On and On and On

You’d think that with a global pandemic shutting most things down, one would have more time to slow down and go after other pursuits.

And yet.

My brain continues to be a window with a million tabs open and no time to read them, but here are a few things that I’ve been able to make time for:

I’ve been trying to get into the habit if asking people “What’s bringing you joy lately?” instead of the usual “how are you?” I thought it would be met with a lot of eye rolling, but everyone I’ve asked seemed delighted by the question. Seeing their faces brighten and want to answer the question has made me happy.

My black lab, Scotty, has allergies affecting his nails and paws so he’s been wearing a cone a lot. Watching him wear it and carrying on like normal while bashing into walls, furniture, and people has been so entertaining.

This kernel of truth which leads me to believe that the meaning of life is finding enough time to read all the books you want. And sandwiches. Sandwiches have to work their way in there somehow.

@pieladybooks gets it 📚 But we're thankful that audiobooks let you read while on the go 🎧 ⁠ ⁠ ⁠ ⁠ ⁠ ⁠ ⁠ ⁠ ⁠ #booklover #bookish #readersofinstagram #bookworm⁠ ⁠ ⁠ ⁠ ⁠

Interview’s Ask a Sane Person with Jia Tolentino is one of my favorite things that’s come out of (waves hand wildly in the air) everything:

INTERVIEW: What has this pandemic confirmed or reinforced about your view of society?

TOLENTINO: That capitalist individualism has turned into a death cult; that the internet is a weak substitute of physical presence; that this country criminally undervalues its most important people and its most important forms of labor; that we’re incentivized through online mechanisms to value the representation of something (like justice) over the thing itself; that most of us hold more unknown potential, more negative capability, than we’re accustomed to accessing; that the material conditions of life in America are constructed and maintained by those best set up to exploit them; and that the way we live is not inevitable at all.

I find short stories eerily satisfying and genius. It’s designed to capture a fleeting moment and yet it gets its hooks in you and you can’t shake it. Leyna Krow’s “Sinkhole” is deceptively simple and left me thinking about it for days and it’s not just because Issa Rae and Jordan Peel acquired the film rights for more than $630/word. Ok, maybe a little.

Ever since I was a kid, I always found the messaging in Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree problematic. I’m glad someone’s given it a healthy update.

I was 100% ready to cancel my Apple+ subscription after my trial ends, but with shows like Ted Lasso and Trying (two of the most heartwarming and funny shows I’ve seen this year) and Sofia Coppola’s upcoming film On the Rocks, I might have to stick with it. As one tweet put it perfectly, “Eat the rich, but spare Sofia Coppola.”

This made me laugh.

I would love to be in one of Peter Hessler’s nonfiction writing classes. The way he wrote about post-pandemic China was intimate and deftly captured local life while acknowledging realities the CCP may not want their citizens to know.

This meth-house-turned-modernist-home in Salt Lake City.

Take care,
G

On Things I Won't Forget

What I Already Miss

• Lazy Saturdays at coffee shops

• Dining in at restaurants

• Window shopping

• Hugs. Won’t it be wild when we can touch each other again?

• Dropping by… anything

• Concerts and live shows

• Dinner parties

• Strong federal leadership

What I Don’t Miss

• Traffic

• Long lines

• Indecision

• Arrogance

What I Won’t Miss

• Panic buying

• Hoarding

• Uncertainty

• Hysteria

• Misinformation

• Over-scheduling

• The worst of humanity

• Greed

• The jarring sensation of seeing a tightly packed group of people in pre-C19 photos, movies, and shows

What I Won’t Forget

• Always having a little extra on hand: toilet paper, home cooked meals, a kind word, patience

• How quickly people stepped up in the absence of leadership

• Medical professionals becoming soldiers in wartime

• Small kindnesses — a small wave from a neighbor, a socially distant smile in the grocery store aisle

• Washing hands for 20 seconds, paying extra attention to fingertips, nooks and crannies, and the backs of hands.

