Closing 2020 (with Gusto): Resolutions Edition

Good evening friends!

We are about to end what has been the most upheaval-packed, devastating, difficult year in recent memory, and obviously: good riddance.  As is our annual routine, it's time to assess how I did in upholding my resolutions for this year and set intentions for what, in the name of all that is good, will hopefully be a gentler and brighter year.

To further commemorate 2020, this post will be enhanced with some excellent memes lampooning this, the shittiest, shittiest year.  We'll start with one that's also a throwback to last year's theme (and a show so excellent I am yet again rewatching it, after finally having roped Husband into watching it with me):

My 2020 resolutions were:

1. Share precious things with my child.

I'm pretty satisfied with how I've done on this one!  Happily, it's gotten easier and easier to do this as my child has gotten older over the course of this year.  I've gotten to play with them, enjoy music with them (they even ask for music through sign language now!), introduce a range of foods, and carry forward and develop new family traditions with my child as they've become more and more able to communicate enjoyment and curiosity.  

I was able to put into place some of those new traditions in the last month, and I'm really happy to have set a precedent I can hopefully continue as my child grows up.  For example:

Lovely saffron buns inspired by Sweden and Norway's Saint Lucia Day!

Rice porridge for our Tomte so they don't
angrily slaughter our livestock!?

A classic British-style Christmas cake with a recipe
by none other than MARY BERRY.
YES THAT MARY BERRY.

The moment I realized my child's eyesight had developed to the point that they were actually looking at the illustrations of books I read to them is one of the most exhilarating moments of the year.  That said, their emerging manual dexterity has brought with it an ability to destroy books (even--dare I say especially--board books?!), so I am currently instead eagerly amassing a growing library for when reading my child stories does not include delicately yet frantically liberating fragile pages from the iron grip of chubby tiny fingers.  

All that to say: It's so exciting looking forward to the ever more things we'll be able to do together as they grow up.

2. Stay in contact with friends and loved ones.

I'm also pretty happy with my fulfillment of this goal!  God I miss being with all the people I love and enjoy.  It feels thoroughly indecent to give this pandemic credit for anything good, but I will acknowledge that it's forced my hand in staying more actively in touch with people.  The blunt force of profound physical isolation this year and my child's growing autonomy (or at least, their development beyond sleeping on me for most of the day) has at turns driven and facilitated a lot of connecting with friends and loved one this year, and I am so much better off for it.  A clear difference between bad weeks and good ones is that I've spoken with more people I care about during the good ones.  Perhaps one of the (admittedly razor-thin) silver linings of the pandemic is that we've all gotten pretty accustomed to teleconferencing platforms as a standard way of staying in touch with people, bringing us closer together and allowing us to be present in each other's lives even if there are barriers to us being together.

3. Be a mindful, attentive, and curious parent.

Three for three so far: I'm also pleased with how I've handled this goal!  Honestly, mindfully attending to my child has been perhaps the biggest way in which I have mentally and emotionally survived this year.  It helps that my child is the most deeply lovable, sweet, and enjoyable human being, and also that they are ever more able to communicate what they need or want in a way that I understand.  For example, they have gotten really good at cheerfully pointing at a desired thing and saying, "Dat?" which I appreciate as an early form of politely requesting things.  Making them happy and learning what they're interested in is fascinating and wonderful.

That said, I can absolutely work on not getting sucked into my phone--as can we all, I suspect.  I like to teach my clients that mindfulness isn't about perfectly attending, but about gently bringing your mind back to what you'd like to focus on, over and over again.  Thankfully, it's incredibly reinforcing coming back to my child over and over again.

4. Engage in political action.

I definitely could have done better with this one, especially in terms of my consistency.  I went through phases of consuming a lot of antiracist media, contacting elected officials, and a bit of political campaign contributing, but then went through phases where this felt beyond what my energy and depleted emotional strength would allow for.  I know the goal isn't perfection here, but it is to do this in a way that isn't so feast or famine.

5. Watch 52 movies.

Finally, happily: a perhaps alarming degree of success, facilitated both by my previously very sleepy baby and also by the fact that there isn't all that much else to do this year.  This year's year-end round-up will include quite the list!

So again, I am loath to admit anything good coming of the pandemic, but I have to acknowledge the not-coincidence that I've done a better job achieving most of my resolutions this year than in most previous years.  Of the good things that could continue once the pandemic ends, hopefully the ways in which it has forced us to be present, mindful, engaged, and connected will endure.

With that in mind, we can move on to my goals for next year.

Resolutions for 2021

1. Keep developing family traditions and learning about family heritage.

I'm glad the winter holiday season prompted me to take a crack at bun-baking, Tomte-placating, and cake-making, because otherwise I wouldn't have gotten much accomplished in the way of weaving our heritage into our annual rituals.  I would love to do that throughout the year.  In recent years I've also been hoping to successfully build a routine around learning Swedish and, more recently, thereby expose my child to at least some of that language.  My little app makes that so easy!!  I hope I can actually keep that up.

2. Invest in my home.

This ties together a couple of important goals of mine, some of which are particularly developed with an eye toward the post-COVID era.  The main things I'd like to do are: 

--Nesting: We've managed to do some really great work making our new home more and more what we want it to be.  I would like to keep that up in big and small ways, including continuing to decorate (having missed the day in grown-up school where everyone else learned how the hell you frame things??) as well as some bigger projects.

--Supporting local institutions and businesses: I really want to be able to support the museums, cultural institutions, shops, and restaurants I love in the City Where I Live.  This goal also enables me to divest myself as much as possible from Amazon, because Jeff Bezos is the fucking worst and he doesn't need any of our damned money.

--When it's safe, exploring more: We were still relatively recent returnees to City Where I Live when the pandemic struck.  There is so much more to this city that I want to discover, and so much I want to share with my child.  I'm so excited to learn about the ways we can enjoy this city together.

3. Build a practice of sustainable antiracist civic engagement.

As I was thinking about this goal, I asked myself the questions, "What are the things that have been possible for me to do?  How might I evolve and evaluate that?"  My dual goals here are to be both realistic about what I can sustainably do as well as being accountable for actually doing it.

