I am still writing. I have moved from Blogspot and Medium to Substack like everyone else but it feels like I am sending my writing off into a black hole so I am posting here in case I can snag a reader or two.

I finished an essay about a month ago titled "What if We All Worked Less?" I started the essay on maternity leave, when I had a week to myself before my daughter was born. In that week, I read two books in one week (!) and wrote a draft of this essay, as I was trying to work through what was to come and exactly how I was going to manage being both a mom and working full time. i.e. How could I do it all?

I kept writing and tweaking the essay after I became a parent, as I was living my question, juggling parenting and working full time. It took writing the essay to find an answer to my conundrum that seems obvious and easy enough though in our society feels impossible to find: part time work! Wouldn't it be nice if I could go down to part time work and afford a mortgage payment with my partner? We will see. 

After publishing the essay, I came across a quote from David Cain posted on Substack that the 40+ hour, five day work week is too much for all us. He sums it up, or reiterates what I was trying to get at with my essay, and I guess I will leave with that here: 

"The eight hour workday is too profitable for big business, not because of the amount of work people do in eight hours... but because it makes for a such a purchase-happy public. Keeping free time scarce means people pay a lot more for convenience, gratification, and any other relief they can buy. It keeps them watching television and its commercials. It keeps them unambitious outside of work."

Here's to hoping I can find the time for some of my ambition outside of my work - for reading and maybe even writing, even if that is just an essay a year.

Just wanted to sign on to say hello, post photos of a magical hike I took through Millcreek Canyon last week, and make a list of favorites of the year, which I can't help but do.

Not surprisingly, most of the writing that stuck with me this year was activism-related. This Rebecca Traister piece kept replaying in my mind all year. "Seek the organizing that is already underway," she wrote, among other illuminating advice. 

Then there was Rebecca Solnit's piece "When the Hero is the Problem" that was incredibly refreshing in its messaging. We don't need heroes, she theorized. We need community work, community efforts, community action! I also loved Naomi Klien's "How I Get it Done" interview. Her bluntness about how hard and urgently she works on environmental issues was comforting, as I feel a similar urgency / lack of balance this year. 

In terms of beautiful things that crossed my paths, I stumbled on Nikala Marie Peters' photography this year and couldn't stop scrolling through her photographs that so beautifully portray domestic life and what looks to me like a midwest childhood.

FKA Twigs "Cellophane" was the most captivating thing I heard all year. Her music video and live performance of the song left me speechless.

Alex G's House of Sugar and Angel Olsen's All Mirrors were so dreamy that I couldn't help but play them on repeat.

Jenny Odell's interview on the Longform podcast was delightful.

This Modern Love piece "Taking Marriage One Year at a Time" absolutely destroyed me in how much it spoke to me as I made the difficult / incredibly healthy decision to postpone my wedding this year. 

Of course, I woke up most days this year and read my way through books, as I do most years. 

Braiding Sweetgrass was the shining gem of everything I read and I wish it were required reading. Imagine if our schools taught a book that raised the question: "What would it be like to be raised on gratitude, to speak to the natural world as a democracy of species, to raise a pledge of interdependence?" 

Like most people, A Little Life consumed me and left me desperately sad, but mostly in a way I appreciated. The Golden State also stuck out as one of the best books I read this year. The whole novel flowed so naturally and in some magical way, seemed to leap from the page.

In terms of favorite things I watched, I can't emphasize enough how much I loved America to Me and Minding the Gap. Such important pieces of art / documentation made so close to home. Parasite and Shoplifters were also mesmerizing.

And then of course, there was Fleabag: Season Two. To me, that show was such a quiet, profound feat. I laughed a lot but I mostly sat in awe of the imperfect love that it was trying to display and so incredibly did. 

Some other things of note that made my year: finding a healthier relationship with Instagram and Twitter (haven't deleted them entirely but logged off a lot more), going to regular therapy sessions, discovering Weleda's Skin Food, fitting in a lot of twenty-minute yoga sessions at home with Adriene, getting a little bit better at learning how to live without a plan.

All I can say is, it was a year. Now on to the next decade (!).

