Five Journalistic Questions #4
Technically, this is only one day late. Heheh
Who: I don’t have a Who because I’ve been watching Hacks nonstop and crying at the finale every single time. No Who, just watch Hacks and DM me about it. Favorite episodes: Season 1 Ep. 6 and Season 2 Ep. 4 & 7. Watch it. Thank me later.
Side note: The penultimate episode of season 2 was written with Black people in mind because who in the fucking world leaves an Anita Baker CD running in a Los Angeles mansion for 15 years?! LMFAO
What: Here is the moment that so many of you have been waiting, with bated breath, over a month for. I wish I had an intro as profound as that of the one-minute acapella Spongebob Krabby Patty unveiling but I’m on a budget *and* a deadline so here goes nothing…The perfect body oil, as I have found it to be, is…Prima Beyond Body Oil for Stress Relief. I bought it from The Detox Market [will talk about this store in a later edition] the day before leaving for vacation to Negril. I knew I wanted something very light weight that wouldn’t melt off in the humidity and originally planned to grab a bottle of Osea because I’d heard/read/was advertised good things but once Prima’s concoction met my hand, I was enamored. The texture is stunning, my skin still feels nourished the next morning, and I don’t feel like I’m walking around slathered in Crisco– no shade, amazing biscuits and pie crusts. Most importantly, if applied correctly, it won’t transfer and damage the lightweight, silky, expensive fabrications I rely on in the summer months! The formula is comprised of every single oil from sunflower to squalene to moringa to rosemary with “aromatic” notes of hemp, citrus, and geranium in there to create a relaxing and pleasurable experience when applying. I put the word aromatic in quotes because– I’m not even finna hold y’all– the oil smells like weed. The hemp is hemping! The smell dissipates but cannabis or naught, I really enjoy the way it helps me unwind at the end of a long day, after a workout, and how my body feels in the morning.
Now about application, I have been mulling over this theory since the depths of winter but, alas, I am a procrastinator so I waited to test this hypothesis once I discovered an oil worth my time. I hypothesize that the best time to moisturize is at least an hour before bed so that the residual heat of the steam and hot water don’t melt off your moisturizer before it has a chance to even work. As of late, if I’m on schedule, I will shower at 8:30 (genriatric, I know), do chores until 11p, reading a book in bed by 11:45p, and sleep by 12a so I can wake up and be the morning person I love to be! Between the time it takes to lather myself neck to toe and finish my chores, the oil has penetrated and I’m not waking up to a body transfer of expensive oil on expensive sheets. [Because] I’m a nighttime bather, the best kind, I’m able to hop out of bed, turn my swag on and dip out of the house looking luminous, with ash being an afterthought.
When: This week's meditation was inspired by a mundane exercise that I put off every other week until I go grocery shopping and find myself playing refrigerator tetris to put my groceries away: cleaning my fridge. Ask any one who has ever crossed the threshold more than once: Some weeks it’s giving MTV Cribs and others the only thing that can be observed is the water pitcher. This phenomenon is caused by me being a liar. Every week, I go to the grocery store and I lie…to myself. I lie about using the chicken in my fridge to make salads. I lie about buying an extra bag of arugula to mix with various dishes and vegetables. I lie about how many vegetables I’m going to realistically eat in a week and I lie about only needing two bags of snacks per week– buying vegetable platters and shit just for them to sit there and go to waste because what I truly desire is chips and/or some cure/air-dried pork on a cracker with cheese and olives. I’ve begun to contend that I may look at grocery shopping not as a procurement of sustenance but………as a fucking hobby(?). I love walking around the store, headphones blasting, looking and thinking about the possibility and potential of recipes I want to try and next thing I know, I’m at the cash register inserting my card for $180 worth of inflated groceries (fucking supply chain!) that I may/may not follow through on even cooking which led me to this question: When the fuck are we as a generation going to stop lying to ourselves about meal prepping?!
