My Beef with the New Year

Every year in December, I start hearing two things constantly from friends, family and social media that really irk me:

  1. “What is your New Year’s resolution?”
  2. Something along the lines of “(Current year) was a total dumpster fire, next year will be way better!”

I appreciate that for 8-12 days, people intend to infuse some discipline into their lives and kick that nightly Negroni habit. But, why does the changing of digits on a man-made calendar have to dictate when it is socially acceptable to make positive change? We should always be reassessing our habits, and figuring out what isn’t working for us anymore. Making a New Year’s resolution is like saving up all of your poop for one giant dump a year. We need to clean that shit out regularly because it’s toxic!!

(Poop analogy quota: filled)

Another thing I hate about this question is that it always implies a tangible, surfacey change. We are conditioned to hate ourselves for the exact activities we were conditioned to accomplish in the 3 weeks previous: eating waistband-expanding holiday goodies, and filling the ever-expanding gap between the floor and the Christmas tree through extravagant spending. So we boomerang, and suddenly make resolutions to eat healthier and spend less. Good thing for capitalism, we already filled its pockets!! Here is a list of the 10 most common resolutions, cobbled together by Brad Zomick on Goskills.com:

  • Exercise more
  • Lose weight
  • Get organized
  • Learn a new skill or hobby
  • Live life to the fullest
  • Save more money/spend less money
  • Quit smoking
  • Spend more time with family or friends
  • Travel more
  • Read more

What about, “Get my head out of my own ass and start asking questions and offering to help people more?” Or “Stop my cycle of toxic relationships and figure out why I am avoiding confronting my childhood trauma by fixing others?” Who cares if you put on a little weight over the holidays, it’s just part of the natural cycle of life. We’ll lose it in the summer when we can actually walk places without getting hit by a snow plow.

Just a thought.

Now the second phrase that comes up every damn year, the one about how this year will be better, makes me want to smack people. It reminds me of how every single winter we claim it’s the worst winter ever, when ya know, it’s not. Why are we always so much more focused on the future than right fucking now?! If we say “this year sucked, next year will be better” EVERY SINGLE YEAR, does this not mean that every single year has sucked?! You better believe if you already have this approach, every single year until you die is going to suck.

I will admit, 2020 has been a tricky lil bitch. Definitely the trickiest year of my lifetime thus far. But was it really the worst year ever?!? In some ways, I think it may have actually been the best.

I want to precede the following statements by saying that I am privileged AF, and I am aware that what I am about to say is by no means true for everyone…

2020 is the year that many people died suddenly and unfairly, but exponentially more people woke up and started living.

So many of us learned how to slow down. We learned that we don’t need to be in that constant grind of working like crazy in order to make enough money to be able to relax from all the over-work. I found, in the first few months of the pandemic, that despite losing 75% of my income (thanks CERB), I was actually saving money. Why? I wasn’t exhausted from work, so I didn’t need to eat out constantly and take weekend trips and binge drink with friends to trick myself into thinking I was doing it all for a reason. I learned that I could make just $2,000/month and be totally fine. (Ideally though, I would move out of my apartment that eats most of that up in one fell swoop)

We learned just how much family and friends mean to us. Normally I fly to Nova Scotia to visit my mom twice a year, for 5-10 days each pop. 5 days is around the time I start to pick fights over the antique triples of condiments in the refrigerator that should have been thrown out decades ago. A visit this year just didn’t seem possible. But after 5 months of isolation in a big city, with none of the social or cultural benefits a big city has to offer, I was desperate for some country time with people who love me. Ethically, I couldn’t fly home this year- way too risky. But we learned just how much we are willing to do to see each other.

I isolated for 2 weeks, getting a Covid test towards the end just to be safe.* Then I quarantined once I received my negative result while my mom drove 14 hours both ways to pick me and my Maine Coon up and escort us to peace and tranquility, where we quarantined for 2 whole weeks together. She made this exact trip AGAIN 7 weeks later to bring me back. That’s around 60 hours of driving. (My mom may also be slightly crazy)

*This method isn’t really kosher, and were I to do it again I would quarantine for the full 2 weeks before seeing her.