I ate well this summer. Every week, I took home a bundle of fresh tomatoes, swiss chard, beets, potatoes, carrots, peppers and every other veggie growing under the Utah sun from a local CSA and figured out what to do with what I had.  

Mostly, the veggies didn't need much. I roasted them and paired them with salmon or trout or put them in pasta or corn tortillas or over couscous with a dash of dressing. It was the most fun I've had cooking in a while, though it was also stressful at times, trying to cook all of my veggies before the next bag came. It's a theme I'm finding: happiness despite feeling I may have been a bit overambitious with my to-do list.

At the end of most summers, I often have a feeling of phew, I did it. I made it through another wedding season and the well-meaning / hurried attempt to get the most out of sunny months, and now I can just breathe and go back to a slower routine. This summer I felt it especially, which has made me think a lot about time in general and how everything takes longer than I think and how it's hard for me to understand how other people have houses and babies and an enviable career and travel the world simultaneously (I mean, they don't, obviously, but somehow this is the message I get from my phone).

How to find time and money for the things I want: a thought everyone is working through constantly but has been occupying my headspace more than usual lately. But like the CSA, which was a bit above my budget and a bit demanding, I'm sure I will find a way to squeeze the important things in. 

This is most likely wishful thinking but wouldn't it be nice if we didn't have to do that? Squeeze so much in? I've been reflecting on Naomi Klein's book still, mainly her thought that one day, if we rearrange life to be more aligned with real limits and resources, we all might have more time. 

"There could be other benefits too," she writes, "Like shorter work weeks, in part to create more jobs, but also because overworked people have less time to engage in low-consumption activities like gardening and cooking (because they are just too busy). If countries aimed for somewhere around three to four days a week, it could offset much of the emissions growth projected through 2030." 

It is a pipe dream, I know. One that I don't know if it could really come to fruition even if people were given the choice but it's a thought that I carry with me. Most of my writing as of late (here and here) has made me realized that living sustainably takes time and well, I think it would be nice if we all had more of that.

Also as a person in their late twenties, it's hard not to stress and feel like the clock is ticking (maybe because for women, we are made very aware of that?). I grapple with all of those late twenty-something choices, the biggest ones being, how can I afford to own a place someday? Or how can I juggle a career and a family? Sometimes, though, it's just the feeling of, how can I get a hike in this week? How can I cook through the groceries I bought and go to the Sierra Club meeting and make time with my partner? How can I finish writing my book and do well at my day job too? 

My usual thought: you sacrifice and rearrange and that's that but then I read this lovely thing on the internet by Cut columnist Heather Havrilesky and she sparked a bit more fire in me, saying "Do all of the things." Sure, get rid of what you can to open up more time, but do all of the things. Celebrate the work amidst the other to-dos.


All of this to say that it's felt a little bit more hectic than usual lately, with a summer full of visitors and a new job and travel squeezed into two day weekends (all wonderful, exhausting things). I can finally see things calming down and it feels so good and necessary and so I think at least for now, I'm going to let this blog practice go — along with Instagram and Twitter for a bit — to free up some time and focus on my book and exploring and getting settled in my new city. 

I don't think I'll be in Salt Lake City forever so it seems important to be as present as I can be. I hope to post some updates here and there, but also who knows. I'm sure whatever happens, I'll write about it someday.

So I finished another essay recently. As is the case with most of my writing, it doesn't get at exactly everything I wanted to say but alas, here it is. (It's also on my Medium page, which you can see here. I half-heartedly pitched it to a few places but heard nothing so to the Medium page it goes!). I've been following the zero waste trend for a few years and finally got around to organizing some of my thoughts about it below. I hope you enjoy ‒ especially all of my zero waste friends, who may find it critical but hopefully it comes out as more thoughtful? Here's to hoping, and to calling this one done. As always, comments and thoughts encouraged!

The Allure of Zero Waste

It seems reasonable to say that we have a problem with plastic.

I’m often shocked at the amount of packaging — plastic or not — that I use every day, and the effect of this is often anxiety-inducing. All of the waste amassing in our oceans and landfills and alongside our sidewalks deeply disturbs me, mainly because I like things to be neat and clean but also because I know that there is little hope of it going away anytime soon. Still, the 4 million tons of trash we produce a day is a problem that I never knew what to do about until I stumbled on the term “zero waste,” a new lifestyle trend that advocates for living without consuming any single-use plastics or trash at all.