I actually hate it here. It felt like the right thing to do when first embarking on full-time adulthood. However, I’m currently so far beyond the point of burnout as it relates to feeding myself that I’m ready to be honest and stop deluding myself that this is something I must do every week to be considered a responsible and well-adjusted American adult in the eyes of society. I no longer care. I’m fully eating for survival vs. contentment when at home. Nevertheless, in my pursuit to not spend my yearly income on takeout, UberEats, or dissolve into the type of person that confidently sprinkles parsley on a bologna sandwich and presents it to an algorithm, I concluded upon three things:
I’m only cooking one meal a week and if I need more, that’s what the freezer aisle and ingenuity are for. I will not be shamed! I just can’t stand over this electric stove for 3 hours on Sunday night anymore and be unmoved to even eat the next day.
Snacks are meals. I feel like that’s pretty self-explanatory but for the sake of comedy I will say that in a world of $5 Ruffles, $3.50 bread and $9 salami, I am going to bone apple tea!
As a denizen of Gotham with somewhat of an expendable income, it is required that I see what this city has to offer by way of culinary experiences. Who the hell wants to eat the same chicken for five days? That wasn’t even my reality when I was scraping pennies together to get on the subway. Any food in the fridge beyond 96 hours needs to be submitted to the CDC for testing.
Maybe I’m undisciplined, uncultured, and entitled swine but from my experience, cooking beyond three days (as a single and childless person), leads to more food and time waste than it saves. Despite inflation having its mighty *mighty* boot on my neck and wallet, I’m determined to live, laugh, like– even in these precarious, inflated conditions and that doesn’t include sweating over a stove, playing Molly the Maid every Sunday…especially in this impending NYC heat.
Where: My Juneteenth weekend is packed. There are so many things to do this weekend and it would be nonsensical to think I will attend *everything* but I’m still going to relay the message and hope that your Juneteenth will be as fruitful and productive as mine. 1: Double Dutch + Drinks in Herbert von King Park this Saturday June 18th (1p-whenever). I went last year and it was a highlight. I *did* almost faint because it was 90º so I am going to be proactive this year and pack a small lunch and extra water. 2: Alvin Ailey Dance Theater at Lincoln Center (June 15-19). Alvin Ailey is nostalgic to my childhood. When I was younger my mom would take me to see the traveling dance troupe perform at UC Berkeley and later at the Paramount Theater in Boston. I figured since I am making a concerted effort these days to pursue and court the activities I enjoyed in my youth, I bought two tickets for me and a friend, excited because I think this is my first time going to the theater since I moved to New York! Gross, I know. 3: Juneteenth Food Festival at Weeksville Heritage Center (12-7p). I’ve never been but this rightfully might be my first stop before heading to double dutch in the park! I’ve also never been to Weeksville and what better weekend to go than Juneteenth?! 4: Mecca NYC June 19 (4-10p) at Essence Restaurant & Bar. Run by two insanely talented fashion stylists Milton Dixon & Marion Kelly, Mecca will be the place to see and be seen this Sunday but get there at a reasonable time because that flier has been running through IG like 4 CNAs in a Nissan Altima that are running late to work! 4: The Layout June 19 (11a-6p / 6:30-11:30) Things kick off at Fort Greene Park and the festivities relocate to Cafe Erzulie at night to wind down. The Lay Out was *thee* pop out of last year when we were all waiting to inhale. There are activations, DJs, food vendors, and it’s a great way to start the summer, initiate a summer fling, or reunite with old friends because you live uptown and never make it to Brooklyn…definitely not talking about me, though.
Why: Why did I start catching MTA again? Pros? Cons? Survival techniques?
