusion. I'm choosing to fight for tiny victories. Some fights aren't won by being the most intense or powerful person in the ring. Some fights are won simply by digging your heels in and holding steady.
Hemingway's Cocktail for bad times is not only the alcoholic balm we need, it contains some of the most poetic prose I've ever seen in a recipe:
Take a tall thin water tumbler and fill it with finely cracked ice.
Lace this broken debris with 4 good purple splashes of Angostura, add the juice and crushed peel of 1 green lime, and fill glass almost full with Holland gin...
No sugar, no fancying. It's strong, it's bitter — but so is English ale
strong and bitter in many cases.
We don't add sugar to ale, and we don't need sugar in a "Death in the Gulf Stream" — or at least not more than 1 tsp. Its tartness and its bitterness are its chief charm.
Proposed anthem of the resistance: when you're so angry and you gotta dance it out, I recommend Ariana Grande's "Be Alright". You laugh, but I dare you not to move during the chorus
"Harrison Bergeron" by Kurt Vonnegut is one of my favorite short stories by one of my favorite writers. It's never seemed more appropriate or poignant than ever.
CNN's Van Jones might be onto something here — there may be virtue in trying to understand how Trump operates.
Good Magazine has put together a guide to coping and acting in a Donald Trump presidency.
List of books to change a conservative or liberal's mind. I have The Righteous Mind by John Haidt as my next read.
Originally published on January 26, 2017 at Alwaysatodds.com.
I make my living writing in advertising, which means I write in other people's voices. I'm good at what I do. In fact, I might be so good at what I do, I don't even know how to write in my own voice anymore.
Part of it has to do with laziness. After 8+ hours of churning out headlines and body copy every day, the last thing I want to do is stare at a blank page and blinking cursor when I'm home. Not when I can indulge in the warm glow of Netflix and take out.
Another reason is vulnerability. When writing for a brand, there are always guidelines and rules and creative directors and strategists and account people and clients and lawyers to tell me to write this and not that. It's restrictive and annoying, but it's safe. It protects me. Or does it?
Because now I'm finding that the way I write professionally is now affecting my ability to write personally. Ideas for an essay or a short story gets drowned out by thoughts of self-doubt. Like, is what I'm writing [ICK] "on brand" for me? What does my brand even look like [GROANS IN SELF-LOATHING]? Will it get liked/upvoted/retweeted/etc? Is it too controversial? Will this attract a lot of readers? This goes on and on until I start to spiral and then I have to lie down in front of a West Wing marathon to feel better. Which ultimately means I don't get any writing done. Nothing — just silence.
To create is to be human and I'm doing a shit job at both. Saying what's on my mind is human. Thinking constructively. Having an opinion. Challenging those opinions. Changing your mind. Making mistakes — that's the most human thing of all. And yet I'm so scared to say the wrong thing and losing likability points, that I prevent myself from saying anything at all. I make myself silent. I deny myself from being human.
I don't usually do resolutions, but being unpredictable is a pretty human trait, so what the hey! This year, I'm going to work on finding my voice by writing more. Whether it's grocery lists, notes to self, scribbles, whatever — I'm going to stop finding excuses to avoid it. It's not going to be perfect. What works for others won't always work for me and I'll definitely fail a lot, but I'm going to keep trying and failing and trying again so that maybe one day, I'll get pretty close to finding my voice again.
The Danger of Silence "We spend so much time listening to the things people are saying that we rarely pay attention to the things they don't." Slam poet and teacher Clint Smith gave a TED talk about how finding your own voice is courageous and important in speaking up against ignorance and injustice. I found this video incredibly inspiring.
Originally published on January 17, 2017 on Alwaysatodds.com
Learn to say "fuck you" to the world once in a while. You have every right to. Just stop thinking, worrying, looking over your shoulder, wondering, doubting, fearing, hoping for some easy way out, struggling, gasping, confusing, itching, scratching, grumbling, bumbling, stumbling, rambling, gambling, tumbling, scrambling, hitching, hatching, bitching, moaning, groaning, honing, boning, horse-shitting, hair-splitting, nit-picking, piss-trickling, nose-sticking, ass-gouging, eyeball-poking, finger-pointing, alleyway-sneaking, long waiting, small stepping, evil-eyeing, back-scratching, searching, perching, besmirching, grinding grinding grinding away at yourself. Stop it and just do. Don't worry about cool. Make your own uncool. Make your own world.
— Sol LeWitt to Eva Hesse
Newish year. New project.
Originally published January 16, 2017 on Alwaysatodds.com.