This year, the things I've been able to consistently do are read articles, share information on social media, watch movies dedicated to antiracist topics, contribute (humbly yet thankfully regularly) to some antiracist organizations, and more recently, whenever possible buy gifts for people from Black-owned businesses.  I only contacted elected officials in fits and starts.  In previous years, I've read books and participated in both ongoing and one-off antiracist discussions and learning opportunities.  I'm really gratified by each of those activities.  Some are of course more emotionally difficult than others, but the good thing is that having a range of things I can do means I can titrate according to how my emotional stamina is doing.

The second question led me to the following idea: Maybe as a measure of holding myself accountable, I could share the resources I've found on this blog once a month?  That might mean writing about a movie I've watched, an article I read, a cause that matters, or a business that sells really cool stuff.  I can keep those posts really brief to ensure I actually write them, which marries nicely with my next resolution.  Hopefully this approach means that I sustain antiracist engagement throughout the year.

4. When possible, dedicate time to my interests and hobbies.

There have been admittedly rare moments where I had a little period of time to do whatever I wanted, and I often felt at a total loss for what to do with it.  It reminded me so much of the feeling of coming to the end of graduate school, when I was suddenly confronted with all the interests and passions I'd put on hold while learning to be a psychologist.  Having reflected with a bit of horror on the paralysis of those moments, I remind myself that some of the things I like to do are:

--Reading
--Meditation (including learning more mindfulness and self-compassion practices)
--Learning (including about therapeutic techniques, because being a therapist is just so interesting)

--Writing (which marries quite nicely with resolution #3)
--And obviously, finally:

5. Watch 52 movies.

My happily abundant success on this evergreen resolution this year was in part facilitated by the caveats I put in place last year.  They took the pressure off to always watch something unfamiliar or stick with something even if I didn't like it.  (Funny how lessening the grip of perfectionism empowers us to be ever more successful in achieving our goals, huh?)

I'm also incredibly thrilled that I not only managed to write a post for every month this year (because perfectionism's grip is loosened but by no means nonexistent), but also that I've written more than every other year except for 2018.  I feel so deeply satisfied by that!  I hope I can keep up that level of engagement in this blog in the coming year, as well.

And with that: Again, gtfo 2020, you awful stinkball of a year.

I wish you all a happy, fulfilling, healthy, safe, brave, and love-filled 2021.

{Heart}

....I couldn't help but offer you one more meme that has nothing to do with 2020 but is nevertheless hysterical.  Who couldn't use a little dose of Ron Swanson, anyway?

Happy Belated Thanksgiving! 2020 Edition

 Hey friends,

I've been very much on the fence about whether to write a typical Thanksgiving post this year.  It feels insensitive, in a year filled with so much bleary misery, omnipresent and suffocating fear, and righteous and unrighteous rage, to write a post about gratitude.  Doing so risks invalidating the real and in so many cases insurmountable pain and suffering in this terrible year.

I therefore have to ask myself why I nevertheless choose to write this.  It is perhaps a selfish exercise, in which I lay out neatly and tidily the good things that have been present in my life in the last year.  It is, more constructively, an exercise in being mindfully thankful for the good things that have happened, instead of colluding with the all-or-nothingness of writing off the entirety of the last 12 months as an unadulterated calamity.  It is also a record for posterity, for anyone caring to look back with curiosity over what this year was like, to hear about it with more nuance.  In a way, it's also an exposure, because when goodness and happiness seem so fleeting and fragile, the act of naming them seems like a taunt to the universe to come snatch them away.

And maybe it's that last reason that is the most important reason of all: not simply because facing our fears makes us stronger, but also because it is important to remind ourselves that the goodness in our lives can, and often does, endure, even if we aren't always able to feel it.

When I wrote about "Jojo Rabbit" (2019), I had no idea how goddamned prescient my reaction to that movie was.  As we've moved through the COVID-19 pandemic, I've come back to the final moments of that film often, clinging to the knowledge that humanity has survived this and worse before.  After previous disastrous eras filled with suffering, our abilities to create beauty and joy remained.  Even after a long dormancy, the fundamental, beautiful, resilient, brave, joyful nature of humanity is never extinguished.

• So first and foremost, I am grateful for the future, when there will come a time that this woeful, blighted year feels like a distant memory.  Very likely that memory will still be painful, like a scar that still aches or pulls at the healthy skin around it from time to time.  There is still a long road ahead of us before life will truly be anything resembling "normal" (whether people act like things aren't normal now or not), and there may be a long period of adjusting to being together again without mentally flinching.  But someday, we'll go out into the world again.  We'll take classes and wait for the bus and poke around in stores and see movies and hear live performances, we'll hug and shake hands and sing and cook and carpool and play soccer and sit next to strangers on a park bench or at our favorite restaurants and walk through crowded city centers, and it will someday just be a beautifully unremarkable everyday fact, made ever more beautiful by the reality we've been living through now.  And hopefully, not too long from now, we'll be able to do the work needed to make that future not only "normal" in all the best ways we yearn for it to be normal, but also vastly, meaningfully better than it ever was before--kinder, safer, and fairer for us all.

I am also grateful for:

• My family and friends, especially those who have figured out how to show up and help me still feel loved, connected, and cared for, even though they are often far away.
• Husband, who I've many many times realized I'm so lucky to have as my co-captain in the little lifeboat we're piloting through the crashing waves of this year.
• Our cats, our dog, and our little bird.  These living things that give me so much comfort and keep our home from feeling too quiet or too stiflingly still.
• My child.  How could I have possibly gotten through this year without this gorgeous, bright, sweet little life fully engrossing me?  I really think I might have gone insane without the demands of being my child's parent to ground and steer me.
• City Where We Met.  Through this whole ordeal, even as I can't see most of it, over and over again I have been so desperately grateful to live here.  Just a few days ago, I stood outside behind our home and the beauty of the sky--bright blue with racing wispy clouds blowing high overhead--knocked the wind out of me.  I wanted to kiss the ground.  Thank everything good in the world, I live here.  Just like with my child, I don't know that I could have gotten through this year anywhere else.
• Every person who has courageously striven for a more just and equitable world, often despite real risks to their safety.
• Every person who voted to eject the corrosive, psychopathic President from an office he never deserved and has sullied every moment of his godforsaken administration.
• Abundant movies (and tv shows) that have made this year even remotely bearable.

