Not-So Dickensian Hard Times

In hard times, people often look for support in dusty places. Some people go to church, or the library, or the bar.

Sometimes, hard times become difficult times. Sometimes, difficult times turn into terrible times. But almost always, terribly difficult hard times wear themselves out.

You know why?

Homeostasis.

You know why else?

The Law of Conservation and Isaac Newton's Laws of Motion.

Look: Everything always wants to get somewhere else. Everything can't stop moving and shifting and being--AND--Nothing can ever be destroyed. So: Things scientifically and empirically have to get better. Plants and animals and people and weather and sewage and everything all want to go somewhere else. Hard times are a chance to see homeostasis up close and personal.

Ugh. Science is so emotional sometimes.

Ways to Learn About People

1. By how they load the dishwasher

2. By how well they can walk down 7th Avenue with an umbrella

3. By their toilet paper roll replacement speed




More to come.

"Everybody is a Genius,

But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree,

It will live its whole life believing it is stupid."


-Albert Einstein

Me Vs Us Vs Them

 me:  i think, in a lot of ways, the internet is our generation's mode of rebellion

like, only the real cool kids wrote poetry, and then played good music, and then protested, and then skate boarded, and then used the internet

 Elisabeth:  yes, totally

it's our generation's way of being like, THIS IS ME AND WHY I AM SPECIAL

 Elisabeth:  PLEASE THINK I AM COOL

 me:  the difference is that with the other rebellions, it was like an us vs them

and now it's like a me vs them

which is shittier, i think

 Elisabeth:   there is certainly some aspect of community to the blogosphere

but it's really more like, "oh i'm going to participate in this community so as to get more people to look at my personal corner of the internet"

 Sent at 1:00 PM on Wednesday

 Elisabeth:  but, yes, i think the overall tone of our generation is "i am mad because i did not personally get all of the awesome that was promised me as a child, now that i am a disillusioned grownup, hear me roar impotently via twitter"

Feelings About Thoughts

"But something occurred to me as I sped through that dirty 

shroud of fog, something Vonnegut has been trying to 

explain to the rest of us for most of his life. And that is this: 




Despair is a form of hope. It is an acknowledgment of the 


distance between ourselves and our appointed happiness.



At certain moments, it is reason enough to live." 



-(Not that you asked) Rants, Exploits, and Obsessions by 

Steve Almond

Lest Ye Forget

“To be nobody but yourself – in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you like everybody else – means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight – and never stop fighting.”

-E.E. Cummings

Take What You Have Gathered From Coincidence

Strike another match, go start anew

And it’s all over now, Baby Blue

The Beauty Myth

“The maturing of a woman who has continued to grow is a beautiful thing to behold.

Or, if your ad revenue or your seven-figure salary or your privileged sexual status depend on it, it is an operable condition.” 


-Naomi Wolf

Self Awareness Awareness, or, Ugh.

Lately, I've noticed that most of us are totally full of crap. We say things like "certainly" and "wonderful" and "impact," and almost never mean any of it.

I sign work emails like this:

"Best,
Abby"

Sometimes, when I don't like the person I'm emailing, I'll send this instead:

"Best.
Abby"

I purposefully put that "." in there, or I even leave it out, altogether (be still, my English Literature degree) but hope it looks like a slip of the pinky, because I can't close my professional emails with something as honest as:

"Please re-read this because you're an idiot and will ask me something I already explained, I know it,
Abby"

Or

"This is not your calling,
Abby"

When I was little and people asked me what I wanted to be as a grown up, I said that I either wanted to be a dinosaur, or a cashier. In hindsight, and now that I know a little bit about evolution, I still wish I were a cashier. I was one, once. Cashiers have the most fun. They have a satisfying job and they get paid to press buttons and people watch. They're also encouraged to wear sneakers to work.

I know this isn't an original idea, that we're all full of crap. But sitting in my over-air conditioned office today and exchanging emails and "following up" about things that really don't matter has turned this unoriginal idea into a suffocating and blinding truth.

