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These Are Things I Think About
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Ah, Game of Thrones. Since 2011, HBO's most-watched show has introduced us to some of television's most compelling and memorable characters - the good (Jon Snow, Brienne of Tarth, Samwell Tarly), the bad (Cersai, Littlefinger, Walder Frey), and the downright ugly (Joffrey, the Night King, The Mountain). They've also introduced us to some of the straight-up craziest motherfuckers this side of the Narrow Sea. Given the number of characters the show has introduced over the course of 68 episodes, it's easy to forget how certifiably bonkers some of them were. In re-watching early seasons with my roommates, one of whom has never watched GoT before, I realized how often I was contextualizing characters by saying, "Oh, this one's BATSHIT insane." Which led me to this - the top 10 most cuckoo-for-Cocoa-Puffs characters Westeros and Essos have to offer. Warning: these people WILL ruin your party. And also, spoilers. 10. Pyat Pree  You definitely do not want to get cornered by this bug-eyed, blue-lipped motherfucker while waiting for the bathroom at a party. Not only does Pyat Pree give off heavy Pyscho Killer vibes, the warlock's cloning abilities make him damn near impossible to escape. His brief appearance in Season 2 during Daenerys' Bogus Journey in Qarth was cut short when he became the baby dragons' first victim, but we remember him (not so) fondly for teaching us cool party tricks, making us feel less self-conscious about our wine-stained lips, and showing us that when you mess with dragons, you get burned. 9. Maester Pycelle  By the time the Grand Maester of the Small Council shuffled off the mortal coil in Season 6, my nickname for him was basically, "Ugh, this fucking guy." Pycelle's a pretty canny guy, which allows him to last so long in a world in which multiple people die in any given episode, but it doesn't stop him from being annoying AF. Hypocritical, sycophantic and flatulent at inappropriate times, Pycelle is that dude who follows the coolest person at the party around even though they want nothing to do with him. And really, can you blame them? 8. Lancel Lannister  This is the guy who comes up to you at a party while you're drinking and having a good time, and asks if you can spare a moment for the Light of the Seven. With all due respect to organized religion, no one really wants to discuss theology while they're on their fifth goblet of Dornish red.. From his days as an arrogant, sniveling knight serving as King Robert Baratheon's squire and banging his cousin Cersai, to his transformation into a face-tattooed religious zealot, despite his powerful name, Lancel was always a bit too squirrelly to be a contender. 7. Selyse Baratheon  You know how there's always somebody at a party who wants to build a bonfire? Selyse Baratheon is that person. (Too soon?) Quite possibly the most brutal mother in the Seven Kingdoms (and that's saying A LOT), Stannis Baratheon's wife also rode the slippery slope of religion into insanity, although if using the preserved fetuses of your dead sons as boudoir decorations is any indication, she was well on her way there before Melisandre showed up. Selyse's suicide following her daughter's immolation was brutal if not entirely surprising; it's hard to imagine how one could live with herself after sanctioning such a horrific act. 6. The Waif  Essentially the personification of Radiohead's "Creep," The Waif spends two seasons alternately ignoring Arya and beating her, and just generally being an awful, soul-sucking...well, creep. No one likes a bully, especially one with crazy eyes and murderous intentions. If there's anything good to be said for The Waif, it's that her training did help Arya become the most bad-ass assassin in the Seven Kingdoms, but did she have to be goddamn humorless and passive-aggressive about it? 5. Euron Greyjoy  There'll be no tolerating Euron now that he's boned Cersai (although losing his prisoner Yara in the process might, ahem, take the wind out of his sails a bit). My theory as to why this guy sucks so much is that after all of the other loonies and villains GoT introduced over its many seasons, there weren't many other places to go in terms of characters we love to hate. So they had to settle for creating an insane (and insanely arrogant) prick. I mean, this is the one guy in Westeros who is actively trying to bang Cersai. What more proof of lunacy do you need? 4. Viserys Targaryen  Admit it, getting his face burned off by molten gold was the best thing this crazy motherfucker ever did. Abusive, entitled and mad molest-y, Viserys was around long enough to give us context for baby sister Daenerys' incredible personal growth, provide some sexposition about dragons, and make us all hate his stupid, whiny face. While it's true that Viserys suffered intense childhood trauma, including the deaths of his father, mother and brother, and his forced exile from his homeland, that's no excuse for his abominable behavior. Perhaps things would have worked out better if he sought out a good therapist instead of an army. 3. Robin Arryn  Yo, this fucking kid. He's the one who gets too turnt on jungle juice and starts acting like a goddamn terrorist while everyone's just trying to have a good time. I've never wanted to roundhouse kick a child in the face so much as when the little Lord Protector of the Vale starts squawking about making "the bad man fly." Like Viserys, Robin is dealing with some serious childhood trauma; any kid who's still breast-feeding at 10 is going to have some issues. How normal can you be when your mom is Lysa Arryn? (More on her in a second). But all things considered, Robin Arryn is still kind of the worst. Here's hoping that if he reappears in Season 8, he's had some time to chill and learn how to be a little less awful. 2. Lysa Arryn  Look, I am all about celebrating breast-feeding as something natural, healthy and not at all shameful. But this shit...if this isn't bonkers-sauce, I don't know what is. They say that character is revealed through action, and this action pretty much reveals everything you need to know about Lysa Arryn - she is, as Gwen Stefani would say, B.A.N.A.N.A.S. Paranoid and extremely volatile, Lysa's not above trying to murder her own family for perceived infractions. Here's hoping that at least all her hair stayed in place when she plummeted from the Moon Door. 1. Ramsay Bolton  Could there be any other number one on this list than the sadistic sociopath you love to hate? Game of Thrones out-did themselves in both the crazy and evil departments with this literal bastard. Ramsay's ability to play the part of a dutiful, even caring, son, friend and husband so well (as this delightfully demented video highlights) was what made him so dangerous. But even a passing glance at his eyes revealed the madness within. One wonders if anyone ever even bothered to gather up his bones after his hounds picked them clean, or if he's still rotting away in the kennels of Winterfell. (Hey, maybe we can feed them to Dany's dragons!)
As the repercussions and reactions to the #CollegeAdmissionsScandal continue to ripple through colleges, courts and families, I'm still contemplating all the implications of the boondoggle. From where I'm sitting, this is just another example of how greed, and the abuse of power and wealth directly affects some, and indirectly affects all of us.