I first learned about the idea over ten years ago when Colin Beavan, a New Yorker, attempted to live the most sustainably a human possibly can. With his blog “No Impact Man,” Beavon lived a carbon-free lifestyle for a year, forgoing electricity, gas-powered transportation and packaged food to see if it were possible to live without any environmental impact. Beavon’s project stuck with me, though I never went through with it myself, and years later, I was reminded of it again as the zero waste movement began cropping up on the internet with more and more fervor.

Like Beavon’s “No Impact Man” project, zero wasters attempt to do what, to many, seems unachievable: they live without producing any trash. Rather than take a 13 gallon trash bag out to the curb every week (as I do), zero wasters collect their trash in a small mason jar, filling it up over the year, if that. Subscribing to a zero waste lifestyle intrigued me from the beginning. The purity, sanctimony, perfection of it all drew me in, especially since I try to live an environmentally responsible life and often, overwhelmingly fail.

After reading through zero waste blogs incessantly, I began taking on some easy zero waste swaps myself: cotton cloths instead of paper towels, reusable bags at the grocery instead of plastic ones, bulk tea instead of the packaged variety. I kept telling myself that I’d go full zero waste for a month but then each week crept in, never the right time for the experiment.

Initially I thought that I would start on a Sunday at my neighborhood’s farmers market but I often woke up hungover and in need of a Gatorade, or I had brunch plans with a friend on the one day the market was open and couldn’t make it to buy local fruits, veggies and cheese unpackaged before it closed. Reality set in that going zero waste was really hard, and so I kept putting it off.

The most daunting aspect of zero waste for me was figuring out what to do about groceries. In order to avoid anything wrapped in plastic, zero waste calls for buying unpackaged fruits and vegetables, and then grains, pasta, legumes and snacks from bulk bins (using your own reusable bag for filling of course). This means making all of your food from scratch, which, for a mediocre cook like myself, sounds almost impossible.

While there’s a rhythm one develops when they do more of their own cooking, it’s hard for me to fathom how I can make three meals a day from unpackaged ingredients while also working, maintaining friendships, seeing family, exercising, going on a weekend trip, taking up a hobby or dealing with an illness. I know it can be done. The internet assures me it can be done. But while I subscribe to the tenets and the idea of zero waste, I just can’t see how one makes food without plastic wrap working its way in.

Take for example, a veggie burger and chips for dinner. The zero waste way of making a veggie burger and chips means setting aside a few hours one night to make the burgers from beans, onions, peppers, spices and an egg, and then frying one’s own potato chips. Perhaps this is doable but then what happens when I want to add ketchup and mustard? Do I grab my mustard seeds and start grinding? Also, do I have to start the whole process the day before, soaking my own beans and cooking them on the stove in order to avoid an aluminum can? Would every meal be a two day affair?

This is not impossible. Many people around the world make their meals from scratch but they are usually a) women in rural areas with no other choice or b) full time homemakers with someone else’s salary supporting them. As writer Taffy Broddeser-Akner’s mother says to her in a Bon Appetit essay, “You can either cook or work.” I work, which means I buy my grapefruit juice and almond milk in plastic and cardboard containers thank you very much.

In a way though, I am spoiled, as we all are. So much of what we buy comes in some form of packaging, and the zero waste movement is undeniably a response to this modern fact of life. I don’t go a day without consuming something (if I include the most vital act of feeding myself) and what comes along with consumption is its nasty byproduct: single use packaging. So the question is: how then do I stay sane and live my life, avoiding a pesky product I see everywhere I look?

Most zero wasters would say that the end goal of zero waste is not necessarily to arrive at a place where you produce no trash but rather, to rethink habits and reduce where you can. As Celia Ristow of the blog Litterless says, “Zero waste means progress, not perfection.” That is a sentiment I can get behind. I can rethink what I buy. I can forgo plastic in some areas. And yet, the world doesn’t really know what to do with the moderate so there tends to be a novelty in the end goal of zero.

