The Netflix Fix

At last Monday’s staff meeting, my colleagues and I were coloring. We were tasked with the introspective job of charting our stress and happiness throughout the day. As the line went up, so did stress and feelings of unpleasantness and vice versa. Wavy lines implied a nice rhythmic state, whereas jagged, spiking lines indicated moments of intensity. The line graph was color coded with blue, green, yellow, and red. In our idyllic state, we were composed of undulating, green, blue lines.

My most pleasant moments were charted above the activity: “Netflixing.”

So many of us find solace in lounging about and turning off our minds to binge a show or watch a movie. “Netflix and Chill” might as well be added to an extracurricular list at all age levels. As I traced my finger along my teetering line, I wondered why that part of my day was so satisfying when I was, to no small measure, achieving very little. I thought about the types of shows I watch and the varying genres I lean towards. I soon recalled switching on closed captioning to catch particular moments and lines that I loved. Then I started writing these moments down.

I found that, although I cannot directly relate to a concierge doctor working in the Hamptons nor an immoral 30-something trying to find her way into heaven, I revel in what these characters are telling me. Netflix is this treasure chest of advice. As an avid reader, I collect their advice as if they were from Charlotte Brontë herself. I am watching stories and collecting their morals.

After recording the moments that caught my attention, I found that my collection created the perfect profile of a post graduate. All of these (highly recommended) shows have illuminated my life while I thought my brain was turned off. Our inner thoughts have been captured in the form of very lucrative entertainment.

When we are really feeling ourselves...

"Time to get up! Hey, I have a huge dilemma that I need your opinion on... Am I more beautiful today than I was yesterday? ... I'm just not sure. I mean at first I looked in the mirror and I thought, 'Well, yes, definitely, huge improvement.' Then I thought maybe it's not that I'm more beautiful today, maybe I was just as beautiful yesterday, only I lacked the self-esteem to recognize it."

(Gilmore Girls)

When we feel ourselves aging a bit too rapidly...

"So it comes down to this, my first stethoscope, a bottle of vintage red, a meaningless engraved pen, a collection of ornamental owls.... since when do I have a cat? 'Where did you come from, cat?' I'm not ready for the cat stage. It's six years too early"

(Offspring)

When we try to deny our sensitivities...

"You don't know me. I don't hurt easily." *Bursts out crying* "What is happening?"

(Friends from College)

When we try to explain our love of food...

"'You have my cookbook?' 'Sorry, um, I... I mean, I like to look at the pictures. It feels like I'm eating. Is that sad?'"

(Orange is the New Black)

When we try to find the perfect Tinder date...

"You have the raw sexuality of a jungle cat! But, I'm sorry, I'm just not feeling it. You have the luminosity of a Botticelli! ... But I'm sorry. I'm just not feeling it."

(Jane the Virgin)

When we try to flirt...

"I really like the instrument of the cello. I like the cello a lot, and I don't talk about it a lot but I should because I feel very passionate about it. It's a beautiful instrument. It's like a guitar but it stands up. I once saw a zebra named Gavin give birth at the zoo, and I cried hysterically. And then I bought one of those stretched out pennies that you can get to remember it and then I lost that and I cried again. Sometimes when I smell dust in like an attic or something, like that mothy, dusty, I think about my mother. When I was fourteen I saw my mother change and I saw her whole body naked without underpants on. I really like when a rap song uses a choir. It makes me feel really happy when all those ladies' voices come in and then the guy's rapping - I think it's awesome."

(New Girl)

When something is going a little too well...

"'I gotta admit, this is really nice... it's the best day I've had in a long time. ... It's funny though, when something like this is, like, going really well, I get, like, super nervous, like, Oh, when is something bad gonna happen and it's all gonna end?"

(Love)

When we need to talk ourselves down...

"Okay, let's take a deep breath here, buddy. You need to chill a little. 'Cause you have a very psycho, burnout-guy-muttering-to-himself-at-a-library-computer type vibe... You could stop working. Look ... the way I can help you is to force you to take a break... Recharge the old batteries... Let's go! ... Okay, Crazy, come on."

(The Good Place)

When we finally decide to be healthy...

"So, I have come to the decision that I need to be making healthier choices so I stayed up all night last night and I did some research. And now I'm into, like, all the good stuff. We're talking, like, kabbalah, bee pollen, colonics. Let's see, I learned a ton about Buddhism and, oh, I'm a vegan now."

(Crazy Ex Girlfriend)

When we come to the right kind of realization...

"It's hard trying not to judge yourself. Because we are aware of every mistake. We know our inner doubts, our hidden motivations, our failings. So my wish for next year... is to be easier on myself. Focus less on the bad and more on the good. Really, just give myself a break." (Emily Owens, MD)

So maybe Netflixing isn’t all that terrible! Maybe I am learning something. In which case, here’s to another episode (or 3)!

[Photo by Julie Bloom.]

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The End of An Era: Saying Goodbye to Windrose

Hi friends,

Announcement (sounds so formal, doesn’t it?):

It's the end of an era.

I’ve decided that, after nearly 8 years of telling stories of navigating life, this season of Windrose is drawing to a close.

Even Here: Words for When You're Wandering

When I was 22 years old, I visited the desert for the first time.

A metaphorical desert, if we’re getting technical.

