in like a lion, I got a job (!!!), and sylvia plath is haunting me again
march / my month in review
Hey, stranger.
Welcome back. We really need to stop meeting like this.
I wrote a version of this monthly review awhile ago but the last week of March has been tumultuous, to say the least. March is supposed to come in like a lion and out like a lamb. For me, it showed up as a lion and stayed that way the whole damn time. Last Thursday I got a job offer at 8am, went to the gym and floated through my workout in an endorphin high, bawled my eyes out in the shower at 9:45am, then ran to catch the 67 bus for my 11am shift. Like I said: tumultuous.
For those of you who have been in my life or reading this blog since its conception you know that my job search has been the sole focus of my life ever since I graduated college. It consumed me, depressed me, angered me, challenged me— it was the sun in which my life revolved around. Somehow, getting a job offer, accepting a job offer, felt so rewarding and so insignificant at the same time. I was obviously relieved and excited but there was a little voice in my head going, wait, this is what we’ve been agonizing over for 9 months? I obviously have not figured out how I feel about this development yet. Every month I make some comment on the juxtaposing emotions of being in your 20s— the whiplash of it all— and I suspect that will never change.
For now, I am giving up on the fruitless pursuit of pinning down my emotions like delicate butterfly wings on a cork board, waiting to be examined and filed into neat definitions and categories. I’m a good sport, I know when to hang up the gloves when the I’m no match for my opponent.
March was a good month, albeit an overwhelming one. I live for the season finale episode moments: the lead up to big, explosive change in my life.
According to my mom, I always got grey and lifeless in the winter. My skin would lose all its color, and she’d force me to sit in front of sun lamps in hopes of returning me to normal. Every start of spring, I can feel my body snap back to itself with enough force that it leaves me reeling. Oh, this is what I’ve been waiting for. I feel vibrant again, finally. The age old adage “you can’t appreciate summer without winter”, or however it goes, feels relevant here. I hate when things that people have told me my whole life turn out to be, unsurprisingly, very true.
Vibrant again is my way of saying I’m impatient again. I want things again. I’ve been so focused on just keeping my head above the water this winter that being on solid land again is making me realize oh wait, I’m at the stage in my life that I used to daydream about when I was 13. Cue the late-for-the-bell scramble to take life by the balls, for lack of a better phrase. I can’t keep myself from comparing where I am to other people my age, my career path compared to those I graduated with, etc. Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous.
I hate to suck you into my thought-spiral-obsession of the month but Sylvia Plath’s fig tree quote has been bouncing around my head far too much these past 31 days. You know the one.
“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
Yeah. Yeah. Listen, I’m not a fan of The Bell Jar but Sylvia put words to the utterly destructive fear of too many options. That’s what it is, isn’t it? I’m lucky enough to have been born into a life where I have choices about what I do with myself. How wonderful! How lucky am I! And yet, how terrifying it is to be the one to choose. Like I mentioned, I’m in the prologue phase right now— I’m one move away from bringing massive change into my life and the problem is that I have no idea if it’s the right one. There are so many different things I want to do and I can’t help but feel like I’m standing inside an hourglass and the sand is disappearing right underneath my feet.
I know what advice I would give a friend in this situation: just pick a direction and go with it. If it’s not the one for you: pick a different direction and go with that one. Rinse and repeat until you find yourself in a version of life that suits you. I hate when things are filed under the “easier said than done” category but we can’t always get what we want. Here are some of the branches I see above, beckoning and tempting me:
I want to move somewhere challenging and big like Copenhagen or New York or London or Amsterdam.
I want to commit to a job that makes use of the degree I poured blood, sweat, and tears into.
I want to say fuck the degree and pursue something in publishing or design.
I want to travel Europe for the summer because I’m young and that’s what everyone tells me I should do.
I want to write a book and go full steam ahead into getting it published.
Ugh. I know those are all such high brow options, and me standing in front of you complaining about whether or not to move to New York or travel Europe would make some of my ancestors faint. Anyway. Same as ever.
Evie and Michael’s Mouth Watering Baked Salmon
2 salmon filets, skin-on
1/2 lb fresh green beans, snipped and washed
1/2 cup of white rice
Banchan’s Japanese Barbecue Sauce, or make your own with: soy sauce, cane sugar, mirin, tomato paste, ginger, green onion, rice vinegar, garlic, sea salt, toasted sesame oil
1 lemon, juiced
1 generous knob of butter
4 cloves of garlic, chopped
1 teaspoon onion powder
Salt & pepper to taste
Preheat the oven to 400°F. Place both salmon filets on a lined (or greased) baking sheet.
In a small bowl, mix together about 3 tablespoons of Japanese Barbecue Sauce, salt and pepper, and 1 clove of chopped garlic. Drizzle on the salmon filets and make sure to cover each piece completely. Add more sauce if needed.
Place the salmon in the oven and set a timer for 10 minutes. While the salmon is baking, make your rice the way you like it and soften your chopped garlic and butter in a large pan over medium heat.
Once the garlic is aromatic, toss in your green beans, onion powder, lemon juice, and mix them around until coated evenly in butter. Reduce heat to low and cover with a lid.
After 10 minutes, take the salmon out, drizzle again with the barbecue sauce and place back in the oven for another 5-7 minutes, checking for firmness of the fish to your liking.
Serve the salmon with rice, garlicky green beans, and furikake if you’re a fan.
