Post January Resolutions

Guess what! This won't be about racism or race or politics! This is an entirely frivolous post which is perfect for Rachel gifs!  I'm gonna work through all the Friends over the next month or so That'll be a fun little project!

About a month ago, fresh in the post-Christmas swing-of-things, I made two declarations because I am a person who makes declarations now. Deal with it. My first declaration was that 2019 was going to be the year of Giving People A Break. That guy who cuts me off in traffic might be in a huge rush because his wife is pregnant. That person at work who sent the rude email might have just gotten chewed out by his boss. My daughter is sarcastic at me because she is 15! Let's give people a break! Right, Rachel?

Look, I get your skepticism. The world is complicated and difficult and maybe we don't make excuses for terrible people. So I don't care what happened to Mitch McConnell. That guy can continue to fuck right the fuck off.

But while I was making Declarations (I've decided to go on ahead and capitalize Declarations. I feel like that's warranted), I also declared this month Not Buying Stupid Shit January.

Buying stupid shit makes me feel like I have some control over the future. I may not know how I'm going to pay for Laney to go to college or whether or not climate change has us irrevocably fucked. But this Thing will make some other Thing OK:

I dunno, Rach. I think I deserve a promotion to Head Buyer.

But, money is money and waste is waste and we should all probably buy less stupid shit. So let's take to Amazon and see how I did through Don't Buy Stupid Shit January:

January 5

I made bread on January 4th and that went pretty well so I decided to buy a sifter. It was $6.36 and I used it when I made some killer biscuits last weekend. I declare this... I mean, I Declare this: not that stupid.

January 18

Did you see how long I went without buying anything stupid? How impressed are you? I'm VERY impressed with myself. Now, what did I buy on January 18th:

360 biodegradable poop bags for $15.99. Gurl, that is 100% not stupid. That's the definition of a wise purchase. I am a good and virtuous person who picks up the dog poop in biodegradable bags which she buys in bulk in order to maximize cost efficiency. Winner! 

January 21

Only three days. Less good. What did I buy?

Great. Now all you bitches know my bra size. Whatever. But, here's the thing, I had two good bras and one of them died on a work trip. Just fell apart. Underwire everywhere. I was going to buy another new bra at Soma or someplace good, but instead I bought the cheap one, which is... fine. You may wonder why a grown woman only has two bras. I work from home, motherfuckers. I am able to eschew the daily bra! So, I have two bras; I exhausted one and then replaced it on the cheap. I am KILLING Don't Buy Stupid Shit January! 

Feb 1

Look, these are "shipped" dates not "bought" dates. I bought this in January.

Basic pet maintenance. I'm still the very best at Don't Buy Stupid Shit January! 

Feb 1

Uh oh. There are two coming tomorrow?

This is empirically a little stupid. But it's only $13 of stupid and my neighbor has one and he loves it and there was also a Medium post that recommended it to me via email, describing it as the Best Tech Purchase of 2018 and so they're definitely spying on me. Still, only $13. But also... a little stupid:

February 4

Did I buy something stupid today? On the last day of Don't Buy Stupid Shit January? Did I entirely fold and buy something I almost definitely do not need and which is also sort of stupid?

STRAIGHT TO THE GIF!!!

You know what, Rachel? You don't need to judge me. It was less than $25 AND IT HAS POCKETS! (How, do you think, do pockets work in a scarf?) If I love it you're all gonna feel real stupid for judging me for buying something stupid on the last day of Don't Buy Stupid Shit January.

You guys have any thoughts on what I should Declare for February? Maybe Don't Eat Stupid Shit? I'm taking recommendations, but don't be a-holes about it. It's still Give People A Break 2019!!!!

Ooh, excellent idea, Rachel! I Declare next month Bring Back Dope 80s Slang February. Who's in?!

Another One for My White People!

Hello, my fellow white people! I come at you from my very own living room where the heat is working and I am watching Friends. I've been thinking about Ross a lot lately. Ross was terrible, right? But David Schwimmer was hilarious. I do enjoy this show. Despite all of the way it's problematic, Friends is still pretty great.

That said, if the lack of PoC and alllllllll the gay panic are too much for you, here is a handy mechanism for employing your white privilege in a very specific way:

Sadly, I'm going to have to step away from Friends for a moment to talk about something uncomfortable. Race. More specifically, racism.