• The simple power of soap

• Cuddling with my dog isn’t just a luxury — it’s downright essential

• Gratitude. Today, it’s perfectly-cooked-can-see-every-grain rice; new orders from customers; hot water dispensers; bananas; Snoh Aalegra’s “I want you around”

• Lulls and downtime

• The joy of reading

• Humility

Inspired by MR: “What I won’t forget: That New York is New Yorkers and nothing else.”

We’re always in need of a little perspective. Pause to have a little cry.

“How are you doing?” “Maintaining” Running out of ways to respond to “How are you”? I’ve got you.

Lazy dinner ideas. Just because you’re doing a lot of home cooking doesn’t mean every meal has to be James Beard-worthy. Some of my go-tos: kimchi fried rice; tamago scrambled eggs; ANY KIND OF TOAST; cheese and crackers a la Lunchables; cacio e pepe pasta, tinned sardines with a little mayo and diced pickles; omelets

Just learned that Dalgona coffee is a thing.

You can color the NYTimes now.

Reminder that Netflix Party is a Chrome extension that lets you watch Netflix and chat with your friends.

“Human life has always been lived on the edge of a precipice. Human culture has always had to exist under the shadow of something infinitely more important than itself. If men had postponed the search for knowledge and beauty until they were secure, the search would have never begun. We are mistaken when we compare war with “normal life.” Life has never been normal.” - C.S. Lewis, in a speech to Oxford students in 1939.

Nothing to see here.

Jenny Rosentrach’s Project, Pantry, Purpose series is wonderful.

Despite there being so many cancelled events, there’s still a lot to do. The world continues to be our oyster.

Don’t forget to complete the US Census. Everyone deserves to be counted.

On Grief

That discomfort you’re feeling is grief. David Kessler is the world’s foremost expert on grief and I found his thoughts on discomfort comforting: “Anticipatory grief is that feeling we get about what the future holds when we’re uncertain […] To calm yourself, you want to come into the present.” An easy way to do that, he suggests, is noticing 5 different things in your environment and focusing on their attributes. When asked what to say to someone who’s read all this and is still feeling overwhelmed with grief:

“One unfortunate byproduct of the self-help movement is we’re the first generation to have feelings about our feelings. We tell ourselves things like, “I feel sad, but I shouldn’t feel that; other people have it worse.” We can — we should — stop at the first feeling. “I feel sad. Let me go for five minutes to feel sad.” Your work is to feel your sadness and fear and anger whether or not someone else is feeling something. Fighting it doesn’t help because your body is producing the feeling. If we allow the feelings to happen, they’ll happen in an orderly way, and it empowers us. Then we’re not victims.

And this part resonated with me the most: “This is a temporary state. It helps to say it. This is survivable. We will survive.”

Pro tips on how to live in confined spaces by a NASA astronaut and a formerly imprisoned journalist.

The folks at “Death, Sex & Money” podcast put together a pandemic tool kit with resources to distract you, calm you, and galvanize you.

Monterey Bay Aquarium Live Cams. Watching sea otters frolic is always a good idea.

Some of these links are from Laura Olin’s excellent weekly newsletter. If you haven’t already, you MUST subscribe.

I always like signing off on my emails and letters. Lately they’ve been C19-related:

• Social distantly yours

• Yours from afar

• Waving to you from 6ft and beyond

• Best (but things could be better)

• Take care (no, seriously)

And speaking of valedictions, Louis Armstrong did it best.

After all these years, we finally find out where the name Triscuit comes from (PLOT TWIST: “Tri” does not mean 3"). Confirmed by Triscuit IRL.

This footage of NBC reporter Deion Broxton backing away from a herd of bison walking his direction made me laugh so hard, I spit up some coffee.

“Hi! What is the white cat’s name?”