So, now what? Now that I know the suffocating and blinding truth, now what?

Now, I will arrange my thumbtacks into a smiley face, because I am an adult and I have to work for a living.

Who Needs Original Ideas When Borges Thought All The Good Ones?

After a while, you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning,
And company doesn't mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
And presents aren't promises,

And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,

And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn...
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.

So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure... 

That you really are strong 

And you really do have worth... 

And you learn and learn... 

With every good-bye, you learn.

Progress Feels Fat and Bloated

"But I think the first real change in women’s body image came when JLo turned it butt-style. That was the first time that having a large-scale situation in the back was part of mainstream American beauty. Girls wanted butts now. Men were free to admit that they had always enjoyed them. And then, what felt like moments later, boom—Beyoncé brought the leg meat. A back porch and thick muscular legs were now widely admired. And from that day forward, women embraced their diversity and realized that all shapes and sizes are beautiful. Ah ha ha. No. I’m totally messing with you. All Beyonce and JLo have done is add to the laundry list of attributes women must have to qualify as beautiful. Now every girl is expected to have Caucasian blue eyes, full Spanish lips, a classic button nose, hairless Asian skin with a California tan, a Jamaican dance hall ass, long Swedish legs, small Japanese feet, the abs of a lesbian gym owner, the hips of a nine-year-old boy, the arms of Michelle Obama, and doll tits. The person closest to actually achieving this look is Kim Kardashian, who, as we know, was made by Russian scientists to sabotage our athletes.” -Tina Fey, Bossypants

Keep Passing The Open Windows

"'If you are careful,' Garp wrote, 'if you use good ingredients, and you don't take any shortcuts, then you can usually cook something very good. Sometimes it is the only worthwhile product you can salvage from a day; what you make to eat. With writing, I find, you can have all the right ingredients, give plenty of time and care, and still get nothing. Also true of love. Cooking, therefore, can keep a person who tries hard sane.'"

How to Prepare for a Masters in El Nino

Taking pre-requisite classes is like going to the grocery store to buy only non-perishable foods. They're necessary in the long run, but they're also kind of unnecessary in the here and now. Who really needs THAT much tuna?

As a non-matriculating student, you're preparing for the natural disaster of education, which is to say: grad school. Much like tornadoes and earthquakes, luck favors the well-prepared. Of course, when those things actually do happen, you can't do much more than brace yourself for your roof to fly away. But preparing for the worst by stocking up with tuna and batteries makes you feel like you're at least headed in the right direction.

That's what I'm doing now. I'm buying metaphorical tuna. I hope I never need it, but I also know that I most definitely will. 

Non-Matriculation

Sometimes, it's more important to be on your way somewhere than it is to already be there.

Other times, just knowing how to get somewhere counts. 

But what matters most isn't where you are or even where you're going. 

What matters most is knowing with 100% certainty that you did not leave the stove top on while you were simultaneously getting ready for work, editing a paper, taking a quiz, and making lunch and dinner for the next four days. 

Ah, continuing education. Go matriculate yourself.

Truth and Consequences

My Mom Is Always Right

She may not have made these up herself, but she uses them better than anyone else:

"Common sense is not so common."

"Don't piss on my leg and tell me it's raining." (This one was from Judge Judy but my mom says it, too)

"Waste not, want not."

"98% of people are schmucks." (This was something her friend's dad said. He was a CPA, she always makes sure to mention)

And the grand finale of rightness:

"You're pretty lucky."

Happy New Year!

Since time is totally made up, I have decided that a new year is upon us. My friend Caite once blew my mind (she's blown my mind many times, mind you) when she explained that any day could be the first day of the year if you wanted it to be. So, I decided that next Sunday will in fact be the first day of the new year.

This year, which has taken about 10 calendar years, has been weird. That's the only word I feel truly works whenever I try to explain or organize all that's transpired. Crazy amounts of weird. Some of it very good, some of it very bad. In some ways, it feels like these past 10 years have been a condensed lifetime. And at the same time, I feel like I only scratched the surface of what's to come. I like that. I like that I know myself pretty well, but not perfectly. It's like I mastered the omelettes of life's cuisines. Sort of basic, sure, but once you get the process down, you can really dress it up and make it something great. And everyone knows omelettes are the gateway dishes to the rest of the culinary world.