And, as always:

• You, dear friends who read this blog.

I hope this Thanksgiving was as pleasant as it could be, and that the future holds all the happiness, peace, wholeness, and purpose you need.

{Heart}

A Halloween Sampler for All Souls: 2020 Edition!

 Halloooooooooooooooooooo!

Happy Halloween, dear friends and readers!

In my typical Halloween-y fashion, each of today's films will be accompanied by our usual 1 - 5 rating scale as well as a scary/intense rating of 1 - 5 exclamation points, to be interpreted as follows:

! = not at all scary 

!!!!! = so scary!

I'm excited to share some film suggestions for this spooky season, especially in light of how this year's Halloween will inevitably be curtailed by the pandemic.  It's probably obvious from my now long-running tradition of writing these annual Halloween scary movie round-ups that I love Halloween.  I've therefore been feeling anticipatory sadness for how tomorrow will be different than other years, lacking the pleasure of sharing it with others by going to parties and trick-or-treating as we would in a normal time.  Because of that, it feels even more important to hold onto safer and more possible traditions.

Of course, for me that includes watching a scary movie with Husband while we carve pumpkins, as we plan to do tomorrow.  We're very fortunate that Husband's family grew and personally delivered pumpkins to us for expressly this purpose, and that they've held out long enough to make it until Halloween.

As a new tradition, I learned to make apple cider donuts.  I don't feel safe heading out to the apple orchards where I would normally be able to enjoy some, and I found myself feeling profoundly disappointed that I wouldn't be able to enjoy any for at least another year.  I am delighted to say that this recipe is delicious and, as a result, my endeavor was successful!

I've also taken on the deeply pleasant project of making a costume for my child that matches one I made for myself several years ago.  I can't wait to see my sweet little bun in their costume.

So, without further delay, here are some creepy cinematic creations for your frightened viewing pleasure:

"Room" (2015)

Rating: 5 Scary Rating: !!!!

While perhaps not a conventional scary movie, I can attest that this film is nevertheless terrifying.  I was unable to finish the book on which "Room" is based because it made me feel panicky.  It's also an emotionally rich, psychologically accurate, and ultimately rewarding movie, but the fundamental horror of its premise can't be ignored.

"Coco" (2017)

Rating: 5 Scary Rating: !

For a completely different tone (and holiday), "Coco" is an absolute delight.  Its beautiful, rich, and bright imagery pairs with its sweet music to provide a lovely, moving story to celebrate Día de los Muertos with a gentle but poignant emotional resonance typical of Pixar.  Since I have to start thinking about ways to make our annual jack-o'-lanterns and spooky movies routine child appropriate (ideally without causing nightmares), "Coco" will definitely be on the menu in future years.

"Moon" (2009)

Rating: 4 Scary Rating: !!

This year's scifi entry!  "Moon" is in many ways an enjoyable movie, in large part as a result of its feature-length bottle episode set-up with Sam Rockwell carrying almost the entirety of the movie.  It is also just creepy enough for those of you wanting something in the goldilocks zone of scary movies.

A Note: Kevin Spacey does a voiceover of an appropriately creepy robot (typecasting?).  He has been accused of sexually abusing teenaged boys.  I no longer support his work.  Because his role in "Moon" is minor, my hope is to support Sam Rockwell's excellent performance while still holding in mind that Spacey's predatory behavior is completely unacceptable.

"Parasite" (2019)

Rating: 5 Scary Rating: !!!!

Perhaps "Parasite" is another odd choice for this year's round-up, but I stand by it.  Because it is an excellent, surprising, absorbing, and thought-provoking film examining the hostile, abusive, and fraught relationships between the upper and lower classes, it is also deeply alarming and at times disturbing.  One particular image from this movie still pops into my head periodically and, frankly, really freaks me out.  This shit is dark!

"The Lighthouse" (2019)

Rating: 4 Scary Rating: !!!!!

Speaking of dark!  Brought to you by Robert Eggers, director of "The Witch" (2015), this is probably one of the best movies I never want to see again.  The pains taken to create this moody and simultaneously beautiful, deeply unsettling, and terrifying tale are evident, from the old-timey odd aspect ratio in which it was shot to the script directly informed by lighthouse keepers' diaries and records from the era the film portrayed.  It is such a well-made and fascinating movie.  And yet: the persistent anxious nausea I felt watching it didn't abate for a while after it was over, so I don't know that I need to ever rewatch it.

This concludes the segment of the post that is comprised of movies I haven't written about yet!  To provide some additional options, I would also like to remind you of some films that already have posts written about them, including:

"Unsane" (2018)

Rating: 1 Scary Rating: !!!!

As I have already noted: man I hated this movie.  It is both deeply unpleasant and deeply problematic.  But I have to admit that it also fits the bill for scary movies!

"Under the Skin" (2013)

Rating: 1 Scary Rating: !!!

Yet another movie I unabashedly hated, to the point that I didn't even get beyond the first 30 minutes.  And yet, technically: this is another scifi entry, and is definitely a movie that is scary (and unnecessarily upsetting, so viewer beware).

"Burning" (2018)

Rating: 3 Scary Rating: !!!

While as horror goes I still feel that "Burning" pales in comparison to some other, similar narratives, it is nevertheless an unnerving, interesting, and haunting film that is worth watching.

"The Seventh Seal" (1957)

Rating: 5 Scary Rating: !!

Maybe "The Seventh Seal" isn't overtly scary the way some of the other films listed here are, but its brooding atmosphere and morbid existential themes definitely make it an excellent candidate for this year's throw-back entry.

I hope you all find happy, spooky, fulfilling ways to enjoy this Halloween!