This is bad for me, considering that I have the opposite of an addictive personality. I’m much too indifferent to go to extremes, too curious to not want to try everything. And so, while I have taken on some easy zero waste swaps, I mostly scroll through zero waste feeds on Instagram and wonder how anyone gets to that end goal. Do they have hobbies? Do they ever crave a frozen pizza? In my more cynical moments, I find myself rolling my eyes, believing it a scam (no secondhand garment has ever fit me that good, I think, staring at the young woman in her “thrift store” jeans). But of course, I am not actually opposed to the trend, just wish that social media acknowledged its difficulties within the context of real life.

Part of my objection to zero waste is laziness, sure, but also part of it is gendered. The work of making one’s life zero waste means more time spent in the kitchen, doing women’s work and part of me fears that while women slave away to curb our reliance on plastic and put as little dent in our landfill as possible, men won’t offer to help us in this fight. In addition, there’s the possibility that while women stay at home in the kitchen, men will spend their time working, rising to positions of power, perhaps making decisions of graver environmental consequence.

Of zero waste bloggers, the majority are young millennial women or stay at home mothers, a trend which makes me uneasy. I went to a zero waste meet up once and walked in to find a table full of women. A table that soon began lamenting over how to get their boyfriends or husbands on board with these new, more tedious habits. Most women are still fighting for society to see household chores as a task of both male and female head of households, and so what will happen when we add to this task list?

And what’s more, there may be deep-rooted patriarchal notions at work behind the female buy-in of this trend. Underneath it all, I wonder if there is an uneasiness in women to take up space (either in a room or via trash in a landfill) or a tendency to sacrifice so others don’t have to. I wonder if women feel they have more power in their homes than their workplace or senator’s office. Of course, perhaps it is none of these things. Perhaps it’s just an effect of its styling; marketed toward women, it leaves men hesitant to pick it up.

Regardless, I do feel there would be some resentment if I spent my nights prepping to make zero waste lunches and dinners and condiments and cleaning products while my boyfriend buys his Chipotle and goes off to rock climb every other day, as he does. While I’m busy being zero waste, will he be busy training? What then if I want to climb alongside him too?



The nuances of modern day feminism can be confusing, and ultimately a woman’s choice of how she wants to work toward change is her own. Colin Beavon, aka “No Impact Man,” ran into similar issues that many homemakers face in his “No Impact Man” documentary, saying to his wife at one point, “You only eat local food but who provides it, who cooks it, who gets up in the morning and makes you breakfast every day, does your lunch, does your dinner then generally washes the dishes when it’s all done?” Ultimately both his concerns and his wife’s as a working mother are valid. It brings up the most important theme that zero waste brings to bear, one I think that confounds us all: what are we willing to do, what are we willing to sacrifice so that we can preserve our planet?

The work of change is hard, as zero waste reminds us. Working toward social good involves difficult things like running for office, organizing over the long term, putting our kids in public schools, adopting or fostering, using our time to help a friend or a family member or stranger overcome addiction, depression, what have you. And when it comes to the environment, I think if we’re honest with ourselves, it involves similar sacrifice. It means reducing our trash, living in smaller spaces, taking public transportation, living closer to the things we need, consuming less, flying less, eating less meat.

That being said, I am far from perfect. I fly 3–4 times a year, a number I morally can’t feel right about even if I buy carbon offsets at the end of the year. And jealousy pervades me often. Daily I see clothes I would like to have; I see friends and strangers traveling places I would like to go; I think about living someplace with a yard. Still, I know that I could be doing more. I can’t help but think of my Grandpa, who grew up during the depression and still wears slippers from thirty years ago, the hole in the big toe patched up and worn away a thousand times over. Living in a world where temperatures rise and natural disasters intensify, I question what I really ask of myself (honestly, not much).

It is perhaps one of the most unpopular of opinions, that change will come with a cost to ourselves but it is one I wish we would all start to embrace. As of right now, I am not zero waste but I am making zero waste changes, trying to lessen my environmental impact. I’ve begun to feel the pang of sacrifice — either through the time that I spend preparing my own food or the money I donate or the bus trip I take instead of getting into my car — as a token, an acknowledgement that I’m doing the hard work. And when it hurts, I reach out to others doing the same to find some joy in it all.