So, I guess the theme of this new year (which will be as long as I feel like, thankyouverymuch) will be learning  to adapt my culinary knowledge to the new ingredients life throws at me. Happy New Year!

Mona's Law

"You can have a hot apartment, a hot lover, and a hot job, but you can't have all three at the same time."

-Armistead Maupin, "Tales of the City"

The Truest Thing You'll Ever Learn:

Karma Is Only A Bitch If You Are

Options and Limits and Bears, Oh My!

Limits are like options. Everyone and everything has one, as long as you're looking for it. Sometimes the limit is the sky. Sometimes, it's 3pm, or the second to last slice of German chocolate cake. Or the first grammatical error in a text from someone new. But whatever that limit is, it's there.

The thing about options and limits is that even though they're always there, sometimes they become more, or less, apparent based on where you are (physically, emotionally, even depending on the books you’re reading, the shows you’re watching, or the music you’re listening to). Options grow and shrink, just like limits.

When I was traveling with nothing but [a limited supply of] savings, a backpack [a limit in and of itself], and as much rice and oatmeal as I could buy and carry along with my backpack [very limited], my options were seemingly endless. I could go anywhere, so I did. I was bound only by my own desires. My limits evinced themselves only if I chose an option without thinking it through. That’s the catch with options: they always lead somewhere. But even then, because I felt that my options were so lush, the limits I would reach never really stopped me from doing anything.

Now that I’m home and working and “contributing to society,” I feel like I have fewer and fewer options available to me, even though I'm ostensibly shrinking my limitations with steady income and my own apartment and a fridge I can stock. But I can’t wake up one day and decide I’d rather just sit in the sand or eat my way through Hell’s Kitchen instead of go to work. I can’t stay up until sunrise because I’m in the mood. I can’t use my rent money to travel to and from some place new.

And my limits have become more and more clear to me, too. I can only stay up until 1 or 2am without feeling like I’m ready to collapse. I no longer find getting squished into a rush hour subway car to be “an experience.” Some jokes have even started to piss me off. I now know that living with some people is a fate worse than death. I’ve gotten to know many of my limits pretty intimately, and they've started to make me stop and think.

So now I wonder: are my limits shrinking because I’m now fully entrenched in “The Grind?” Or is it the lens with which I’m looking at things? Is it New York? Is it money? The people I surround myself with? Where do options come from? Where do they go?

Managing Expectations

"As the Danes said, 'If it works, it works. And if it doesn't work, well, maybe it will work anyway.'"


-Thomas Kennedy

Livin' Large

"Lo que no mata, engorda."

Literal Perfection

Poppin' Bottles, Gettin' Tipsy

Upon discussing our upcoming reunion with one of my most treasured friends from college (also an Abigail/Abby) whom I never see anymore because she lives in North Carolina and I don't:

 Abigail Owens: it's been too long!

and, more than that, how to put it...

 Abigail Owens:  like, it's not only been too long

but i feel like people say that when they miss "the good old days" or whatever

and i... don't, particularly

i mean, of course i miss you

but i have definitely come into myself a ton more in the past few years, and i'm excited for our kindred spirits to meet up as adults

not to sound like a total weirdo

ok this is my last ditch effort at verbalizing what i mean:

 me:  TOTAL WEIRDO

 Abigail Owens:  instead of "it's been too long"

i feel like... "it's time"

 me:  ooh, i like that

and i agree wholeheartedly

i am really looking forward

i love that it's been so long in a way

because now we're aged to perfection and it's time to pour a glass of our vintage!

 Abigail Owens:  so even if i am a total weirdo (totally am, let's be honest), you get it! 

 Abigail Owens:  hahaha. yes.

 me:  and then we can re-bottle it and pour another perfectly-aged glass later!