{Heart}

"Manakamana": On Being With People

Hi everyone,

This last month has been a lot.  I am at a point where my brain is feeling overloaded to a point I do not like, and that's of course hard to sit with.  I notice in myself the urge to rush to explain how things will be okay or how this feeling won't last forever, but instead I'm just going to let that reality sit.

The outer world is overwhelming, of course, in many painful and anxiety-inducing ways.  One of the things I've been feeling acutely in recent weeks is the physical absence of people.  The physical isolation of the pandemic is of course difficult for everyone in some fashion and has been for some time, but I somehow reached a critical mass of missing being with people just now.  

So much of what I like about being a psychologist is being with people.  Although I've known that for a long time, it's only relatively recently--since the world turned indefinitely upside-down due to the pandemic--that I've realized how much I specifically like sharing space with people.  I like sitting in a room across from someone, being able to see their face and all of their body language, being able to hear their voice in same room as me instead of through tinny headphones, sharing the same light and the same view out my office window.  I like watching people get comfortable in a space with me.  I like opening my office door and inviting people inside, closing the door behind them to create a safe, cozy, holding space, a small temporary refuge, for them.

(I also miss my office.  SO MUCH.  My office is so cute!  I miss my beautiful deep blue couch, my midcentury modern desk, my admittedly generic therapy art, my surprisingly comfortable Ikea desk chair, my perfect little table for my notepad, my bin of fidgets, my whiteboard and being able to draw on it at people, my thousand lamps because fluorescent light is the devil, and my gauzy Target drapes.  For the first time in my professional life, everything in my office was chosen, not imposed.  I miss my personal, professional space--an extension of me that I feel proud of.)

So it's probably not surprising that I'd like to share the movie "Manakamana" (2014) with you.  It is wonderful.  Instead of holding out on you, I'll just tell you now: I gave this movie a 5.

Paradoxically, there isn't much to this remarkable film.  It is an experimental documentary comprised solely of 11 cable car trips to and from the titular Nepalese Manakamana Temple.  There is no narrative structure other than the gentle cadence of those 11 trips, each punctuated by a brief plunge into darkness, the clank of metal, and the grinding of gears as the car reaches one of its hubs.

"Manakamana" is a deeply meditative film.  You simply watch each cable car-load of living things--mostly people, but sometimes a cat, some goats, or a chicken--sail through the Nepalese countryside.  You watch people have the sorts of idle, drifting conversations that are uniquely possible in transit, interspersed with unexpected music or taking selfies.  

As the movie progresses, you begin to develop an inner sense of when each passage is about to come to a close.  With each plunge into the blackness, a remarkable sense of reincarnation occurs as the cable car emerges with a different set of passengers than those it contained just a moment ago.  This reminded me of a passage from a book about Zen that described all living things as drops of water in a giant river, taking shape as individual droplets as they briefly fall through the waterfall of life, only to become one again with the river at the bottom of the waterfall.  Even as we're all traveling through life, thinking of ourselves as individual little droplets, the river's current draws us along and links us to all other living things.

How lovely to sit peacefully in that cable car, traveling from one place surrounded by people to another place surrounded by people, enjoying a brief respite to look around you at the beautiful mountains, trees, homes, and fields.

How lovely to sit in a room with someone, just for a short time, knowing that the respite of that space is guaranteed and that you will easily return to it again and again because it welcomes you.

I miss the world so much.  I will be so glad to have it back.

{Heart}

Not the Universe's Most "Happy Hour"

 Hello!

In March I shared my delightful journey down the pleasant rabbit hole of Japanese director Hirokazu Kore-eda's movies, as well as my attempt to watch a wide range of movies guided by a series of curated lists of best foreign and independent films.  Intrigued by how deeply I enjoyed Kore-eda's films and inspired to take on a challenge by one of those lists, I decided to try out another Japanese director's opus: Ryûsuke Hamaguchi's 5+ hour-long (and therefore misnomerly-named) "Happy Hour" (2015).

Of course, even with the slumberiest infant, a 5-hour movie takes a while to watch.  Breaking the movie into little chunks here and there over several days, I was at first drawn into the subtle intricacies of the friendships between four women in their mid-thirties which form the heart of "Happy Hour".  I was particularly interested by the sequence somewhere near the end of the first third or so of the movie, wherein the four friends, played by Sachie Tanaka, Hazuki Kikuchi, Maiko Mihara, and Rira Kawamura, attend a workshop with an artist who engages them in a series of experiential exercises designed to increase interpersonal attunement.  

In one of these exercises, the participants slowly walk in a circle together while facing each other, tasked with keeping each other evenly spaced while participants enter and leave their circular formation.  In one silent moment, a participant steps away and their group of four becomes three.  The remaining three women subtly shift their movements to accommodate their group's smaller size while still moving.  It was at once so quiet and so breathtaking--almost so quiet I could have missed it, and breathtaking in the tantalizing foreshadowing it offered for the story to come.

And now, having finished the movie, I'm sorry to say that the deliciousness of that cinematic moment simply isn't worth the work of finishing a movie this long.  Yes, that moment accurately foreshadows the disappearance of one of the four friends and resultant shifts in the lives of the three women left behind.  But unfortunately, in retrospect, what that scene that so took my breath away was actually foreshadowing was a series of ham-fisted moments of forced symbolism and concocted emotion that ultimately fall profoundly flat, interspersed with at times punishingly long passages that accomplish little in moving the story forward.  

For example: you watch a reading at which a young author reads an entire short story from beginning to end.  Which begs the question: Why.  But also:

I hate to say it, but the performances also fail to sustain the extraordinary length of "Happy Hour".  To the contrary, most of them are aggressively flattened to the point of almost feeling like an early read of the script.  At what should have been the most heightened moments of the movie, it seems as if the actors are just going through the motions--a slap on the face of one of the women's child rings so hollow it's instead a slap in the audience's face.  

