The Undercover Introvert

Close the Door on Your Way Out, 2020

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What can I say about 2020 that hasn’t already been growled between gritted teeth by someone, somewhere on this planet? It’s certainly been a year that defies simplistic definitions. A time warp. A lengthy, shimmering interlude between one moment and the next. A dumpster fire. An extended period of forced, yet not altogether unpleasant calm. A struggle. A hazy, indeterminate dream state. A nightmare. Never ending. Lightning fast. Upheaval incarnate.

In other words, it’s been one hell of a year.

Living through a global pandemic wasn’t something I had on my Bingo card last New Year’s Eve, and the year I thought I was strutting into on January 1st, 2020 didn’t even begin to resemble the year I’m looking back on during this final day of December. But the one thing I’m left with at the end of this strange 12 months is just how damned lucky I am. I did more than live through a year that saw close to 350,000 Americans die and millions more lose their livelihoods. I was able to spend 2020 quarantining with the people I care about most in the world while working full time in the safe, comfy cocoon of my own home. I didn’t struggle with food insecurity. I didn’t worry about being evicted in the middle of a health crisis. I kept my medical insurance and was able to seek care whenever I needed it.

This year has been horrible in so many ways, but I can’t deny how fortunate I am. So instead of shooting 2020 a double bird as it rides off into the blazing sunset, I’m going to give thanks. It just seems warranted, doesn’t it? And it’s an extension of the practice I began at the beginning of the year whenever I started to lament at how awful and uncertain things seemed.

I had all my people with me

At the end of December, I like to write out a list of my goals for the upcoming year, and then I read over them every morning to keep myself focused as the months pass. I did this for 2020 as well. Why am I telling you this? Well, my job is the type that normally keeps me on the move. Florida’s a big state and I’m often driving hundreds of miles every week for meetings, events, and conferences. So, in January, one of my goals was to prioritize spending quality time with my family. Remember that old adage: be careful what you wish for? Seems 2020 came equipped with jokes and thought that it would grant my wish by giving me nothing but family time. Although there have been a few moments when we all considered killing each other, this time together has truly been a gift. COVID slowed my ass down, kicking travel out of bounds and shutting down my usual get togethers with friends. I’m grateful to have been able to weather this stormy year with the people I cherish most. I know not everyone had that, and many now have empty chairs at their dining room tables.

I got by with a little help from my friends

Shockingly, my introverted ass has quite a few friends. And despite my critical need of alone time at regular intervals, hanging with these folks improves my life beyond what I might have earlier believed possible. I’m doubly fortunate that many of the people I consider close friends are also work associates, meaning we see each other at conferences and meetings that then transition into happy hours at various restaurants (yes, all my friends like food; you can’t hang with me if you don’t). My final work related trip in 2020 was for a big conference in DC the first week of March, just before everything shut down. We had a large group from Florida, which resulted in a good time during and after the conference, and a few of us stayed extra days to have unencumbered fun in the city. Before leaving for DC, I’d gotten the chance to see several other friends throughout February, which proved fortuitous, considering the world slammed shut the week I returned home, clearing my calendar of all in person events, both professional and social.

I fell into a virtual happy hour that first Friday of my self-imposed COVID quarantine that became a regular occurrence throughout the remainder of the year. It quickly transformed into the highlight of my week, a wine soaked therapy session that always started with complaints and ended with maniacal laughter. I had many other virtual get togethers with other sets of friends too, and meandering chat threads filled with frustration, profanity, jokes, and memes about politics and the pandemic. I missed seeing my friends in person, sharing appetizers and desserts over drinks, watching movies in the theater, or driving into the city for events or shows. But it never felt like they were that far away, even the ones from out of state. This year would have been insurmountable without each and every one of these folks. We got each other through this, with humor and humility. I can’t wait to see them all on the other side of this long, strange trip that was 2020.