So you’d think, a mother and daughter quarantined together for 2 weeks, who normally start driving each other crazy after 5 days… how did that go over?! And I’m surprising myself just as much with this one when I say, it was amazing. Because we both knew I’d be home for ages, there was no pressure to spend every second in the same room- and I got really good at expressing when I needed some alone time, or when something was bothering me. We learned how to communicate. Who knew?!

What else… a lot of us learned a ton of new skills, that allow us to be much more self-sufficient! I’m talking bread, sewing, designing a website, starting a new business, how to freakin record and mix and live-stream audio, how to play the banjo!! (My friend Amy bought a banjo on July 4th, and plays just a bit every morning- the videos she has been sending me lately are blowing my mind. Note that she was already a fabulous professional trumpet player)

The dating climate improved! Yes that sounds like a load of bullshit given we’re not meeting new people in real life anymore. But, there’s still the apps. In the past, these have had a certain “reputation;” whereas now, we have to get to know each other really well before getting physical. We need to be super upfront about what we want, and whether or not we are monogamous because otherwise we could kill people. Forced monogamy wooo!! (Note that this time has been very difficult for polyamorous peeps) If you haven’t done so already, check out the article I wrote about how to date ethically during a global pandemic.

A lot of people realized their former lives weren’t really in line with their true talents and desires, and have embarked on new, scary, more fulfilling paths. I for one, recently accepted that writing is my true calling, not classical music. I can go weeks without touching my violin; but if I go a few days without writing, I am muddy, irritable, and I have a fun little habit of creating drama where it doesn’t actually exist. I am not giving up music altogether, I am just switching my priorities. Writing first, music second. Do I secretly wish I realized my dream is something that might make me more money than a dying niche art, not less?! Merp.

Let’s not forget the bigger picture stuff, like the Black Lives Matter movement. White people finally woke up and realized we are all at least a little racist, and need to swallow our pride, shut up, and make space for BIPOC voices.

and…

WE GOT RID OF DONALD TRUMP.

We got outside more!! Usually, come September, I wonder where the summer went. I feel a twinge of guilt that I didn’t take advantage of the beautiful weather while it was here. Getting outside on every damn nice day just feels like so much pressure. I would often stay in and watch movies out of pure rebellion. But we were damn fucking SICK of being inside, and getting outside was literally the only way to see our friends and family. I heard many, many people say that they have never spent more time outside during the summer, and consequently, it was the best summer ever.

We learned compassion. Do you remember the moment you realized that we are not wearing masks to protect ourselves, but to protect others? The simple act of putting our masks on every day slowly changes us. We are now more aware of those around us than ever. We are sending a very clear message to every single person we encounter: “I care about you.”

Are you starting to get it? How can a year with all of the treasures above, be the worst year ever?!? Are we so ready to abandon this year along with all the other “horrible years,” in favor of this new kid in town?! I don’t know 2021!! Maybe they suck!!! Why can’t we just wait until December of next year, to determine whether it was good or bad?! We’re just assuming 2021 is going to be better when in reality, the whole earth might explode.

Anyway, I’d like to start a New-New Year’s tradition. Let’s not look forward, let’s fucking look BACK. Every year, on December 31st, let’s count our damn blessings. Let’s grieve our losses, and celebrate our triumphs. Let’s not make up some dumb resolution that fat-shames us, let’s vow to love the skin we’re already in.

May you all have a Happy (but no pressure, it’s all just a constant wave of emotions) CURRENT Year!!

Does an Artist have to Art?

Sooo… it’s been a weee little while *cough* 4 months…since I’ve posted here- in this magical place I created in February 2019 where I can express anything and everything. Read: rants about horrible ex-boyfriends, and all my annoyingly preachy “advice” on how to live your best life- which I generally break within the week, because I’m HUMAN.

