The shock of the mundane.

So much going on today, so many people trying to find their way with all the craziness we’re caught up in with this pandemic. I had a long and stressful day at work — working and also setting up to work from home, which I’ll be doing starting tomorrow — came home to an evening meeting (on Zoom), only to have to duck out of it because the ceiling in my kitchen started leaking.

I was ready for so many things today:

  • I installed a bunch of those bulb thingies in my work plants so they can self-water. I ordered them last week when I knew we were about to start working from home. I can’t bring all of my office plants home, so they need to shelter in place in my office. This way, I can leave them and only have to check on them once every week to 10 days.
  • I had a slew of meetings around implementing the contingency plans we came up with last week.
  • I made sure I’d be able to get my team paid without having to be in the office.
  • I put out a couple of stress-induced fires.
  • I canceled some appointments, the better to facilitate my social distancing.
  • I washed my hands. A lot.

I put in a solid 10-hour day. I felt pretty productive. I felt pretty capable.

And then I was totally thrown by a leak. I mean, a leak is never fun, but it’s pretty regular. I’ve had any number of leaks, so many that I feel they are the particular curse I bring with me to each new home I live in. But tonight, I just couldn’t. I had fully exhausted my ability to be calm and capable in the face of a challenge. I just stood and stared at all that water, listened to it rain down over my freshly-washed dishes. I was undone.

Okay, that didn’t last forever. My brain snapped back into position, and I set about stemming the flood and calling the super and cleaning. It’s just really interesting to me that something so basic, so everyday, was the thing that flummoxed me, that almost made me lose my … ahem … ish.

And it’s only day one, friends. How are you doing? How ready are you for these sweeping lockdowns? Wishing us all well in the time of COVID19.


It’s March, which means it’s time for the
13th annual Slice of Life Story Challenge!
Curious? Head on over to Two Writing Teachers
and see what the rest of this year’s slicers are up to!

Original Slicer - GirlGriot

Still Processing …

Plans are taking shape for offering our programming online. I spent pretty much this whole day in meetings with our program directors, answering questions, encouraging brainstorming, trying to reassure them that they won’t be left in the lurch.

I’m exhausted.

I’m also, for the first time, worried. It’s not that I didn’t take this virus seriously before today. I most certainly took it seriously. It’s not that I didn’t acknowledge that I am in the group of people at risk for having a bad time with this virus if I get sick. I acknowledged that. So what’s different?

Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve actually had to make plans for working from home, had to wrestle with the concrete facts of the degree to which I’ll self-isolate, had to cross the line from “here’s what *people* should do,” to “here’s what *I* have to do.”

I’m also sad. Preemptively sad. I’m sad thinking about not getting to see my really excellent team every day until the fog lifts on this terrible time. I’m sad thinking about all of the people that will be negatively impacted by this virus. I’m sad thinking about all the ways we as a country could have responded more quickly and helpfully so that fewer people would be in jeopardy. I’m sad thinking about the fact that my trip to visit my family last month will be the last time I’ll visit for the foreseeable future.

I wasn’t thinking about any of these things yesterday. I wasn’t worried yesterday. I wasn’t thinking about the fact that, if I  were to wind up in the worst-case version of this illness, I would likely not be a candidate for the limited supply of life-saving acute care equipment because of my age and size and pre-existing health conditions.

Wow, talk about things that aren’t helping my mood. I mean, damn.

Yes, and.

And it’s also true that I ate a delicious Jona Gold apple today. It’s also true that I saw my team rally and come up with great ideas today. It’s also true that I had great text exchanges with my best-beloved niece and nephew. It’s also true that I started my day with a text from my best-beloved sister. It’s also true that my hair looked great today. It’s also true that the day turned from grey, foggy, and rainy to clear-blue sunny when I wasn’t looking. It’s also true that I made a connection with one of my neighbors. It’s also true that I won every game of online Scrabble I played. And it’s also true that I saw my first star of the night before the sun had fully set.

So, yeah. All of that. All of that. I’m worried. I’m prepping to start doing 60% of my work from home. And I’m determined to be fine, to keep myself as safe and healthy as I can … and to remember that practicing gratitude always makes me feel better.