Consider this: intelligent, hard-working kids who really have something to offer the world can't go to college because of financial barriers and lack of access to the high-quality education that would prepare them for college enrollment, while students who admittedly have no interest in going to college, and will not benefit from the experience, nor contribute more to society because of it, have places purchased for them by wealthy parents. Meanwhile, the government uses "dreamers" - undocumented immigrants who were brought to the U.S. as young children, and raised, for all intents and purposes, as Americans - as political pawns, constantly threatening to deport them to their unfamiliar countries of origin, and potentially robbing the U.S. of their valuable contributions. Add in America's restrictive, complicated, and expensive immigration policies, anti-immigrant rhetoric, and wildly inequitable public education system and a picture emerges of a land where fewer and fewer people are offered opportunities. This is not news, of course, but it begs the questions - when are we going to do something about it, and what is the solution? Is it possible that this scandal is the call to action we need to address the broken higher education system in this country? Universities say that, in light of this scandal, they will review their admissions policies and procedures, but what does that really mean? And even if they do make sweeping changes to their policies, there are still a number of other systems, themselves in need of major repairs, that students and families must navigate before even getting to the Admissions Office's doorstep. A student can't even get to the point of applying and being accepted to an American college if they are denied entry into the U.S., or are trying to learn in an unsafe, underfunded school. Meanwhile, the wealthy are focusing their time and energy on coming with up innovative ways to ensure they, and future generations of their families, will stay rich, and everyone else can go eat cake. Call it the myth of trickle-down economics in education. Take this college admissions scandal, for example. Any of these parents could have used their wealth and talents to build a library, buy computers, teach a special seminar - you know, something that would have benefited multiple people - in exchange for their kids' admission. Instead, they made themselves the sole beneficiaries of their wealth and power, and in the process, likely screwed some well-deserving, hard-working students out of an education at that school. Rather than being a land of opportunity, we're becoming a land of "What Ifs?" What if a different student had gotten Olivia Jade's spot at USC? What if more underprivileged students from across the country had access to college educations? What if the child who may one day discover the cure for cancer is currently locked in a cage at the border? What if the fear, greed, corruption and hatred that has gripped a good chunk of this country becomes our undoing? New ideas flourish where diversity is encouraged. Think about it - if you have a dinner party where all the guests come from the same background and have the same ideas and opinions, you're going to have a pretty dull dinner party. But if you mix an array of people who have different experiences and ideas, suddenly the conversation is a lot livelier, and the possibilities of what emerges become a lot broader. And yes, you might have to work a little harder to find common ground, or navigate a disagreement, but that's a good thing. Good ideas and solutions to problems can be found when we force our brains to deal with different and complex problems. Not only that, it forces us to tap into our basic empathy and humanity, something we are doing less and less these days. We need to invite more people to the dinner party, not less, especially if America hopes to maintain its place as a world power. Which is why I'm on board with those calling for a "punishment should fit the crime" kind of sentencing. Sending these clowns to jail (if that even happens) won't make that much of a difference, but being forced to use their wealth to benefit those with less privilege would. And yes, I know that's not how our justice system works, but a girl can dream, can't she? I have A LOT of thoughts about the Lori Loughlin/Felicity Huffman college admissions scandal3/12/2019
My, what a day to be alive. Los Angeles is awash in butterflies, the Catholic Church is up in arms because an SNL cast member called them on their bullshit, and a bunch of rich people, including Aunt Becky and one of the Desperate Housewives, were arrested for participating in a massive, college admissions bribery scheme. Forget the Ides of March - March 12, 2019 was off the hook. I first saw the headline about Loughlin's and Huffman's arrests as I was browsing ComedyWire, and had little reaction beyond, "Well, that sounds crazy bananas." I didn't get around to reading all the gory details until later, and they confirmed that yes, this story is crazy bananas. I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to gather my thoughts on these shenanigans, because I really do have a lot of them. I will do my best to present them in some semblance of order and coherency, but no promises, because there is a lot to unpack here. 1. First up, the fact that the two biggest names in this conspiracy, Lori Loughlin and Felicity Huffman, are two of the most (seemingly) innocuous and vanilla actors in Hollywood definitely adds to the surreal-ness of this story, I think. I mean, we're pretty much all having the same reaction, right?  I guess that's a lesson for all of us not to judge a book by its cover. Given Loughlin's status as a newly minted alleged criminal, I had hoped that, instead of returning to the U.S. from Canada, where she was shooting a movie, to turn herself in to the authorities, she would go on the run, sparking an international manhunt, because why not make this story even more dramatic than it already is. Alas, according to reports, Loughlin did return to the U.S. Tuesday, although at this time it's unclear if she has been arrested and formally charged. 2. When I first saw that this was a scheme involving college admissions, a small part of me hoped, as a former college admissions employee, that at least some of the $25 million that exchanged hands went to the poor, overworked, underpaid admissions counselors. If anyone deserves a little extra cash in their pockets, it's these folks (and the financial aid staff. My god, financial aid counselors deserve bonuses, pensions, and retirement homes in the Virgin Islands.). I know everyone at a university thinks they have the most thankless job, but if college was a war zone, these folks are your front line infantry, heading straight into the combat zone. Like infantry, they cover a lot of ground, traveling several months out of the year to the special kind of hell that is the high school college fair; they deal with bombardments of stupid and repetitive questions from students, parents, guidance counselors, teachers, etc.; they are forced to take orders from the top brass that are often illogical (at best) and grave tactical errors (at worst), and they usually do with all with little or no training. And all for the low, low price of near-poverty-level wages! So yeah, for one brief, shining moment, I thought maybe some of this bribery moola went to these hard-working individuals. But nah, it went to an old white guy. 3. Which, of course, speaks to the heart of this whole scandal - how the wealthy and powerful use their wealth and power to ensure that their privilege and entitlement will continue for future generations, at the expense of more deserving but less financially endowed people. It's a story of money, access, greed, entitlement, cheating and laziness. When you think about it, it's really the perfect parable for America in the grips of late-stage capitalism. Imagine a world in which Fox News pundits scream about affirmative action, handouts, and "pulling yourself up by your bootstraps" to kids who work hard to earn their college admissions, often in the face of adverse circumstances, while the one percent think that using their monetary power to buy their entitled, over-privileged offspring a place at a university is a sufficient substitute for actual attentive parenting. Wait, we don't have to now. I can't help but wonder what was going through the minds of these parents as they paid Singer exorbitant sums of money and cooked up almost comically elaborate schemes (Faked doctor's notes! Staged sports photo shoots! Altered test scores!). I suppose there is still enough optimism alive in me to think that, on some level, these parents did this because they really do love their kids and want what's best for them. It's just that fame, money and power have warped their brains so much that they think the best way to express that is by FAKING ATHLETIC CAREERS AND BRIBING SCHOOLS TO ADMIT THEIR SON'S AND DAUGHTER'S. AND THEN NOT TELLING THEIR KID ABOUT IT!   (As with any good crime caper, the novice perpetrators are their own worst enemies, nearly blowing the whole thing with their naivete and ineptitude.) But seriously, I also can't help but wonder what a difference it could have made if these parents took the time that they spent wheeling and dealing with Singer and his shady cronies, and, I don't know, helped their kids with their homework? Or had a conversation with them about the value of hard work? Or taken their bribe money and applied it more directly to their education? I'd be willing to bet the $100K can buy some really amazing tutors and SAT prep. But there I go, applying real world (aka poor/middle class) logic to a rich people problem. Whether or not their intentions were honorable, these parents wanted the fastest solution money could buy, and Singer and his cronies were only too willing to provide it. And while entitled dicks getting their asses handed to them on a public stage is high on my list of things I enjoy, my giddiness is tempered by the fact that somewhere out there is an actual crew coxswain who busted her ass and was on the river at dawn every day for four years in hopes of earning a place on USC's crew team, and was denied that opportunity because Aunt Becky decided her daughter really needed to be a Trojan.  4. I'm also reminded of something my father, himself a high school teacher, was fond of saying: "Education is the most important investment you can make, because it's an investment in yourself. Once you have your education, no one can take that away from you." Growing up in Mike Scatton's house, my brother and I knew the value of education (and hard work). My parents expected my brother and I to take school seriously, work hard, get good grades, go to college and earn degrees because they knew we were smart and had great potential. And my brother and I did those things (grudgingly, at times) because we knew our parents were right. What outcomes did these parents foresee for their kids? That, once admitted to elite schools which they had no business attending, they would magically become outstanding scholars? Or, more realistically, that the bribery and deception would continue for another four (or five or six years) to ensure that little Johnny would graduate despite his bottom-scraping GPA and run-ins with campus police, simply so he could put Georgetown or Stanford on his (non-existent) resume? If you don't value your education, your education will have no value to you (take that, Mike Scatton, I can coin phrases too!). Maybe some of these kids did benefit from going to these schools. I certainly hope so. For the record, I don't blame the kids in these situations. Based on the court documents, most of them were unaware of the machinations their parents were engaged in, and in some cases, their parents were actively working in opposition of the goals they had set for themselves, like this Bizarro World scenario:  Because that makes sense, right? Instead of encouraging your daughter to, you know, work hard and study to achieve the score she wants, just buy it for her!
It's really all too much to process, and I'm sure I'll have more thoughts in the coming days. For now, it's late, and I have not yet eaten dinner, so I'll close here. I would like to end with something profound, but here's the best I can do right now - Netflix, I have two writing degrees from colleges that legitimately accepted me, so when you inevitably get the rights to make this into a film, please, please, PLEASE call me! Thanks! A few weeks ago, I fell down an Intervention rabbit hole, binge-watching several seasons of the long-running A&E reality show. I'm usually not much of a reality TV person, but Intervention crafts its story lines into dramatic emotional roller coasters, creating an addictively rewarding viewing experience that is not unlike the feeling one may get from using mind-altering substances.
During this binge, I watched an episode in which the subject was a heroin addict who was prostituting herself to get drug money. This young woman 's whole existence revolved around drugs - getting money for them, buying them, doing them - typical stuff for an Intervention subject. What makes this particular episode stick out in my mind is that this young woman had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who paid her rent, bills, and bought her a car, prompting me to send this text message at 12:52 am to one of my best friends: "I'm watching an Intervention episode in which a heroin addict who literally prostitutes herself for drug money has a boyfriend who pays her rent, bills and bought her a car. WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING WRONG?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!" *angry face emoji* *angry face emoji* *angry face emoji* I,Now, let me clarify a few things: 1. It's not that I think drug addicts are inherently bad people or don't deserve love. This young woman had suffered some serious trauma, and was dealing with it the only way she knew how. Certainly, having a person in her life who cared for her and had her best interests at heart could only help her. 2. Just because I'm not a drug addict doesn't mean I don't have my flaws or damage. But I think I should get myself some credit for working through my issues with a healthy mix of therapy, self-reflection, and creative expression instead of drugs and prostitution. 3. This was an unhealthy relationship, and I am fully aware that it is better to have no romantic relationship than an unhealthy one. However, the question at the root of my midnight missive to my friend remains. How could this clearly damaged, self-destructive girl with no ambitions other than getting high and passing out on her sister's couch every day have a significant other, while I - a fairly intelligent, highly ambitious, generally genial productive member of society - do not. And why I have I seen this scenario play out multiple times, not just for me, but other smart, capable, strong women like myself? The theory arrived fully formed in my brain the next morning: Because a damaged woman is far less intimidating than a woman who has her shit together, and a lot of men do not like to be intimidated. This is not a blanket statement (#notallmen). There are plenty of men out there who love, support and celebrate strong women, including my father, brother, many of male friends and my female friends' partners. I see you, and applaud you. However, I would argue, based on my experience and observations, that the ratio of strong, badass women to men who love strong, badass women is highly imbalanced. Which makes sense. If you're a dude raised to believe in traditional masculine/feminine gender roles, you probably see capable, confident women as a threat. A woman whose spirit is broken is never going to be a threat. She might be your partner in a toxic, co-dependent, ultimately unfulfilling relationship, but you can be damn sure she will never do anything to surpass you and shake your fragile male ego. And if the trolls who recently tried to tank the first female-led Marvel Studios movie indicated, the male ego is the only thing more fragile than their tender, hairy little ball sacks. Am I so cynical that I don't believe that, in some cases, men are attracted to damaged women out of a nurturing desire to truly help them overcome their best issues and be their best selves? Honestly...yeah, I kind of am. Yes, it's a big world and anything can happen and making sweeping generalized statements is usually a bad idea. But as I've posited before in this blog, I haven't seen a lot of evidence that men want to do the hard work to help themselves, let alone another person. I would argue that if these men are trying to save these broken women, it's out of some antiquated notion of chivalry, so there's still an imbalance of power. He's not empowering her for the sake of her own empowerment, but rather so she will be indebted to him for "saving" her. Which, by the way, I would like to point out that the idea of "saving" anyone is BS. No one can be nor should be responsible for "saving" another person. Ideally, should our relationships, romantic and otherwise, help make us better people? Absolutely. But the choice to make yourself a better person is ultimately up to you and you have to do the work. So despite the best of intentions, I don't think this is an actual reason that men pursue broken women for relationships. I don't say any of this to be damning towards men. In a way, I feel sorry that the idea of masculinity they were raised with is such that they see a confident woman as a threat, because they're missing out on some really fantastic ladies, and resigning themselves to some really crappy relationships. I mean, if you're going to throw your hard-earned money at a girl, why not throw it at, say, a talented writer and comedian who will someday be a successful screenwriter and buy you a sweet beach house in Malibu? Today is the fourth Valentine's Day running that I'm single. This fact alone doesn't bother me so much, as I'm enough of an over-educated socialist liberal to recognize that Valentine's Day is just a Hallmark holiday created to sell heart-shaped boxes of candy and edible underwear. However, Valentine's Day was also my anniversary in my last long-term, ill-fated relationship. (I thought I was being clever, asking my ex to make our relationship official on Valentine's Day. Kill two birds with one stone, you know? Turns out I was just fucking myself with a two-sided dildo.)
