Feeling 22
On being back in Paris, and yet still all over the place. Plus, Ethan Hawke, You Don't Know Jack, and more.
“So how does it feel to be back?”
I returned from my “Spring Sojourn in San Francisco” almost three weeks now—and will do an about-face in another three by heading to New York for much of August—but the above question remains the demand du jour. And understandably so! I was gone for a while. So, I’ll try to answer it for you:
It feels like no time has gone by, and like I was gone forever.
I’m not going to go on and on about time, and how strange it is, since it’s a topic I tend to pontificate often, but I’ll just say how wonderful it was to have had the privilege and opportunity to step away from my regular daily life and try on another for size. I can confidently say I enjoyed being back in the States—pricetags, politics, and loudness aside—and mostly missed my friends here in Paris, along with the comfort of my apartment. Oh, and I missed the rest of my wardrobe despite the fact that much of it wouldn’t have translated to California living anyway. I did fine without the croissants and cheap wine. Bob’s Donuts and all the dispensaries were nice substitutes.
Paris and San Francisco are both visually stunning from an architectural perspective (Victorian or Haussmanian—both beautiful!), but if we’re talkin’ personality and vibe (generally speaking—don’t @ me), San Franciscans lack style, while the French lack warmth. Northern California dudes have dogs and want to go on hikes, while most Parisian men smoke and want to meet at the metro. No newsflash here, but it’s also insanely expensive in SF (and much of the U.S.), yet easier to get whatever it is you want when you want it. (Unless it’s Aquafresh toothpaste and you’re at a Safeway or CVS with locked display cases.) The weather is milder and more predictable in that it’s always unpredictable, but Paris has gloriously long summer days…and no AC.
So there’s your surface answer. What’s underneath is slightly more complicated. When I first returned, I immediately began doing what I normally do: arranging lunches and dinners with friends, booking spin and yoga classes, pitching stories, and planning trips to take in the near future. But I quickly became exhausted and overwhelmed. Thankfully, a dear friend reminded me that returning to what I know is normal—even if change is what I eventually desire—and that it’s OK to just take stock and be where I am…for now. I know this, of course. And it sounds easy enough. But where I am is on the brink of turning 45 and, as Taylor Swift sings, still feeling 22, a.k.a “happy, free, confused and lonely at the same time.”
“It’s miserable and magical!”
Funnily enough, 22 is the age I generally feel in spirit when someone asks so I guess that tracks. (Except for when everyone’s out drinking on terraces past 10 p.m. and I’d rather be home on the couch with Netflix.) Lately, I feel pulled between maintaining the life I’ve created for myself in order to, you know, continue making a living (if you want to call it that), and enjoying the day-to-day; but also putting aside the necessary time to make the shifts I seek. If I continue doing the former, there’s little time for the latter. But if I put all my focus on the latter, FOMO about the former rears its ugly head. A mid-life, but also 22-year-old-like conundrum, indeed.
Apologies if this is coming off cryptic and whingey, as my Aussie friend Jess would call it, but aside from writing this semi-weekly newsletter I’m also juggling assigned writing work, writing work I want to be assigned, cover letters that need to be written (the worst kind of writing work), and feeling like giving up writing altogether. So, yea, I’m a little all over the place while also, actually, being in one place for a change.
As I was finishing up writing this, and by finishing up I mean just getting to the point where I think it’s best to leave it at that, I looked to my left and noticed I still hadn’t flipped the month on my calendar. Damn you, Time, taunting me again with your Mondays through Sundays and your 1’s through 31’s! One more month until I complete another circle around the sun, transitioning from 44 to 45…or remaining 22? Either way, this is how I’m feeling; this is where I am. Nothing to do but turn the page. xx — Sara
P.S. If it wasn’t already obvious that I’m an elder, would-be Swiftie, wish me luck next week in my attempt to score tickets for the European leg of her Eras Tour next spring! I’ve made it past the first step and will be anxiously awaiting a personalized code and link on Tuesday. FEELING 22!!!!
Clickable
Yes! Why it’s time to stop waiting, and start creating. | Lens
I’m still a Carrie, but I support this argument for Charlotte! | Slate
Hava Nagila is trending beyond Jewish weddings. | The NY Times
In defense of drag. | Harper’s Bazaar
A grand slam friendship. | WaPo
Travel? Meh. Everyone’s doing the locomotion. | The New Yorker
The Metamorphosis of Barbie’s Dreamhouse. The NY Times
But also, make it AI. | Buzzfeed
Watchable
In a 30-second, mash-up Instagram Reel shared by Questlove this week, Ethan Hawke’s words about creativity sucker-punched me in the gut—so much so that I looked it up online to share it with you, only to find it was from a 10-minute Ted Talk he gave two years ago. I somehow missed it then—and who knows why it’s going viral again now—but isn’t that the wonder of the Web and its lasting power? Isn’t that the wonder of creativity itself? I especially loved his wisdom on being oneself and playing the fool: “You have to express yourself, and to express yourself, you have to know yourself…There is no path until you walk it. You have to be willing to play the fool.” Yes! But also, oof. So humbling to play the fool.
Currently Overthinking…
…whether to bring a rain or denim jacket to London (ed. note: brought both!)…whether there are any typos on my resume…what to write for my first Thread (is that what we’re calling them?) and whether to even bother with the new Twitter-like app…
Souvenir: You Don’t Know Jack
Who remembers CDs and desktop computers that took up your entire desktop? Well, then you likely also remember this trivia game from 1995. It was like Jeopardy meets The $100,000 Pyramid with a hyped-up host whose nasally voice loved to shout things like, “Hang on tight, ‘cause here we go.” The graphics were basic but bold with background music and noises that included trombones, bongs, and even burps. There was also that woman who announced the question numbers in a rhyming, sing-songy way: “Get ready for some fun, it’s question number one!” Categories were crass (“Finicky Little Bastard” and “Don’t Stick that There”) and you had to use your keyboard to play because touchscreen and clickable content was not yet a Thing. Anyone else play this nightly with their friends or siblings in the downstairs den?
I always think I’m 22, too?! Love that we have our spiritual age in common, haha. And thank you for sharing my piece for Lens!