It’s March, which means it’s time for the
13th annual Slice of Life Story Challenge!
Curious? Head on over to Two Writing Teachers
and see what the rest of this year’s slicers are up to!

Original Slicer - GirlGriot

Pandemic A-Go-Go

You know, or something.

I’m not really trying to be flip about what’s happening with this virus. I’m just … at a loss for what all to say. My state’s governor announced today that the education programs I oversee are all ceasing in-person services for the rest of the semester. We have a week to come up with a contingency plan before online programming is set to begin.

We need more than a week.

I think the decision to go online is a good one. I think it’s the right decision. It just isn’t that easy for programs like mine, and certainly isn’t anything like easy for the people we serve.

We’re rallying. I mean, of course we are. How not? Our students are everything, and we need to make sure they are supported through this strange time. And also, this is what we do, right? We figure shit out and make plans and carry on. It’s what we’re all doing everywhere, right? Because our lives have to go on, and our communities have to come through this, and so we do what we have to do.

And then I stopped at my grocery store on the way home. I wanted some fancy cheese and some French bread and some fruit. In and out. Easy, right? How did it not occur to me that — between the WHO announcement and the governor shutting schools down all over the state — people would be panic-shopping and losing their minds all through the aisles?

I am silly this way. Entirely.

I can’t really be this oblivious, and yet … I wasn’t prepared. Wasn’t prepared for the serious soul-searching in the produce aisle, a couple debating whether they should risk fresh fruits and vegetables because someone who handled the food might have been “A CARRIER.” Wasn’t prepared for the woman taking every case of bottled water on the shelves and setting her small child atop the pile in her cart to keep other shoppers from trying to swipe a case. Wasn’t prepared for the man who tried to convince people to let him cut the (very long) check out line by giving us dramatic stage-coughs and saying, “I got the asthma! I can’t be around all these people! Let me get home!”

I wasn’t prepared.

I’m home now. I got my snacks. I’ve sent a zillion emails to staff to get our planning under way. I’ve emailed my family so they won’t worry about me, all alone up here in the sickly north.

So, here we go, friends. Here we go.

Sending love and well wishes to you and yours and hoping we all come through this intact, stronger for our struggles, and ready for the next challenge!


It’s March, which means it’s time for the
13th annual Slice of Life Story Challenge!
Curious? Head on over to Two Writing Teachers
and see what the rest of this year’s slicers are up to!

Original Slicer - GirlGriot

Fleshing Out the Five: Parlor Tricks

So … I’ve decided to make a post about each of the random facts I included in my Counting to Five post. Is this cheating? I think not! Besides, my brain is tired. All the awful drama unfolding with this virus and people’s responses to it is a lot. So I’ll dip into these little stories and give us all a break. So, in no particular order  …

The third item on my list was:

I was once the host of a party at which a friend’s +1 thought his clever party trick would be to insert himself into groups and diagram the sentences of everyone trying to have a conversation. <sigh>

Yeah, it’s hard to be a hostess. It’s particularly hard for someone like me who suffers from Manic Hostess Behavior. And to have this guy show up at my party and start diagramming people’s sentences … the peak of petrification for a manic hostess. For realz.

There isn’t much of a story here, but there are all the things I think about this incident. A friend’s parents have an extraordinary apartment on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. This friend, another friend, and I would sometimes throw ginormous parties when said parents were traveling. We invited crazy numbers of people. We had the idea that our different friend groups should meet, that surely they would like one another as much as my two girlfriends and I liked each other. This turned out to be true and not-true, of course, because that’s how things go.

And that is how, at one of our parties, I walked up to a group of surprised-looking people and found this guy. Had he been a simultaneous interpreter, that would have been cool. But a simultaneous diagrammer? That’s weird. Totally impressive, to be sure, but still weird. And also annoying, as it gets in the way of smooth-flowing conversation.

He was getting quite a kick out of himself. I remember him laughing each time he finished a sentence and could imagine him mentally making a little hash mark, like notches on a headboard: “And one more!” I played good hostess, stepping in to let those people find their way out of the non-conversation. I allowed a few of my own sentences to be diagrammed as I led him to the snack table. I wound up doing that several times before finally giving up.