I want to tell you about a moment I had this past Sunday evening, on the way home from work. I was sitting on the window side in the middle of the bus, looking out at all of the traffic around campus due to the cherry blossoms. My thumb was rubbing against the fresh bandaid I’d applied to my cut-up knuckle, courtesy of the whipped cream canister. After work, my hands are all kinds of messed up: brittle from the bleach water I use to clean counters, burned from milk pitchers and hot dishes, fingers cut from a loose knife or errant blade, and covered in pen from writing down orders. The bus had just passed through a patch of sunlight and in the reflection I could see my neck and the pulse fluttering there. Let me tell you— something about seeing evidence of my heart working furiously to keep my body alive made me very emotional. Yes, I’ve been known to be somewhat dramatic and a hopeless romantic. I’ve spent a good amount of this newsletter bemoaning the absolute burden of being young, but I’m really grateful to be alive. I’m grateful that my body lets me experience all sorts of stress and anxiety and burned fingers. I’m grateful to be here, even on the bad days.
The bad days, though they come and go, still give me opportunities to get through the giant stack of books on my to-read pile. I’ve been making good on my self-professed desire to read all of Eve Babitz’s writing, and God, I love her more with each book. Here’s a few quotes from Slow Days, Fast Company (what a title) that made me give it 5 stars immediately because Eve gets me:
“I felt luxuriously involved in an unsolvable mystery, my favorite way to feel.”
And:
“Once it is established that you are you and everyone else is merely perfect, ordinarily factory-like perfect... you can wreak all the havoc you want.”
And:
“Women want to be loved like roses. They spend hours perfecting their eyebrows and toes and inventing irresistible curls that fall by accident down the back of their necks from otherwise austere hair-dos. They want their lover to remember the way they held a glass. They want to haunt.”
I’m so happy when I’m reading her books. Other notable reads this month:
On Women by Susan Sontag. Everyone should read this. I flew through it once I actually sat down and started reading, which I wasn’t expecting. Loved it, and definitely adding her other essays to my to-read list. This read definitely inspired me to pick up a few academic reads on my April list, so stay tuned.
House of Earth and Blood by Sarah J. Maas. It would be an embarrassment to my fantasy-loving history if I didn’t read SJM’s newest book. But I have to say— didn’t like it. This series is boring as hell compared to her others, no offense to her fans. I did read all 800 pages in 2 days so do with that what you will.
The Narrow Road Between Desires by Patrick Rothfuss. Pat is my favorite author for a reason. Not sure if this book would appeal to anyone who hasn’t read his other stuff, but I heavily recommend. No one writes like he does. I will forever and always be striving to write something as beautiful as The Name of The Wind.
Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo. I read Hell Bent, the sequel, immediately after. Bardugo is responsible for the Six of Crows trilogy which consumed me in high school, and I was excited to read her newest series. It was good, with unique world building and compelling characters so I would definitely recommend anyone who wants a more fantastical version of The Secret History.
Tom Lake by Ann Patchett. This was my first read from Patchett, though I’ve heard great things about her (I did in fact think her last name was pratchett so I’ve been humiliating myself all month when talking about her). I loved this book! It was a cute, poignant story about a woman and her daughters in which she tells them about her past love affairs. It reminded me of my mom and sisters, so I was immediately sentimental about it.
And that brings me to 27 books so far this year. I seriously cannot be stopped.
Anyway, enough about books. Remember when I said I was only going to buy 5 clothing items this year? I’ve already bought 5. Sorry, sorry. In my defense, I forgot about that little pact of mine. I tried to make up for it by donating a lot of my old clothes to friends or Goodwill— moving really is the best way to spring clean— but I definitely want to keep being conscientious of my buying. I’ve felt really at home in my own body recently, thank God, and it’s reflective in my clothing. Even as recent as a few months ago, I approached clothing as a way to shove my individuality into people’s faces. Like I wanted to prove something to everyone. But now, I don’t know, I don’t really feel the stress of putting together something stylish at all times. What I have now, however, is a strengthening affinity for items that aren’t just available to anyone. You have to find them. Meaning: jewelry found in pawn shops, dresses acquired in the vintage store down the road, hand-me-downs from loved ones. This is an apt segue into something I’ve been mulling over this month: the seemingly growing exclusivity trend of you had to be there. In the media:
The Row’s Autumn/Winter 2024 show requested that viewers refrained from using their phones and were given pen and paper to take notes. This caused quite the stir online, but I thought it was brilliant. Read more about it here if you’re curious.
The Frog Club, a new restaurant in the West Village, claims to kick you out if you’re seen taking photos inside.
I’ve been seeing a lot of discussions on Substack encouraging people to put themselves in uncomfortable situations, make out with strangers again, recognize that people are selling intimacy online, etc.
If you’re interested in this idea read The End of the Extremely Online Era by Thomas Bevan of The Commonplace for a far better articulated essay.
Obviously, these are culture bits from my little bubble on the internet, but I can’t help but notice an overarching plea from people who have now spent a majority of their lives on the internet: we want to feel human again. We want to be connected again, we want to stop being bombarded with people and things to compare ourselves to or desire, we want to stop living these split lives where one foot is online and the other is tentatively touching the sidewalk.
This feels like a relevant idea this month as I gear up to turn the proverbial chapter onto a new phase in my life. I am really nervous to move to a new city. I haven’t felt that way before. Every time I’ve moved prior to this, I’ve been only focused on the adventure of it all. I supposed it’s easy with a job where the chances of meeting young people are high, but I’m apprehensive of moving in an age where connecting with people is so hard. I cherish the friends I have in Seattle, but it took me 2 years to get to that point. My introverted tendencies are no match for the closed-off culture of social circles today.
I can’t help but secretly hope that Thomas Bevan is right, that The Row and trendy restaurants will force back some mystery into our lives. If only to decrease some of the endless barrage of content shoved in our faces every day. Or, better yet, I could just get off my phone.
Well, that’s all for today. I hope you’re doing well, wherever you are. See you next month.
xoxo,
ev
love your writing so much!! x
That salmon looks DIVINE