Of course, change won’t come from just changing my own habits, as many critics of zero waste will say (an argument that honestly, I find quite banal). If I wait for everyone to become magically selfless and anti-consumerist, the results will be disastrous, but I do think there is hope that when a select group starts adopting new habits, pressure will accumulate for larger, systematic changes. Perhaps one day, plastic will be cast aside and a new, compostable version will come to fruition. Perhaps, a carbon tax will finally take effect. Until then, all I have is the power to reduce my consumption and maximize my political power.

Still, I wrestle with the hypotheticals often; my critiques of and compassion for zero waste. There are certain scenarios I wonder about, like whether it would be better to stay at home and prepare a zero waste, local, vegetarian dinner or just grab whatever I can (in whatever packaging it comes in) because I have to run to my senator’s office after work and protest whatever needs protesting. In this case, the latter may be a worthy exception.

In the end, with gender and privilege and ability wrapped up in all of this, the practicality and effectiveness of a zero waste lifestyle can be difficult to decipher but I think working toward a sustainable future will always be a hard battle, full of a thousand nuances. It’s confusing — but I suppose working toward any worthwhile goal always will be.

So in this edition of things I love and other people may or may not care about, I present my low-waste beauty routine!

In the last few years, I've been trying to find beauty products that are affordable, free of harsh chemicals, effective, and somewhat sustainably packaged. In case you are searching for these things too, here's my long-winded breakdown of what works for me:

Skin Care: Aztec Secret Indian Healing Clay ―  It's kind of a messy product to use but the 1 lb. jar I have lasts forever (years!) and in addition to being safe to use, it really clears up my skin. Plus it's only $9, which in the world of acne solutions is quite cheap. 

Hair Care: I've tried a plethora of natural shampoos and had luck with very few of them until I found Acure Shampoo and Conditioner (Acure products can be found at Target). Recently, I switched it up and am now trying the Seaweed Bath Co. Balancing Shampoo and Conditioner. Both work for straight, oily hair, are free of sulfates/parabens/phtalates and are only $10 each, which honestly is the most I'll pay for hair care.

Hair Cleansing Rinse: I am addicted to using an Apple Cider Vinegar rinse for my hair to clear up dandruff. I fill up 1/4 of a bottle with ACV, dilute it with water, add a few drops of essential oil and then work it into my hair a few days a week. It works wonders.

Moisturizer: I use Coconut Oil or Almond Oil, basically whatever I have on hand. The bottle of Almond Oil I have has lasted me years, which makes me feel like it's lower waste, packaging-wise, because it lasts so long before I recycle it. Using oil on my face does cause breakouts though so I avoid that.

Face Moisturizer: Right now, I'm using Cetaphil Daily Facial Moisturizer with SPF 15. I can pick it up at my neighborhood Walgreens, which I like, and it only has a level 2 rating on the Skin Deep guide so it seems safe to put on my face. It's kind of on the pricey side at $17, comes packaged in plastic and I go through it every 6 months so I don't know, still searching for a good option here...

Soap: I use whatever unpackaged bar soap I can find at the store when need be, like this one.

Razor: I'm a bit scared of safety razors so I picked up a Preserve Razor from Whole Foods last time I was there. Although the razor handle is plastic, it's made from recycled yogurt containers so it's not terrible. I'm trying to hold onto the razor handle as long as I can and just replace the blades in order to reduce waste.

Deodorant: In terms of eco-friendly deodorant, the only one I have had any luck with is Schmidt's Natural Deodorant, which comes in both plastic and glass packaging. Recently I took a nose dive into natural deodorants on the internet and think I might try Magnesium Oil next. I'll report back!

Dental Care: In addition to using Brush with Bamboo toothbrushes, I pick up Tom''s from Maine from Walgreens and then stock up on EcoDent floss at Whole Foods. Tom's has a level 2 rating on Skin Deep so it works for me. The tubes of toothpaste can't be recycled commercially but they are recyclable through TerraCycle, which works to divert hard to recycle materials from the landfill. Also, EcoDent Floss comes in a cardboard container, which feels like a much better option than all of those oddly shaped, plastic floss containers I've used for so long.