I've been hearing a lot that you can't call all Trump supporters racists. It's just dumb! And Rude! Here's Chris Cillizza on the topic:

I had to trawl through his Twitter to find that. I can't stand Chris Cillizza. I'll be in this mode for the next 20 minutes:

I've heard it from Jake Tapper and Joe Scarborough and my own Facebook feed. Look, I don't think 47% of white Americans are racist! That's nuts. I think 99.9% of white Americans are racist. It's kind of hard to avoid when you've been told your whole goddamn life that you are the Normal and everyone else is the Not. We have been socialized to white supremacy in this country. We like to think of white supremacy and racism as white hoods and folks hollering the n-word. But it's so much more pervasive and insidious than that.

Think of the movies you've watched and the TV shows you've been into. Think about how you feel when you're the only white person in the room. Think about how rarely that's happened! Think about it. Really. Challenge yourself to be as honest as you can.

 

See, racism doesn't begin and end with white hoods and the n-word. That stuff is out there (and more so than it used to be due to Dear Leader). But racism is also that casual surprise that someone is smart, that casual suspicion that someone is scary, that pervasive belief that people who are not white have racial identities, but people who are white just have identities. Stuff like that.

We need to stop being defensive about racism. We really really really have to stop thinking that an accusation of racism against a white person is on par, somehow, with the victimization of black and brown people BY racism. We need to accept the culpability that all white people have in how white supremacy remains the Way Things Are in America. We need to stop using terms like "racially charged" and stop pretending things like birtherism or "Build The Wall" or "Low IQ" or any of it is NOT what it definitely is. And, yes, that fucking hat. If you put it on, you've made your choice. 

In the end, racism is a white person problem to solve. And if we continue to put white feelings at the center of the debate, we'll never get there. Ever. So if you find yourself feeling reflexively defensive in the face of an accusation of racism?

It'd be nice to think we were better than we were. We're not. The election of Donald Trump, a man who put out a full page ad in the New York Times demanding the execution of five teenage boys for a crime they did not commit and who has never once apologized for that, proves we are not. And the fact that no one - not Joe Scarborough or Jake Tapper or Chris Cillizza or any offended white journalist - demands a response from him about this shows how brilliantly insidious this whole thing is.

It's incumbent upon us to be anti-racist. To constantly fight against our own racism, the insidious ways that the white supremacy we've been socialized to informs our thoughts and actions. And to be better, man. We have GOT to be better. 

I leave you with this. Because it slays me. Friends is funny. Fight me.

Work and Death

A man I've worked with for many years died a few days ago - very young and very unexpectedly. And when I got the news that he died, I felt so sad because he was a warm, gentle, kind person and I'd always really liked him. I liked him but I didn't really know him all that well. He was someone I saw once a year at our user groups and someone with whom I had occasional conference calls. But those calls and conferences did span out over years and years.

These working relationships are strange things, aren't they? I was super close with my colleagues at the bar where I worked in my 20s and then really dear friends with the folks I worked with at my current place in my 30s. Shoot, I consider myself pretty close to the people I work with now, even if we really only ever socialize on business trips.

But then there are all those people whom you interact with from day-to-day - people you know how to make laugh and who make you laugh, people with known foibles that irritate or amuse you, people you go to for help, or know how to workaround when they're not helping. But these people aren't your friends and if they move on professionally, you might wish them well, but then will likely never speak to them again, except maybe on Facebook.

It's a weird fact of life, isn't it? How many people you'll know without really knowing.

A connection is a connection, though. These corporate relationships are, by definition, transactional, but they don't have to be only transactional. You can, you know, like people; appreciate the fact that you get to spend a little time with them, enjoy their company and give them a break when they fuck up or annoy you. Connect.

I mean, don't be weird about it. Corporate America is filled with weirdo pitfalls. Stay the hell out of those. But also, be kind. Maybe kindness mitigates the emptiness in corporate America just a little.

Seriously, though, don't be weird. And RIP to Brent. He was such a nice person.

The Fours

Every year I fall for the sucker bet of Resolutions. I was more sanguine about this in the past. But I was more sanguine about a lot of things in the past. I'm in the throes of perimenopause and Trump is president and I'm running on a patience deficit. Right now I'm annoyed that Google isn't recognizing perimenopause as a real word. What the hell, Google? I bet if perimenopause were a guy thing you'd recognize it as a real word and some actual treatment for it would exist AND be covered by every insurance plan.

Am I being paranoid? Perhaps Fairuza Balk from the seminal 90s movie The Craft could answer for me.

