Be it so resolved…

Here’s my unedited list of completely manageable and realistic resolutions, goals, to-dos, and aspirations for 2017:

  1. Drink more water.
  2. Sleep at least 6 hours per night.
  3. Aim for 7.
  4. Exercise 5 days per week.
  5. Eat more vegetables.
  6. Be kinder to my spouse.
  7. Be less rigid.
  8. Have more fun.
  9. Roll with the punches.
  10. Take the long view. Everything is temporary. Everything can change. Indeed, everything will change, whether I want it to or not.
  11. Take myself as seriously as I expect other people to take me (like, carry business cards and shit).
  12. But also take stuff in general less seriously.
  13. But also do not become complacent/paralyzed/apathetic re: the world/our nation/social justice.
  14. Just keep grieving.
  15. Pull my weight re: nurturing friendships; do my fair share of organizing, hosting, prodding, reaching out, reminding, and lowering the overhead as much as possible for busy people to spend good time together.
  16. Participate in the weekly Sunday night potluck dinner organized by a former neighbor at least quarterly. Aim for monthly.
  17. Cook more real food for dinner at my house.
  18. Eat dinner as a family, at the table.
  19. Make time to speak with my mom at least weekly, more if possible.
  20. Make time to speak to my aunt and my grandma at least monthly, more if possible.
  21. Curtail Facebook usage (unless actually writing meaningful messages to the above or others)
  22. Blog more.
  23. Write more letters.
  24. Make a weekend with Kelsey and Robyn happen.
  25. Visit my aunt and grandma in Denver
  26. Get my high school girlfriends to Michigan for a visit.
  27. Take one awesome, adventurous, ambitious family vacation.
  28. Make our bedroom a nice, warm, comfortable, functional, attractive, calming, intentional place to be, rather than the garbage pile where we hide everything that we don’t want anyone else to see. Paint. Window treatments. Closet. A bed.
  29. Renovate our kitchen.
  30. Establish a personal desk/table/corner/space for my crafts/personal projects/special off-limits pens/whatever
  31. When not on vacation/sick/out of the office, respond to email within 48 hour.
  32. Fix our goddamn roof.
  33. Obtain access to a functional and comfortable bicycle.
  34. Create playroom space in our basement.
  35. Swimming lessons for Liddie.
  36. Take Liddie ice skating.
  37. Help my mom move out of our family home. Ease this transition as much as possible with significant practical and emotional support, i.e. a substantial stay with her this spring.  Cry as much as needed. Do not withdraw, do not fail to show up for this.
  38. Cruise on my brother’s schooner!!!
  39. Make regular donations to worthy causes.
  40. Visit with Liddie’s birthmother in person at least once. Aim for three times.
  41. Do something fun on purpose for my birthday.
  42. Participate in the neighborhood yard sale.
  43. Go to the beach.
  44. Find a way that also works for spouse to regularly schedule to space and time to myself that does not involve staying up puttering until 1 a.m.: mental health days, Saturday mornings out, whatever.
  45. Set up auto-pay or reminders as appropriate to pay all bills on time.
  46. Clean house more consistently. Sweep, vacuum and bathrooms weekly, that would be  a significant improvement and good enough.
  47. See more movies in the theater. Enough movies that I’m not devastated every time I manage to go and it doesn’t live up to my expectations. I love going to the movies. It brings me joy and it is probably the number one thing that I used to do a lot of and now do practically none of.
  48. See at least one live theater performance.
  49. Have a big-ass Christmas tree.

Ummmm yeah. Totally do-able, right? Just, you know, be a different person with a different life.

Welp. At least I got the stuff down in words. It strikes me how much of this actually *is* totally do-able if we get a family calendar for the year and start filling it in right now. We can mark date nights, long weekends, mental health days, and vacation NOW and hold the time so the year doesn’t get away from us. I can mark quarterly and weekly reminders, and perhaps even block off time for food planning, shopping, and prep.

It strikes me also that many of these things feed into each other–namely, the main self-care things. If I eat better, sleep better, exercise, hydrate, I *will* be kinder, more patient, more clear-headed.

At Clog Last…

Photo on 5-26-16 at 10.50 PM #3Great news! I finally got some clunky, Danish-style clogs. So I guess I can (finally!) be a real librarian now.

What I’m wearing:

  • J.Jill taupe jersey blazer thing, gift from MIL ca. 2012
  • Burgundy swingy tank top thing, Target, 2006 (oh God this tank top is 10 years old probably not OK to wear to work…)
  • Black linen cropped pants, Old Navy, 2016
  • Sanita “Professional Dream Work” (a-what now?) clog in in red

These shoes come in European sizes and I am almost certain I should have sized up. I normally wear 8 1/2. Tried a “40,” which seemed like the right conversion, but it felt like a boat on my foot, so went 39, which at least stayed on. But now after a day of wear, they seem pretty snug. Oh well: we’ll let ’em break in, stretch, etc.

Last night at DSW I was supposed to be getting new gym shoes, but I put them back in order to justify purchasing these.