I loved Manrepeller Leandra Medine’s reply to a reader’s comment: “One time I told my dad that I was bored at the onset of a two-week break from school and he said what I was feeling wasn’t boredom — it was the lull that occurs in order to make an adjustment. Last night, when I expressed my anxiety much the same way I did my boredom all those years ago, he told me that when you’re a kid, it’s a lull that makes way for an adjustment but that as an adult, it’s usually more intense. Sometimes so much so that it’s crippling. Which it has been! I took a lot of solace in this sentiment, starting to believe in [the] fact that maybe I’m not anxious — just adjusting?”

I have been doing a lot of retail therapy lately but maybe I should get one of these house robes before putting a moratorium on my AMEX. UPDATE: Everything in my size is sold out, so whew.

If you’re local in Atlanta and able to, volunteer as a driver to deliver meals to housebound individuals. One of my friends did it today and said it was incredibly easy. Staff members load up while you remain in your car and you just drop off, knock, and leave. She said the whole thing took about 2 hrs of her day.

A reminder that physical distance (and even time!) doesn’t diminish the bond you have with people in your life. IT MAKES ME CRY EVERY TIME.

“Just something to look at and leave.”

If you’ve made it this far, wow! Thank you. I’ll leave you with Japanese artist Yoshihiro Suda’s hyper-realistic sculptures of plants and flowers in the tradition of Japanese woodcarving and National Geographic photographer Eliza Scidmore’s photos of everyday life in Japan from over 100 years ago.

This is a temporary state. This is survivable. We will survive.

On Denial

Is it still considered denial or ignorance if you have accepted the reality of the situation but choose to opt out of it for your own self-preservation? I have always prided myself on being a practical person, and staying on top of E V E R Y update doesn’t seem very productive. So I give myself 30 minutes on Twitter, NPR, and the NY Times in the morning to get the latest and then try to move on with my day.

It’s not a perfect system — my brain will continue to weave in and out of anxiety throughout the day — but it works for me. I hope that wherever you are, you’re hanging in there and if any of my silly thoughts or copied and pasted links can help you escape a little, then I’ve done my job.

I received pasta attachments for my Kitchenaid stand mixer as a birthday present, so I plan on using this dough recipe to make agnolotti filled with with butternut squash and ricotta. Wish me luck!

I’ll start with that and then maybe one day I’ll work up the nerve to make my own ramen noodles from scratch.

Honest to god, I thought it was common knowledge that graham crackers were invented by a guy to deter people from having sex. I am sorry to all my friends in the group chat for scandalizing them.

Stay far away from Twitter if you can, but if you must be on it, I recommend spending all of your time with @BootstrapCook, whose #JackMonroesLockdownLarder is filled with ingenious ingredient substitutes and recipes.

“Thanks, but not for me right now.” You don’t have to join every Zoom meeting or take every phone call. (Though obviously if it’s for work, you should!)

Danusha Laméris, poetess divine, your timeless poem is never not relevant:

Small Kindnesses by Danusha Laméris

I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs to let you by.
Or how strangers still say “bless you”
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here,
have my seat,” “Go ahead — you first,” “I like your hat.”

Speaking of kindness to each other, don’t forget about being kind to yourself. It may feel like your worries pale in comparison to what others are having to deal with, but they are still valid. Give yourself time to sit with those feelings. Let them wash over you and then carry on when you are ready.

Also you’re welcome:

“Can’t spell quarantine without u r a q t.” - M’s entry to the Dad Jokes Hall of Fame for your consideration.

On What a Time To Be Alive

Today I turn 31 during one of the most surreal events I’ve ever experienced, despite having lived through 9/11 and a deep recession. But life goes on.

Here’s a list of things I’m grateful for, in no particular order:

• Languid dinners with my mom

• Crying tears of laughter and sadness with my friends

• The way Scotty sighs contentedly when he rests his head on my chest

• Dad jokes from M: “What do Korean kids say instead of ‘yes dad’? K Pop”

• House that smells like butter

• Butter

• London Philharmonic plays Rodgers & Hamerstein

• Turkey Hill lemonade tea

• People who are pretending as if they have the virus and staying inside and away from others. Disasters and crises have a way of bringing out the best in people.

