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Quote of the Week: “Well I hope you're very happy, and I hope she knows you only like the beginnings of things.”— Faye Miller, Mad Men
Don Draper calls Faye to break the news that he can’t see her anymore because he’s spontaneously gotten engaged to another woman. I watched this episode a month ago and I’ve thought about her response every day since. There’s an enchanting simplicity to the word choice; the writers could have said “you get bored easily” or “you have commitment issues,” but instead, they chose “you only like the beginnings of things,” and those linguistic decisions make brain glue. Because “you only like the beginnings of things” isn’t romance-specific, it hits us where it counts. I thought about haircuts and jobs and books and apartments and the restlessness that creeps in when the novelty wears off. How do we savor our decisions? How do we quell our fantasies of the next best thing? Maybe this is a whole piece… stay tuned.
Thinking: 1.) About buying roller blades and/or a pogo stick. And taking ski lessons this winter. And hopping off my chair right now to do a handstand against the wall (surely my weak arms would buckle without support). I want to play more! I always complain to Andrew that I wish we had a video game console because my inner child is very much present, screaming, “Are we there yet?” over and over on this long car ride of life.
2.) About what we owe our social media followers. For example, I’ve seen countless memes about needing an explanation when couples stop posting each other. This is dystopian and invasive. The thought arose this weekend amid DMs from people who never interact with me any other time, but want to ask where I bought those pants, or what restaurant I’m eating at. I’m obviously an open book, I just hate feeling obliged to people who don’t even reciprocate or support me. As a “creator” (shoot me), I get anxious about setting healthy boundaries on accessibility to my life, even with things as mundane as what I’m eating (it’s more the principle than the subject).
Listening to: “... I’ll Be Your Mirror” by The Velvet Underground & Nico. Here’s a video of Nico cutting her bangs to this song in a little Warhol film from the 60s. The other week I started fleshing out this “love as a mirror” concept that’s totally derivative, but something I need to write for my own sanity. I love contemplating the ego’s role in love making us feel seen. Side note: if the psychedelic nostalgia that imbues the Broke But Moisturized ethos offends you, you’re in the wrong place.
Feeling: Like a good, old-fashioned failure. You may have seen via last week’s Instagram story that I just got rejected from a dream job. I started interviewing for this position the first week of August thinking it was a bit of a reach. But as things escalated from week to week, I became increasingly hopeful that my life was about to level up. I got the bad news at the end of a run—ironically my best pace since having COVID in the spring. I cried a lot. Earlier that day, I’d also gotten my millionth pitch rejection from a publication, and it just felt, and continues to feel, like I hit a wall. The universe has its way of filling the cracks in your spirit with gold, though. I request your patience and undying affection as I invoke the power of Big Sean to bounce back.
Loving: NYC. Yeah, I’ll admit it. No gun to my head. As I mentioned before, I’d been to New York for shows, work trips, etc. Somewhere along the way, I fostered some distant contempt for the city, mostly because it’s home to too many pretentious people for my small town heart. But it wasn’t until this weekend that I took some time to really hit the streets and feel its pulse. We mostly bopped around SoHo, West Village, Upper East Side, etc., and just like that, I’m surfing Zillow asking, “How expensive can it be?” The answer: ungodly. At least now I have somewhere electrifying to escape to via Chinatown bus every now and then.
Recent Stuff: My latest is called “An open letter to the hostess with the perfect French haircut who made eyes at my boyfriend.” If you haven’t read it yet, it’s very short and might make you laugh and your laugh is probably the dream soundtrack to someone’s day, so…