Home was where the work was

I spent years as a freelance writer, followed by work on different political campaigns and then nonprofit organizations, including one I co-founded. Suffice to say, I’m used to working from home. But I’m also used to being able to leave when I want (or even when I don’t want, holding a knife to my own throat to force my feet out of the door), so it was pretty weird to never need to attend in person meetings or events. And it took time to fully assimilate into the Zoom industrial complex wherein what normally could have been a 20 minute phone call transformed into a 60 minute video conference complete with slide deck and unnecessary icebreakers and breakout groups (the horror). But even during the days stacked high with 6 plus Zoom meetings, I knew how fortunate I was.

I live in a state that buckled immediately under the pressure of the COVID-19 fueled unemployment crisis. To this day, there are still thousands of people that never received any unemployment benefits and are facing complete financial destruction as they hover on the edge of eviction, unable to afford their basic needs. There are other folks that managed to keep their jobs, but were forced to work outside of their homes. This wasn’t without risk, considering our state never had any discernible leadership from our incompetent governor or something as simple and obvious as a mask mandate. Unsurprisingly, our COVID-19 infection rates soared.

But somehow, inexplicably, I was okay. I stayed employed. I didn’t fall into financial ruin. I could afford food, a roof over my head, medical care. What made me so lucky when millions of others spiraled into poverty, their livelihoods and peace of mind evaporating in an instant? I don’t have the answer to this question. But I do feel an obligation to continue working to create an America that’s freer, fairer, and better for all of us. One with safety nets that actually catch us when we fall…or when we’re pushed. It goes without saying that I don’t want to struggle, but, here’s the thing: I don’t want you to struggle either.

I let words be my refuge

Before I fell ass over teakettle into the exhilaratingly frustrating world of politics, I used to read north of 60 books each year. I just ran through them. I’ve always been a voracious reader, preferring the comfort of tucking into the pages of a book over most everything else. This year, I set a modest goal of reading 30 books, but by May, I had yet to read a single one. What can I say? The year started at a gallop with work and then took a turn into the surreal when the pandemic started, washing everything else away. It was all I could do to keep my head above water. Eventually, I had a come to Jesus meeting with myself, and kicked my own ass into gear. Once I actually got started, I never stopped. I had some great adventures this year, humming along in the colorful space between my ears. I finished my 30th book just the other day. And, more importantly, I rekindled the love of reading that I’ve had since I was a little girl. That’s something I plan to bring with me into 2021.

We flipped the goddamned White House

Y’all know I can’t end a list about all the things I’m grateful for in 2020 without including this one. I’ve been living in a state of persistent dread for the last 4 years, a weight I forgot I was lugging around until it lifted, as though by magic, the Saturday after Election Day when Joe Biden was officially named President-Elect. I’ve never felt more relieved in my life, and I’ve given birth to a child. It’s strange to wish the last 4 years had never happened while also feeling deep, unshakeable gratitude for the person I became because of the gauntlet of stress and terror the Trump presidency forced me to cross. I didn’t have a purpose before this, not really, and now I do. Thanks to the work that millions of us did over the last 48 months, I get to keep the purpose while Trump has to vacate the White House. Beautiful, right?

As we show 2020 the door and lock up securely as soon as it crosses the threshold, lest it change its fickle mind, let’s take a moment to celebrate the small victories and soaring triumphs. If you’re reading this, you made it. You survived one of the worst years in living memory. I hope you also found pockets of joy, had those you loved close at hand, and found other small pleasures that made these odd days pass more easily. On the eve of 2021, here’s to many more years together doing what we love. Here’s to better times. Here’s to you, to me, to us.

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Quarantine Diary: I haven’t Worn Real Pants in 5 Weeks

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I’m not leaving the house much anymore, so figured I’d start a blog series to share updates of my oh-so-interesting-life-in-quarantine. My (lack of) exploits, thoughts, struggles, and, most importantly, snack choices. What better way to be alone, together than to provide these in depth peeks into my life that no one asked for!

Full disclosure: as an introvert, much of my regular life mirrors what would strictly be defined as quarantine conditions. My ideal day involves rising early, going for a run, listening to a podcast until I sit down at my computer to read articles while drinking several cups of coffee, having a small lunch while researching or doing some work in complete silence (my dog lightly snoring in her fluffy bed positioned within petting distance of my desk). Once I’m finished working for the evening and the end of my ideal day creeps nearer on sleepy feet, I have something delicious to eat for dinner, read or watch TV for the remainder of the night, and then hop into bed with my aforementioned snuggly dog. Did you notice that my ideal day involves never speaking to another human being? Yeah. Introverts did social distancing waaaaaaay before it went (involuntarily) mainstream.