If I sound a little jaded, it's because I am. In case you haven't been around any single thirty-somethings lately, let me illuminate one very important point for you - being single in your thirties sucks. There are no tall, dark and handsome men pulling up in a chauffeured car offering you a completely grope-free ride home. Being single in your thirties is more like that scene at the end of the Titanic, when all the survivors are on the rescue ship - just a bunch of weary, depressed, shell-shocked people stumbling around, wondering how the hell they got caught up in this mess. Because if you're single into your thirties, you've seen some shit. You're a vet. You've probably had relationships, maybe even a marriage, that didn't work out for any number of reasons (infidelity, lying, lack of communication, abuse, intimacy issues, and good old "irreconcilable differences). You're burnt out, skittish, so hyper-aware of red flags that your new SO need only cough the way your ex used to, and you're screaming "Dealbreaker!" and running for the hills. And that's not even taking into account whatever other shit life has thrown at you in the previous three+ decades - family dysfunction, physical trauma, career setbacks, etc. Now, for the record, I'm not saying that people who are in relationships live charmed lives. The grass is not always greener, and can, in fact, on many occasions, be dry, weedy and diseased. The point I'm making is that the older we get, the more fucked-up we become, and the harder it is to find someone whose type and level of fucked-up-ness is simpatico with your own. Of course, one way to counter-act that (besides hunkering down with a dozen cats) is therapy (with a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for psychiatry, bitches #throwback #musicman). Yup, I mean sitting down with a licensed, trained professional to talk about whatever shit from your past is making you depressed, anxious, violent, withdrawn, whatever. Because I believe that is the last, best hope for any of us to be healed enough to have a functional relationship with another human. And I address this post to the men because honestly, at least in my experience, women don't need to be told to go to therapy. Women (at least the ones I know) loooove therapy. I can count on one hand the women I know who haven't been to therapy. For the men I know, it's the complete opposite. Statistics bear out my anecdotal evidence on a larger scale. And while there are myriad reasons why seeking mental health counseling is beneficial in all aspects of life, for the purposes of this blog post, I'm focusing on one specific benefit - it would make dating a lot fucking easier on everyone. It's really hard to date someone who's a tangled knot of unresolved trauma, insecurity, anger, confusion and paranoia (trust me - I've been that person, and dated that person). Having recognized that, I did what any reasonable person would do - I sought help with untangling those knots, so that I might be a healthier, more functional partner to some lucky gentleman someday. But I get frustrated knowing that more than likely (and again, there's evidence backing me up) my would-be paramour is not out there doing the same kind of work on himself that I'm doing on myself. So where does that leave me, and all the women like me? Think of it this way. If I'm a runner who runs 3 miles every day (and remember, this is a hypothetical scenario, because I would never do something so cruel to myself as running), I can't have a training partner who only runs a mile once every few weeks. We're not at the same level, and they're not going to be able to keep up with me. Same with working on yourself mentally and emotionally. I'm not saying I have all of my shit processed and resolved; far from it. But at least I've opened the baggage and started unpacking it. It's frustrating to meet a guy who's still got all his bags stuffed in the deep recesses of his attic, completely untouched. You can't expect women to take on all the emotional labor of fixing themselves, and fixing you too. Meet us halfway, dudes. Be a little introspective. Think about what might have gone wrong in your past relationships, or how past pain and trauma might be informing the way you currently act towards women. And if you're not sure what to do to change it, that's ok: that's what therapists are for. Look, I know therapy is expensive. And time-consuming. And hard. As my first therapist told me, "The hardest thing to do is change how you think about something." And that's still true, 17 fucking years later. But every change I've made, however incremental, has made my life better. And it can make your life better too. Because maybe next Valentine's Day, instead of sitting alone in your room reading my dumb blog, you could be in my room, watching me write my blog, and then when I'm done, we can bust out the heart-shaped chocolates and edible undies, and have some good, old-fashioned V-Day fun. February 2019 has only just begun, but already the 2020 Presidential election is looming large in the minds of democracy-minded citizens throughout the U.S. How could it not? As of this writing, we're in the eye of a Trump-made hurricane using federal employees as leverage to get billions of dollars for a largely symbolic, likely ineffective border wall; the Mueller investigation continues to peel back layers of the most rotten onion in history, and the president continues to construct a glass house made of hamberders and his own delusions. The hope that we will elect an intellectually competent, emotionally stable individual (re: non-Republican) who has some qualifications or at least a modicum of respect for the office of the U.S. president is the shining beacon we are crawling towards during this endless waking nightmare.