Makeup: My makeup is still of the drug store variety but maybe, maybe one day I'll shell out $100 on organic, recyclable makeup with RMS. I am almost 28 so perhaps it's time?

Makeup Remover: I use reusable cotton rounds (in black preferably) and water to remove makeup at the end of the day. No complaints, they do the trick and last forever.

A lot of this is not exactly zero waste, i.e. comes without plastic, single-use packaging, but it's much less wasteful than what I've used in the past. The majority of these products are rated safely on the Environmental Working Group's Skin Deep database, fit my budget, come in bulk quantities, can be found at my neighborhood Walgreens, Target or Whole Foods (which avoids the carbon footprint that comes with shipping) and they work, most importantly.

For more on the subject of zero waste swaps, I'm in love with my friend Celia's blog Litterless. This article is a great place to start if you're hoping to make a switch to a less wasteful, sustainable lifestyle.

Also, FYI, none of the above are affiliate links  ―  just sharing because I'm semi-obsessed and hoping someone may find something they need!

I suppose these are a bit late but I wanted to write down my resolutions for next year mainly as a way to remind myself to keep coming back to them, even if I let myself slip a few months in. They are realistic resolutions (my favorite kind); small in scope, do-able and yet somehow they'll still take a bit of dedication to keep up with. So without further ado, 2018 will be the year I ...

1) Finish my book (My motto for this year: I don't care if it's any good, just that it's done.) 

2) Join a writing group 

3) Read at least 25 books (and one in Spanish)

4) Continue rock climbing / salsa dancing

5) Keep up with this space here 

6) Call senators / representatives once a week (failing at this now but will keep trying to make it a habit) 

7) Floss every day 

8) Save what I can 

9) Join a CSA 

10) Bring a resusable water bottle everywhere I go (currently on a very slow journey to being less wasteful)

I would love to have a buy nothing year next year and just work at an aggressive savings goal but with a move coming up (details soon!) I know that it's not realistic for 2018. Regardless, for now there's lots to do, lots to look forward to, especially being that in three days I will be heading to Mexico for a month-long writing residency to work as hard as I can on goal number one. 

Of course there will also be plenty of moments this next month where I'm working less hard, drinking fresh squeezed papaya juice in the Oaxacan sun, which I am also very much looking forward to. Hasta pronto, friends.

2017 in a nutshell: I learned how to just get through when it came to work; I woke up before the sun came up and read, surpassing my goal of reading 24 books in one year (!); I wrote very rough drafts of three chapters of my novel; put away some money (though not as much as I would have liked); went to therapy for the first time; traveled, protested, called my senators, donated time, donated money; and planned for a cross country move, making compromises/decisions along the way.

But enough about me, what I really want to share is the writing that I stumbled upon online this year which fed me. If you have the time, I recommend making yourself some ginger tea and reading through word for word. For whatever reason, these essays and articles (and one podcast and one piece of fiction) took hold of me and have been stored away in the back of my mind ever since. Hope you enjoy.

Home is a cup of tea  /  The gap between memory, desire and (ugh) reality  /   The work you do, the person you are  /  How homeownership became the engine of American inequality  /  The ungrateful refugee  /  Let's talk about babies  /  Failing at important things  /  Under the apple tree

Lastly, I can't end this post without mentioning SZA's Ctrl, which I listened to more times than I can count (also fell in love with Juana Molina's Halo, which is great if you ever need background music while working). Played at full volume, it can make you forget about this world we live in; a wonderful escape, if only for a moment.

And with that, onto another year, which means more writing and more art that gets us through and more working to make things better and hopefully in many ways, more of the same. Hoping you're well!

I spent two weekends away this August; first going to Nordhouse Dunes in Michigan for a backcounty camping trip and then to San Francisco where my friends and I rented a cabin three hours north of the city. Both weekends were spent without much cell service, soaking up the August air in all of its glory before coming back to the heartbreaking news I had missed (first Charlottesville and then Hurricane Harvey). 

I'm still digesting both incidents. Still reflecting and trying not to let the nonstop news cycle keep me from taking some time to process and react.

In other news, I finally signed off my Instagram this month. 