I felt remarkably steady on my feet this morning as I crashed down the steps with three bags and a toddler on my hip, but then, wouldn’t you know it, later in the day I completely tripped and rolled my ankle while carrying nothing at all. So, you know. Walking: still dangerous.

That would be enough?

More swirling thoughts on Hamilton from the recesses of my brain, this time coming to you from my dad’s hospital room, where we are waiting out serious lung complications after what should have been a pretty routine surgery. Typing with latex gloves on, so forgive the blunders and thanks for the distraction!

Much has been made of the character of Eliza Schuyler Hamilton, portrayed on stage by the almost ridiculously lovely Phillipa Soo. Some even suggest that–especially given that she closes out the whole damn show with a list that’s three miles long (no doubt) of all the crap she did after everyone else died–that the arguably ambiguous title Hamilton is supposed to signal she is the hero of the story as much as Alexander is. For reasons rambled on upon at great length elsewhere, I think it’s clear almost by definition that Alexander is our hero. But regardless of how, precisely, you categorize her role, there’s no denying that Eliza’s an incredibly important character, and the one whose development is, perhaps, more quietly interesting than anyone else’s.

I hadn’t thought much about this on my first 10,000 listens to the album–I took her for granted as the virtuous foil to A. Ham as well as Angelica (if Angelica is dazzling the room, Eliza must, by contrast, be full of boring if lovely domestic virtue/nagging, yes?)–until I listened to the excellent Theater People podcast interview with Soo. When asked about the song “Burn,” which seriously still gives me goosebumps every time I hear it, Soo talks about the trajectory of Eliza as a character, saying that she’d had a “slow burn” going over the course of the whole show.

I mean, of course I’d noticed Eliza’s increasing frustration with Alexander (that desperate bum, bum, bum…Alexander… Bum, bum, bum…Alexander! In Non-Stop), which peaks with “Burn,” apparently simmers down into forgiveness in “Quiet Uptown” (though in fact she doesn’t speak in that song at all), and ultimately glows into romanticized adoration in the finale.

But what I had not noticed until I started listening just for her was the subtle tension between how we assume she is, how the people surrounding her tell us she is, maybe even how she thinks she is…and what her words tell us about her. Continue reading

“Yay Hamlet!”: Hamilton as Shakespearean Tragedy

Hamilton! Awesome! Wow!

Yeah, yeah, yeah, five months later (“…I’m writing a letter nightly”) and my love for Hamilton has not abated. Rather, like a happy marriage or a fine wine, it has matured into something even richer and more complex.

And so it took a new arrival to the private Hamilton chat group I’m in (you guys should see the Hamilton stream-of-consciousness-commentary I don’t post to Facebook) who said today, with all the wonder of Eternal September:

I can’t wrap my mind around the genius of this album. It’s perfection. Every single song. How did he do it? I don’t remember the last time something knocked me over like this.

to get me really thinking again. And? She’s right. Genius is an easy word to throw around. And certainly the breathlessness and hype over this show is enough to make any thinking person sit back and say, enough already! But there is something real here. Like this: I don’t know a single person who has seriously spent time with the show who can choose a favorite song.  And more telling, I think, is not that they have “more than one favorite” or that they “like the whole thing,” but that in fact on repeated listening, and depending on what’s happening in the world and in the listener’s own life, different songs resonate from week to week. It seems like there is always something new to hear, a quotable quote for the week. The play is not just the thing, but a living thing.

And–I swear to God this isn’t just me–once you really know the show, you can’t help but hear and speak in shades of Hamilton at all times. Everyday phrases–wait for it, sometimes that’s how it goes, you are the worst–speak volumes. Following the cadence of someone’s conversation–about anything at all–will suddenly lead you stumbling dactyl over tetrameter into I’M in the CABinet I am comPLICit in WATCHing him TAKing that POWer and KISSin’ it. You find yourself waking up with lines repeating in your mind–and the thing is that you don’t mind.

In just over a year, Hamilton has both captured the imagination and infected the minds and language of its fans (admittedly a small group, with respect to the whole world, but a large one I would argue, compared to the usual audience of a one-year-old musical). It’s changed the way we think and speak. This is beyond catchy, beyond trendy (“our odds are beyond scary”)–there is something monumental here. But what?

Hm, let’s see: Hamilton is an old story, lifted from the chronicles of our nation, re-packaged and re-told in a contemporary voice for a contemporary audience. It’s almost entirely in verse and loaded with every shade of allusion. It is the tale of a promising and successful man raised high and laid low by his ambition. Or his fate. Or both.

In other words: Hamilton evokes a Shakespearean tragedy and that, I think, is why it feels both familiar and fresh, why it resonates in such a significant way.

Oddly enough, though, amid 8 million gushing think pieces,I haven’t seen much about Hamilton and Shakespeare at all–except of course the infamous Lin-Manuel Miranda tweet that spawned the hashtag #yayhamlet.

