Many of us, particularly in the U.S., are in a pickle: Someone we know and hold dear, or someone who is loved by someone we know and hold dear, is on the opposite side of the Covid-19 vaccine debate.
From sea to shining sea and beyond, disagreement on this matter is ripping loved ones apart.
For The Guardian, the journalist and Medium writer Ashley Abramson recently covered the various ways that people are navigating these rifts. To be totally transparent, I edited said story and have collaborated with Ashley for years. …
As a very small child, I would rouse myself out of bed on Saturday mornings at 7am to watch Pee Wee’s Playhouse. (I barely spoke English at the time but had a fully developed sense of camp.) When the show was over, I went back to bed for another hour.
This is all to say that I am not a morning person. I have never been, and I never will be.
Unfortunately, the working world runs on a morning person’s schedule. A vampire’s life is incompatible with society, which sucks.
But I have one small survival method:
CREATE A GET-OUT-OF-BED…
The other day, a colleague mentioned an exchange he’d recently had with a stranger at a wedding. It was a small talk situation and, of course, the pandemic became the ice-breaker subject. The stranger sighed. “I’m so tired of talking about this,” he said.
How do we do small talk now? my colleague asked.
The answer, I think, is the same as it ever was: 1.) Be curious; 2.) Listen.
To quote a former colleague, the wonderful Ross McCammon:
It might help to approach the task like an interview. At first, your conversational partner should feel like a subject. Something…
Yesterday I was on the phone with my best friend, Carmen when she asked if I’d been following the news about Simone Biles. I said I had, sort of. I knew that the U.S. gymnastics virtuoso had just withdrawn from the Olympic finals, citing her mental health. And I knew that the public response was largely supportive, save for some minor and predictable backlash from a handful of inconsequential clowns.
A few months ago, I found myself with a crisis of motivation. I’d just left a job and was in no rush to find another. I had a little bit of money to hold me over for a few months. For the first time in my adult life — and possibly the last — I found myself with nothing to do. And there was nothing I wanted to do, either.
It was nice for about two weeks. Then it became weird. I remembered how much I once enjoyed getting things done, my little projects and adventures. Who even was that…
Earlier this summer, I’d just wrapped up a reporting trip and other things too dull to mention, when I wrote an op-ed that went low-key viral. Low-key as in, I showed up in like seven more LinkedIn searches than I might otherwise (so like, nine total) and my inbox ‘SPLODED with people asking me to do things for free.
Wanna go on TV? On this one podcast? To write this thing for that blog? They were sliding into my Twitter DMs, my Instagram messages, and all three of my (theoretically) active email inboxes. So much attention! So in demand!
I’ll start with the point.
A few days ago, I had a terrible fight with my partner of more than six years. I’m talking, BAD. The cause? We were thirsty.
No, seriously. That’s it. We were on a southwestern hiking trip and had gotten worrisomely dehydrated, thus reduced to a set of middle-aged preschoolers.
Fortunately, we figured out this cause-and-effect before things got further out of hand. But I should have known better from the start. Science foretold this catastrophe. And I knew the signs.
Chaos is fine for some people. Zen people. Freewheelers. People we describe as “kooky” or “quirky,” mostly with fondness, because they’re so unbothered by their bubbles of existential disarray that it’s kind of charming. You have to admire a person who owns their chaos.
You know the type. Maybe you are the type: Everything you do, you want to do really well. But you can’t…
The wildest thing happened this past weekend.
Wait for it…
As in, I attended some. Plural.
It was my first real weekend of Hot Vax Summer, and my first proper going-out in 18 months. And somewhere amid all that rusty social interaction, I realized something. Well, two things. One: I know a lot of Geminis. Second, and the reason we’re all here: that the only kind of ‘networking’ I ever want to do is going to parties where I can be my damn self and enjoy the people around me. I know, what a concept.
I cannot tell you…
In the month since I stopped working full-time to focus on freelance projects and aimless walks, I’ve gotten pretty into trees.
On my first handful of springtime hikes in New York’s Hudson Valley, I lugged around a copy of the National Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Trees. I’d pause every few dozen trees to cross-reference bark ridge patterns and last autumn’s leaf litter, puzzling over the distinction between fissures and furrows, the chroma of browns. Last weekend, I downloaded an app that can identify most trees, plants, and even fungi from a single photograph, which feels a little…