Recently, I made the mistake of looking at my bank statements. I thought I’d feel like a responsible, financially literate adult by taking a peek and knowing where my relationship stood between me and XYZ bank. I didn’t. In fact, it made me feel worse about myself and how easily I squandered money. I developed a mild form of agoraphobia and hyper-vigilance a year into the pandemic because I was spending 98.9% of my time alone and being trapped in a metal tube with a bunch of randos was not my idea of a good time. Regardless, after months of therapy (shoutout to Viva Wellness NYC), I buckled down and started forcing myself underground the weirdos, the lucid, and those of us who are betwixt. Long story short: I started subjecting myself to the daily chaos of the Metropolitan Transit Authority because I’m on the strictest budget of my life because I want to work smarter, not harder and I want the things I accumulate like clothes, accessories, and vibrators to mean something– to hold a special place in my life. I want to save and quickly realized that I was purchasing shit to prove to myself that I could. I think a lot about my creative process when I was in survival mode and the ingenuity I had and I want to get back to that…just without ending up in housing court. Nevertheless, as aforementioned, I’m not going to get there by shopping in a state of enervation. During my year-long sabbatical, I felt like I was in a fog because all of my activities were planned around how much I was willing to spend on Ubers that day (gross). On the train I have quick, easy access to the places I love for $2.75 and, occasionally, a short walk. Enough of my rant, though. Here the pros/cons/survival techniques I have observed and utilize while on the train:
Pros: People watching: I love when something funny, awkward, or gross happens and I lock eyes with another person and trauma bond over communal misery. Accessibility: There was a time when I lived in NYC and could barely scrape together $2.75 to get to class or work. Now, a week’s worth of train rides is less than I spend on one car ride so I choose the former. The lag of Ubers is also incredibly unappealing. Did you know that rush hour in NYC essentially starts at 3:30p? The early afternoon is my golden hour and it would take me 40+ minutes to get from my door to Bergdorf’s if I picked an inappropriate hour to leave the house. On the train, I’m on 59th St. in 28 minutes. I’ll stick with the heavy rail. Vitamin D: I recently got a tan in the time it took for me to walk from the L at 14th Street to meet a friend for a late lunch on MacDougal! I have become such an I’m-Getting-My-Steps-In ass bitch since I rededicated my life to fare evasion (just kidding NYPD/the FBI agent assigned to overseeing my digital communications). It’s been such a good way for me to move on the days I don’t workout as well as providing mood elevating benefits thanks being outside to enjoy Daylight Savings Time. Mindful/Mindless Meditation: The MTA is the perfect place to acquaint oneself with the minding of one’s own business. In the process, I have become a professional micro-glancer: seeing everything but internalizing nothing. I have also begun the practice of quieting my mind when panic attacks arise because nothing is ever wrong. I stare at the floor and imagine my couch or the place I’m going or the lyrics of the song I’m listening to and my anxiety melts away. Honing this visualization trick via the metro has helped me utilize it in other areas of my life when my thoughts start spinning out of control.
Cons: Gen. Pop.: I’m back amongst the people, y’all and in the process, I’ve also returned to listening to saxophone renditions of SWV’s Weak between 60-block express stops. Strange men are back to boring me with their life stories while simultaneously trying to solicit my phone number while a gaggle of “straphangers” exhibiting their beginner Pole I class training.
Dirt: Have you ever seen someone take a full shit down a wall? I have. Enough said.
Survival Techniques: Pack snacks: Every time I have an anxiety or a panic attack, it’s because my blood sugar is low or I’m embarrassingly dehydrated. Ipso facto, I keep two packs of trail mix and a miniature Perrier in my bag just in case. Compact weapons: My mom bought me a vessel of mace for Christmas in 2020 (I know lol) and it’s been a godsend in my return to the metro. The few times someone has attempted to be a habitual line stepper, I’m able to remain calm because in my mind I know I have the power and wherewithal to fuck them up. That reassurance alone calms my spirit. Distractions: Books. Nintendo Switch. Solitaire on an iPhone. Distractions are the best way to avoid looking someone directly in the eyes and thus sending the delusional signal that you are open to an unrequited conversation. They are also the best way to pass time between express stops– which have become the bane of my subway existence.
…and that wraps up another edition of Five Journalistic Questions. Many more links to come in the next few issues (I’ve been shopping). If you like what you’ve read, please leave a comment and tell a friend to tell a friend to tell a friend! See you Wednesday after next. Ciao for now! :)