To kick off this first post in the Quarantine Diary series, I want to take you through a list of the things I’m no longer doing in this crazy, upside down, COVID-19 infected world:

Wearing underwear

If we’re going to get to know each other, I believe we should dive right in. No dipping your toes into the water around here. I’m shoving you straight into the middle of Lake TMI…

For background, I worked remotely before it was compulsory, and after my morning shower, I’d plop myself down in my office chair dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants or ratty shorts and get to work. Admittedly, my habit was to go without underwear while working in my home office (because it’s constricting and stupid) and only put on a pair if I had to leave the comfort of my house to attend an event or meeting, which was most days of the week. But now I’m no longer leaving the house for work because all events and meetings have been canceled for the duration. So, naturally, I canceled underwear too.

I’ve seen plenty of women posting about giving their bras the middle finger during this crisis, and I applaud their collective enthusiasm. My personal preference is to wear a sports bra when working, but that’s how I’m most comfortable. To the ladies that have left all undergarments in the rearview, I salute you agents of unmitigated chaos! Give it a few weeks and I might be right there with you. Perhaps we can have a modern day bra burning in our backyards alone, together.

Putting on big girl clothes

It’s pretty much glorified pajamas over here all day, every damned day. I haven’t worn something that wasn’t crafted from stretchy, expanding waist-forgiving fabric in many wonderful weeks (years?). My standard outfit involves sweatpants or loose fitting shorts, a sports bra, and tank top. This outfit doesn’t change for Zoom meetings where I’m expected to turn on my camera. My secret: not giving a shit what I look like. It’s really great. You should try it. Pro tip: point the camera so it only shows from the top of your shoulders up. No one will be the wiser.

Shaving my legs

Ain’t nobody got time for this kind of negativity in their quarantine daily life. And since I’m neither leaving the house nor putting on the aforementioned big girl clothing, I really don’t see the need to shave my legs.

TBH, I’m becoming less presentable by the day and I couldn’t give fewer fucks. I have no idea how any of us are going to go back to the way things were when somewhat normal patterns of life resume. Once you’ve flown from the constricting, yet gilded cage of gendered standards of hygiene, how do you go back again? And, more importantly, will we even want to?

Driving my car

I run a statewide organization, mostly from my home office. But I travel my enormous state quite often for work, meaning I put some serious miles on the old sensible four door sedan. I actually don’t mind driving. It gives me some quiet time untethered from my computer and phone to center myself while I listen to the week’s podcasts. But I sure as hell don’t miss negotiating the shitty traffic in South Florida, Orlando, and Tampa. I don’t miss paying tolls either, or filling up with gas, or paying for a tire that blew out on one of our terrible highways. Unfortunately, despite my car sitting mostly unused in the driveway (save for biweekly grocery store runs), that loan payment is still spirited out of my account at the beginning of every month.

Acknowledging the existence of time

I think we can all agree that time is canceled. It just doesn’t exist anymore, at least not the way it used to. And, even if it did, we’ve moved beyond our childish dependence on it. If we must, we can still have the generic catchalls of yesterday, today, and tomorrow, but when we start trying to get all fancy by naming days of the week or what month it is, things go to hell in a hurry. Let’s stop pretending that March only lasted 31 days when we know damned well it was at least 125. And April is shaping up to be at least double that…

Working remotely only accelerates this gradual softening of time. When your job can be done at home, it means your work day never has to end. Ever. You can continue working late into the night, at the crack of dawn, during the weekend, or on holidays. It’s great! Now the days blend together, creeping past with painful slowness while simultaneously racing through your fingers. I swear it’s been at least 3 years since we started this social distancing stuff. But it’s also only been 15 minutes.