• Medical professionals who live up to their hippocratic oath despite dwindling PPE gear and resources. Here are some ways you can help.

• Grocery store and pharmacy staff members

• Delivery and mail people

• Books

• Libraries

• Freshly baked bread

• Bar Keeper’s Friend (if you know, you know)

• John Mulaney

• Handwritten letters

• Dresses and skirts with pockets

• That feeling when you wake up and realize it’s a Saturday

• The pleasure of doing nothing

I read about a method to help you get back to the present moment:

Sit quietly and look around you for 5 things you can see and identify
Now identify 4 things you can hear
3 things you can feel
2 things you can smell
And 1 thing you can taste

Did it work?

On Distractions

“This week is for believing that the world can still be made new — a feeling that isn’t exactly optimism, but something close. You don’t have to believe that everything will ‘work out,’ that things will ‘be okay,’ that it’ll be possible to return to a state of peaceful equilibrium. you don’t even have to believe that the world you want can be achieved within your own lifetime. Right now, it’ll be enough just to have a burning conviction that a long-needed change is coming, and that you have a role in it.” - My horoscope this week.

There are a lot of dark and despairing places on the internet, but I have decided this is not one of them. Maybe COVID-19 will single-handedly revive the lost art of blogging? Only time will tell. In the meantime, here are some links of levity to temper the roiling ocean of uncertainty:

The Great Pottery Throw Down. Like GBBO, but for potters. See also The Great British Sewing Bee.

Harry Styles Tiny Desk Concert. Better yet, why not binge the whole series on YouTube?

Here’s a thinker to occupy your brain for the rest of the day: apparently not everyone has an internal monologue.

Panda cam.

What makes you swoon? I have a long list, but one of them is the word “cookie.” Whether it’s a kid or a grown-ass adult, there’s no way you can go hearing a person say “Can I have a cookie?” and not give them the whole damn box.

The miracle of moving a piano in NYC. Is it particularly useful information? No. Is it interesting in an esoteric way? Yes.

I read Kevin Wilson’s Nothing to See Here purely because of Taffy Brodessor-Akner’s review. It was a droll, quick read. The ending isn’t particularly inspired, but I don’t know how I could’ve written it better.

I wish I had a chance to meet Richard Geary.

Agnes & Muriel’s and All the Places I Have Loved You by Jessica Tilley Hodgman. “One time, I was described by a man I loved, who didn’t love me, as ‘oceanic.’ As in, ‘a little too much.’ I hung onto you, hoping we were just ‘a little too much’ enough for each other.”

This is as good a time as ever to freshen up your mending (or learn for the first time!) — how to sew a button.

STFU.

Why You Should Rescue a Dog by Eric Kim. “What a huge victory a little life is.” Eric’s writing made me choke up when I was copy editor of our high school literary magazine, and continues to make me F E E L. He’s a MONSTER.

Tiny victories. Sure things can and will go wrong, but what if they go spectacularly right? Call the friend you’ve been meaning to catch up with. Try that recipe you’ve bookmarked for weeks. Reach out to your neighbor to see what you can do to help. Tip extra to the food delivery guy. We don’t have to “make the most” of a pandemic, but we can certainly find ways to make it better.

Even if it’s just a little.

On Real Vices

From the exhibit at the Great Apes House, Bronx Zoo, circa 1963-67

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.)

So.

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.

On Simple Pleasures

• Fresh sheets

• Walking through a grove of tea olive trees.

• $5 dollar peony bouquets from Trader Joe’s

• Strawberries at the peak of summer

• Tomato sandwiches

• 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

• Air conditioning

• Crossing an item off a to-do list

• Perfect timing

• 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.

On "It's not personal. It's business."

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.

P.S.

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.

On Moving

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.