I wanted to write something thoughtful and introspective about the move here but really I don't have much to say except that I'm happier without it. I can guess as to reasons why but I think in the end, it's a fairly simple conclusion. Scrolling through other people's supposed highlight reels is probably not good for the psyche. There are other things to do, other things to focus on ― plus I like getting updates of my friends' lives in real time, preferably at a kitchen table over coffee or tea.

While Michigan and California were lovely, most of my summer looked exactly like the shot above, in my air-conditioningless apartment, where my boyfriend and I spent our days, feeling content and lazy. My summer was full of work anxieties and a few breakdowns but it was also filled with quiet nights, where a 15 minute walk through side streets to get to my neighborhood Walgreens was a highlight in itself.

And so with that, another summer (almost) gone! I don't know how I feel about it quite yet but one of these nights, I'll pour myself a cup of mint tea and embrace the change in the air.

Thoughts as of lately:

        I'm really into simple, summer cooking at the moment. Spaghetti with sun gold tomatoes and white bean salad with zucchini and Parmesan (I swapped out green beans and added tomatoes) have been making the rotation as of late. I'm trying to be less lofty in my cooking overall, focusing on staples that just taste really, really good. Any recommendations? Plz share, friends!

        I've also been binge-listening to a few podcasts lately, mainly Gaby Dunn's Bad with Money and Real Simple's Adulthood Made Easy. My favorite were Anna Sale discussing how to finance having a baby (have always been curious how it's done) and the Adulthood Made Easy episode wonderfully titled, "Sometimes You Don't Have a Career Path." Definitely recommend it if you're like me, just trying to figure out a lot of not-so-basic things.

        Finally, I think I've decided that I want to go on a social media break and sign off Facebook and Instagram. Errr, well, Instagram mostly. I understand that it's a useful tool for creatives to find an audience, make a career out of a passion but I still find the whole thing to be a little vapid and just bad for the soul at the end of the day (except Molly Wizenberg's feed. Her captions turned it into an art form). I can't sign off now because of certain job responsibilities but I'm hoping to make the switch someday soon.

       And lastly, forget Game of Thrones, yay for Insecure Season Two!

        So that seems to sum things up more or less, though of course, it's hard not to acknowledge everything going on on a grander scale. It's hard publishing a post about deciding whether or not to shut down my Instagram — or any post really — when most mornings, I wake up and mourn a little as I read the news (there is nothing and never has been anything wrong with being trans and my heart aches that our president said otherwise today). So there's that, the things I've been living with lately.  

Summer in Chicago is absolute magic. I love the humidity, the deep green that envelops the city lawns, the ivy that grows along chain link fences, the fireflies that mysteriously inhabit my neighborhood at night, the sight of my neighbor's modest backyard gardens. It's really something else and yet, this summer also feels palpably different.

The news cycle may have something to do with it. Not just D.C. news but also, Illinois is going into its third year without a budget (!), which means working in social services right now is especially tough. There's also a part of me that feels unable to sift through the slight discontentness every twenty-something feels when they're not sure what their next step should be.

I ended up being wait-listed at a few graduate schools this spring but never getting accepted. It's encouraging considering the competitiveness of MFA programs but it still means my plan of writing/living somewhere new for a few years needs some reworking. My boyfriend and I were able to fit in a last minute trip to Devil's Lake up in Wisconsin this weekend, and while we were there, we danced around the question we ask each other most days: given anywhere, where would we like to live?

We haven't reached a verdict yet but for now, at least there is still writing early in the morning, making summer meals at night, calling friends on my stoop while my neighbors play hockey in the street, heading away for the weekends and reading wherever I can find a sunny spot (currently: Rita Mae Brown's Rubyfruit Jungle). In short, enjoying the usual, another summer in Chicago, and sincerely hoping we all still have healthcare at the end of the day.

Also, random but worth noting: right as summer hit, 31-year-old Alex Honnold free solo-ed El Capitan in Yosemite Valley, meaning that for the first time, a climber scaled the 3,000 foot wall without a harness or safety gear. This article in the New York Times sums up the magnitude of the feat really well. I'm not an athletic type, or anywhere near as dedicated as Alex Honnold, but every so often I think about it and it makes me happy to know what sheer determination and hard work can produce. 