Here’s my promise to you, captive quarantine audience: as long as sheltering in place is our reality, you can expect moderately regular posts about the weird, wonderful, and banal things going on at Chez Moi. Remember all the beautiful letters and journals produced during other trying times in our history, like World War II or the Great Depression? Well, these posts won’t be that. I’ll mostly be talking about my snacking habits and dropping a cascade of F bombs. But if it helps get you through another 75 hour day, I’ll consider that a win.

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So You’ve Been Called Out: A White Person’s Guide to Doing Better

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As someone who writes and talks about race, racism, and white supremacy a lot, I’m used to pushback whenever I point out our racist institutions or racist behavior in individuals. And as a black woman working in mostly progressive spaces, I’m also used to the constant stream of microaggression and casual racism within our ranks. Occasionally, the racism isn’t so casual at all, but those instances are somewhat rare. What’s not rare is the automatic response whenever I or another person of color dares to point out racist behavior in some of the white folks dwelling in these so-called progressive spaces. A torrent of defensiveness is unleashed at the mere suggestion that the white person in question needs to correct their conduct. This reaction is almost always amplified to outrageous levels because, on the whole, progressives believe themselves to be completely ‘woke’. Anything that puts that wokeness in jeopardy is met with brutal defensiveness.

And because this defensiveness is a constant, I’ve come to know it pretty damned well. It’s the kind of thing that never travels alone. It always arrives in the company of several tried and true excuses for why the behavior or comments weren’t problematic at all. These excuses are so common, so often used, so seemingly set in tired, frustrating stone, that you can set a clock by them.

Suffice to say, I’ve heard each and every one of these excuses more times than I can count, and they’re always brandished by self-identified allies taken fully aback by an uppity negro questioning their solidarity with black and brown folks. So, I figured, why not review them one by one? And, while we’re busy reviewing them, let’s also outline in detail why they’re complete and utter bullshit.

That’s Not What I said!!

Yes, the double exclamation point is absolutely necessary. TBH, I could’ve added upwards of three more. This gem of a go-to response also doubles as a great example of gaslighting, wherein the white person tells the black person that what she heard with her own ears (or read with her own eyes) just isn’t true. It didn’t happen that way. She has to be mistaken. Of course, she’s not mistaken, and this plaintive denial only makes a bad situation worse. That’s not what I said usually pairs well with you’re twisting my words, why are you lying?, and why are you trying to make me look bad?!

I Have Black and/or Brown Friends

There’s no piece of evidence more convincing to a defensive white person newly called out for making a racist comment than a conveniently leveraged roster of nameless, faceless black and brown ‘friends’. These alleged best buds of color serve as a convenient barrier behind which a white person can hide from any and all accountability for problematic words and actions. It’s pretty damned gross, but it happens ALL THE TIME. Black and brown folks don’t exist to shield you from blame for whatever you just did, said, or posted online, white folks. Stop doing this.

And, furthermore, I’d like to go on record by calling bullshit on these folks having black and brown friends in the first place. More like, they’ve seen black and brown folks before. They work with them or went to school with some. That’s likely it. You can’t tell me that you have genuine, deep friendships with people of color and you see no problem with using them as proof that you couldn’t utter a racist comment.

But let’s pretend that you actually do have a black friend (again, doubtful). Just because this single black individual is allegedly fine with your bullshit doesn’t mean that I am, simply because I’m also black. You do understand that’s not how this works, right? I would never expect you to act the same as another white acquaintance because you’re white too. Thinking all black people act essentially the same is part of the problem, as well as further evidence of the impossibility of you having genuine friendships with black people.

You Don’t Know My Heart

This tired excuse is usually either shouted or accompanied by tears. If typed in response to a post or comment, it comes ready with some exclamation points, is in all caps, or both. The translation for this excuse is: forget what I just said or did to you; let’s focus on who I’d like folks to think I am. Because that’s the long and short of all this defensiveness. No matter who you are, getting called out on your inappropriate behavior is uncomfortable. So is knowing that you did or said something that hurt people. I get it. We all like to think we’re good people, and many of us actually are. I truly believe that. But every single one of us was raised in a society that was built on a foundation of racism and white supremacy. Some racist shit is going to come out of your mouths, white folks, often without you realizing why it’s problematic.

