Field Notes 4.2.26

As my friend Sergio would say “el proceso, lo adoro…”

I just got back from my gate-kept late night cafe in the neighborhood after sipping down a decaf flat white at 9:30pm. I wrote the second introduction for this that I completely scrapped. I tore out the page and crumbled it up into a ball, which, in my world, just means jamming return until the text disappears and starting again underneath.

I can’t get anything profound down on paper. I’ve not gone to at least three hangs with my friends in the past two weeks because I needed “to write,” only to spend that time consuming all sorts of media and doing mental gymnastics with it. Jumping in the ball pit, if you will.

What I’ve learned since I started being a writer is that writing is only one third of the battle. Its siblings are research and synthesis. Research is life is the search bar. Synthesis is meditation is staring at the wall. Sometimes I try to do it all at the same time, which is very inefficient, but I’d be a real robot to measure quality by efficiency anyway. Thank god we can omit pace from the protractor of my creative arc.

Sometimes I spend the whole night thinking about what I would write if I were writing right now. That’s that purgatory they speak of. I spend one, two, three nights in a row thinking with all the resources to write sprawled out around me like grave goods.

To do anything but, I’ve been making my way through a book on film-making instead. I underlined this key (paraphrased) concept from the author, Sandy Mackendrick: you have to learn the process of your craft so thoroughly that it becomes second nature, ‘til you’re so practiced you no longer have to think about it at all. That way when you apply your creativity — the what — you already know how.

And in order to learn the process of your craft, you must churn out a whole lot of work that frankly, you might hate. To quote the book directly: “a statement about the kind of effect you want to achieve is never a substitute for the often exhausting labors that must go into actually creating that effect. Work is the only real training.”

Thanks, professor — that’s simply all I needed to know. No disrespect to Rick Rubin and his creative act, but I’m not reading all that. Congrats, or sorry that happened.

It’s going to be so cool when I have all my shit together. But alas, we are in the exhausting hours phase where I produce things that I don’t always love, or don’t want other people to read, or that I know are flawed.

On my way home after scrapping my work, I remembered that this blog is just a place to do exactly that: work. Or maybe a better term would be play. I don’t have deadlines, or briefs, or anyone to report to. No editor nor stylist. I am here in my pinnie to scrimmage against myself and it’s okay if it ends in a tie. It’s okay if my mom is the only one in the stands. Regular season soon come.

And on the third day, she wrote again. Field Notes:

Inverse Hermit

I pulled my first ever tarot cards for a group reading with my girlfriends who I’ve known in various capacities for the past 10 years. Whether I like it or not, they knew of me at 18, and now at 28. We have what I would describe to be very clear, emmetropic perceptions of each other. It’s a very comforting relationship in a city where so much of me is hidden under the surface iceberg-style. In short, it’s the type of environment in which you’d want to dabble in life’s major themes.

I didn’t know much of anything about tarot cards other than that they’d show up in my life at some point when I needed them to. We each pulled our 3-4 cards over the course of three hours and took turns analyzing and interpreting each others’ stories and symbols. Little did I know you can just make shit up!

I think, in life, once you realize success in a capitalist society is just the ability to build a decent story about stuff that is made up, you can have a lot more fun.

And you know what, I love being an introspective Zillennial woman with my genius-entrepreneurial-fortune-teller friends, making shit up until it makes sense. We are so good at it.

I pulled a card, the Hermit, upside down, which is said to effect the connotation. What the hell, sure. “The inverse Hermit,” we declared, “an extroverted introvert! Very Capricorn! But you love stepping out of your comfort zone. You actually make yourself uncomfortable on purpose because you know you can handle it.”

Suddenly, the longevity of these relationships, despite their freshness, meant so much to me. Their understanding of where I’ve been, where I am now, and where I’m going made me feel way less alone. Dare I say, like an inverse hermit.

EsDeeKid Is Just A Yeat Descendant

See, remember when I said this is my blog? I fear I won’t be expanding on this one any further.

Sideways Entertainment

A girl with a breakfast hat on — literally a hat that says “breakfast” across the cap — is eating Dunkin Donuts across from me on the G train 13 stops from home. She’s in one of those staring-at-phone-chomping-on-food states that I hope no one ever sees me in, simultaneously sinning by: 1) eating and 2) watching something on phone sideways.

There is nothing more uncool than watching a video with your phone turned sideways in public. This goes for grown adults and children alike. The only exception to this rule is at an airport gate, where you may partake in sideways entertainment and slip into the mindless dimension free of charge.

The only thing you should be doing on the subway is bracing yourself, closing your eyes for a brief moment’s peace, listening to music, noticing your reflection, staring at the shoes across from you, or reading. Absolutely no laughter or storytelling. If you must be on your phone, you should be reading my text, smiling at it.

