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Best-of commencement quotes about work to get you to the long weekend

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On the tedium of daily life

“And I submit that this is what the real, no-bull- value of your liberal-arts education is supposed to be about: How to keep from going through your comfortable, prosperous, respectable adult life dead, unconscious, a slave to your head and to your natural default-setting of being uniquely, completely, imperially alone, day in and day out. … There happen to be whole large parts of adult American life that nobody talks about in commencement speeches. One such part involves boredom, routine, and petty frustration. … The point is that petty, frustrating crap like this is exactly where the work of choosing comes in. … The fact is that, in the day-to-day trenches of adult existence, banal platitudes can have life-or-death importance.  … You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn’t. You get to decide what to worship.”

David Foster Wallace, Kenyon College 2005 (This whole speech is one of my favorite pieces of writing. Read it here.)

Lesson: We’re all in the same boat. If today doesn’t feel like a grand, extraordinary, “Oh the places you will go!,” choose-your-own adventure, that’s OK. Most days won’t. Just keep swimming. You choose. Choose love. Even when life fucking sucks.

On why we go to work when we could be focused on the side hustle

“Your job is not always going to fulfill you. There will be some days that you just might be bored. Other days you may not feel like going to work at all. Go anyway, and remember that your job is not who you are. It’s just what you are doing on the way to who you will become. With every remedial chore, every boss who takes credit for your ideas — that is going to happen — look for the lessons, because the lessons are always there.”

Oprah Winfrey, USC 2018

Lesson: Don’t freak out. Dreams take time. And the time will pass anyway. Sometimes you have to hustle for the side hustle.  

 

On not succumbing to power-hungry workaholism

“Acknowledging the wisdom and experience of a forklift operator or security guard with 30 years on the job doesn’t diminish your own experience. Acknowledging the sacrifice of others that enabled you to be in this position does not diminish the sacrifices you made on your own.”

Founder & CEO of Chobani Hamdi Ulukaya, Wharton MBA 2018

Lesson: Value all work. See yourself in others and things will go a lot easier. Be grateful; constantly. Don’t take yourself so seriously.

On being happy with what you have

“I’m Batman.”

Michael Keaton, Kent State 2018

Lesson: Don’t settle, sure, but also know you can’t ever have ***the*** dream job. That belongs to Michael Keaton.

Art you should know: Painter Toyin Ojih Odutola

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Someone once asked Toyin Ojih Odutola, a contemporary portrait painter based in New York, what her purpose as an artist was.

This is how she answered: “To make the world less small.”

On the surface level, how she does that seems obvious. Toyin is Nigerian-born and grew up in Texas. The perspective her artwork brings to the white walls of traditionally white, male spaces is important as we grow the space for voices.

But diversity means more to Toyin than representation of skin color in art. Diversity also means diversity of thought in the room. I love this little reminder that “diversity” isn’t a call to lift up one voice over another; it should be an attempt to elevate all voices to an equal level so that we can hear, and ostensibly learn, from each one.

Making the world feel less small comes through in her art in very powerful ways. Not only does her portraiture capture and express the magic of black skin, the conceptual work of her images reveals much. For her recent exhibition at The Whitney, she presented life-size portraits from the “private estates” of two fictional Nigerian aristocratic families.

As i-D writes, these are “radically soft visions of black wealth” driven by Toyin’s diversification of the stories we tell ourselves.

“Toyin says this was the driving question for her Whitney exhibition: What if you claimed everywhere you go as a home? Some black people avoid traveling because they (reasonably) fear they’ll encounter racism. Toyin wanted to help ease this hesitation by depicting black people outside, in nature, swimming in lagoons, chilling on the beach, taking in the sunset.”

That sounds so simple… but when you consider all the ways popular media can misrepresent black experiences and bodies by the imagery they choose, Toyin’s portraits seem all that more powerful in their commonness of scene.

More here!

Words on the Street: May 19, 2018

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Ad coming soon.

Find the dick!

You do you, wall.

Black Velvet, White Jesus is the name of my new fake band. 

As seen at the AIC. 

As seen waiting in the dressing room line at Forever 21. I’m a creep.

So hot, in fact, we can’t waste any time doing spell check! To be fair, it makes sense to think extremely would start with “extra.”

This building is a physical manifestation of me in relationships in my early 20s. “YES. NO. YES. NO.”

I just love this for some reason…

As seen at the SafeHouse restaurant in Milwaukee. Everyone picks their own agent name. I keep giggling at this one.

Rudy Not For Sale.

To do: Lavender Cola at The Gage in Chicago

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Like most wonderful surprises, I found The Gage by chance. Well, by Google keyword, which counts for chance in the 21st century.

