Emchap's Shit from the Internet 04/17/19 🍠
I had an unhappy day yesterday, for no real clear reason (or for several together at once: a friendship ending, PMS, the fact that I worse sweatpants to work and the sky was overcast). I ate jellybeans for dinner and killed the time until I could reasonably go to bed by listlessly scrolling on my phone while watching BoJack, which is absolutely my number one favorite Depression Activity, narrowly beating out "planning to adopt a dog", "planning to buy a house", and "planning to fuck off to the desert and ask Ken Layne to let me work for him".
This was the culmination of a several-day-long stretch of loneliness and anxiety sparked during the Gut Unpleasantness and continuing into this week, which coiled together in a fear that—after the third day in a row of sad post-work phone scrolling—that I have no inner life.
I think it was literally a car commercial that set my rat terrier brain off digging into this particular depression trench. It was an ad with some 40-something mom and kids, and I thought about what steps my life would need to take to get from sad and stoned on the couch point A to that point B, and then burst into tears even though I don't particularly want the life that was shown in the car ad.
I'm surrounded by people who have things—kids, companies they want to found, artistic and comedic undertakings—that they care about and pour their energies into, and I was stuck chewing on the fact that by and large I don't have that. There is no single Thing I am particularly known for or am driving towards, and at least this week that bugs me more than normal.
I was a creative kid, and I've grown into an adult with relatively few creative outputs and a wobbly sense of self susceptible to other peoples' perceptions of me as Not Creative, which has done me no good. And I honestly can't tell at this point if my stopping drawing or writing or making weird comedy is because my priorities have shifted or because I am averse to really trying for things or because I find the idea of admitting that I want something—anything—to be fundamentally shameful for some reason.
Certainly it feels like I could do those things, if I was moved to—I know people who've written books and movies and comedy things, and though it's challenging it's also very clearly a job people can have. But from sitting in the middle of it, it's hard to tell if I lack a real desire to do those things and just need to get out of the house more, or if I'm just season 2 Greg. (miss u, Good Greg.)
It's likely the cloudy mood will pass, and I know that this time next week I will be in Hong Kong and if nothing else that will give my brain the reset it needs to stop spending all day sadly checking my phone. (Instead, I'll be eating all of the duck buns I can put in my body and preparing for Unlimited Champagne Lobster Brunch.) (That's not a joke, that's just a real thing I'm going to.)
I don't know what the solution to the core problem is, aside from developing a sense of self that's made of something other than marshmallow, but some time away from home will no doubt be good for it.
Shit to read
I am a Terrible Jew and so am not going to be doing anything for Passover, but I want to make this brisket when I get back.
Seriously can I go work for Ken Layne.
Lyz Lenz just knocking it out of the park on what it means to want men in 2019.
Why aren't late-night shows good, at all?
Joel Kim Booster is a delight.
So is Open Mike Eagle.
Bon Appetit's pivot into The Awl for cookingg was unexpected but delightful.
God loves a good brand-based internet dunk.
I had weird flashbacks to former jobs reading this article about HQ's brokenness. Here's hoping Scott got equity.
Who wants to go become a couture embroiderer with me.
Shit to eat
In a fit of depression-shopping, purchase a sack of jelly beans and some havarti with dill from your local Armenian grocer.
Find a probably-not-bad persian cucumber in your crisper.
Soak it in water overnight because it feels like this will help. It likely doesn't.
After work, slice the cucumber on the diagonal like Samin Nosrat told you.
Put some salt on it, and on each slice of cucumber put some of the cheese.
Eat in front of your screen door, staring at the sky, and contemplate the likelihood that things will improve.
Shit to listen to
This is a Chris Fleming promo video that made me sob-laugh. (As did "a pomeranian who's bi, at best.") He's so, so good.
I am loving this podcast about giving up, where Ann Friedman interviews women about a time in their lives where they either had to give up or push through. It's great.
Shit to buy
See shit to eat.
I really like this coral linen jumpsuit.
Also this wrap dress.
I just bought these terrifying overalls.