If you’re called out on it, instead of taking that as a brutal indictment of your character, understand it for what it really is: an invitation for you to be better. Personal growth is something that shouldn’t stop for any of us as long as we’re alive. Don’t you want to be better tomorrow than you are today? I sure as hell do. And if I’m doing or saying something homophobic, racist, ableist, Islamophobic, transphobic, or antisemitic, I want people to call me on it. Immediately. Why would anyone want anything different?

Everyone Knows I’m Not a Racist

I just had a white woman tell me this the other day. I laughed out loud, of course, but it also made me wonder, aren’t I part of the ‘everyone’ to which you speak? Very telling. I guess you meant every white person knows you’re not racist. But I digress…

This sounds like something Donald Trump would say, TBH. And can we all agree that if you’re sputtering excuses that make you sound like Trump, there’s a problem? Allyship isn’t a state of being. It’s a journey. And the work is never done. You don’t reach a state of ‘genuine ally’ that, once attained, means you can’t behave in an ignorant, hurtful manner. Don’t brandish your DIY ally badge at me like it wipes away the impact of your terrible behavior. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you don’t get to announce to marginalized communities that you’re their ally. That’s something that gets said about you. Like coolness. Loudly proclaiming yourself cool just means you’re not cool at all. Only calling yourself cool doesn’t hurt anyone, but calling yourself an ally while refusing to listen to POCs when they point out your hurtful behavior actually is causing harm. And following that up by using the blunt end of your defensiveness as a weapon against said POC only multiplies the damage done.

I’m Fighting For You and You’re Just Being Divisive

Calling a black person divisive is a white person’s best chance at quickly ending a conversation that could be damaging to their self-image. Because defensiveness is what happens when the idea of who we are comes face to face with the reality of who we show up as in the world. When someone calls you out for racist comments or behavior, they are implicitly pointing out the gap between who you say you are and who you show yourself to be in your day to day life.

It’s always struck me as odd that the pointing out of racism is considered more divisive to some white folks than the racism itself. But, that’s the situation in which black folks and other POCs find themselves in this country. That’s bad enough, but it’s also the situation in which we find ourselves in progressive spaces and movements. And, if we point it out, woe be to divisive, ungrateful, angry, troublemaking us.

Just because you’ve never been called out before doesn’t mean you’re good to go. Since the situation so often turns nuclear when we point out racist behavior, many POCs don’t even bother to bring it up. Sometimes, it’s just easier to put it behind us and get on with our day, especially since much of the fallout usually ends up burning us. If a POC actually calls you out, keep that in mind. She probably dealt with many dozens of microaggressions before she finally broke and said something to you. She probably calculated the pros and cons using the same automatic equations POCs know all too well. Because, most of the time, it’s just not fucking worth the trouble, no matter how unfairly we’re treated.

I Don’t Even See Color

I wish I had a couple dollars for every time a white person has told me this. I’d have a fuckton of dollars. But, instead, I just have enough pent up frustration to power another thousand articles like this one.

White folks, we all see color. It’s ridiculous to pretend otherwise. What’s more, I want you to see me as black. I just don’t want you to lose your damn mind and treat me like a second class citizen solely based on that blackness. And, for the record, that’s what Martin Luther King, Jr. wanted too, despite your carefully curated understanding of his I Have a Dream speech. The Promised Land had nothing to do with being unable to see racial differences. That’s just ridiculous and lazy. It’s about treating each other the way we hope to be treated: with fairness and respect. It’s about equality, accessibility, and inclusivity in all facets of American life.

The problem isn’t that I’m black and you’re white. The problem is that we live in a society designed to benefit you because of your whiteness and oppress me because of my blackness. You didn’t have anything to do with how that system was constructed, but any racist attitudes and behavior uphold that system instead of tearing it down. Don’t you want to stop upholding that unfair, oppressive system? If so, think of being called out as a blessing. It opens a door to a better way of showing up in this world. It leads to personal growth. And once you walk through that door, you can turn to help others through it as well. Or you can ride away from that opportunity on a tidal wave of your own self righteous defensiveness, which helps no one, least of all you.