It's possible this is simply a byproduct of this movie's direction--an artistic choice Ryûsuke Hamaguchi tends to make in his movies rather than a reflection of the cast's acting abilities.  It's also possible I'm somehow missing something, since my exasperation with this movie is definitely not shared by everyone.  Unfortunately, I'm sufficiently burned by the underwhelming factor multiplied by the time I'll never get back factor of "Happy Hour" that I'm not sure I'll risk checking out any of his other work, especially when I've now learned that sleepy babies get much less sleepy the older they get.

I wish I could give "Happy Hour" a warmer rating, because I truly wanted to like it.  After slogging through it, there's just no escaping that it left me quite disappointed.  I gave this movie a 2.

{Heart}

Figuring Out How to Survive in "Palm Springs"

Hi team!

I am so excited to talk to you about "Palm Springs" (2020)!

I'm not going to tiptoe around my opinion of this movie: Oh God I loved it. 

Here's what I am going to tiptoe around: Basically anything that gives away what the movie is about.

I had the all-too-rare experience of going into "Palm Springs" with literally no information about it.  That is extremely fortuitous, as this is a film that uniquely benefits from that ignorance.  So, if you aren't already aware of this movie and are down to acquire no further knowledge about it before diving in, I strongly encourage you to do exactly that.

While preserving overall ignorance of the story told by "Palm Springs", allow me to assure you that it contains the following things:

• Excellent, nuanced, highly watchable performances by Andy Samberg, Cristin Milioti, and J.K. Simmons.  Milioti is the standout in this crowd, and she is a damned delight.

• Genuinely funny and creative moments of humor.

• A whip-smart script.

• Moments of wonder and lovely emotional depth.

• A skillful, inventive, and highly entertaining evasion of what could easily have become a stifling Gilligan's Island problem.  And you know I love that!

• Relatedly: a surprisingly prescient, prescriptive, and ultimately empowering narrative for precisely this era.  

I haven't felt so inspired and excited about a movie like this in a while.  It therefore comes as no surprise that I gave "Palm Springs" a 5.

It's streamable now on Hulu.  Go watch it!

{Heart}

The Lovely "Mother of George"

Heyo,

I would like to talk about "Mother of George" (2013).

"Mother of George" stars Danai Gurira as Adenike, a Nigerian newlywed living in New York City hoping to conceive her first child.  It is in many ways a contemplative and ephemeral-feeling movie, moving between vibrant and lush close-ups that most leave the viewer with a vivid sense of the light and rich color of the different spaces the characters inhabit.

This is the direct result of the cinematographical choices made in "Mother of George," which make for some of the most remarkable aspects of this film.  It's almost as if the camera is being held by a child not yet tall enough to reach characters' faces, so they are often not fully shown.  This choice makes "Mother of George" at once deeply physically intimate--we are so close to the characters, it's as if we are sitting next to them at their kitchen table or on their knee--while also making the audience focus intently on what the characters are saying, since we can't see their faces to read their lips or facial expressions.  It's almost as if the child Adenike and her husband Ayodele (played with a wonderful balance of austerity and sincerity by Isaach De Bankolé) so long for is already here in the movie, even though we are unable to see them; instead, we are that child, watching the story of our own creation.

The other remarkable aspect of "Mother of George" is, of course, the peak it provides into the lived experience of Nigerian immigrants in the United States in the midst of a profound turning point in their lives.  American audiences might not otherwise be able to see this story, or may not even think to seek it out.

Honestly, it's maybe because of the seeming rarity of this opportunity that the narrative of "Mother of George" is particularly riveting and heart-rending; we are being invited into some of the most personal moments imaginable in these characters' lives.  Being given this rare invitation, as the cinematography reminds us, it is imperative that we watch and listen closely.  Adenike's loneliness and vulnerability, as well as the pressure exerted on her from all sides, are palpable as she navigates her struggle to conceive.  These forces lead her to make choices that might be difficult to imagine or understand, but here, we have a precious opportunity to try.

I gave "Mother of George" a 4.5.

{Heart}

A "Eurovision" of a Perfectly Fine Diversion

Greetings!

Let's talk about "Eurovision" (2020), which I literally only just learned as I type this is actually titled "Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga".

So first things first: no, this movie is not good.  Did you expect it to be good?  If so... how?

I mean of course it's not?

It's formulaic AF, it's cheesy, and it's very likely problematic and/or inaccurate in ways I may not be fully appreciating or catching--not least of which because of its teasing of Icelandic culture with no Icelandic actors in the major roles.  (Although there are several in the supporting cast, and the soundtrack features gorgeous Icelandic music.).  As far as I can tell, this is basically the adult version of "Trolls World Tour" (2020).  It's also two hours long, which is totally unnecessary for a silly and predictable comedy.  But like... this is a mid-late career Will Ferrell movie.  What do you want?

All that said, "Eurovision" (refusing to type out that full title more than once) is, honestly, perfectly fine.  It's got some decently funny moments, including some charmingly good-sport-y cameos from Demi Lovato and some well-deserved hostility for American tourists.  Some of the usual absurdist dialogue that is a staple in Ferrell's movies actually lands well.  Rachel McAdams does a solidly decent job as the counterpoint to Will Ferrell's usual Will Ferrell (but with an accent!).  That guy from "Downton Abbey" is in it!  The footage of Iceland and Scotland is absolutely beautiful, providing a nice visual vacation.  There's even a gesture at criticizing Russia's vicious persecution of gay people.

And while throughout the movie everyone is auto-tuned to death and back to life again, the "song-a-long" medley of Cher, Madonna, and ABBA near the film's midpoint, including a cameo from actual Eurovision contestant Conchita Wurst (and possibly other actual contestants I just didn't recognize?), is so exuberantly fun and over-the-top that it is genuinely, transportingly, entrancingly delightful.

As for the rest of the music in the film: you know what?  I didn't hate it.  I wouldn't choose it either, but like the rest of the film, it was fine.  It also fit the premise, since as far as I can tell, the actual Eurovision is a sensation of brightly-lit and tackily huge theatrics and epic ballads.  In other words, it's a thoroughly indulgent diversion.  Don't we need a bit of that?

I gave the movie a 2.

{Heart}

Mourning and Celebrating "The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson"

Hey everyone,

At the literal 11th hour as Pride month comes to a close, I want to talk about "The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson" (2017).