I started off strong, posting two epic over-shares per week. This I owe to the rigorous deadlines set by Kerry Clare in her online blog course, which I signed up for impulsively on the last day of registration. (All in one day, I thought of a DOPE domain name, bought it, and threw together this basic AF webspace on wordpress.com, thinking I’d update it later when things calmed down a little bit. *whistles and shuffles feet while looking at months of empty days in calendar*)

What have I been up to, you’re wondering? Ohh, so much, so much. I’ve just been so busy… um, refilling my cat’s food dish, hand washing artisanal masks that allow me to express my zazzy self even during a pandemic, and making various nut milks that ruin my morning coffee. I was thinking of hiring an assistant for the cat dish thing, because honestly it’s taking a lot out of me. The dish never… stays… full… and he stares at me with those perpetually judgy eyes that stamp my soul with the words “You’re a Horrible Mother…”

The key to filling up the days you see, is doing each task as it were shalt have been done’st in the Olden Tymes- washing thy socks by hand and wringing them through a treacherous metal gauntlet, making thousts own shitty gluten-free bread and contacting loved ones by way of dipping a diseased feather into a pot of ink and covering thine scroll in pretentious yet painfully boring goings-on to be sent by horse-drawn carriage (or modern equivalent: Foodora bike delivery person).

For real though, after a few months of angsty Facebook posts about how lonely I was during Covid isolation, I spent a month house-sitting a colleague’s farm, administering twice-daily antibiotic eye-drops to various 4-legged creatures (see previous blog post); and then two months staying with my mom in Nova Scotia YES TWO MONTHS fulfilling the delightful task of writing and applying for grants so I can pay my extortionate monthly rent as an artist who has no paid arts to art. More importantly though, I think the reason I haven’t posted in so long is because something CraAAazy happened to me between the beginning of the summer and now…

I lost my need for outside validation.

Just so you know how huge that statement is for me… here is an excerpt from my very first blog post:

“Oh hey! I have a blog now! As I write it’s still in pretty rough shape, but hopefully I’ll figure that all out in due time. But at least I have somewhere to barf out all my EXTREMELY important and relevant thoughts other than Facebook. Now here, I wish I had the skills to include a hyperlink over the words “important and relevant thoughts” that would lead you to one of my Facebook posts where I compare the size and shape of two different dog turds I’ve found in the street that got 3 likes… (Probably from: 1. my mother 2. a fellow turd enthusiast who is relieved they’re not the only one and 3. the socially inept aunt of an ex-boyfriend I broke up with 4 years ago who somehow still sends me Christmas gifts) But alas, no such post exists because I delete anything that doesn’t immediately get showered in heart and laugh emojis. Man if there was a Bizarro-Facebook where all of our panic-deleted posts go to roam free… now THAT is a place I would spend some time!!”

As much as I want to really explore this “Bizarro-Facebook” right now, the beefy part is that, while I write because I love to write, a HUGE part of my creative output is because I love receiving COMPLIMENTS. Validation. An acknowledgment that yes, I am an artist, and wow am I ever a unique/funny/lovable/good/tall one! God help me if I ever get famous enough to get trolled on twitter.

Anyway, at some point during Covid isolation, it hit me that constantly needing to get my validation from outside sources isn’t sustainable, especially when the only “outside source” right now is my computer screen. Some heart emojis may make me feel better today, but what about tomorrow, or the next day? My beloved facebook family will rise to the occasion for one overly vulner-emotional post on average per month, but on top of that, they have got more important shit to do than to butter me up and stick me in the oven! (I don’t know where that metaphor came from- it could either mean they prime me for optimum tastiness, or they burn me alive)

Where is my need for validation REALLY coming from? Can I get it from myself? Is there something I could do or create that would soothe me when I get to that anxious/vulnerable place that makes me super needy? And then, do I really need to SHOW that creation to people? Can I not just do it, and then let it disappear into the ether, never having “proven” that I did it on Instagram?!?

What ended up happening, is I just kindof did NOTHING for a while. Heh. And… that’s okay. You know what also makes it really hard to continuously produce creative stuff? Extreme stress. Yes. But even more so, in order to put stuff OUT there, we need creative INPUT. I find it pretty tricky to derive inspiration to create without the ability to go to live shows, meet new people, see new places, and I dunno, BE IN A ROOM WITH MY RIDICULOUSLY INSPIRING FRIENDS. So I went through a bit of a rebellious quasi-Buddhist, quasi-nihilist phase where I just experimented with BEING. Can’t that just be enough?! Do I really need to be constantly producing art to be an artist? And then, do I really NEED to be an ARTIST to EXIST?! WHAT IS LIFE?!?!?!

