Nine Things That Are Not Happening, Spring Edition
An important update on things we're saying no to at the moment
1. The Olympic Games. The moment the French come down the chute they are trained to have strong opinions. (Complaining about how much the French complain – not happening!) They are my judgy tribe, and I thank Metis, strident goddess of opinions, that I found them. That said, I part ways with my people on the matter of the upcoming Olympic games. Pretty much every French person I know is yowling about the JO (Jeux olympiques) like a cat having a flea dip. Par example, between July 26 and August 11, workers have been asked to work from home to help reduce traffic. A sizeable lot of them are carping that it’s CoVid lock down all over again, even though they won’t be in Paris, but rather on their annual vacation. France, where is your legendary politesse? The opening ceremony will feature 10,000 phenomenal athletes on 100 boats floating four miles down the Seine. That’s flat out amazing, citizens! Cynicism and grumpiness over this remarkable event: not happening.
2. The French language. Just when I finally feel comfortable employing the more common verb tenses and some basic clang, my French pals have moved the goal posts. They’ve stopped speaking slowly and clearly, and now toss around the plus que parfait like it’s a volleyball during spring break. (In case you’re in need of a good cry: the plus que parfait expresses a process occurring in the past before another process/action also in the past. WHAT?) However, I say yes to doing hard things, and I will keep speaking my American-inflected French jusqu'à ce que les vaches rentrent à la maison. (Not a French expression, but fuck it.) Giving up on French? Yeah, no. Not happening. Speaking it well. Also not happening.
3. Unpolished content. This is apparently a trend right now, and I wish it would go away. Spruce up your pensées, people! For the most part, your unfiltered blah blah blah is as boring as your 6th grade diary. The only person who can get away with this is Patti Smith. Recently she wrote “I am off to find some lunch,” and posted a black and white picture of a candle. Genius! Seriously, unless you are an angel punk poet who communes with Baudelaire on a regular basis, edit your shit. (This silly list went through six drafts.)
4. Everyone is an artist. While it’s true that every human is a problem solver, and it takes genuine creativity to solve a problem, that does not mean everyone is an artist. Is everyone a trombone player? A gold medalist on the uneven parallel bars? A pediatric brain surgeon? No, they are not. On behalf of my writer tribe, just because someone can write a proper email, that does not make them Toni Morrison. Let us honor the true artists among us by saying yeah, no.
5. Dark chocolate. Why do they put the percentage of cocoa on chocolate wrappers? The official reason is so we can know which chocolate bars are “healthy,” and also guaranteed to taste like the bottom of a coffee pot that’s been left on all weekend. But let’s not kid ourselves! Claiming to “love” dark chocolate is to perform our discerning, fancy-person taste. The lower the cocoa content, the lower brow the chocolate lover. (And let’s not even talk about white chocolate, the trashiest chocolate of all). I’ve spent my adult life as a closeted milk chocolate enthusiast, but no longer. Pretending I like dark chocolate? Not happening.
6a. Overthinking (general) On a good day, we make around 35,000 decisions. No wonder we’re nervous wrecks. The “mother of mindfulness” Ellie J. Langer says it’s not about making the right decision, it’s about making the decision right. On another note, the great thing about living in the south of France is that for half the year you barely think, much less overthink. There is simply too much sun, too much heat, and too many pals pouring rosé too early in the day.
6b. Overthinking (magical) That brilliant minx Amanda Montell has finally addressed the lunatic-elephant-in-the-room – our modern propensity to believe that the narratives we create to make sense of the world are true because we want them to be. Her super smart The Age of Magical Thinking: Notes on Modern Irrationality just dropped, and I’ve already devoured it, along with some excellent milk chocolate. The Man of the House has a double degree in science; there is no magical thinking happening in this house. (Unless it’s the magical thinking that wine is not alcohol. See #6a)
7. Giant glasses. Why? What is the statement being made by large, heavy-framed eye wear? My glasses are huge and black because I’m not just a celebrity with a skin-care line, but also as smart as the smartest astrophysicist, and also trés adorable, because these things are half the size of my head? Is that it? Do regular-sized glasses risk making famous people look only as smart as someone in the second-highest reading group? I once owned a pair myself, and ten minutes after resting them upon the bridge of my nose I looked down and they plummeted straight into my linguini. Those specs are totally not happening.
8. Celebrity book clubs. Related to #7. I’ll grant you your Oprah, your Jenna, your Reese, but who are all these other people, and again, why? To show that they are clever enough to hire someone to choose a book that can amplify their brand? Although I begrudge no author the sales that result from this malarky, if you want a book recommendation ask a pal. Here’s one, while we’re at it.
9. Gardening. There’s always a brilliant blue-sky day in April when the garden beckons and I get out there, weeding and pruning and digging in the dirt and telling myself that this is the year I’m going to become a Person Who Gardens. This lasts for forty minutes. The next time the garden beckons, I hire someone.
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Celebrity book clubs - definitely not happening for me. I don't care what so-and-so star claims to be reading. On the other hand, when a friend recommends a book, that is something I will check out.
What a fun, liberating read. I’m down for some trashy white confectionary chocolate. But going to give gardening one more go and if my garden gloves are pristine come September, HARD NO.