God, I loved that movie. Fairuza Balk is so 2018 mood up there, isn't she? Let's do another one. Fairuza Balk as 2019 mood:

AND WITH MY RIGHTEOUS FEMININE WRATH, I THUS RENDER WALKING, SUBTLE MAKEUP AND PLEASANT DEMEANOR OBSOLETE.

Back to, sigh, resolutions. I made one. I have this thing about the Fours. In which I deem a day successful wherein I have some accomplishment in one of the following four areas, annotated with how I have done today, which is Jan 2, AKA a day when most people are managing to stick to their resolutions.

1. Physical. I went to the gym today, dammit. I did a weight-lifting cycle wherein each particular muscle could be considered adequately worked out if I needed to make a weird face to get to the end of a set of 10. The weird face rule is mine. It is not endorsed by any medical professionals. But you're welcome to it. I'd also like to do something about this flat, white 49 yr old ass somewhere in 2019. But, I really think genetics are against me on this one.

2. Domestic. Gurl. I did laundry and washed the dog. Sure, I may have paid a lady to do the bulk of the housecleaning today. But it counts. Washing the dog is a pain in my rapidly deteriorating ovaries. I mean, not literally, But I'm all for "ovary" replacing "balls" in all cliches because female reproductive organs are mighty and balls are weak and the fact that we keep letting men pretend that "balls" (which are FAMOUSLY tender and easy to injure) means "strong" is responsible for at least 37% of the patriarchy.

3.  Professional. Ugh. This is my least favorite because my job involves a lot of spreadsheets these days. I'm not saying there's not a real sense of accomplishment that comes with wrangling a series of disparate tasks and responsibilities, making other people's day go a little more smoothly, etc; but if I had a time machine I might go back and be someone who takes care of people. I like people (can't you tell from my dulcet, perimenopausal ((ITS A WORD, GOOGLE!)) tone?). And I like taking care of people. Corporate America offers good healthcare and good money (which is how I can afford to pay a lady to clean my house) - but it can feel empty, can't it? Anyway, I got to InBox 0 today. That's an accomplishment, especially after a long break.

4. Creative. I'd like to give myself a break and say that playing the piano or reading counts. But I don't think it does. I think I need to write things down to really exercise my creative muscle. And I would very much, this year, like to write stories. Not that these giffy collections of attempted hilarity aren't creative exercises. But it would be better to tell a story, I think. I just feel story-depleted. Is this a side effect of perimenopause? Does perimenopause cause a deficit of patience, your period to go haywire and story depletion? Someone should warn a gal.

Anyway, I resolve in 2019 to try and hit The Four every day. To write stories and work on my body and keep my professional and personal houses in order.

Of course, if I could find three other like-minded ladies it may render all of this moot., Hit me up if you're into it, but I get to be Fairuza Balk!

I'm Drying Up, Man

This will meander. I apologize. President Pussygrabber stole the life out of me and I haven't had the inclination to blog and also I've been spending too much time on Twitter and am, therefore, suffering from a surfeit of opinion. There are too many opinions! This is my opinion! Who wants to hear more?

I know, I know! Not you.

Good burn, imaginary blog reader!

Anyway, another opinion (it's why we're here, folks). Wanna know the worst thing about getting old? The increasingly cacophonous drumbeat of your own mortality. That shit sucks.

Also, my skin is drying the eff out!

I am a moisturizing mofo. I have a subscribe and save Amazon deal for L'Oreal Revitalift Anti-Wrinkle + Firming Night Cream. The name of this product makes me angry. I don't care. I love it despite its dumb plus sign and false promises. And, look, I know that night cream and day cream are the same thing. I'm not stupid! I saw Patti Lupone as Helena Rubenstein in War Paint explicitly state this (the previous statement a total Tahani name drop because, you guys, I saw Patti Lupone on stage IRL and it was ah-mah-zing)  but for some reason I'm happy with Ponds in the morning but I require something from a glass jar at night. I can handle the cheap plastic Ponds jar (is it a jar? does a jar come in plastic? aren't jars by nature glass? tub? it's a tub, isn't it?) after a good night's sleep, but when I'm nestled up in my comfy king-sized bed, nightcap beside me, soothing television show in front of me, I cannot with the plastic. I must have glass! MY PRECIOUS!

Amazon tells me that most people get one jar of L'Oreal Revitalift Anti-Wrinkle + Firming Night Cream a month.

Lololol, I blog scoffingly.

I get two jars a month. Plus the giant tub of Ponds (I've accepted the tub-iness of it) for morning and also other ad hoc face and neck moisturizing. There's a lot of ad hoc moisturizing. I work from home.