Giving up is, of course, complete hostess fail. How could I abandon my guests to that nonsense? But I couldn’t bear another go-round with him. And he wasn’t even the +1 of one of the folks I’d invited. I just couldn’t let him be my responsibility all night, not if I wanted to enjoy some of the party my own self.

Okay, real talk. Being able to diagram a sentence on the fly is amazing, but who walks into a party thinking this skill is how they will make friends and influence people? And how hard does one have to practice at home to develop this skill? And, if you have this skill, why would you need to demonstrate it with every single sentence uttered by anyone standing near you?

Trust me, sir, this is neither necessary nor welcome. And that girl you’re trying to hit on? She’s already seen you do this really weird and annoying thing, seen you do it over and over again, even with the sentences you’re saying to her as you try to chat her up. It is not working. It really is not. Stop now.

It can be super awkward going to a party where you know exactly one person. I get that. I’ve been that person, and I’m really not good at it. This is still the wrong parlor trick to pull, uninvited, out of your hat. I say “uninvited” because it might actually work if you handled it differently. Maybe you told everyone in the group that you had this talent and challenged them to try to stump you. Then everyone would be in on the fun and you wouldn’t be cutting conversations off at the knees by inserting your diagrams all over the place. In this scenario, your skill would be a game everyone could play. I think that’s probably the only way this would ever be enjoyable for other people in the group.

None of that is what happened at that long-ago party, however. The young woman that guy tried to hit on immediately removed herself from his presence. So did most of the other people he threw diagrams at.

And me, the manic hostess? That party was decades ago, and I still remember this weirdness. I can’t remember anything else about the party, but I remember this. Ugh.

 


It’s March, which means it’s time for the
13th annual Slice of Life Story Challenge!
Curious? Head on over to Two Writing Teachers
and see what the rest of this year’s slicers are up to!

Original Slicer - GirlGriot

Your Privilege Is Showing

I was walking down Seventh Avenue in Manhattan, headed for Penn Station. I was in a good mood: I’d just come from a good Girls Write Now workshop, and I was on my way to a coffee shop to meet a dear friend for a writing date. It had been raining in the morning, but just then the sun was warming things, and the rain seemed past. Good mood, not thinking about the dumpster-fire hellscape we live in, just happy in my little, personal bubble.

I stopped at a street light. And a couple stood beside me. They were pretty in that sharp, shiny way of models who graduated from Abercrombie and Fitch ads five or six years ago. They are both white, their accents don’t sound like this city, but they could be from anywhere.

Him: The thing is, we know politicians lie. We know they lie some percentage of the time. Some lie a greater percentage than others.

Her: They are politicians.

Him: Right. And we know they’ve all done things that aren’t strictly legal. But the things is, they spend so much time talking about all that, they barely have time to govern, to get anything done.

Her: Good point.

Him: And that kind of works in our favor, right? It’s ridiculous, but it’s good, too. They have so little time for the real work that they don’t have time to mess things up too badly. So we just need to hang in there.

Her: That’s great. Thinking of it that way is so helpful.

No. I didn’t actually start throwing up at that moment. That would maybe have been the kindest thing I could have done, however. It would have created a distraction and would likely have made them shut the entire fuck up.

Sigh.

Never mind the nonsensical idea that politicians don’t have enough time to get anything done because they’re too busy cleaning or covering up the messes from all their lies and illegal activities.

Never mind that this man’s idea hinges on an assumed pendulum-swing that would land us back in some mystical, never-existed time when all of us were safe and happy.

Never mind that this shows just how little these pretty, pretty people have been paying attention to much of anything that’s happened in the last 26 months.

Ugh.

I want to bypass all of that and zero in on the idea of things not getting messed up “too badly.” Too badly. What, I wonder, does this mean?

Are things not messed up too badly for every Muslim person who has been impacted by the travel ban?

Are things not messed up too badly for all the DACA youth and adults who are now at risk of deportation?

Are things not messed up too badly for every family that’s been separated at the border?

Are things not messed up too badly for every child lost to trafficking and illegal adoptions because no one ever intended to return them to their families?

Are things not messed up too badly for every child who has been sexually abused or assaulted while in detention?

Are things not messed up too badly for every person raped on a college campus now that there are fewer protections and avenues for recourse for them to protect themselves and ensure their attacker is held accountable?