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An Introvert’s Guide to Social Distancing

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I’d like to speak to my fellow introverts first.

Fam, this is our time. We’ve been preparing for this our entire lives through diligent preemptive social distancing. All those evenings and weekends spent in your own magnificent company. The texts and phone calls from friends that you left unanswered, lest someone try to lure you out of your house. The doors that stayed locked even after someone knocked. The legion of excuses you employed to keep from accepting invitations to social engagements. I already know you have all the reading materials, comfy blankets, caffeinated beverages, snacks, and snuggly animals that you’ll need to get to the other side of this crisis. Know that I’m with each of you the best way I know how: by not being with any of you at all…

Okay, extroverts, now it’s your turn.

Things are getting real out there, so I’m not going to sugarcoat this. The road ahead is going to be difficult for you. For me, on the other hand, not much has really changed in my day to day life. Recent events have forced me to come to terms with the fact that my innate penchant for avoiding most social situations meets the basic definition of living under quarantine conditions. And I’ll still be living in as much self-imposed silence as I can muster long after this global pandemic subsides and everyone else returns to their lives as social butterflies. But if you’re finding yourself panicking at the thought of several weeks’ worth of canceled events combined with the harsh reality of your suddenly barren calendar: welcome to my world. It’s quiet, isn’t it? Why don’t you sit back and let a life long introvert guide you through the unfamiliar landscape that has become your home sweet home for the duration…

Your Best Friend Is You (or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Talking to Myself)

If I’m being real, I never actually learned to stop worrying. I worry about everything, all the time. Currently, I’m worried about the ramifications of this virus on vulnerable people across the globe, both those that might become ill and those that will be destroyed financially by losing even a single paycheck.

But I do love talking to myself and have since I was an odd little girl. This skill is a requirement if you’re going to spend a lot of time one on one…with yourself. It’s all about getting comfy in your own skin and not minding the feeling of being alone with your thoughts. Once you’re hunkered down in blissful solitude, you’ll notice it’s actually pretty great. I don’t spend as much time alone as I used to, and I miss it. Whenever I cobble together some alone time, I find myself going back and forth, as though chatting with another person. You’ll find this happening to you as the social distancing goes on. Lean into it. Talking to yourself is definitely not a sign of acute psychosis, despite what passersby who have overheard my conversations with myself in the past might think.

All joking aside (and I wasn’t really joking about the nonstop talking to myself), learning to enjoy time by yourself is critical to surviving however long we’re stuck inside our own houses. I use my alone time to ground myself, to recharge. Without it, I tatter at the edges and risk unraveling completely. I get that, as extroverts, you recharge by being around people (WEIRD), but try on this alone time for a little while and see how it feels. For me, it’s both a requirement and a blessing. Though I wouldn’t have wished for a global pandemic to suddenly and decisively clear my entire calendar, I can honestly say I don’t mind slowing down. Not to mention canceled plans are literally my idea of a good time.

Your Pet is Now Your BFF

If talking to yourself seems weird (why the judgement, extroverts?), you can always turn to your pet for conversation and moral support. During your self-imposed exile of indeterminate length, this creature will fill the role of your fuzzy, non-judgmental best buddy. I worked from home for years before all of this social distancing stuff was mandated, so my dog knows the drill. She chills with me for hours as she lounges in the comfy bed I set up for her right next to my desk. I talk to her all day long, and goddamn if she isn’t a great listener, even when she’s asleep, which is often. Pets have a calming effect on me. They don’t expect or demand levels of engagement that other people do just by their mere presence. Your pet is cool with you never putting on real clothes. She’s A-okay with you placing the Hamilton soundtrack on repeat or eating nothing but popcorn all day (just help a puppy out and drop a piece here and there, okay?).

