We’ve Mostly Gone Feral
July 31, 2022
James and JW have been in the States for a little more than a week now and I’ve pretty much been living life as a bog troll, though I did put on a cute dress and meet friends in the Vondelpark for a picnic yesterday for the kickoff of Pride Week in Amsterdam so I am still somewhat tethered to civilization. I made chicken breasts at the beginning of the week and ate them over salad and in wraps but once those were gone I started in with a little of this and a little of that which lasted until I stood over the sink eating anchovies from a jar, then reluctantly dragged myself to the corner (literally, half a block away for crying out loud) to buy myself some fresh groceries. I made myself salmon and asparagus for dinner last night. The fresh peaches this year are the best I’ve had since moving to Amsterdam
I purposefully did not make a lot of plans for this time home alone as I wanted to focus on my writing, which I’m pleased to say I’ve been able to do. It’s amazing how having an accountability buddy helps. My writer friend Gaby and I have been texting each other to help us stay on track and it’s working. Even on days when I’ve hated my work I’ve opened the document and stared at the page because I couldn’t face texting her that I’d flaked and it’s working, I’m averaging about 1,000 words per day. A lot of it is made up of scenes and dialog that aren’t connected specifically to the plot yet but that I know I’ll be able to work in and it feels good to capture the words on the page instead of having them stuck so loudly in my head where they live and die.
I got distracted midweek when Erin Overbey, the award winning archivist for the New Yorker, got fired after tweeting about the lack of diversity, institutional racism and sexism at the New Yorker. Of course it triggered me, there’s no way it couldn’t. Seeing talented women like Erin and Felicia Sonmez forced out of their successful careers in media (like I was after whistleblowing on my powerful boss) for speaking truths about the systemic and specific problems in institutions they work in fills me with the fury of a thousand suns. I spent some time on Twitter screaming into the void, which isn’t productive, but I did hear from some other women in journalism who had similar experiences. It happens all the time after I blow up and my essay about why I left my career resurfaces again and new people find me. It’s infuriating that no investigative journalist will give this story its due. People who think the men in charge of media who work together to keep themselves and each other in power to protect themselves and the status quo don’t affect them can think again. These dudes shape our world.
Anyway, It’s a rainy Sunday in Amsterdam. Brian’s napping in the parlor, the garden doors are open and the sound of rain mixed with the Glenn Miller band are soothing and lovely. The air smells fresh and the vines and flowers in the garden are wild and vibrant. I wrote my words today, and added a new plot point which may or may not stay in this story but I’m interested to see where it goes.
James and JW are having a great time visiting friends and family in Virginia and JW is off to camp today. I miss them and while I love having this time to myself to be as feral as I please (I felt the need to text James earlier in the week to inform him I was extra stinky, to which he replied thanks for the update) I do miss them too much and am eager for James to return in a couple of days, though I’m annoyed James didn’t win the 1.4 billion dollar lottery.
In the meantime Brian, Kitty and I are living the life of our choosing here in Amsterdam and it’s pretty damn grand.
xoxo