So on that note, happy summer everyone! Even if it all feels a bit off. 

A few years ago, I volunteered as a child advocate for an unaccompanied minor, which means that for a year, I worked with a 16-year-old girl from Honduras as she waited for the chance of asylum. Once a week, I would drive an hour to a Southside detention facility and play foosball with her as we got to know each other. Slowly, I began to learn her story, looking for ways to make sure her voice was heard amidst all of the bureaucracy she was enveloped in.

Most days, I walked into the facility, not knowing what type of mood she'd be in, which was understandable, as weeks turned into months and soon the trauma of spending eight months in a detention center melded with all of the trauma she had prior. She was able to leave eventually, though her story doesn't have a nice and neat ending. She had no family in Chicago so once she was transferred out, she was on her way to meet with distant relatives and for her parting gift, I put a translated copy of Sandra Cisneros' A House on Mango Street in between a few copies of People en Español, hoping that Sandra could help guide her even if I was nervous to see her go. 

It's been years, and I often wonder where she is now. I wonder if she had to go back to Honduras or if she found safety, though I know there were complications on both sides of the border.

After that year, I decided not to continue on as an advocate, mostly because I assumed that I wouldn't be in Chicago much longer (ha) but also because I came to realize that my skill set is not that of a social worker or a teacher, as much as I try. I'm much better working behind a computer, helping organizations communicate to the public, making them relevant, marketing them so they look nice and neat.

But once Trump was elected, I searched for a place to join, to put myself to work, and soon found myself at Sierra Club meetings every month. There are occasional meetings when I get frustrated, as we chug through slow, unproductive conversations about what issues we should tackle next. But I suppose that's what happens when you get people together who have never met before, with more excitement than they know what to do with but little enthusiasm for slow progress.

It's one thing to wax poetic about the changes you would like to see but it is another thing to head to a Sierra Club meeting with well-intentioned people that may or may not make much progress an hour later. It is another thing to try and help a girl as she makes her way through our legal system. It is another thing entirely to do collective work.

Of course it's not all frustrating, but it's no Instagrammable success story either. Because of the nature of group work, I have a propensity, like many, to find comfort in transforming my home into a place that reflects what I'd like to see in this world. I create a small little oasis in my one-bedroom apartment with thrifted goods and green cleaning products and reusables in a city where public transport is accessible. It is wonderful to have this control but it is also the easiest, most satisfactory step. There is a frustration -- but also a hope -- that comes with doing more.

It's hard for the cynic in me to say this but hopefully by the time I'm old, I will have seen something bigger, structures overturn, sitting in a home powered by the sun, thanking the 26-year-old me. Until then, I'll be making my way past the Trump Tower toward a small conference room on the 15th floor of a downtown office building, chugging through discussion of a small, community solar project.

A few weeks ago, I took a trip to Illinois State Beach Park and then proceeded down Chicago's North Shore to Glencoe and Winnetka (oof, the scale of the houses in those suburbs was still unbeknowest to me until this trip). I drove down Sheridan Road, past the Baha'i temple, until my boyfriend and I made it to a creperie in Evanston. Sunday adventuring followed by a very relaxed night in my newly cleaned out sun porch has been making my weekends these days.

Since then, all of the trees and tulips have started to bud, even earlier than usual I feel. I can still recall a June a few years ago that ended up being rainy and grey throughout so I'm appreciating the 70+ degree weekends we have been having. A sunny spring in Chicago is never a guaranteed affair.

But enough about the weather; I'm mostly spending my days this spring waiting, trying not to think too much about what I will be doing with my life next year ‒ the possibility of grad school still dangles by the string of one school's wait list. I remind myself almost daily, "It is seldom the case that our dreams come without drawbacks. Repeat: It is seldom the case that our dreams come without drawbacks," as I try to figure out Plan B (Or, I think Plan C at this point).

I'll be back in a few days with an essay I finished about Honduras (the last I'll say on the subject). I submitted the essay to a few journals but had no luck in getting it published ‒ but lucky me for having this space here. Though for now, I'm off to warm up a cup of tea to heal a sore throat that's been around for far too long.