And so far, even though we are just over a month into 2019, there are a lot of people vying to be that individual. Practically every week since the beginning of the year, someone else throws their hat in the ring, or forms an exploratory committee to decide if they should throw their hat in the ring. Within hours of these announcements, social media is blossoming with posts that are either: A) "Hell yeah, [Candidate X] is running! We're saved! [Candidate x] 2020!" or B) "[Candidate X] is the worst piece of trash to ever hold public office! Never [Candidate X]!" Look, I'm not saying passion is a bad thing. I get it. I will still fight anyone who claims *NSync is superior to the Backstreet Boys, even though no one (including the bands themselves) have cared about this rivalry since approximately 2002. And it's clear we need more engagement in our elections and political processes, not less. But if 2016 taught us anything, it's that election cycles are long and anything - and I mean anything - can happen. Remember July 2015 when Trump descended that escalator and said he was running for President and we all laughed at this silly publicity stunt and said it would never happen? From that moment, until Hillary Clinton gave her concession speech on November 9, 2016, I don't think Nostradamus himself could have predicted that events would unfold the way they did. So this is a heartfelt request, a gentle reminder for everyone to just be cool. Stay engaged, absolutely. Learn about the candidates, their platforms and their records. If there is someone who really gets you jazzed, donate or volunteer with their campaign. That will increase the likelihood that your candidate will be the one to face off against Trump in 2020. But also, keep an open mind. A lot of information is going to come out about all of these candidates, and yes, some of it will be unpleasant. It's ok to change your mind, or take your time in deciding who you want to support. This is a marathon, not a sprint, friends. I know many of us are scared, angry, baffled and exhausted from dealing with two years of a Trump presidency, and desperate for a change to set us on a path not just towards a functioning democracy, but an improved one that corrects many of the problems and injustices that have existed for decades. I am right there with you. I want to believe that can happen next year, but we'll need equal parts fiery passion in our guts and cool pragmatism in our heads to make that happen. Supposedly logic and critical thinking skills are something the left have going for them that the right doesn't, so let's lean into that, shall we? There are 638 days until November 3, 2020. Let's just be rational, be open-minded, and take each day as it comes. Because a lot of shit can happen in 638 days. Today we're going to talk about the Backstreet Boys. Love 'em or hate 'em, you can't deny that in the span of their 25-year career (yes, you read that right - the Backstreet Boys have been around since 1993), they have permanently lodged themselves in our collective consciousness. You've rocked out to "Everybody (Backstreet's Back)" on the dance floor at a wedding. You've taken a crack at "Quit Playing Games (With My Heart)" at karaoke. And you know that, no matter where you are or what you're doing, if "I Want It That Way" starts playing, you sing along.
But today, this devoted BSB fan is here to tell you that if you only know their greatest hits, you're cheating yourself. During my recent 3,100-mile sojourn across the U.S., I had the chance to fully re-acquaint myself with the entire BSB catalogue, and it made me think about how some of my favorite BSB songs are ones that never see the light of day. So, in honor of the release of their 10th (!) studio album, DNA, tomorrow, I decided to share with you all my recommendations for the most under-appreciated BSB songs that really deserve to be heard by more people. 1. "Feels Like Home" In A World Like This, 2013 The Boys have always been very vocal about celebrating their international fanbase, and this bouncy, rock-tinged tune from their last studio album carries on that tradition. I love it because it captures the energy and excitement exchanged between the band and their devoted followers, and references both their personal journeys (Kevin Richardson, who sings the first verse about moonshine and bonfires, hails from Kentucky) and their experiences as a band ("London, Berlin/This is where it all began" is a nod to breaking through in Europe before hitting it big in the U.S.). Go ahead and clap along - you know you want to. 2. "Climbing the Walls" Never Gone, 2005 For me, picking a favorite Backstreet Boys song is what I imagine picking my favorite child would be like, if I had children. It's so damn near impossible, but this soaring, rock-influenced power ballad from 2005's "Never Gone," is always right at the top of my list. Perhaps it's because when this song came out, I was in the midst of a torrid love affair with someone I had no business being in love with, but the song's themes of unrequited love and passion so strong it seeps under your skin resonated so much with me. With the combined belting power of AJ McLean, Brian Littrell and Nick Carter, no band does big emotions music better than BSB, imho. 3. "Hey Mr. DJ (Keep Playin' This Song)" Backstreet Boys, 1997 Let me tell you something - when I first heard this song in 1998, at age 13, it made me FEEL THINGS. If my life took place in the world of Netflix's Big Mouth, this is the song that would have made my Hormone Monstress bust through my wall and into my life. With it's buzzy beat, silky background harmonies and AJ's smooth-yet-raspy vocals, this song made visions of dark, sweaty dance floors and sexy dudes with killer moves dance in my head. Sadly, when I actually grew up and got to experience dark, sweaty dance floors, I found them to generally be populated with creepy dudes with awkward boners, but I'm still hopeful that one day I will find a guy who makes me want to say "Hey Mr. DJ, keep playin; this song." 4. "Don't Wanna Lose You Now" Millennium, 1999 Millennium, the Backstreet Boys' first CD released worldwide, is generally considered to be one of their strongest albums, and that fact was borne out in how much I struggled with which tracks from the album to include on this list. Every track on Millennium is solid, so you should really just go listen to the whole thing. But if you can't, or won't, you should at least listen to this mid-tempo track that ticks all the boxes of a great BSB song - glorious five-part harmonies? Check. A big, belty refrain that you want to shout from the rooftop? Check. A heart-wrenching emotional journey? Check. Treat yourself to a live, acoustic rendition from 2016 while you're here. 5. "That's the Way I Like It" Backstreet's Back, 1997 This track is such a deep cut, it was never formally released in the U.S. "That's The Way I Like It" was only included on the band's second European CD, "Backstreet's Back," making it something of a white whale for American fans (remember, kids, this was in the pre-Amazon days). But the power of this funky, slinky groove about the intoxicating power of music and mysterious women (which sounds nothing like the KC & the Sunshine Band tune of the same name) would not be denied. My friends and I managed to get our hands on contraband copies of "Backstreet's Back," and jammed our little hearts out, imagining we were the sexy "mystery lady" setting the Boys' desires aflame. 6. "Unsuspecting Sunday Afternoon" Unbreakable, 2007 For fans, 2007's Unbreakable was a bit of a crapshoot. Member Kevin Richardson went on hiatus from the band in 2006, and while we were happy the rest of the fellas decided to soldier on without him, we weren't really sure what the first Kevin-less album was going to be like. On Unbreakable, the Boys adopted a more adult contemporary sound, which is evident in "Unsuspecting Sunday Afternoon," the album's closing track, and one of their most beautiful, in my opinion. Written by the four remaining BSB members - Littrell, Carter, McLean and Howie Dorough - the song traffics more in metaphor and imagery than typical BSB songs, while still offering a strong emotional appeal. 7. "Poster Girl" Never Gone, 2005 This is one of the few BSB songs that has any kind of narrative, story-telling element to it, which is part of the reason I like it so much. The scratchy record sound (I'm sure there's a technical musical term for that, but I'm not a technical musical person), the bouncy melody, and the tension in loving someone who you know is ultimately a disastrous train wreck makes this my second-favorite song from Never Gone, after "Climbing the Walls," of course. 