The documentary introduces us to Marsha P. Johnson, a major player in the movement for LGBT rights including in the Stonewall uprising, by way of the ongoing investigation into her death.  Officially ruled a suicide, the highly suspicious circumstances of Marsha's death appropriately lead LGBT activist Victoria Cruz to tirelessly investigate her likely murder even on the precipice of her retirement.

At its heart, this film uplifts the anguish and struggle of trans activists for equal respect, rights, and voice within the movement for LGBT rights.  Even as they played a major--at times central--role in securing rights for other sexual minorities, trans people often found themselves overlooked or spurned by the movement whose success they were instrumental in.  The movie also highlights the loving and strong community trans activists like Marsha provided for each other during an extraordinarily treacherous period in LGBT history.  Despite being driven to the margins of society, trans activists like Marsha built celebratory and unapologetic lives for themselves and their compatriots, all in the hopes the future could be better.

The lingering emotional impact of the film are the simultaneous notes of Marsha's huge, bright, gregarious personality and the heartache of her tragic and senseless death.  Through the tragedy and sadness, her broad smile, her bold style, her courageous and ferocious agitation for a better world are nevertheless what shine brightest.

I gave this movie a 4.

{Heart}

Black Films Matter

Hi team,

At this moment, white people have a valuable opportunity to think about the stand they want to take in the urgent need to advocate for Black lives.  A lot of people are wondering how to turn their good-intentioned urge to support the Black Lives Matter movement into action.

There are, of course, ongoing demonstrations, where showing up as a white ally is deeply needed (and needs to be done right).

For those who are not able to attend demonstrations, there are many other ways to support the push for justice, equity, safety, and dignity for Black people in America, like donating to relevant Black-led organizations, contacting elected officials to advocate for anti-racist policies, supporting Black-owned businesses, finding and sharing anti-racist resources online for would-be allies to use, and having anti-racist conversations with other white people (so Black people don't have to do so much of the massive and depleting emotional labor to educate white people on subjects much more painful and high-stakes to Black people than they are to white people).  We can also express our love and support for our Black family, friends, coworkers, and neighbors, knowing that this is yet another ugly, terrifying, and exhausting era for them.

While this public and interpersonal work is a major part of showing up as an ally, ongoing self-education and self-examination are necessary and often overlooked aspects of the anti-racist allyship process.  We must constantly be working on ourselves so we can be better instruments of justice and support.

So often, the self-study required of white allies is described as a difficult, painful, and anxiety-inducing process.  Too little is said about what a joyful and purpose-driven process it actually is.  If our hearts are set firmly in the knowledge that Black lives are precious and that this work is urgently needed of us, that by working on ourselves we are working to build a more just and equitable world for our Black neighbors and for us, then why wouldn't this process bring us joy?  With each incremental discovery and dismantling of our internalized racism, we are working to destroy the structures of oppression in greater society.  With each new thing we learn about lived experiences we have not had, we draw ourselves closer to all humanity.  This is beautiful, exhilarating work!

One of the many manifestations of that joy is in watching films made by and about Black people.

Aspiring white allies, can you name five films you've watched whose casts are majority Black people?  Five movies you've seen created by Black directors?  Perhaps most importantly, what proportion of the films you watch are Black-created and -influenced movies: featuring Black characters and narratives, not centering primarily or only white people?

This is just one tiny way we can invite Black people into our lives and not ask anything of them in return.  We must find ways to do this--and certainly not only request their presence when we're having a Big Serious Conversation about racism.  By actively cultivating loving and respectful curiosity about the lived experience of Black people, we are ever more empowered to fight to engage in anti-racism.  We are more informed, more empathic, and more connected to the lives that we know matter.

With that in mind, I'd love to offer some of my favorite Black-created and -influenced films that I've written about in the last few years:

Fiction/Non-Documentary:
Black Panther (2018)
Sorry to Bother You (2018)
Get Out (2017)
Moonlight (2016)
Selma (2014)
For Colored Girls (2010)
Do the Right Thing (1989)

Documentary:
Decade of Fire (2019)
Step (2017)
I Am Not Your Negro (2016)
12 O'Clock Boys (2013)

I'm also excited to share some excellent compilations of movies created by Black people, as I'm looking forward to watching a lot of these suggestions:

THE 100 BEST BLACK MOVIES OF THE 21ST CENTURY (Rotten Tomatoes)
The Best Black Movies of the Last 30 Years (Complex)
Great Movies by Black American Directors (New York Times)
48 Black Movies on Netflix That You'll Want to Watch on Repeat (O Magazine)

Solidarity in this joyful, urgent, beautiful struggle!

{Heart}

The "McQueen" of All Fashion Documentaries

Good afternoon!

I want to pop by for a quick chat about "McQueen" (2018)!

First, some caveats: This movie is a bit long (almost two hours).  It's also at times bleak (content warnings: suicide, death of loved ones, substance use, self-loathing-driven plastic surgery, workaholism).

Those acknowledged, I was completely engrossed by this movie and the incredible work it showcased.  I am not in the least a fashionable human being, but I nevertheless love a good fashion documentary, and as you know, I love some fashion-based reality tv.  "McQueen" delivered on my visual hunger for astonishing fashion with fury and gusto.  Despite my note about the movie's length, I wish it had been extended to allow for more time to absorb the gonzo, lush, bombastic fashion shows shown throughout.  They are entrancing, and as a result the film leaves you wanting ever more.

I watched "McQueen" because I was intrigued by his work.  What I did not anticipate was how much I would come to care about Lee Alexander McQueen as a person.  He came from a humble background as the son of a London taxi cab driver.  He diligently and seemingly voraciously learned practical skills for constructing garments through a series of jobs in various menswear and fashion houses, went to fashion school because his aunt was able to pay his school fees, and created his first fashion line with the funds he received from the dole while essentially going without food (except when he could eat at home).  At the height of his career, he was delivering multiple fully-formed, theatrical shows a year.  He was, it seems, unstoppably talented--a juggernaut of fashion.