I also just indulged in the buy-3-get-3 deal on Ultra Shea Body Lotion from Bath and Bodyworks. I am bougie in the most basic ways imaginable. The shea is ultra which is so much better than shea that is moderate, self-effacing, discreet. I mean, obviously.

(shhh. I don't know what "shea" is, but I'm a sucker for it)

People tell me they can't stand how greasy they feel after they apply lotion. WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE? WHAT IS YOUR LIFE? I AM FLUMMOXED BY YOUR LOTIONLESS WAYS!. I apply lotion to my skin and it drinks it up like it's Nic Cage chasing an Oscar (note: Don gave me the start of this metaphor, but the surprise twist ending is my own. I AM PROUD). I emerge from a shower, dry off and slather myself in shea in all its ultra glory. It's wonderful. For about an hour. Then MOAR LOSHIN!

I inherited nice skin from my mother (thanks, Mom!).  I am a sun avoider from way back. I wash my face once (not twice! Nevah twice!) a day. I take care of my skin. I have been the motherfucking Daenerys Targaryen of skin protection. DRACARYS, wrinkles and dry patches and sags. DRACARYS YOU ASSHOLES.

But I am knocking up on 50. This battle grows more pitched, more heated. I grow weary from the fight. Sometimes a bitch just wants to go to sleep, you know? But I'm going to fight on. I'll drink a lot more water, commit to at least 8 hours of sleep a night, enter into some Mephistophelean pact (does anyone have a Mephistophles guy?), ponder deeply whether I can afford to do whatever Nicole Kidman has done (I love Nicole Kidman, you guys! But there is a lot of science behind that smooth, poreless nature). You know, a normal skin care regimen.

Anyway. This is my first blogpost in forever. I hope you've enjoyed it. I'm going to go upstairs and apply more lotion.

It Got Real Mean This Morning

On Tuesday-Friday, during my morning make breakfast/clean kitchen/deal with dogs routine, I'll watch the previous night's Late Night with Seth Meyers. I love that show. He seems like such a good guy; never leering or creepy; happy to elevate his women writers, smart and engaged, and angry about all the right things. His Closer Look segments are an invaluable tool for staying informed in these parlous times without being dispirited. And Jokes Seth Can't Tell is somehow simultaneously the most hilarious, most radical and most adorable 5 minutes of comedy. I just love him.

But I can't watch it on Monday mornings because there's no show on Sunday. Bummer. On Mondays I go local and hang out with the fun and charmingly punchy WGN morning crew.

This morning the Around Town with Ana Beleval segment went to the Old Joliet Prison which is now a park or some shit like that. This would have been sort of great because a park is better than a prison, but during the segment there was this exchange, paraphrased:

Joliet Prison Tour Guide: When the prison was active, prisoners could get their GED or, for a while, even a full college degree

Ana Beleval: Wow! That's great

Joliet Prison Tour Guide: Well, they stopped the college program because as a judge said 'Steal a car and get a free college education,' so they just went back to the GED program.

And then Ana and the tour guy giggled over that clever judicial assessment.

Y'all - we live in a country where the idea of a kid going to prison in order to get a college education is a laughable (laughable!) scam. Let me say that again: a person goes to jail (to jail!) because they can't afford to go to college and we laugh (laugh!) at that.

And, obviously, there's not a man born of woman who goes out, steals a car, does years (YEARS!) in Joliet prison, gets their prison issued college diploma, walks out a felon (FELON!) with all the commensurate lack of rights that entails and goes:

This is a total fiction that this judge came up with in order to screw over prisoners who were already pretty screwed over on account of that they were in JOLIET PRISON! Do you know what Joliet Prison looks like? It looks like this:

Yes! I think I'll sacrifice my freedom in order to live in this cheerful place for several years in order to scam Illinois out of a free college education (WHICH SHOULD BE FREE TO ANYONE WHO WANTS ONE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!)

I just really want to live in a country that's not so mean. I am shook (I think that's what the kids say) at the blithe laughter that followed that incredibly mean exchange. I wish we, as Americans, had a national, civic inclination to kindness. But the "Screw him! I got mine!" voice just seems increasingly loud, increasingly influential in the way we legislate and politick and live. It's gross.

I read this quote about Jane Addams years ago which I can't remember exactly. I have googled and googled and I can't find the quote - but I'm sure that it was said of Jane Addams by a woman who worked with her and I think in an interview with the late, great Studs Terkel: Miss Addams never judged anyone because she knew what life could do to a person.