8. "Don't Want You Back" Millennium, 1999 Before there was NSync's "Bye Bye Bye," there was BSB's "Don't Want You Back." For the first time, the Boys were angry, and in 1999, BSB fans were here for it. With it's thumping, clanging drumbeat and moody melody, this was as close to raging against the machine as BSB got. This is probably the shallowest deep cut on this list, because the Boys have included this song in several of their tours and live concerts over the years. Twenty years later, we're still here for it. 9. "Everyone" Black and Blue, 2000 Did you know that in addition to a song called "Everybody," BSB also has a song called "Everyone"? See, you're learning so much today! This trippy, boppy uptempo song from Black and Blue always made me think of a pinball machine, and was ready-made to be an opener for their Black and Blue world tour. 10. "10,000 Promises" Backstreet's Back, 1997 Another song from BSB's second European album, Backstreet's Back. Like "That's The Way I Like It," I've always wondered what record-label shenanigans went down that kept this off their U.S. debut. It's a beautiful kiss-off power ballad that demonstrates the Boys' flawless five-part harmonies, and it's super-easy to relate to if you've ever been duped into loving someone untrustworthy (which sadly is most of us, at this point in our lives). It's ok. The Backstreet Boys understand. 11. "Panic" Unbreakable, 2007 True story: from the first time I heard this song, it always conjured images in my mind of a trippy funhouse. I love the juxtaposition of the dubby drum and bass rhythm with the dark and moody (for BSB, at least) lyrics. Always guaranteed to get my head bopping. 12. "Undone" This Is Us, 2009 When you listen to the Backstreet Boys as much as I do, you start to see some overarching themes in their songs. "Undone" is one of the best examples of what I call their "Ya Done Fucked Up" songs (see also: "10,000 Promises" and "Don't Want You Back" on this list). This is a rare example of the Boys exhibiting some restraint in their vocals, but it only serves to make the tone that much more menacing. You know when someone is so angry they whisper instead of scream? That's what's going on in "Undone," and if you've ever had a SO fuck you over, you know how real that feeling is. "Undone" was a pleasant bonus that they threw in their set list for their Las Vegas residency - check it out. 13. "Try" In A World Like This, 2013 The Backstreet Boys have always identified itself as, first and foremost, a vocal harmony group, evidenced by their ability to harmonize at the drop of a hat, with or without accompaniment. While it's been awhile since they've included a straight-up a cappella track on an album (although their new album, DNA, does include such a song), Try, on 2013's In A World Like This, came pretty close. Yes, this is yet another song on this list that features AJ as the lead vocalist, but it's simple, sexy and shows off what BSB does best - sing like five angels that fell right out of Heaven and into Orlando, FL. If, like me, you have been single for a few years, you know that, no matter how surrounded you are by loving family and friends, occasionally you long for the comfort and fulfillment of having that special someone for kissing, cuddling, and other couple-y things (hey, even in LA, there are cold nights when a warm body to snuggle up to would be most welcome). However, if, like me, you have been single for a few years, you know that dating is a nightmarish hellscape in which you're more likely to be insulted, ghosted or fucking peed on than to find a tolerable temporary bed buddy, let alone "the one." Not to mention that if you do find someone worth dating, you have to go through the whole torturous process of stressing about whether like you back, trying to impress their friends and family, and worrying about when a dealbreaker, like their lifelong dream is to live in Alaska or they voted for Jill Stein "because they just couldn't bear to vote for Hillary" will rear its ugly head. Ugh, isn't it exhausting just thinking about it? Maybe it's because the third anniversary of the end of my last long-term relationship just passed, or because I recently migrated to a new city with twice as many people as the city I left, but I was contemplating dipping a toe back into the murky, algae-filled dating pool. Luckily, the part of my brain that's not connected to my heart or vagina intervened before I could fire up the Tinder app and open myself up to a world of frustration and anxiety.  Since one never knows when a case of the relationships might hit again, I figured it would be a good idea to have a list of better uses for my time and energy handy. Maybe it will be useful to you as well, gentle reader - feel free to add your own!
1. Explore LA, my new home I live in LA now! Did you know that? It's a huge city in a huge state, which means there are tons of new things for me to explore and do, like the Getty, Griffith Observatory, the Hollywood Bowl, the Broad Museum, the La Brea Tar Pits, the LA Zoo, Runyon Canyon Park, Dodgers and Lakers games, Grand Central Market, the California Science Center, the Huntington Library and Botanical Gardens...I could go on and on. Who wants to be on Tinder when you can be on the beach all year round? 2.. Finish my screenplay So then I can go full LA and be one of those people running around trying to get industry people to read my screenplay. 3. Continue my quest for comedy domination I'm in one of the country's comedy meccas, with Groundlings, UCB, Second City and more offering classes in sketch and improv, two areas of comedy I definitely want to plunge into in my pursuit of being Tina Fey when I grow up. Not to mention all of the nightly open mics where I can continue to refine my stand-up act. Compared to all the other comics who plumb the dating scene for material, I'll look original as hell with my relevant jokes about The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel and why adults still lose their goddamn minds when someone tosses up a balloon at a party. 4. Earn some fucking money Because LA is as expensive as everyone says. Do you know what they charge for gas out here? DO YOU EVEN KNOW??? 5. Volunteer for a political campaign Look, shit is fucked up right now. I know it. Cardi B. knows it. And it seems like a better use of my time to work to defeat the MAGA-hat wearing masses in upcoming elections than to have to weed them out of my dating pool. I'm not saying I'm #teamkamala, but having done some canvassing before I left Philadelphia, I'm definitely interested in using my time and energy to support candidates who I believe can help push the country forward in the right direction. 6. Learn a new language While I may be able to speak and write English better than most people, I've always been shit at learning foreign languages. It might be time to overcome that. Spanish is the most obvious choice; the fact that a lot of signage in and around LA is written in both English and Spanish might improve my chances of actually mastering some of the language. 7. Exercise Not like, in a gym. Let's not go crazy here. But given California's seemingly endless supply of sunshine and array of beautiful hiking trails, I can be active outdoors a lot more than I was in stupid, frigid Pennsylvania. (Hope you're all staying warm, East Coast fam!) 8. Improve my mindfulness/meditation skills Yeah, yeah, I know, it's an LA cliche to get all hippie-dippie, but I was introduced to mindfulness practices and meditation techniques on the East Coast, and I do believe they have significant mental, emotional and physical benefits. If I can get my overactive mind to quiet for 10 minutes without bouncing from thought to thought like a goldfish who's out of Ritalin, that will be a new achievement level unlocked. #goals #westlifebestlife 9. Catch up on all the TV shows and podcasts people have recommended to me Let's see...The Sopranos, The Deuce, Shameless, Succession, Veep, Black Mirror, Just for Laughs, The Mindy Project, Great News, Schitt's Creek, Queer Eye, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, 2 Dope Queens, Sooo Many White Guys, Lore, S-Town, Dirty John, Comedy Bang Bang, Serial...yeah, I've got enough to keep me busy for a looooong time. 10. Write more blog posts Because I love you, dear reader, more than I could ever possibly love a man who is presently contemplating which dick pic to send to the poor girl he just matched with on Tinder. Today I attended the 2019 Women's March in Los Angeles. It's become something of a January tradition for me. I attended the first Women's March in 2017 in Washington, D.C. because, in all honesty, I needed an outlet for all the dismay, anger and horror I felt at Donald Trump's election as President of the United States. Marching alongside nearly half a million other people who shared my outrage and sorrow was a cathartic, energizing experience. We were exercising our right to peaceful protest, reminding the newly inaugurated President that although he clearly didn't respect us or our rights, we, like Alex Forrest, would not be ignored.