Books are Powerful Magic

When I was but a wee introverted girl, I discovered that books were portals that could take me wherever I wanted to go. I devoured them as quickly as I could get my hands on them. They still work as magic portals, and you can have as many adventures as you like, provided you make the time to plant yourself somewhere quiet and dive in. I’m hoping the strong suggestion against leaving my house will result in more hours getting lost in the pages of a good book. And with the ability to download titles digitally (OverDrive is your friend, y’all), there’s absolutely no need to leave your house at all. I really can’t understand folks that don’t prize reading, but if you’re one of those people, this situation is likely going to get much worse before it gets better…

Just kidding. Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime, and cable TV still exist. Get a hold of yourselves, extroverts! Pop some popcorn, snuggle up in a nest of blankets with your furry BFF, and laissez les bons temps rouler. In other words, binge until you can’t binge anymore!

Food is Life

The real secret to living life like an introvert involves prioritizing personal comfort above all else. Extroverts, what makes you happy that doesn’t involve going outside and hanging out with people like a weirdo? Besides alone time, pets, and books, food is a huge component of my daily selfcare plan. And this is something I have in common with most, if not all, of my extroverted friends. We can bond over a good meal and drinks, which is fabulous, but I also like to curl up with a book and a snack all by my lonesome. On nights alone, I like to cook an intricate meal while listening to a podcast and talking to no one. The joy in not communicating, in just being there, by myself, in my head, while onions and garlic sizzle fragrantly on the stovetop, or something savory roasts in the oven. For me, food is everything, and eating it alone while reading a book or watching a movie is my little piece of heaven on Earth.

That’s really the long and short of what makes this introvert tick. And despite the fact that some of us are born introverts and others extroverts, you can ride out the next few weeks by surrounding yourself with the things that make you happiest: good food, books, pets, and movies. Take long showers. Exercise more, if that centers you the way it does me. Take a long walk (still allowed!). Check in with those you care about most via text message (vastly superior to phone calls, IMHO). Write in a journal. Sit in your backyard at night and watch the stars. If all else fails, you can host a virtual dinner party on Google Hangouts to be alone, together with everyone else practicing this social distancing thing for the first time.

Above all, take care of yourself. Your best friend is you.

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Resolutions, Smesolutions

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I wrote a riveting, award winning blog post last January about the things I hoped to achieve in the new year, and despite how cliche it is, I’m writing another one about my hopes, dreams, etcetera for 2019. Scroll on if you’re bored and unimpressed by the annual banality, but I rather like taking a bit of time at the start of the year to think about how to improve upon the newly deceased set of 12 months. There are always ways we can do better, as long as we’re alive. And, sometimes, simply making it through the tough, frustrating, shockingly short year that recently passed is an event to celebrate with one’s whole heart, soul, and liquor cabinet…

So, here it is, my 2019 plan of attack:

Be a selfcare badass

Spoiler: I’m shitty at taking proper care of myself. Don’t get me wrong, I can do the basics, but as soon as I get busy, my intentions for selfcare go barreling out the window, down the street, around the corner, and out of sight. I know what set of circumstances allow me to operate at 100%: running every day (keeps anxiety at a workable minimum), reading (feeds the mind, soul, imagination), writing (see: effects of reading), eating right (and this does not mean consuming a bag of popcorn every day), and regularly stepping back from the tasty trough of crazy to enjoy the people who ride everything out with me, no matter what (allows for proper appreciation of perspective).

I know these are things I need to do with strict regularity, and yet they are the first to go when the crazy expands into an absolute, unmitigated, wailing shitshow. So, my goal for 2019 is to practice as much selfcare as possible and to do it unapologetically. I have one body, one mind, and if I break them, I’m well and truly out of luck. The version of me that’s best involves running, reading, writing, and keeping chaos at bay with the translucent strings built of words, good food, and time with friends and family. Choosing that means choosing myself, and, honestly, I haven’t done that in years. So, cheers to me, and to new beginnings.

Resist the urge to tear down my fellow Democrats

Maybe you haven’t heard, but 2020 is kind of a big deal, even more so than the 2018 midterms. Democrats are already jumping forward to announce their candidacies via exploratory committees, and the collective mob of Democratic opinion is abuzz with shit talking and intensely negative Nancying. To be fair, I’ve been very guilty of this myself. I have my favorites, and my absolute no fucking ways. But in light of the already rising toxicity, I hereby pledge to avoid adding to the tidal wave of frenzied shit talking. I refuse to tear down Democratic candidates solely based on my subjective opinion of them. I won’t contribute to that kind of bullshit publicly, and I’ll urge others to follow the same path.

