Live, Laugh, Lorazepam

Loop-de-looping through the hard times

It’s spring and the bushes, plants and trees that, for months, appeared bare and forlorn, have started to bloom in abundance. A rainbow of blossoms has emerged in our yard: Bright pink roses, pristine white calla lilies, cheery yellow mums.

I love winter and its chilly minimalism but even as I am convinced that nature is trying to murder me by way of its myriad pollen, grasses and other bits of drifting debris, I cannot help but be charmed by the annual promise of spring: Renewal, rebirth, hope.

The other night as a friend walked me to my car after dinner and the silky spring air settled on my skin like a soothing balm, I felt a moment of unadulterated happiness.

I didn’t even know that I needed this, I thought as I enjoyed the moment. But of course, I did. These last few months have stretched on in a particularly dire way. Upheaval, chaos, fear and darkness.

How do we carry on in such times? Most of us are trying to actively push for change and dissent—contacting representatives, boycotting retailers, protesting the dipshittery of it all.

Better yet, this past week provided a few moments of spring-like hope. Those protests drew hundreds and thousands per city across the country, some politicians have actually showed the fuck up (though, my god, it isn’t enough. Please, anyone, do something). And, in perhaps a hint at the 2026 midterm elections, a certain billionaire failed spectacularly at buying an election).

Beyond these moments, however great, how do we carry on when sometimes the very act of existence seems to paralyze us with its heaviness?

I don’t have answers, I only know the ways in which I’ve been working to find bits of happiness. Strengthening relationships that bring fulfillment and learning to set boundaries with—or altogether walk away from—those that don’t.

I’ve also been trying to practice consistency. This sounds incredibly practical and boring—there is nothing magically life-changing about returning to one’s center, time and time again.

Or is there?

I am notoriously bad about giving up on processes if I don’t see quick results or feel comfortable with the act of learning.

Sewing? Walked out in the middle of the second class of a multi-week course because I was frustrated that the instructor wouldn’t slow down. Spanish? Three years across junior high and high school and then decided I was done because I couldn’t speak or understand more than a few phrases. Flute? Did really well in junior high school until the lessons grew progressively harder. When I lost my seat as first chair, I gave up on practicing for good. Guitar? Hahahahahahahahahaah, sigh. My tendency to quit wasn’t just limited to hobbies: In my twenties and thirties I was terrible about taking both my thyroid medication and my anti-depressant with any regularity and often stopped because they “didn’t seem to be working”.

Imagine my surprise when I finally committed to both and actually felt a tangible difference. Shocker.

Lately, though, I’ve intentionally tried to practice a consistent inconsistency. By allowing myself to fail, stop or give up—and then start again—I’m trying to teach myself that everything exists as part of a cycle. While success may seem like a linear pursuit, it’s actually okay to loop-de-loop your way there.

For me, this translates to setting and resetting goals for writing, weightlifting, reading something other than the usual doomscroll manifesto, and, even, intermittent Duolingo Spanish lessons. The result? In the last week I actually committed some words to paper. Most of them have been trash, mind you, but it’s a start. In the last year I’ve also added more weight to my lifting routine. I still struggle with many of the exercises, but some have become surprisingly easier. In the last few months, I’ve finished a book or two even though it feels like my attention span is rotting in the gutter. And although that Duolingo bird is mad because I’ve missed the last few lessons (loop-de-goddamned-loop), the other day I recognized a few new words of Spanish at the grocery store.

This sounds so rah-rah self-helpy (I’m sorry) but it’s okay to fail and start again. It’s okay to get frustrated and feel defeated, have a little pity party and then shake off the pity dust and get back out there. This is not to say that it’s not okay to also give up something if you can’t locate the purpose or gratification to justify continuing. We all have our limits, respect them. Still, I can’t help but love that little dopamine hit each time I move the needle even the tiniest bit.

Bird by bird, y’all. Bird, by fucking bird.

In which ways do you allow yourself to fail--and then show up again?

A Few Dopamine Hits at the End of the World

Everything’s on fire, but still we persist. In the last few months these things have brought me joy or, at least, some solace.

Television Without Pity : What does it say about me that Severance is my idea of comfort TV? The season has ended so now we’re rewatching from the start. It’s actually my third viewing of season one but repeated watching, especially after the season two finale, has revealed astonishing new layers. We’re also watching The White Lotus, of course, and I’m telling you if Mike White harms one hair on Chelsea/Aimee Lou Wood’s delightful head, I will riot¹. Speaking of Walton Goggins, we’ve finally started The Righteous Gemstones, and this is now squarely a Goggins stan account.

Also in rotation: Survivor. This season offers a little something extra by way of Sacramento contestant Joe Hunter. Not only is the fire captain one of the show’s kindest contestants, but he’s also married to Sacramento King’s commentator Kayte Christensen. Watching Hunter compete has been, perhaps, a bit more fun than watching the Kings’ rollercoaster of a season.

Sugar the Music Pill: It probably almost goes without saying that I’m ridiculously excited that Sierra Ferrell is playing Sacramento this month. Also in my headphones: The new Horsegirl record (folksier than the last, but this is not a bad thing), the new Wet Leg single, the absolutely wonderful new Kim Deal record (so mad I didn’t get tickets for her SF show) and, because I’m always digging into my ‘90s-era catalog, I’ve been on a Bettie Serveert kick lately. The band’s first album is, of course, great, but my favorite is 1997’s Dust Bunnies, in part because that was such a pivotal year for me and almost any album in heavy rotation then is still beloved now.

‘80s Forever: Val Kilmer died last week, just days after I’d enthusiastically explained to Cory why Real Genius remains one of my favorite ‘80s-era teen films. I am so sad but also glad to have existed in a world that gave us his Kilmer’s talent and charisma. This past week also marked the 30th anniversary of the release of Desperately Seeking Susan and while I’m a bit appalled by the fact that I’m old enough to experience that kind of milestone, I’m also looking forward to the upcoming Susan Seidelman screenings at The Dreamland Cinema. In addition to the Desperately Seeking Susan, the film club will also show Smithereens and She-Devil. The screenings are in partnership with the Sacramento Public Library and if you register for tickets, you’re also get a loan of Seidelman’s new memoir, Desperately Seeking Something: A Memoir about Movies, Mothers and Material Girls.

1. I knew it. I KNEW it. Damn it.