Fast-forward through a few hundred bags of kettle chips and trashy Netflix dating shows, and I have arrived at a place that is neither here, nor there. I create because I NEED to. It literally transforms me from a cranky passive-aggressive-letter-writing-blanket-person, to someone who smiles lovingly at screaming children as they crash into her while walking down the street. Classic list-maker/OCD organizer that I am, I came up with a flow-chart to help me through periods of anxiety, depression, bitterness, irritability- you know, LIFE DURING COVID. It’s a three-level system.

First, I get out of my “red-zone” by doing one of two things:

  • Call someone I love, who is able to mirror back my lovable qualities, not the dumb overly-critical ones. Aka, do not call Aunt Carol, who tells me I should really consider taking down all the videos of me dancing with a vacuum cleaner and what not, that it’s not good for my “career”
  • Turn my phone off

Then I get out of “Orange-zone” (aren’t these Covid references fun?) by doing one of these guys:

  • Rent a car and get out of the city into nature- either a day hike, or pitch a tent somewhere.* Someone’s backyard or an abandoned mall parking lot will do. I recently camped out on my back balcony, and while giant semis rattling by hardly rival the sounds of forest birds in the morning, it still felt like a fun adventure, and I could use my own bathroom.
  • Listen to some really good music with headphones.
  • Go for a nice long walk*
  • Go for a nice long bike ride*
  • Meditate, using a sell-out trendy app if I have to, even though all meditation IS is BREATHING

*I realize these need updating with the threatening glare of winter… I found some kids’ cross-country skis in someone’s garbage, I might try using those.

Next, and most importantly, I ask myself the question: “What am I blocking my inner artist from doing right now?” And the options bubble up to the surface:

  • Create/play music in Ableton Live like I’m playing Mario Paint on Super Nintendo as a child
  • Write a blog post, or write just for shits and giggles- stream of thought, only to be read in horror by my children after I die
  • Pick up my violin and create some gorgeous layers of loops over which I can improvise some grand, sappy melody fit for a movie about the Holocaust
  • Make a silly video. This, I haven’t done in a while, because I realized how much WORK it takes to edit them… but… not many things make me happier than dressing up and being a shit-head on camera. And maybe I can just let the editing suck.
  • Do something FUN and COMPLETELY USELESS. (What is this… “useless?” As an artist, should all of my efforts not in some way be a step towards my creative life goals?) Ugh. Just make some sock puppets, and film them making fart sounds for 4 minutes, Lauren. You know you want to. Chill the fuck out.

Boom, Yellow zone. No, wait what comes before yellow? WHAT WERE THINGS LIKE BEFORE YELLOW ZONE???

Anyway, I’m going to try to write here more often, I guess, even though I don’t technically NEED to, and every single goddamn day feels the same. Things ARE happening. Maybe I will write about toenails! They are short for eons and then suddenly, so long! Or I dunno, I could write about *cough* dating during Covid. I’m not dating, did I say I was? Cool yeah neither am I. I’M BEING VERY CAREFUL, OKAY?? Let’s say I was dating, it’s fascinating stuff. It’s like the olden times, but more intense. Lots of written correspondence, and walks around ponds 6 feet apart holding parasols to block out the sun. And basically waiting until you are married to hold hands. Maybe next time.

City Camping!!

Strange Behaviors

I’ve been in isolation for 54 days now, and it feels like I live in my own universe. Here is just a sample of some of the thoughts that have crossed my mind during this crazy time… May this act as a record so it doesn’t all disappear like a dream when we’re back to checking our phones while packed like sardines on the bus to work to avoid talking to each other.