A friend was visiting Chicago to run a race and she wanted to meet up for brunch while in town. I quickly Googled “restaurant + downtown Chicago.” Ha! And a star was born.

The Gage is a lovely contemporary white tablecloth restaurant that’s my go-to for elegant but accessible fine dining. It’s right across from Millennium Park, and all the various attractions located within, and walking distance from the Art Institute, which is my other sure bet for giving visitors a fun taste of the town without boring myself to death.

Example: We took our Cleveland cousin Maria to The Gage, where she unknowingly ordered a very carnivorous breakfast. She didn’t need to eat again until dinner.
We worked off the meat sweats by heading across the street for the Chicago visitor must-have: A photo at The Bean.
Then we walked the skybridge to the Art Institute.

My favorite thing about The Gage, other than the location and the food, is that I can make reservations on Open Table. The place is cavernous, so I never have trouble saving a seat, but they’re super busy during peak hours and it’s worth it to make a reservation just in case.

Since moving to Chicago I’ve become a reservation queen! I don’t always need them, but it brings me peace of mind that I won’t have to wait for a long time or waste my time commuting to a place that can’t serve me.

But for all my visits to The Gage (I went there for my bachelorette party and they gave me free dessert! WITH a candle! Not all heroes wear capes—some wear aprons!) and all my complaining that not enough restaurants and bars offer cool alcohol-free drinks on their adults menus, I didn’t try their specialty sodas until recently.

Among The Gage’s zero proof options: Organic Seasonal Cordial, House-Made Ginger Beer, Abita Root Beer, and Lavender Cola.

The Gage’s Lavender Cola

The Lavender Cola is a clear (surprise!) favorite. Not too sweet, with the lavender smoothing its way in more as an aftertaste to the citrusy carbonated treat. They serve it in a bar glass with a garnish, which helps me feel like I’m still getting all the fun of an alcoholic brunch but without the hangover, wasted day, and status updates to delete later. 😉

Scented beauty buys that are making my spring

Jackie Mantey 1 Comment

I know, I know.

But if the devil wears Prada, then friendly boss bitches wear mint leaf and bergamot!

$: Mint Leaf and Bergamot lotion by Bath & Body Works

I picked this up at a discount outlet Bath & Body Works, recalling my time working in a candle boutique and mixing the bergamot flower’s sharp citrusy floral with mint’s sweet-tinged freshness. It’s a unique smell that’s not overwhelmingly floral or musky. When the cashier rang me up, it was $5 for one bottle. I then hurdled the Pumpkin Spice displays and threw a baby out of the way, into the Juniper Breeze, to snag two more at that price.

$$: Argan Oil and Lavender conditioner by Beauty & Planet

I love this drugstore brand because of its ethical and environmental promises, but the lavender line’s soft scent lingers on my hair all day long and has made me a true believer.

$$$: Wood Sage and Sea Salt cologne by Jo Malone

Wood sage and sea salt smells warm, sexy, and grounding. It smells like vacation, but one where you spend a luxurious month meditating and talking about your dreams on a Mediterranean beach with a yoga instructor named Xavier. Xavier is a very good listener and won’t make a move unless you want him to.

I discovered this scent by way of a beauty magazine ad. You know, the kind with the foldable flap that makes fashion magazines smell like magic and womanhood and sophistication and the dope ass future that awaits once you get out of this dumb town? You know, the kind of ad that you’d sneak into the school library to rub all over your weird body before the big school dance? No?

When I dug around to see how much a bottle would be, I LOLed. (It costs about as much as other high-end parfums, but I already own one of those so I just couldn’t justify shelling out for two, ya know?) Instead of making an order, I ripped out the ad and hung it on my bulletin board right by my computer. I decided if I missed the scent after its paper particles had dissipated, I’d buy myself a small bottle for spring.

So I recently bought myself a small bottle for spring.

To do: Old Louisville

Jackie Mantey 2 Comments

Our recent travels included a stop in Old Louisville for Justin’s 5 For the Road comedy tour.

I’m always excited when we get to go to Kentucky. For all its redneck-ian hullabaloo, that is a gorgeous state with gorgeous stems (read: trees). And Old Louisville, a historic neighborhood located near the heart of the city, never disappoints.

Here are some recent discoveries from our latest trip you should hit up the next time you’re in Derby City.

Central Park

Once the idyllic country estate of the DuPont family, this 17-acre park is the perfect place to post up when you need to hot spot and people watch. While working from a park bench I saw a dad teaching his daughter how to ride a bike, three drunk old men shooting the proverbial shit on a neighboring bench, a date happening on the tennis court, a lot of people walking their eager dogs, and this squirrel, my co-worker for the afternoon.