It's likely cliché to be excited about McQueen's work, since he garnered so much attention and infamy over the course of his intense career and in many ways tortured life.  But, watching "McQueen" provides proof that he deserves our attention, and our excitement.

I gave the movie a 5.

{Heart}

"Moonstruck" by How Bizarre Nicolas Cage Is

Hihi,

I want to talk about "Moonstruck" (1987).

At times I have been diverting from my arguably more snooty lists of indie films to instead watch classic or much-referenced movies I have never seen.  Enter: "Moonstruck".

To start with the good: Cher is delightful, obviously.  She is deliciously magnetic, so profoundly charismatic that it's impossible to tear your eyes off her.  I sincerely enjoyed her!  Something about her performance fills me with warmth and affection for her.  I just want to listen to her talk and watch her react to stuff.

That said.... This earned her an Academy Award??  Was 1987 a slow year for movies?  (Survey says: Maybe!) 

Looking at the field of nominees, I have a few reactions:

1) #OscarsSoWhite is, was, and feels like it will almost always be real.

2) I am admittedly not familiar with all of the movies for which leading women were nominated in 1987.  The only other one I am familiar with is is Glenn Close in "Fatal Attraction" (1987), and... seriously??  These are some rough, extraordinarily narrowly-defined gendered roles for ladies.

3) Real talk?  "Moonstruck" is just "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" (2002), but Italian.  The notion that a cute, passable romcom gets any Oscar nods at all blows my mind. 

I suppose all this should just make me appreciate how far the industry has come in the last 30 years, inasmuch as it's progressed at all.

So already I'm not so on board with this movie getting the acclaim that it did.  Even taking the delightful Cher into account, I just do not find this story all that interesting or compelling.  It is, as I said, a passable romantic comedy.  It is aggressively fine.

...But then we have to contend with Nicolas Cage.

Guys.  WHAT is the DEAL with Nicolas Cage in this movie?  (I would say "in general," but I don't pretend for a second to have the kind of time and energy required to even try to tackle that question.)

First off, he comes in more than a little hot. 

And he's not exactly selling himself as a viable love interest.

But here's the thing I have NEVER seen mentioned about "Moonstruck", and I'm honestly deeply offended that no one thought it was necessary to mention it:

The wooden hand.  THE WOODEN HAND.  NICOLAS CAGE HAS A WOODEN HAND?!

I mean OF COURSE he has a wooden hand because he's Nicolas Cage, but I nevertheless insist on the following questions:

WHAT.

WHY.

WHAT AND WHY.

CAN HE NOT BE STOPPED.

Like... I understand that there needed to be deep-seated acrimony between Cage's Ronny and his rival brother Johnny.  I get that.  But we really couldn't have figured out a less unnecessarily bizarre, distracting, and off-putting manifestation of that acrimony than a goddamned absurd-looking wooden hand?

I can't.

In summary and as punishment for this nonsense, I gave the movie a 2.

{Heart}

TYSG: Pandemic Edition, Round 2

Salut!

I wanted to offer a follow-up to my recent TYSG update!

Last time, I discussed the difference between pain and suffering: pain being in profound abundance at the moment and not in our control, and suffering being an unskillful reaction to pain that worsens it but is within our control.

In brief, the moral of my last post is that our task, as much as we are able, is to NOT do suffering.

Under these particular circumstances, this will take some creativity.  That is for several reasons:
--Almost none of us are accustomed to coping with this level of pain, so we are inexperienced with this task,
--Being in more pain than usual depletes our energy and resilience, making it more difficult to do the work of coping effectively, and
--Due to the nature of the pandemic, many/most of the resources we would normally use to cope are not available to us, and will be unavailable indefinitely.

All of this sucks.  It is in and of itself yet another source of pain.  However, it would be doing suffering to throw our hands up and declare ourselves powerless to change how we feel or to take care of ourselves.

One very small way in which I've been trying to get myself to NOT do suffering arose from my realization that, early on, it felt like all I was doing all the time was either thinking about the pandemic or talking about the pandemic.  Going on social media in an attempt to find some diversion from the pandemic only revealed that literally every single corner of the internet seemed to be incapable of focusing on anything but the pandemic.  It felt like there was absolutely no reprieve from being constantly bombarded from within and without with it.

I wondered: what would it take to purposefully think about something else?

In answer to this question, I had the simple but mercifully somewhat effective idea of coming up with conversation-starter questions.  I've been posting them to social media and sharing them in a family group chat daily since the night after I came up with the idea and Husband and I came up with a bunch of options.

Just like last week's coping suggestion, these questions have a few basic parameters:

1) No questions in any way related to the pandemic.  (This is hopefully obvious?)

2) Questions are generally positively valenced (e.g., only ask about least favorites, for example, when the answers are likely to be amusing or low stakes).

3) Steer clear of overly cliché questions that risk prompting only rote answers (e.g., try to avoid questions like, "What's your favorite color?").

4) As a complement to 3), some weirdness/creativity is definitely encouraged.  This has the dual positive outcome of hopefully amusing people and also making it more likely that people consciously engage in thinking about and answering the question.

5) Whenever applicable, add "and why?" to increase mental engagement with the question.  Follow up with people as needed when they don't answer this part of the question.

This activity has been helpful in a lot of pleasant ways.  Coming up with the questions has given me and Husband something to focus our creative energy on and is a fun mental puzzle.  Posting them has given me the opportunity to connect with people from across several domains of my life (remember, what social media used to be actually kind of great for?).  People's responses have generally been fun and entertaining!  There have also been a few people who have noted that they enjoy the questions even if they don't always participate, which also gives me some small hope that they're having the intended effect on maybe more people than just those showing up to share their answers: maybe they're providing even just a tiny breather from the constant anxiety, sadness, and helplessness of this time.

Here's where 4) is often really important: coming up with questions that involve a little fantasy is intentional.  We all need a little escape.  Why not create a tiny bit of that for ourselves, together?

And now, some examples!  I've been noticing some emerging themes as I've now been doing this for a few weeks.