  • Do I smell worse or is my sense of smell just getting stronger?
  • My shoes don’t fit anymore. Did they shrink?! (No they’re just swollen from sitting on the couch all day)
  • Falafel makes me gag. At least if I’m the one who made it. Possibly based on the fact that I mixed the tahini sauce in a jar that previously had mouthwash in it.
  • I don’t like those “virtual ensemble” videos* that are floating around. The point of ensembles is that we respond and interact with each other and the audience IN REAL TIME. We don’t need to find shitty replacements for everything we had in the before!! We need to find things that work with what we have NOW. *I’ve made one. And it was fun. So, there’s that.
  • Literally nothing drags me out of a funk quicker than a long one-on-one talk with a close friend. Laggy group video chats make me want to smash things.
  • Getting outside is a close 2nd, but I’ve learned biking is far superior to walking, because I can blissfully avoid all the couples. You can’t hold hands and force me off the sidewalk while riding bikes, motherfuckers.
  • With no work schedule to adhere to, you can just change all the clocks in your apartment to suit what time it is in your head. That being said, doing this caused an artificial “jet lag,” and a lot of confusion with friends in “different time zones” so I changed the clocks back and learned not to judge myself for waking up at 2pm.
  • I need more wigs.
  • Going on walks alone is getting old… there must be some way to force my cat to come with me… I should get him a stroller.
  • I’d rather follow all of Donald Trump’s medical advice during this time than live between two neighbor-couples who participate in the following activities, respectively, every single day: 1. Porn-grade sex (loud, obnoxious, and unrealistically enjoyable) 2. Romantic picnics on a blanket on our SHARED BALCONY, playing the same song on the ukulele over and over while singing along, and constant laughing. Like, Elmo from Sesame Street laughing. Adorable, joyful, but somehow I wanna strangle you laughing. What the fuck could possibly be that funny?! DID YOU TWO MEET IN A FUCKING DISNEY PRINCESS MOVIE???
  • Mainstream porn is horrifying.
  • Trimming my cat’s butt hair to avoid pee-absorption feels like I’m shearing a sheep, and is strangely satisfying.
  • Playing etudes on violin is actually kindof fun, if I change the voice in my head from “this needs to be perfect for a lesson with my judgmental asshole of a teacher” to “let’s just give my brain something to do other than staring at the grease stains on my kitchen wall!”
  • Drinking in the evening makes me sleep like shit. Drinking in the morning is self-love.
  • Also self-love: bras. My boobs have been KICKIN IT.
  • Kimchi is really fun and easy to make, and way cheaper and tastier than store-bought… but to get the ingredients, you need to risk your life in the tiny aisles of the Asian grocery store.
  • Speaking of cabbage, I have not had to hold in a fart for 54 days.
  • Dancing alone doesn’t interest me.
  • Talking to myself in whatever character pops in to visit however, does.
  • I resent ANY kind of scheduling coming from the outside world- but the more I stick to a loose personal schedule, the less time I spend contemplating my meaninglessness in the world.
  • Cutting your own hair is therapeutic and empowering.
  • I never look in the mirror anymore, but when I do, it’s FRIGHTENING.
  • I don’t like getting advice when I’m feeling low. I don’t care how much the thing that worked for you could help me- by telling me I should be trying something, the message I’m getting subliminally is “You’re not good enough right now.” I just want to be heard. This is a serious one, and something that’s going to change how I am as a friend going forward in a huge way.
  • I don’t miss shopping, or eating out… I miss people, and live performances. And hairdressers.
  • Cooking shows and the first two seasons of The Office (where I can pretend I’m Pam, and Jim is mega-crushing on me) are a lovely way to take a mental vacation from Covid.
  • Listening to a meditation podcast where you’re expressly told to sit up and stay alert, is a great way to fall asleep at night.
  • It means SO MUCH when a friend does something for you on your birthday above just writing “Happy Birthday” on your facebook wall, especially if you’re single and live alone. This inspired me to figure out all my friend’s birthdays and put them in my calendar, so I can have more than zero minute’s notice to do something special if I have the means.
  • You can try to group a bunch of things into one delivery online, but [name of company I’m ashamed I ordered from] will still ship each damn thing to you individually. I’m looking at you, box of 12 pens.
  • Because delivery guys are some of the only people I can still interact with in real life, I find myself yelling words of love and affection at them after they’ve delivered something like I’m at a Beatles concert in the 60’s.

Feel free to comment with something bizarre or life-changing you’ve thought/tried during isolation!