So, why not? Is it because it’s too obvious? Like, Hamilton tells us this himself in Act II when he refers to “another Scottish tragedy”? Or because drawing such a comparison sounds so over-the-top–Lin-Manuel is Shakespeare now, heavens preserve us, no, that’s not what I said–that no internet critic wants to imagine the backlash? Or because we’re distracted by the fact that Hamilton is a musical, which tend to play by different rules?

I dunno. But in any case, it was a new idea to me, on my evening commute home tonight. So, just for fun, let’s see how Hamilton (and by Hamilton I mean the cast recording, of course, since that’s what I have access to, though I know there are a few important moments missing from it) maps onto Freytag’s five-act structure of a Shakspearean tragedy. Of course, one could break the acts anywhere one wanted, and one could probably tell any number of compelling narratives about why one did so. (Do it! In the comments!) This is just one way of doing it. Here goes: Continue reading

Cookiegate 2016

Yesterday in passing conversation, I heard two senior colleagues discussing the recent promotion of an equally senior female peer (“equally senior” is what peer means, right? Just want to make that part clear). One of them said, “Well, she’s a smart cookie.” This was said with admiration and something akin to professional affection–clearly not intended to cut or criticize–and yet it really freaking bugged me for some reason I couldn’t quite put my finger on. So I turned to Facebook, asking:

Am I right in thinking that no man has ever been called a “smart cookie”?

Immediately, women near my age and/or in my profession started liking (or “angry facing” the post).

Just as immediately, an investigation was launched into the history of the phrase “smart cookie,” calling upon online dictionaries, historical newspaper databases, etc., which suggested no gender bias in the history of the phrase–indeed, “smart cookie” (and “tough cookie,” for that matter) seems to have emerged out of military culture, which is nothing if not male-oriented.

Of course, throwing out a claim of “never ever” invites exactly this kind of research, because you never ever find that something never ever happened. I knew when I posted it that I’d be inviting this kind of digging. So now, we have proof! “Smart cookie,” in a vacuum, is not a blatantly sexist phrase. Not in the way that “women are inferior” is.

But then again, that’s kind of the point, isn’t it?

Here’s what’s different now: younger me would probably have thought, “Huh, I guess the facts show that I’m wrong about ‘smart cookie’ and need to just chill out.” Cranky Ann, however, knows that two adjacent things can be true at once. It can be true that the origin of the phrase has nothing to do with sexism, and also true that hearing it yesterday made me uncomfortable, so it is worth investigating why. “The facts” (such as they are), do not overturn or replace my experience. They illuminate it: they tell us that etymology is not the problem here. But that doesn’t mean there is no problem here. The phrase itself is not the problem -> but I was still troubled, and got the impression that many of my peers felt the same way -> so something else must be going on.

A key turning point occurred when the second man mentioned that they didn’t think the phrase was patronizing, but they did think it was dated/archaic, and were puzzled by its being used at all. “I would be surprised to hear anyone say ‘smart cookie,'” he said. This was a lightbulb moment for me. Because I feel like I hear it All. The. Time. And I’m going to take the liberty of assuming that the 20+ women who acknowledged the post have heard it as well.

This helped me make sense of the etymology/history issue. OK, yes, granted: the roots of “smart cookie” are not female oriented. But the (highly limited and unscientific) anecdotal evidence suggests that men in the workplace don’t hear this phrase (though “some men” must, because they are largely the ones saying it…), and women do. Is this the “Ashley” of epithets? (That is to say, a masculine or gender neutral label that has now shifted irrevocably to feminine?)

What I hear when I hear this phrase–and finally here it is, I’m honing in on what bugs me–is a qualifier. It’s a special justification signaling approval and special status of the “smart cookie.” Though it’s disguised as a compliment, I hear it being used to explain, justify, or approve someone’s success or presence at the table when apparently their name, position, experience, or the simple fact of their presence is insufficient to convince everyone else. And it’s not, as far as I can tell, applied to men in the same way.

It is hard for me to imagine someone saying, “I’ve asked Bill to join us, he’s a smart cookie.” or “Harold will be leading this project–he’s a smart cookie.” No: it’s “Harold will be leading this project because he is the Director of Leading Projects.” Or just “Harold will be leading this project.” And that is enough. But I have heard myself and my colleagues introduced this way countless times. As with almost every language question, it’s less about these specific two words than it is about the context, of course. But this is (as has been noted) a kind of strange, slightly uncommon phrase that today, I *only* hear used in circumstances like this, where it is basically code for “don’t worry, she’s all right.” Of course, there *are* instances where a very junior person is being brought into a higher level conversation, and a boss or colleague is sort of paving the way. But the more senior the person to whom the label is applied, the more strange and troubling it feels to me.

Said of an absent female peer’s promotion, it suggests not “Well done!” or “Good move!” or “Wow, they’re lucky to get her,” or even, “I want that job,” but something more like “I approve because according to me, she is smart and therefore deserving.” Hm. Who asked you, anyway?

And that, my friends, is how the cookie crumbles.