Are things not messed up too badly for every transgender soldier who can no longer pursue their military careers?

Are things not messed up too badly for every transgender person whose personhood isn’t considered valuable enough to be respected and protected?

Are things not messed up too badly for Puerto Rico?

I’ll stop, though there are so many more of these questions I could pose.

Even if it’s true that the Trump administration and Republican lawmakers don’t have time to do all the hateful things they want to do, can there really be a question as to whether they have already succeeded in doing a shit-ton of patently horrible things? Really?

If you can look at the things that have been done and undone since Trump was sworn in and think that things haven’t been messed up too much, it’s past time for you to examine your privilege. Clearly, none of the things that have been done since January 2017 have affected you, or haven’t affected you much, not enough for you to feel particularly inconvenienced.

But you have work to do. You have so damn much work to do.

First, you need to read more, and more broadly. You need to follow the social media of a whole bunch of Black and brown and indigenous people.

And then you need to make some new friends. You need poor white friends. You need gay and trans friends. You need Black and brown and indigenous friends. You need gay and trans Black and brown and indigenous friends. You need friends who work blue collar jobs. You need friends who never attended college and maybe never graduated from high school. You need friends who work in the service industry. You need friends who live off their tips. You need friends who are Muslim. You need friends who are Jewish. You need friends who’ve been stopped and frisked. You need friends who’ve been incarcerated. You need friends who aren’t you, who aren’t anything like you.

Yes, I know this is a lot to demand. It’s hard to make friends. And it’s especially hard to make friends from groups that aren’t part of your existing circles, who don’t live in your comfort zone. And sure, maybe that means you need to think about your comfort zone. In the meantime, if you can’t make a whole set of friends, if you can’t make any new friends without asking them to explain structural racism or poverty to you, if you can’t make new friends without using them as proof of your wokeness or non-racist-ness, then you have that much more reading and following to do.

I know we can’t spend all of our time suffering on behalf of people other than ourselves and our loved ones, that we can’t spend every waking moment working to improve everyone’s life. I mean, look at me. I was walking down Seventh Avenue not thinking about anyone else. I spend many, many hours and days of my life focused on my own needs. At the same time, I am aware of the realities around me, and I try to learn about realities I don’t know so well. I am neither as comfortable nor as safe as that couple on the street sounded, but I have my privileges, the truths about me and who I am able to be in the world that make my life leagues easier than the lives of a staggering majority of people. The thing is, I know that. And the other thing is, I know those other people exist and I know my life and my hope for the future are entirely tied up with those people’s lives.

This isn’t an I-am-my-brother’s-keeper situation. This is a my-brother’s-life-is-connected-to-mine situation. This isn’t complex math.

Not only did I not vomit when I heard that couple’s conversation, I didn’t engage with them. I’d been in a good mood, and I wanted to be in a good mood. I’ve already said (again and again) how uninterested I am in doing folks’ homework for them, but in this instance, it was more a case of not wanting to yell at strangers in the street. That’s really never a way to get people thinking or teach them anything, anyway.

I kept walking. I promised myself that I’d sit down and write all of this out so I could release it and not carry it on my chest for the next forever. Done and done.

Or … ? I mean, doesn’t someone need to take and shake these people? Not just that couple, but all the comfortable people who think things can’t really get too bad, that things aren’t already too bad.

Sigh. “Someone” needs to take and shake them, but it really can’t be me.

Right. Whose job is it, then?

So many of my questions come back to the same answer, an answer that will surprise no one: white people, you need to get your people. For real. You need to. And this is a full-time job, so that’s going to be pretty exhausting. Yeah. Entirely exhausting. You’ll need to squad up, make some schedules, figure out shifts. All of that. But really, the work is steading increasing, so the sooner you get started, the better.


In 2017, I took up Vanessa Mártir’s #52essays2017 challenge to write an essay a week. I didn’t complete 52 essays by year’s end, but I did write like crazy, more in 2017 than in 2015 and 2016 combined! I’ve decided to keep working on personal essays, keep at this #GriotGrind. If you’d care to join in, it’s never too late! You can find our group on FB: #52Essays Next Wave.