This Is Us
Some see a cultureless wasteland, but to me, it’s home
The summer before my senior year of college, I worked as an assistant video editor for my college’s communications department. My supervisor was a man with thinning red hair and a thick, red mustache. Despite being a devout vegetarian, he always had a pungent, meaty smell to him — like old ham water. His native New York accent was thick enough I don’t believe I ever heard him pronounce the letter R.
Despite my debilitating social anxiety and self-doubt, back then I had convinced myself that I’d be moving to New York or L.A. after college to pursue a career in TV or film. …
HUMOR
You can’t make me
There’s nothing better than snuggling into my enormous wearable blanket. It’s become my second skin. Iron Man has his suit; I have my Slanket.
Sure, I look like Leonardo DiCaprio in The Revenant, living out of the bear carcass, but it protects me from the elements. It shrouds me in a warm cocoon, rendering me completely immobile.
Some may say my inability to get off the couch is a result of depression, seasonal affective disorder, or generalized existential angst. I know it’s really the comforting weight of my Slanket that holds me down on the couch and keeps me glued to The Great British Baking Show. …
SATIRE
Social awkwardness doesn’t help
See the photo above? I took it lurking behind a plant at a pre-pandemic networking event.
For us socially-awkward souls, the pandemic offers a welcome reprieve. No more in-person work conferences, networking events, or other forced interactions professional life foists upon us. I wish I could say I crave face-to-face communication enough that I miss these experiences, but I don’t.
Talking with strangers is like playing a game I can’t win
It’s a combination of introversion, excessive self-monitoring, and intolerance for small talk that’s produced my specific strain of social awkwardness. For me, talking with people I’m unfamiliar with represents a series of games I can’t seem to win.
Talking with strangers at a business event, for instance, is like playing Minesweeper. If you’re too young to know what Minesweeper is, I’m sad for both of us. Opening a conversation with someone new, I don’t know if I’ll gain human interaction points or detonate a landmine. …
Start by recognizing the three Ps
Have you ever felt yourself on the verge of a downward spiral? I’ve been there, too.
“What kind of mother can’t get her baby to sleep? There must be something wrong with me. If I don’t get some sleep myself soon, I’m going to go crazy. Will this sleep drought ever end? I can’t take it anymore.”
These thoughts swirled in my brain as I felt myself on the precipice of a sob fest. My baby had been teething and struggling with sleep, and I had had just nine hours of sleep in 72 hours. …
Everything changed two years ago when I discovered my baby daughter had a cow’s milk protein intolerance.
I live in Wisconsin — a land so in love with dairy that its residents can be seen wearing cheesehead hats. It’s no wonder — Wisconsin produces more cheese than any other state in the U.S. I used to enjoy dairy, too — the creaminess of yogurt, the tanginess of sharp cheddar, the sweetness of ice cream.
Everything changed two years ago when I discovered my baby daughter had a cow’s milk protein intolerance. Since I was breastfeeding and could pass any dairy I ate to her through my milk, I had to cut out all dairy from my diet. …
To protect our multiracial family
News of the attack on the US Capitol building has weighed heavily on my family, particularly my typically even-keeled husband. He’s been glued to his phone, tracking updates on the situation. He started complaining about an ache in his jaw — a muscle that seems permanently tensed. He’d been carrying this weight in silence, not wanting to talk about it. When he finally opened up, our conversation disturbed me.
Last night in bed, he turned to me and said, “I have something I want to discuss with you.” His tone was so serious I was instantly alarmed.
“What is it?” I asked. …
Spoiler alert: His height wasn’t the problem
If you’ve been dating long enough, you accumulate your fair share of horror stories. My date with a really short guy I met on Match.com used to be a regular one in my rotation of “horrible dates to laugh about at dinner parties.” It’s been 15 years since that date, and my perspective of it has shifted. But before we get to that, here’s the story:
Before moving to Boston for a summer internship, I was dumped by a guy I thought was the love of my life. …
The show perpetuates a dominant narrative about whose stories are worthy of our attention.
The Crown is a show I should like. One of my favorite movies in high school was Sense and Sensibility. Downton Abbey? Yes, please — although my interest waned after the third season. Victoria — I’ve watched that, too. For most of my life, I’ve had a soft spot for English period dramas.
Yet, I can’t muster up the interest to watch The Crown. Netflix’s drama follows Queen Elizabeth II from her 1947 wedding to the present. It has all the trappings that would usually pull me in. Critical acclaim. A knockout cast. Beautiful cinematography and exquisite costumes. …
The difference between now and then is remarkable.
Yesterday, I indulged in some early 2000s nostalgia by watching
Real World/Road Rules Challenge: The Inferno II, newly streaming on Netflix. As an elder millennial, I have a soft spot for the Real World/Road Rules franchise and remember a few, but not all, of the usual suspects. I turned on the reality game show and was surprised to discover none other than Karamo Brown playing for “Team Bad Asses” rather than “Team Good Guys.” Wait. Karamo was considered a bad guy?
For fans of the Netflix series Queer Eye, you know Karamo Brown as the uplifting, compassionate culture expert. He acts as a life coach and wins over the hearts of participants and viewers alike with his calm, positive energy. He’s a licensed social worker, champion of LGBTQ+ rights, mental health advocate, and motivational speaker. …
#2. Analyze feedback from peers and editors
My text: Despite the squeaking caulk, watching them was soothing and soporific and by the time he got to deviations, I was hazy and unfocused.
Editor’s comment: I have no idea what you’re actually trying to say here.
Ouch.
If you’ve written for long enough, you start to see common themes in the feedback you receive. Maybe you’ve been told you tend toward wordiness, struggle with transitions, or include too much fluff. Maybe you struggle with description and dialogue. From my high school English teachers to editors of my most recent articles, I’ve heard these three words: lack of clarity. I recognize it now as my biggest weakness as a writer. …
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