Theme One: Food

Includes: a good example of what I'm talking about in 2)

Theme Two: Entertainment

I mean... obviously I would veer toward that.

Theme Three: Mindfulness of Our Environment

These are a subtle bid for people to have a chance to have a 

positive emotional response to being at home.

Plus, see an example of a 5)-style "and why?"

Theme Four: Inventive Fantasy

Some primo examples of 4).  These don't always get the most responses, 

but the responses people give are fun and they're really fun to come up with.  

Husband gets credit for several of these.

 

This is admittedly a small and humble way that I've tried to take charge of the contents of my mind and actively not do suffering, but honestly, it's one of the best strategies I've found so far...

...other than hanging out with my child, which is the greatest diversion I never realized I'd so deeply need.

I hope, like me, these give you just a little brief breath of relief.

{Heart}

TYSG: Pandemic Edition

Hi friends,

I'm surprised to note that it's been over 5 years since I wrote an installment in my Terrible Year Survival Guide series.  Well, I'm thinking for some reason that this might be a good time to revisit it?

I have all sorts of thoughts about the psychological impact of what is unfolding around the world, some of which might actually stand the test of time and some of which might prove to be somehow wrongheaded.  In the former category, I assert that toxic positivity and productivity cultures need to die in a fire.

If this is a time that you are able to pick up a new hobby or complete some passion project, I of course do not intend to discourage you.  What I intend to do is encourage you to freaking keep it to yourself rather than use your (apparently very privileged) position as a stick with which to hit other people.

With that PSA as our preamble, I would like to offer my humble suggestion for how to engage in some self-care during this scary, traumatic, surreal period we're all living through.

As the pandemic has unfolded, one of the things that struck me early on is how this situation demands an upending of many of the truths I typically take for granted as a psychologist with expertise in treating anxiety disorders.  (Suddenly, for example, washing your hands more is actually appropriate?  But only to a point.)

One of those upended truths is: Lots of tuning out is not effective self-care.

In anything resembling the normal world, I will fight this fight.  Under normal circumstances, tuning out--meaning doing things, often for long periods of time or with high rates of frequency, that are not terribly emotionally engaging but are just absorbing enough to tune out painful or unsettling thoughts and feelings--is avoidance. 

Anyone who knows much about treating anxiety disorders knows that avoidance is the enemy.  Avoidance blocks people from learning to feel their feelings--even when they are uncomfortable--and be skillful anyway.  So I am typically an opponent of over-reliance on tuning out to "cope" with the world--in fact, I don't even call it coping, because coping implies a degree of mastery over the thing that is being coped with.  Avoidance, and tuning out in particular, is instead only temporarily pushing away that which must at some point be coped with.

All that said, in this pandemic-y alternative universe-y world?  I'm seriously reconsidering whether a whole bunch of tuning out might be exactly what's needed.

That's because there is another psychological principle that I've been checking in with a lot lately, both for my clients and for myself.  That is the differentiation between pain and suffering.

Pain, in some form and quantity or other, is a part of every person's life.  It is not optional or avoidable.  It is not under our control.  It could be losing a loved one or a job, it could be a physical ailment or an emotional one--everyone has their bag of rocks to carry. Your rocks are different from my rocks, but we all have rocks, and those rocks suck.

Suffering, on the other hand, is our reaction to our bag of rocks that makes its weight more arduous to bear.  It is our reactions to pain that are unskillful—our resistance to the fact of our pain, our refusal to make space for it in our lives, that makes things worse. 

But good news!  Suffering is also thoroughly optional.  This means it is also under our control.

The world right now is full of an over-abundance of pain—so much more pain than we are used to and, because it's all happening in combination, have never before had to cope with: the pain of loss, the pain of worrying about loved ones or ourselves if we are vulnerable to this frightening novel virus, the pain of losing a job and financial strain, the pain of not being able to see our families and friends, the pain of not being able to enjoy or even just take for granted the banal little tasks of our everyday lives, the pain of not having regular interactions with our neighbors and our communities, the pain of canceled trips, milestones, and events, the pain of lost access to so many things that softened and sweetened our lives... all of this compounded pain feels wholly overwhelming sometimes.  Its weight is enormous, and there are times when carrying it feels impossible.

Under these circumstances, giving ourselves a break from this reality--tuning out--is perhaps exactly what is needed.  Reality is the same whether we do it or not, but staying in constant conscious awareness of it is, at best, depleting.  At its worst, it actively erodes any semblance of wellness or resilience we might possess.  So, best to transport ourselves from this mess the world is in, even just for a short time.

My chosen, personally vetted, and highly recommended strategy for PsychoCinematic Tuning Out?

Reruns.

Specifically: old reruns.

Even more specifically: old reruns of generally positive, diverting entertainment with minimal/no stakes.

Why that?  I'll tell you why:

1) Old = well predating any of the precursors that led to this awful event. 
To be more specific with this guideline: Nothing during or after November 2016.  Maybe nothing from 2016 at all, just to be safe.

2) Generally positive = the chance of not just being numbed out, but actually feeling something nice for a minute.  Remember how sometimes we used to feel nice?

3) Diverting entertainment = enough mental engagement to actually truly give your brain a break from thinking about how awful everything is.

4) Minimal/no stakes = to maximize the chances of feeling nice, it is very important to minimize the chances that you'll actually care about the outcome of what you're watching and be disappointed.

Everyone has their own version of what might fit this bill.  Some family members of mine have been watching mid-90s NBA games.  In my opinion, Great British Baking Show is the peak version of this form of diversion.  Sadly, Husband and I gobbled up all the GBBS reruns before and while I was on maternity leave, so for us it's not going to meet the 3) criterion.  So, our choice: Heidi Klum and Tim Gunn-era Project Runway.  Specifically that, because Karlie Kloss-era PR runs afoul of criterion 1):

Gross!

I can attest: this strategy is working pretty great so far!  We get to look at pretty things, enjoy some light reality TV hijinks, and thereby create a tiny, admittedly but arguably healthily avoidant oasis for ourselves.

Hoping this is at least a little bit helpful, and looking forward to coming out the other side of this with all of you.

{Heart}