Where can I put it down?

Feelings, turning thirty, & some things I loved this week.

I think about these lines so often. They’re always kicking around in my brain. When I’m distraught – where can I put it down? Angry – where can I put it down? Anxious – where can I put it down? I carry too much, all the time. I am always overflowing.

I was talking to Ed the other day about approaching thirty. I told him how I thought my life would look so different by the time this age rolled around. I thought I would know who I’d be celebrating with. I thought I would be making more money. I most certainly did not think I would be getting ready to apply to grad school in a few short months. It’s an all too common refrain: “I thought I’d be [insert expectation here] by [x] point in my life.” We are all so acutely aware that these are mere arbitrary milestones we put too much importance in, and yet we still make ourselves feel terrible when we haven’t reached them. But thirty always felt like such a far-away thing, and I looked at thirty like it would save me somehow. Like I would magically have it all figured out by then. But it’s suddenly almost here, and I’m just as unsure and afraid as ever.

I often whine about how I’m still barely scraping by at my age without considering the fact that nearly my entire adult life has been shaped by economic downturn. I was a freshman in high school when Obama was elected. There was talk everywhere about how terrible the job market was – unemployment higher than ever, whispers of the recession on everyone’s lips. I distinctly remember thinking how thankful I was to still be in high school at that time, to have just a few years for the world to recover and reset before I was to enter it, before I had to start finding my purpose and making my own money. What wishful thinking that was. We understand so little at fourteen.

Since I’ve entered the workforce, I’ve never had a job that paid me enough, and unlike the generations before us, most of us have never known what true security feels like. When my mother (who is an educator) speaks of teacher tenure, it’s almost unfathomable to me. Jobs have always felt precarious, at times borderline abusive. My experience is not unique in the slightest, and these less-than-charming qualities of working life are rampant almost to the point of standardization. At times I feel like I was bullied into freelancing, so disenchanted with the worlds I worked in that I could no longer participate in a 9 to 5 capacity. At least as a freelancer there was no guise of job security; I knew exactly what I was signing up for, and I willingly made that choice in order to preserve some of my autonomy. Truthfully, I am a much happier human being as a freelancer despite the unpredictable nature of it all. But it comes with its own set of unique challenges, and I am more often than not struggling to get by and fighting for opportunities in an incredibly oversaturated field.

I joke a lot that the longest job I’ve ever held was working retail at American Apparel, and like some of the best jokes, it’s funny because it’s true. I made twelve dollars an hour, but I still lived with my parents. I worked with my friends every day and had the time of my life. It was my first job out of high school at 17, and I kept it until I was 22 and in college at UCLA. I think about that job all the time, tutting at my younger self like some kind of wise old woman for desperately wanting to quit that retail job and to finally get a “real job” once I had a degree. That young girl would come to learn that most of these “real jobs” were less than ideal, and that her degree would play a minuscule role in the acquisition of any of the jobs she would come to hold in the future. Still, I think about the potential Gen Y, Gen Z, and Gen Alpha have to change the shape of this tyrannical work culture, and I am compelled to believe that things will change because they have to. We collectively have so little to lose that, unlike the generations before us who have accumulated wealth, savings and property, fighting ruthlessly for a better world is possible. We just want careers that don’t subsume us entirely. Something that allows us to have an inkling of autonomy and freedom, a bit of security, and grants us the ability to save for whatever kind of future millennials (and Gen Z, and Gen Alpha, and all the generations to come) can have in this failing country. We aren’t asking for very much at all.

And yet I worry; I worry that I’ll never make enough to support a family, because apparently I am currently in what some would refer to as my “top earning years”, and astronomical inflation continues to eat up any pay increases I manage to negotiate. Meanwhile I am forced to reckon with my biological “purpose”, and whether or not that’s something I even want to fulfill, as my fertility inevitably wanes and that window readies itself to close someday. Our planet is on fire, public schools are massive targets for gun violence, the rights of women, minorities and the LGBTQIA+ community are slowly being stripped away one by one, and so many of us saddled with crippling student debt aren’t going to get the relief we so desperately need. I want to believe that it will all be okay, that I’ll have it figured out and that I’ll reach some point of security in this world, but I also naively thought that was what thirty would bring. There is just too much to worry about. I want to put the worries down. I am so tired of carrying them. I am sure you are tired of carrying yours too.

But there is a little hope. We have officially entered the season of being unabashedly carefree and spontaneous and fully in bloom. Sunflowers come to mind – I have some happily sitting on my desk as I write, shamelessly yellow and beautiful and large, spilling forth and taking up space. I’d like to be a sunflower. I want to embrace the seasons wholeheartedly, to embody and move with them just as the flora and fauna do. Summer has asked me repeatedly to put it down, to contemplate later. To give in to the abundant pleasure and joy this season brings; to float peacefully on the clear blue surface, held by the promise that life goes on. There is hope in that, at least.

---

✽ Rapid Fire Lessons

Don’t rush to fill space just because the emptiness makes you uncomfortable. It will come once you let it go. You only learn the power of your resiliency after being cut down over and over. Walking always helps. Sincerity is so much more compelling than artificiality. “Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.” There are seasons when you should say “no” more than “yes”, and vice versa. Buy the flowers. Better yet, plant your own. Ironically, abundance often comes once you strip away all that is unnecessary.

---

✽ Some Things I Loved This Week ~

Real Estate by Deborah Levy. I’m convinced that Deborah Levy and I would be best friends if we knew each other. I have highlighted and annotated so much of this book and have been purposefully reading it slowly because I don’t want it to be over yet. I absolutely love it.

After weeks of resisting I caved and bought this A.P.C. bag from the SSENSE sale. I recently sold most of my bags because I rarely used them, and they didn’t feel like they really fit in my life anymore, so I was in need of an every day bag. The shape is perfect, as is the convertible strap. It is surprisingly spacious and holds my eyeglass case, my Kindle, wallet, pens and all my other silly little nerdy things.

This episode of How Long Gone with Liz Phair made me giggle out loud in public many times. I’m a huge fan of Liz Phair (who isn’t?) and she seems like such an incredible human being to be around. It was fun to listen to her laugh and talk about cottage cheese bread and falling victim to Instagram ads.

Et Al’s Picpoul Blanc. This is the perfect summer wine. I rarely go for a white, but decided to take a chance on this and was not disappointed. It is crisp, dry, brine-y and mineral-y with a slight effervescence. Enjoy ice cold, preferably with oysters or pasta alle vongole or some other delightful seafood dish.

---

✽ July Notes

I hope July brings many things, but these are a few things I’m craving especially:

Cool water. Wet hair. Open and inviting spaces. Warm skin. GREEN. Soft breeze. Honey. Al fresco lunches and dinners, ideally with friends. A cold drink after a hot hike. Ease. Childlike wonder. Bare feet on the earth. Shade. Softness. Play. The heavy sleepiness you feel after spending a day in the sun. Simplicity. Laughter. Community.

Until next week. x