North Lime Coffee and Donuts

This new bakery and java joint was within walking distance from our Airbnb, and, as Louisville luck would have it, the walk there included a veritable tour of grand estates. I love Old Louisville’s old architecture. Every house has a treasured new-old surprise to share. Aging lace curtains. Grand stone staircases. Wrought iron gates overgrown in ivy.

North Lime didn’t disappoint either. I got us a coffee to go and a few fresh-baked donuts, including a sprinkle version with an apple butter glaze. It was the best thing I ate the whole trip.

Mag Bar

This dive joint was the comedy tour’s show host. Trivia night was happening in the other room and drinkers were enjoying the weather on the outdoor patio. You could also kick it old-school and play some arcade games they had on tap like Mortal Kombat and Battletoad. Old Louisville indeed.

Sheherazade Gallery

After the show, we walked home and spotted this glowing pink art installation. I was drawn to it like an ant to discarded cotton candy. After some hashtag searching, I learned this was Sheherazade, a one-car garage turned gallery space. Rotating exhibitions fill up the whole open-air space and the clear glass gallery-wide door means it’s viewable after hours. It made our walk home weird and magical. Just like we like ‘em.

Filson Historical Society

Right by our Airbnb was the Filson Historical Society, so I went to check out their WWI exhibits during my lunch break before we got back on the road. Louisville native Jack Speed was an officer in the 150th Field Artillery on the Western Front. As an amateur photographer, he used what Kodak marketed as the “soldier’s camera” to take photos during the war. The camera folded into itself to about the size of an iPhone 4. I took photos of it on my Google Pixel. Cool to see how photography, cameras and humans (thank goodness!) have evolved since then. Stop by the front desk and ask to see their displays. An exhibition guide will give you a tour.

Planes, trains, automobiles, and ants

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I spent today awkwardly trying to get back into my Chicago groove after spending the last seven days in four states. The multiple trips sent me across, through, and over the midwest in planes, trains, and automobiles.

So much movement and non-stop perpetual motion is mostly, usually exciting, but it can be jarring sometimes too. After I’ve landed back home, it takes me a beat to readjust to a normal pace and scene.

Plus, when visiting family and seeing friends, which this past week of travel included, it takes even more effort to get back to normal. The feelings of emotional warmth and change have to settle into their new shape, but it’s as if I’ve pushed bread dough into a pan and expected it to rise immediately. There’s a process of expansion that the new form taking shape refuses to rush, regardless of how much I want it to. I’m adept at adapting, but I forget that sometimes that takes a minute.

Things are different now, just as they always have been.

Time changes everything. But time always takes its, well, time.

After trips like these I need a brain Discombobulation Area, like the one at the airport where you try to put your shoes back on ASAP and wrangle what’s left of your dignity (quickly! quickly!) after a security pat down and wipe off the sweat congealing on your brow from being chewed up and spit out the sticky mouth of TSA.

(Clearly I love flying!)

Despite all this, I love moving around. My favorite thing about traveling is that it gives me perspective. Literally of this beautiful country, but metaphorically too. The security check line may be long, but life is short. Physical journeys, being an outsider looking in, is the antidote when everything feels small and uber-significant.

Because when everything feels small and uber-significant, it’s usually because I feel small and insignificant. Traveling reminds me how grandiose my options are, reminds me my life is big because it is also small, reminds me not to sweat it. In fact, there’s no need to sweat anything except getting to my ride on time.

And visiting friends, family, old stomping grounds? Traveling to them and dropping by for a while reminds me to be completely present in them. To feel all of it. To remember. To pay attention, because this moment * right now * is what I’ll look back on soon. I want to make it count.

Today after my evening run (or, more accurately, jog-walk… travel = treats!), I stretched in the park across from our apartment. As I laid on my back to stretch these American thighs, I turned my head to the side. Eye level was an ant diligently collecting nectar from a dandelion as if it was the most important thing in the world. He climbed all over this supposed weed, through its golden landscape, over its hilly petals.

It made me remember something my dad told me this weekend while I was home. My parents have peonies growing in the space right outside their front door. The peonies are a wonderfully visual choice once their bulbous, bombastic blooms open, but to get there, they need the help of tiny ants like this one in my Chicago park.

“There will be ants on those peony buds,” Dad said. “Go look.”

Sure enough. There were ants crawling all over their green cocooned buds.

“Ants help pull open their shells,” he said.

Sure enough. Google confirmed. The flower releases small amounts of nectar to recruit the intrepid insects into doing some of their work for them.