 Abigail Owens:  damn straight.

 me:  WHO'S THE WEIRDO NOW

 Abigail Owens:  hahaha

i mean

i'm the one who is like on the brink of tears at our perfect vintage selves here

 me:  save them for our next vintage! we can jack up the price when we sell it and say they're truffle oil tears or some shit.

If I didn't hate them so much, I would post a friendship quote right here.

Perspective is a Hell of a Thing

"That's one of the troubles with this country," said the Senator. "The Madison Avenue people have made us all more alarmed about our own armpits than about Russia, China, and Cuba combined.”

The conversation, actually a very dangerous one between two highly vulnerable men, had drifted into a small area of peace. They could not agree with one another, and not be afraid.

"You know---" said Eliot, "Kilgore Trout once wrote a whole book about a country that was devoted to fighting odors. That was the national purpose. There wasn't any disease, and there wasn't any crime, and there weren't any wars, so they went after odors."

"If you get in court," said the Senator, "it would be just as well if you didn't mention your enthusiasm for Trout. Your fondness for all that Buck Rogers stuff might make you look immature in the eyes of a lot of people."

The conversation had left the area of peace again. Eliot's voice was edgy as he persisted in telling the story by Trout, which was called, Oh Say Can You Smell?

"This country," said Eliot, "had tremendous research projects devoted to fighting odors. They were supported by individual contributions given to mothers who marched on Sundays from door to door. The idea of the research was to find a specific chemical deoderant for every odor. But then the hero, who was also the country's dictator, made a wonderful scientific breakthrough, even though he wasn't a scientist, and they didn't need the projects anymore. He went right to the root of the problem." 

"Uh huh," said the Senator. He couldn't stand stories by Kilgore Trout, and was embarrassed for his son. "He found one chemical that would eliminate all odors?" he suggested, to hasten the tale to a conclusion.

"No. As I say, the hero was a dictator, and he simply eliminated noses."

Wide Open

“Fuck concepts. Don't be afraid to be confused. Try to remain permanently confused. Anything is possible. Stay open, forever, so open it hurts, and then open up some more, until the day you die, world without end, amen.” 


-George Saunders

Lactose, But Not Intolerably So

The Invitation 

By Oriah

It doesn’t interest me

what you do for a living.

I want to know

what you ache for

and if you dare to dream

of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me

how old you are.

I want to know

if you will risk

looking like a fool

for love

for your dream

for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me

what planets are

squaring your moon…

I want to know

if you have touched

the center of your own sorrow

if you have been opened

by life’s betrayals

or have become shriveled and closed

from fear of further pain.

I want to know

if you can sit with pain

mine or your own

without moving to hide it

or fade it

or fix it.

I want to know

if you can be with joy

mine or your own

if you can dance with wildness

and let the ecstasy fill you

to the tips of your fingers and toes

without cautioning us

to be careful

to be realistic

to remember the limitations

of being human.

It doesn’t interest me

if the story you are telling me

is true.

I want to know if you can

disappoint another

to be true to yourself.

If you can bear

the accusation of betrayal

and not betray your own soul.

If you can be faithless

and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty

even when it is not pretty

every day.

And if you can source your own life

from its presence.

I want to know

if you can live with failure

yours and mine

and still stand at the edge of the lake

and shout to the silver of the full moon,

“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me

to know where you live

or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up

after the night of grief and despair

weary and bruised to the bone

and do what needs to be done

to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me

who you know

or how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will stand

in the center of the fire

with me

and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me

where or what or with whom

you have studied.

I want to know

what sustains you

from the inside

when all else falls away.

I want to know

if you can be alone

with yourself

and if you truly like

the company you keep

in the empty moments.

Step right up, step right up and listen close:

Fuck the beef and just let the pot roast.

Not Wrong

“According to Gur's theory of boredom, everything that happens in the world today is because of boredom: love, war, inventions, fake fireplaces - ninety-five percent of all that is pure boredom.” 


-Etgar Keret, "The Nimrod Flipout: Stories"