People move to New York to pursue a dream, usually. To write, to dance, to sing, to manipulate stock prices. There are a lot of people who live here, at least thousands, so you have to be really good at what you do to excel in your field. A lot of my friends moved here to pursue comedy and writing. Not me, but a lot of my friends.
So what happens when we are tired? How do we take breaks when every day off feels like a missed opportunity? They say you’re supposed to write essays to find answers to your questions. To discover undeniable truths that you may seek. That’s a really nice idea, but it doesn’t always work. Most New Yorkers don’t know how to take breaks. This essay might not provide any clarity on anything. But maybe it’s a break from your day to open this email. You’re welcome?
Yesterday a guy was jay-walking and gestured the sign of the cross which was incredibly New York to me. Doing the dangerous thing, and just hoping (praying?) for the best.
Anyway, in honor of international women’s day, this is my regressive feminist hot take. How do we learn to do less? How can I, as a woman, strive less to be a girlboss and more just a girl? This is a brief doctrine for the women who don’t want more than just a cup of tea and a nice book. A manifesto for the girls who are tired, who have unexplained headaches, who bought a new carbon monoxide alarm because of the headaches, and who think they might die by getting hit by a car because they are aloof when walking, and they were raised Jewish so Jesus can’t take the wheel.
Megan Thee Stallion once said, “Yeah I’m in my bag, but I’m his too.” She could buy herself a nice pair of shoes if she wanted, but it’s nice to get them as a gift. It represents a big stride in feminism. We spend so much time trying to be the best and the first and the most successful, to be so independent that we don’t need a partner, but that’s just it. Of course nobody needs a partner. They’re just nice to have. I don’t need someone to buy me dinner, I can afford to get things on my own, but it’s nice to have someone else to do it for me too. I’m allowed to relax and let someone else do the heavy lifting. Heavy lifting is for boys anyway.
Maybe this is just exactly what feminism is- equality. Being dependent sometimes, you know, like a guy. Leaning out. Dry-shampooing your problems instead of deep conditioning. Taking shortcuts. Shoplifting chapstick. Putting the chapstick back because you have a horribly guilty conscience and no penchant for misbehavior. Having food at home, but also getting takeout sometimes. Balance. Equilibrium. Sleeping 14 hours a day like a cat.
Speaking of feminist icons, the girl from the Old El Paso commercials. When asked to choose between hard and soft taco shells, she simply replies, “¿Porque no los dos?” We shouldn’t have to choose all the time. We can have it all. We can be successful and be lazy sometimes. And we can pursue something because we like it, not necessarily with the goal of being the best.
Essays are supposed to answer questions. Is this helping? Do you feel helped? If you’re reading this and you don’t live in New York or you don’t feel competitive that’s ok. You are probably happier. Maybe you’re not. Is it possible that essays can confuse more than they clarify? Am I losing my edge as a writer? I wasn’t supposed to be using first person anymore. But this isn’t for a grade. You can go. Exits are at the rear of the aircraft.
The best thing I ate this week:
Was a cold chicken tender dipped in honey mustard. I went home for the weekend to visit my younger sister and going home usually consists of a continuous marathon of eating. Cold chicken tenders are best because if you heat them in the microwave they get soggy and if you heat them in the oven you have too much time on your hands. When they’re cold they maintain some level of crunch. And honey mustard is the best dipping sauce for obvious flavor balance reasons. I’m coming to a nauseating realization that an air fryer would be a good tool for reheating chicken tenders. I’m hearing that it heats faster than an oven. I’m losing all my journalistic integrity. Women can be anything we want, including inconsistent.