I was fresh out of college, starry-eyed and eager to begin my post-grad life. I had big ‘ole me-centered dreams: a shiny, brag-worthy PR job in the music industry! An apartment with an exposed brick wall that (somehow) would fit an upright piano! A committed relationship with a kind, goofy man!

I got exactly none of those things.

To summarize an entire year’s worth of emotion: I was devastated.

What is Home?

Late last night, I flew back into town after a week away, the city lights covering the Valley like a blanket of incandescent flowers. I’ve flown into Phoenix at least a dozen times at this point. Usually, I can identify a handful of landmarks, like my antenna-scarred South Mountain or the twinkling lights of the bridges spanning Tempe Town Lake.

Flying into Nashville, however, was always different.

I Don't Live Here Anymore

I recently returned to Nashville for the first time since moving to Phoenix five months ago.

Before my reunion, I often said that the word “home” could apply to both Nashville and Phoenix. Nashville is my home. Phoenix is my home. I could find that home-sweet-home feeling in both cities.

During my 8 days back, I frequented my old haunts. The brickwalled coffee shop still serves the meanest mocha in town. The hillside winery still proves to be a worthwhile spot to sip away a sunny Sunday afternoon. The hip burger joint still offers a lovely evening to dine with friends, new and old. The lime-green Mexican restaurant on the corner of Whitebridge still feels like a queso-soaked refuge.

There were many “stills,” but there were changes, too.

Why did you move?

A cardstock print sits propped against the lamp on my desk: a taupe watercolor swipe outlining a peakside Saguaro, the sun a tiny ring above. Beneath this minimalist illustration are these words in typeface: “I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”

I happened upon this notecard-sized print on the way out of a shop last weekend, after already having completed another purchase. It was the last print of its kind in the pile. I had to have it. I returned to the cashier: “This one, too.”

You see, this verse has been a thread weaving through my story, simple words spoken by a prophet long dead, a passage of comfort I’ve returned to again and again since my pilgrimage to the desert four years ago, when I inked a cactus on my wrist.

The Good Old Days

Last week was National Margarita Day.

I did not, however, celebrate the holiday. Truthfully, I’ve yet to find THE Mexican place here in Phoenix. You know the one: gaudy decorations, cheap food, even cheaper margaritas.

But there’s a Mexican restaurant at the corner of Charlotte and Whitebridge in Nashville, TN.

You may have heard of it.

Witching Hour (or, Fighting Off Demons at 3 am with a Box Cutter)

Between the hours of 3 - 4 am, I find myself awakened by nothing in particular. The room is silent. There is no sound outside. No loud car horns. No dogs barking.

I’m upset.

I wish it was something other than just me. Then I could stop it. Nothing is to blame. It feels like moments have passed since I closed my eyes. The moments of a long dreamless sleep last about 4 hours.

10 Life Lessons This Cross-Country Move is Attempting to Teach Me

There are a few lessons life has attempted to teach me since my move — all things that I haven’t yet spiced up into a full essay, but deserve to be memorialized by my metaphorical pen nonetheless.

So I present a collection of lessons I’ve learned — and am still learning — in the last 3 months.

What Will Your Life Look Like?

Tomorrow marks 3 months.

Three months here, sharing a zip code with Saguaros.

“So how is Phoenix?” a friend asked me over the phone as I sat on my balcony beneath glowing string lights, a pour of raspberry wine in my hand. The sun was setting, painting the eastern mountains with rosy swipes of redemption.

How has Phoenix been these last three months?

What is it Trying to Tell You, if Only You’d Listen?

I went on a date recently. Two glasses of Riesling, pleasant conversation, and a perfectly amicable guy — it was an altogether fine evening.

However, I wasn’t interested in a second date.

Not because of any run-for-the-hills red flags. Not because I didn’t think he was cute. Not because we didn’t get along. I simply — wasn’t interested.

There’s no better way to explain it. No fear-based avoidance of the potential for a healthy relationship. No disdain for commitment that needs a heavy round of therapy to work through. Nothing deeper than the inner sense that a second date just wasn’t necessary.

But, I said yes to getting dinner again with him.

The Other Side of Yes

I’m a No Girl.

In many ways, this is a good thing. I’m able to confidently decline invitations that disinterest me.

“Want to go whitewater rafting?” No thank you, I’m comfy right here on the bank.

“Want to do a shot?” No thank you, I’ll take my liquor with lime juice and Triple Sec, plz.

“Want to try this carrot cake?” No thank you, Harry, I can’t eat gluten.

“Want to go to Broadway?” No thank you, I’d prefer to go to bed.

In many ways, however, being a No Girl originates less from personal boundaries and more from fear. Fear and I happen to be pretty tight; we talk on the daily. Fear has been the primary consultant for many of my life decisions, in fact.

A Song for Growth

A year ago, a friend of mine got a job at a well known tech company. He had been slogging through the interviews, and he finally got an offer. Obviously he deserved it. He was a hard worker, and his attitude for success and life was admirable to say the least. I knew he was beyond qualified.

But at the time, I was on a career path I couldn’t see myself being happy in. I had made the mistake of staying in the industry mainly for the money. Every month in the industry was a reminder of how much I did not want to stay. It created a nasty cycle of overthinking and career angst. Feelings of inadequacy and existentialism rooted themselves deep inside me. I couldn’t focus on anything and was utterly disconnected from the work I was doing.

I admit I wasn’t happy for him.

LifeC. CarrollOctober 10, 2017Comment