Would I have missed this seemingly insignificant observation had I not been paying attention? Probably. I’ve missed more while I’m physically at places than I ever have when I’m gone, longing and paying attention. 

Listening to stories from my dad. Taking time to do nothing but feel how my cat’s purr sends ripples through my fingers. Holding my niece in a hug that leaves an 8-year-old-child-sized imprint on my heart.

If that’s what travel does for me, gives to me now… The post-travel come down, the emotional discombobulation is worth it. Every time.

Like Vonnegut wrote, “Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.”

My list of books to read this month

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The Best American Essays of 2016

Edited by Jonathan Franzen

Franzen picked the essays for this compilation based on a theme: Risk. As he writes in his introduction, “The writer has to be like the firefighter, whose job, while everyone else is fleeing the flames, is to run straight into them.”

Indeed, I love the saying that if something keeps you up at night, you have to write about it. That can mean writing a piece that you can’t stop thinking about… or writing about something that feels so embarassing or painful that it would be a risk to even put it out there. That’s the writing that most makes you and others feel alive, un-alone, less afraid.

It reminds me of the most recent edition of True Fiction, which I read on my plane rides this weekend. The piece, “Unmolested” by Michael Lowenthal, is about the writer’s role as an openly gay guest-star counselor at the all-boys’ summer camp he adored attending as a kid. The camp had recently been under fire as a counselor had been accused of molesting a camper.

Lowenthal writes about being the object of an adolescent camper’s crush. And his own attraction to teenage boys.

I was impressed with Lowenthal’s bravery to “go there” and write about a complicated, potentially dangerous subject. He handles it deftly, with empathy and precision. It’s beautiful and has my vote for Best American Essays 2018.

Pippi Longstocking

By Astrid Lindgren

I love that quote. Here’s my other favorite Pippi saying:

“Don’t you worry about me. I’ll always come out on top.”

I’m re-reading this for an upcoming writing project. I loved Pippi Longstocking as a kid, but I didn’t really remember why. I knew I loved that she had her own house and could do whatever she wanted. There was something about her natural affinity for independence that I found appealing and familiar as a child. As an adult, I appreciate her resilience. She wasn’t independent just because she had her own house and horse. She was independent because she had to be. She found a way to be happy and goofy despite all her loneliness, loss, and need.

Bird by Bird

By Anne Lamott

Every writer I know loves this book. It’s Anne’s funny-fueled guide to writing and life, because usually the lessons for both overlap. Like, perfectionism is a dream killer. So is procrastination.

In fact, our human (and particularly writerly) tendency to procrastinate when we’re overwhelmed was what led to the anecdote that’s inspiration for her book’s title.

“Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he’d had three months to write. It was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brothers shoulder, and said, ‘Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird.’”

Bird by bird, baby. Bird by bird.

Love sounds like a box fan

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As a kid, when a soft spring gently moved aside for its showy sibling summer, like a cloud rolling on to its next destination, we’d pull up the box fans from the basement.

They’d be dusty with skin and sweat from the year before, as well as whatever accumulated on them while they sat on ice for the winter. These reserve soldiers were a sign that summer, finally!, was here. Let the fun begin.

Each bedroom would be curated to hold their rickety form, crunched into a carpet, battled over for the best position of glorious, magical air flow toward one of two kids’ beds. This worked best, meaning a resolution was most peacefully acquired, in the girls’ room when my sister and I got bunk beds and the box fan could spend its season in the sun sitting on the thigh-high vanity we shared. Direct hits for both sleepers.

The sound of a box fan. That constant whir. That restless hum. It’s a lullaby.

Recently, Justin and I got a hyper quiet, new-fangled fancy fan. FIVE TIMES THE AIR FLOW. QUIET QUIET QUIET!

But tonight, for some reason, I turned it off and found myself pulling out our own dusty box fan and clunked it to our bedroom. It’s not so much the old-school style breeze I was searching for. It was the sound.

I have a distinct memory of one childhood summer night, sticky with sweat and anticipation. I couldn’t sleep. The next day was our show day at the county fair. The box fan kept me company as I lay wide awake, as restless as that hum, dreaming of the next day.

Maybe that’s why I pulled it out tonight instead of any other. Tomorrow I go home to Ohio.

A self-esteem boost courtesy Anne Lamott

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I’ve found this one sentence particularly helpful during a buck wild week of blowing my capacity levels by a country and city and outer space mile. … And also reading writers a million times better than me, which is wonderful but also makes one feel like getting a day job back sometimes, ya know?

God speed, friends.

Anne Lamott from “Bird by Bird”:

“The only thing to do when the sense of dread and low self-esteem tells you that you are not up to this is to wear it down by getting a little work done every day.”