Currently Reading (a continuation)

There’s a specialty food and book store down the street from me that is going out of business boasting an 80% off sale. Imagine me not going in there! To my disappointment, though, the Galician tinned fish would not be on sale too.

After rubbing my fingers across every spine on the shelves, the only thing that caught my eye was a textbook (Big Academia stand up!) on film-making.

Now I don’t really consider myself a film nerd, nor have I thought about becoming a director, but I bought it and started it the same day. It’s been delightful to read about creation from a new perspective.

The more time I spend in New York the more I realize the creative industry is a big Venn diagram. The closer you are to the middle, the closer you are to the sun.

The circles are directors, musicians, writers, stylists, photographers, actors, models. Once you meet one, you start to meet them all over time and over wine. They all overlap and blur together. I sometimes have to pinch myself in my early New York tenure realizing that, when I’m ready, I know a lot of people who could help me execute an idea.

I’m waiting on the day an investor, surely one degree of separation away at this point, sits at my table at Bar Oliver.

I’ll share my learnings with y’all for y’all. For now, here’s another chilling Mackendrick quote on why we should keep failing (read: trying): “The inspired amateur has a brilliant concept that dies through incompetence of expression.”

May we all continue to call ourselves what we feel we are and study craftsmanship, loosening our grip on timelines and where we think we should be by now. We should be here now, together.

On Film-Making by Alexander Mackendrick next to a cookie from Radio Bakery.

Currently Watching

Anything Jacob Elordi related. I think I’m four years late to this, which is awesome. I watched Wuthering Heights with my cousins a few weeks ago and despite being shocked by the movie, I decided to give him a shot. I went down the Elordi rabbit hole.

I watched all of his interviews and promotion runs, including his Hot Ones episode. After realizing he is a dedicated ball-knower, my respect for him skyrocketed. I watched Frankenstein and Priscilla in the same week and was blown away. Frankenstein, five stars. Priscilla, four.

I am not joking when I say that after all of that, I went to the same exact bookstore in Figure A below to buy a copy of Wuthering Heights to put on my summer reading stack.

Thank you for your service, Elordi. Call me.

Figure A: Jacob Elordi at McNally Jackson book store.

All Heart

There’s this kid on the internet, bigjohngolfs, making videos of himself smoking gravity bongs (or where I’m from, “jeebs”) and drinking beers before road running the streets of Jupiter, Florida. He’s shirtless with six pack abs and signs off “all heart” after a few statements of absurdity. If I had to guess, he’s not really concerned with being cancelled or getting a job.

Generally speaking, he seems to be doing very well.

He came across my feed the other day and absolutely fired me up. This is a type of person that broadens the scope of privilege and metabolism, perhaps for no other reason but to remind you that life isn’t fair. Additionally, some of the worst people I know follow him, which is a good sign I’ve been scrolling too long and my pendulum needs to swing the other way soon.

Let me be clear: I don’t condone his behavior, I just love to see a fellow anti-optimizer showcasing his talents for the world to see. Please, can we all start drinking beer again?!

@bigjohngolfs on Instagram

To Think You Are Not Part Of The Problem Is To Be Part Of The Problem

I feel like I talk quite a bit about phones and social media usage here. It’s mainly because my friends and I talk about it all the time in our real life conversations.

We’re all happy to do anything that gets us off our phones. This week a friend had his phone “bricked,” using the Brick device that blocks apps of your choosing until you physically tap your phone against it, for 23 hours and counting. Crazy enough, his chosen apps included Spotify, SoundCloud, and YouTube in tandem with social media to help him “reclaim [his] imagination.”

In his offline mode, he did leave Nina Protocol within his fingertips, which is why he’s my close friend. Digital crate digging is real and harmless.

I went to see the Marc by Sofia film with friends who go to the AMC once a week as members. They said it’s their living room time, and one particularly noted “I like it because it gets me off my phone.” I thought that was a wonderful concept to normalize: going to the theater to log off and lock in.

In my own experience, I use an app called Opal to block Snapchat, Twitter, and Instagram during certain hours. It actually worked because I no longer reach for Snapchat or Twitter, almost like they never existed in my life at all. Instagram, however, is crack.

In an effort to not be part of the problem, I’ve recently made a small but mighty commitment to removing my wired headphones from my ears when ordering my coffee in the mornings, even though I pause my music to do so. It’s the optics, the principal, that I’ve been ignoring by keeping them in during everyday interactions.

It’s so simple to pull the wires out and honestly swag to hang my headphones around my neck for a few minutes to say “good morning” to the guys who pull an artisanal espresso for me everyday. A win-win-win.

I share these resources and thoughts with you to let you know that we’re all part of the problem. In making small adjustments in routine, maybe we could stop the snowball from turning into an avalanche.

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Making it this far is a real feat. Thank you for reading. I am wishing you well with all my might.

Un beso.