I love that quote (which I've totally gotten wrong, only I'm sure the spirit of it is right). Jane Addams understood that her lived experiences and her strength were different than other people and so she showed them kindness, helped them on a path away from whatever desolation and misery their lives had brought them to. 

But I guess it's childish to expect the country to grow up into the kind of empathy that people who've lived life with open eyes and open hearts can have. And I guess the adult in me knows that rather than judge other people for their meanness, I should redouble my own efforts to kindness.

But I'm judging you a little, mean Joliet tour guide and Ana Beleval. Just a little. As penance, have a Jokes Seth Can't Tell. Seriously, it's like a tonic for mean.

A Tale of Two Feminists and Their Hair

Here's a neat interview with the marvelous Lena Waithe, whom I think is just the cat's pajamas:

.@LenaWaithe explains why she cut her hair: "I felt like I was holding onto a piece of femininity that would make the world feel comfortable with who I am" #HFPA pic.twitter.com/GTlxZJ11uO

— Variety (@Variety) August 10, 2018

Next up, here's the story of a lady who stopped coloring her hair and the incredibly rude people who commented disparagingly on her decision. I found myself thinking a few times in the course of this story that she must have made up some of these anecdotes, but I also know the things people have felt at liberty to say to me and that there are some rude motherfuckers out there. Folks, don't make rude personal comments to people. I shouldn't have to tell you that. God!

These stories are similar, right? One woman cut off her hair, one woman stopped dying her hair.  I'd be lying if I didn't say I preferred the Lena story to the InStyle story (not a big fan of the "here's how I been done treated wrong by the world" rhetorical device). But I will note that both are about changes that a woman made and not about Changes Women Need to Make.

But the reactions went elsewhere. Over at the post where I read the Lena Waithe story, there were many commenters bemoaning how attached some women are to their long hair and how they haven't embraced the liberty that really short hair provides. A friend of mine shared the gray-haired lady's story, saying that women who don't dye their hair are "slaves" to an unfair beauty standard. And then when I objected to that she was thoughtful and kind but also implied that those of us who don't choose to embrace the gray are sacrificing our authority. Ma'am!

Here's a brief list of beauty standards I've heard that women need to stop embracing:

• Short skirts
• High heels
• "Vocal fry"
• Slutty clothes
• Overly modest clothes
• Gym clothes
• Black clothes (confession: this is one I've heard personally many many times)
• Colorful rainboots (confession: I've objected to that one before)
• Visible bra straps
• Bras
• Nylons
• Bare legs
• Losing weight
• Gaining weight
• Walking fast
• Walking slow
• Saying "sorry"
• Saying "like".

Lookit: Men (shoot, PEOPLE) reflexively trust other men in positions of authority more because men have been the sole occupants at seats of authority for the entire history of western civilization. It's not female voices or clothes or style or any other form of female presentation that keeps us from power. It's not because we've sacrificed authority in pursuit of approval. It's because men have held jealously, and thoughtlessly, onto it.

And yet it's we women who are constantly being told that we're presenting ourselves wrong. It's almost like patriarchy reinforces itself by convincing women that patriarchy is our own fault. But here's a hot secret: women, patriarchy isn't because you don't look right. Dress how you like to dress. Wear your hair how you like your hair to look. Wear makeup if you want, or don't if you don't. If you like how you look in heels, wear heels. If you think they're dumb, don't. Shave your legs and your pits or don't. Your voice isn't too high. Your voice isn't too low. You don't need to talk more. You don't need to talk less. You do need to stop telling your sisters that they're woman-ing wrong.

Here's my hair testimony: I wear my hair really long and somewhere between pink and blonde. This is about 75% because I hate getting my hair cut, 15% because pony tails are just so easy and 10% because of vanity (i was always scared to dye my hair crazy colors in my youth, so it's a treat to do it now). It is 0% because I give a shit about youthful beauty standards (my careful skin care regimen is because of that and, men, you should join me! Moisturize!). That said, if you do like to turn a man's head with your sexy hair, you go and get it, girl! 

The wise and wonderful Amy Poehler said, "Here's a motto I want all women to embrace: Good for her! Not for me." 

I'm less wise and wonderful so instead I'll say this: there's no way to be a woman wrong. Feminist respectability politics are bad. And, for the love of Maud, let's embrace femininity as the multi-faceted, rich, abundant bucket of everything it is.