This doesn’t mean I won’t share pertinent information about a candidate’s record, but this will not devolve into a bitch session. We do way too much backstabbing as Dems. It doesn’t mean we can’t all have our opinions, likes, and dislikes, but can we at least keep from separating into insular little groups from which we refuse to budge? This is the kind of shit that gave us a trump presidency. We can’t afford it in 2020. Let’s grow up. Let’s be better. I’ll go first…

Listen to my itchy feet and do some traveling

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m a military brat. Growing up, we moved every two years, from stateside to places like Okinawa, Japan and Guam, sparkling jewel of the South Pacific (not even kidding, check out the pictures). As an adult, I’ve had the fantastic luck of living in Germany and traveling all over Europe. In the last few years, however, I’ve been tied to the Sunshine State due to the nature of my employment. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do for a living, but my feet get itchy if I stand in the same place for too long. In 2018, I only left the country once, and I barely left the state. That’s disgraceful, and definitely not how I was raised. This year, I intend to travel more, to experience new things, and to escape the gilded prison of my own head by immersing myself in situations that are completely outside of my day to day life. An expanded travel itinerary means an expanded worldview, and my life is feeling way too claustrophobic these days.

Get more of my own work published

This is a perpetual resolution, made annually for the last 20 some odd years (JFC, how did I get so old?!). I’ve been writing a long while, and I’ve yet to get my so-called ‘big break’. I have made decent money writing articles, as well as self publishing my novels and short stories. Currently, I have a novel sitting with an interested agent, which is all kinds of exciting. I plan to keep on keeping on where writing is concerned. Despite a schedule that will be even crazier than last year’s, I solemnly swear to write EVERY DAMNED DAY. Already have a spreadsheet ready to track daily word counts (yes, I am that kind of nerd), and I plan to fill 2019 with thousands upon thousands of lovely sentences. Hell, I’m even happy with not so lovely sentences. That’s what editing is for.

Create the world in which I want to live

Easy peasy, right? Well, in point of fact, I actually do have a plan in the works, and it’s going to cost a helluva lot of time and copious amounts of appropriate bodily fluids (blood, sweat, tears, and the like), but I’m ready to undertake this monumental task.

Last year, I learned lesson after valuable lesson, worked with a slew of amazing people, and soldiered through more frustrating situations than I care to count or recall with clarity. All of that helped to formulate this ever evolving plan for 2019, and I’m ready to go bigger than big this year. Planning to do ALL THE THINGS, and you can join me, or you can get the hell out of the way. In any event, I’m doing this thing, because no one else can do it quite the way I can. Not a brag, just the facts, Jack. It might not be easy, but it will be an adventure…

Continue last year’s plan of doing no harm, but taking no shit

I definitely took some shit last year, but it was minimal. Some of you might find this shocking to hear, but I have strong opinions and am not afraid to make others aware of them. I plan to continue my crusade of leaving haters in the dust (they’re gonna hate no matter what, y’all) as I cruise towards my goals sparkling on the horizon. Sadly, I am merely human, and that means I internalize the negativity around me, as well as creating masses of it on my own. I want to do less of this in 2019. There are too many things I want to achieve, too many places I want to go, and too many positive changes I want to make. If you’re part of my life and you breed negativity like enthusiastic rabbits reproduce their young, prepare to be cut loose. Ain’t nobody got time for that. For those who stick with me, kindly call me on my shit, because my mind is the type that just tends to plunge towards pettiness and negativity, and ain’t nobody got time for that either. This year is going to be better, though. We’ve got this, together.

Avoid adopting several dogs

This resolution doesn’t need much more of an explanation. Please remind me of the three dogs already living in my household and save me from my baser, puppy-hoarding instincts…

Happy New year, y’all. Let’s do this, all of it. In 12 months, I plan to count 2019 as a win, and I want us standing together, fighting shoulder to shoulder when I do. The work starts today.