In 2018, I attended the march and rally in my hometown, Philadelphia. Although we had survived a year of the Trump presidency (although it felt more like 10 years) and the world hadn't ended (yet), it felt important to me to show up again to remind the government that we were still watching, still angry, still disapproving, and still waiting for them to do better on a whole host of issues, from equal rights for individuals of all genders, races and sexual orientations and identities to climate change to immigration. Of course, all of those things are still true today, in 2019, as we find ourselves entering year 3 of the special kind of insane, absurdist hell that is the Trump administration. It's possible that the stakes are higher now than they were in 2017 or 2018. We're mired in the longest government shutdown in U.S. history; there's a full-on humanitarian crisis at the southern border; it's becoming increasingly evident that a plethora of shady shit went down between the Trump campaign and Russia during the 2016 election, and the 2020 election is starting to peak its nose out over the horizon. And yet, this year's event seemed to lack the urgency of marches past. Perhaps this is just an example of the L.A. laid-backness to which I am still becoming accustomed. To be sure, there was still a very good turnout, in my eyes at least, at City Hall this afternoon. Maybe I'm just not yet connected with as many politically active folks out here as I was in Philadelphia. Perhaps everyone is still riding the high of the Blue Wave that swept through the 2018 midterms, and taking a breather before what will surely be a marathon to the next presidential election in November 2020. Accusations of anti-Semitism among the Women's March leadership have shrouded this year's marches in controversy, and also may have affected turnout. I briefly considered not attending the march after learning about the division among the organization's leaders. Not only do I not want to be associated with any movement that discriminates against anyone, I'm irritated that this is what the movement has become. If women want to be leaders, we need to act like leaders, and that means putting aside individual prejudices and squabbles for the greater good. I absolutely think it is important for women of color to have a seat at the table for leading these events and this movement. I don't think they have to be beyond reproach, or that they can't have evolving attitudes and learning curves like we all do. But you can't fight discrimination while discriminating, and you can't fight hate with hate. That sort of approach will sink this movement like a dang torpedo. After more research, I learned that the Women's March LA is not associated with the national Women's March, Inc. organization, which is why I felt comfortable attending. And while I'm glad I went (marching when it's 70 degrees and sunny is far preferable to marching when its 35 degrees and cloudy or rainy), I can't help but wonder if it's the best use of my (or anyone's) civic duty time. Yes, gathering together in a show of strength and solidarity has its value, but what did we ultimately accomplish today? To remind the Trump administration that we are unhappy with his governance? He already knows that, and may or may not care. Did we end the government shutdown? Resolve the humanitarian crisis at the border? Magically add another 10 years to Ruth Bader Ginsberg's life? I know this all may sound rather pessimistic, but I don't think this is a time to be a wide-eyed optimist, either. The fact is, putting on our pink pussy hats, pulling out our "A woman's place is in the House and the Senate" signs, and taking to the streets once a year is not going to do a whole lot to stop Trump and his cronies from implementing more dangerous, harmful policies; stacking courts with conservative judges, and, God forbid, winning re-election in 2020. I think, more than anything, this year's march was an opportunity to reflect on what I'm doing to be proactive in working to make my country a safer, more inclusive, more equitable place. I'm not entirely sure what that looks like yet, but I'll be sure to keep you posted when I do. As you may have noticed, my grand plans of doing a daily blog re-cap of my drive cross-country disintegrated quickly. Did you know that driving about 500 miles a day by yourself can be quite exhausting? And that when you reach your destination, all you'll want to do is drink the $5 wine you bought at a Wal-Mart in Garland, Texas out of a plastic hotel cup, find HGTV on the dial in whatever city you're calling home for the next 12 hours, and pass out? Because that's just one of the lessons I learned during #krissyscaliforniaadventure. So we will all have to content ourselves with a recap of my observations and experiences while on the road, written at the dining room table of my lovely new apartment in Studio City, California. It's been a whirlwind of a week - buckle up and let's go! Sunday, 1/6/19: Day 3 of my trip found me in western Tennessee, where I stopped for breakfast in Memphis. I went to the Arcade, the oldest restaurant in Memphis, established in 1919. It was a cute place, with friendly service and delicious food (I got a breakfast platter with ham, eggs, biscuits and grits that also provided my lunch that day). Being a solo traveler, I opted to sit at the counter, so as not to take up a whole table or booth, and I felt the weight of history settle on me. Although nothing in the write-up of the restaurant's history mentioned it, having existed in the Jim Crow South, I can only assume that the Arcade, like so many establishments of that era, was segregated, and that had I been a Black woman visiting the Arcade in its 1950s heydey, I would not have been allowed to sit in the seat I presently occupied. It's a disturbing thought, especially when considering that Memphis is still one of the United States' most segregated cities. It's an understatement to say that I'm perplexed by racism - why should the color of my skin affect where I am allowed to eat a meal? And sure, maybe people don't want the darker elements of our nation's history served to them with their morning coffee, but I can't help but wonder if these establishments don't have a responsibility to acknowledge their role in upholding racist laws in the past. This idea was further driven home when I walked around the corner from the Arcade to the Lorraine Hotel, where the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated on April 4, 1968. The hotel is now part of the National Civil Rights Museum, and is preserved to look as it did the day of the MLK's murder.  I unfortunately did not have time to visit the museum, although it looks really interesting, but even standing on the sidewalk below room 306, where Dr. King was shot, resonated. Here stood a man who dared to demand equality for all people. Here was a man whose whole system of agitating for equal rights was based on non-violence. Here was a man who just wanted to make the world a better place. And because he was Black, and the people he advocated for were of all races, he was so dangerous to some that he had to be shot dead. It makes no earthly sense to me how a person like Dr. King, who achieved so much in such a short time, and could have gone on to do so much more, was killed, while throughout history and the world, tyrants are allowed to live to continue perpetuating acts that actively harm people and the planet. With this in my mind and heart, I hit the road to Little Rock, Arkansas, where I stopped at the William J. Clinton Presidential Library and Museum. Ironically, the library was closed because of the federal government shutdown (presidential libraries and museums are operated by the National Archives and Records Administration, a federal agency), but I was able to tour the park surrounding the building, which overlooks the Arkansas River. The grounds include a small memorial area that acknowledge Arkansas as the site of acts of discrimination, including its location on the Trail of Tears, its hosting of Japanese-American internment camps during WWII, and its history of segregation. These are the kind of acknowledgments that I feel are necessary to make sure we as a country do not forget the horrors and injustices that have been perpetrated and sanctioned in our country. After all, the internment camps and Brown v. Board of Education occurred less than a hundred years ago. Yes, we've made progress, but we still have a long way to go. Monday, 1/7/19: After Sunday's thought-provoking experiences, Monday was a bit more subdued, as I drove across Texas from Garland, outside of Dallas, to Fort Davis. Everyone I talked to before and during my trip said that this leg would be the worst part of the trip, and while it wasn't horrible, it definitely was a slog. Texas is just so. damn. big. Out of six days of my trip, I spent at least part of three of them in Texas. There is one interesting thing that happened on this day of the trip, which I know any theater folks reading this will especially appreciate. In my research for the trip, I discovered that Odessa College in Odessa, Texas, is home to the "Globe of the Great Southwest," a replica of Shakespeare's Globe theater in London. Being a theater person, and not knowing when I would return to Odessa (spoiler alert: probably never), I figured I might as well try to see it. My expectations of getting inside the building to actually see the space were marginal; maybe there would be a rehearsal or show, or maybe the school was still on winter break and everything would be locked up. What I did not expect was for the theater, and the replica of the home of Anne Hathaway (Shakespeare's wife, not the Devil Wears Prada actress), to be completely unlocked and unoccupied, offering me completely unlimited access to everything. It was so fucking weird, I still can't believe it really happened. Had I been a less scrupulous person, I could have made off with valuable lighting and sound booth equipment, not to mention a whole dining room set from the Hathaway house. Luckily for Odessa College, I just took some photos and stayed far away from any expensive equipment, but seriously guys...lock your doors. Tuesday, 1/8/19: I started my day by swinging through Marfa, Texas, which many people recommended I visit, as it's known as a funky, eclectic creative haven in the middle of the desert. Not to shit on anyone's opinion, but I was very underwhelmed. Maybe it's because I was there on a Tuesday morning in the middle of winter, but Marfa struck me as just a sleepy little Texas town where it was hard to find a spot for breakfast (although I did end up getting a delicious and cheap breakfast burrito at a local joint called Mando's). I'm not sorry that I made it a point to stop there, but it was a bit of a letdown. I had really been looking forward to seeing what Marfa had to offer, and was disappointed to find that it wasn't much. Driving back to the interstate from Marfa meant about an hour on a super-isolated two-lane highway. This was the only point of the trip where I got really nervous; I saw maybe four other vehicles in the entire time I was on this road, and my cell phone service was spotty. If my car had broken down or I was somehow impaired, I was going to be right fucked. Obviously, I made it, but despite the lovely scenery, I was happy to put those miles behind me. Also, while I was on this road, I spotted what could only be described as an unidentified flying object. As I drove towards it, knowing full well that it was probably some kind of weather-tracking device, I developed a newfound empathy for people who think they've seen alien spaceships. When you're driving alone through an isolated moonscape with nothing but cattle for company, and you spot an oddly-shaped object floating, apparently untethered, in the sky - well, it can make you question reality a bit. Of course, the thing I was not an alien UFO, but rather some weather-tracking radar balloon, but I'll always remember that half hour when I almost believed in aliens. Tuesday also saw me traveling through El Paso, right on the border of Mexico. The timing seemed auspicious, given that 45 is currently throwing the longest temper tantrum in government history over border security in this area. Look, driving past one small section of this vast national border doesn't make me an authority on what's going on in this area (although I guess if I were Trump, I would claim that it would). But I certainly didn't see a migrant caravan hurtling themselves at America like zombies in World War Z. Interstate 10 passes within miles of the U.S.-Mexico border, and from what I could see, Mexico was just over there, chilling. Interestingly, since I was listening to a lot of NPR and new podcasts on my journey, some of the experts and commentary I heard changed my opinion on border security somewhat, in that we do need to increase it, but in an intentional, comprehensive way. The wall, of course, remains one of the most asinine, illogical solutions to a highly complex, ongoing problem I've ever heard, and I've worked in higher education, so I know from dumb ideas. New Mexico lived up to its name of the "Land of Enchantment." Even though I only spent about half a day there, it was my favorite state along the way, and probably number one on my list to revisit. Absolutely breath-taking scenery:  Wednesday, 1/9/19: My last day on the road was good, but a little strange. I met up with a friend for lunch in Tempe, AZ; his was the first familiar face I had seen in six days, and I realized how quickly I had gotten comfortable with my isolation (I would make a fantastic hermit, if that ever comes back as a viable career path). As I got closer and closer to California, I actually found myself getting nervous. In one sense, my journey was coming to an end. I had made it across the country, all 3,142 miles (I counted), alive! But of course, my journey was just starting - once I arrived at my new apartment, I was going to have to get out of my car, unpack all my shit, and start a new life. I don't know if you've ever done that, but it's kind of terrifying. For six days, life had been pretty uncomplicated; wake up, gas up, hit the road, eat when you have to eat, pee when you have to pee, get to your destination in one piece, sleep, and repeat. Although I had been putting pieces in place for my life in California, now the whole picture was coming into focus. This wasn't like going on a vacation and returning to your regular life. I talked to my mom about it, and likened it to what I imagine having a baby is like: you spend months planning and preparing to have a baby, which is a huge event, but it doesn't end with the birth. That's just the beginning of a whole new reality. I spent months planning and preparing for this move, and now the move is over (pretty much - there are still a few boxes in my car), but the new reality is just beginning.
So that's where I am. If you've made it to the end of this massively long post, thank you for reading, have a cookie! (Spoiler alert - I don't have any cookies). But I will have a lot more to say in the coming weeks about my new life here in LA, so stay tuned! |
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