The Facebook Notes Feature

Facebook had this feature which has since been deprecated called Notes. If you go through a very specific series of account pages, you can still have access to the Notes you wrote in the past. This feature came out my senior year of high school. I want to remind people what Facebook was like in 2009, especially if one was in high school. People posted everything. Every photo that was on your digital camera, dumped in an album. Every thought you’ve ever had, posted as a status. With this long form Notes feature, I posted AP English assignments and asked my friends to comment on them. Like WHAT?! Why did I think anyone wanted to read my school papers?

Well, the narcissist in me is grateful for my naive hubris. I have on a Facebook server, for the rest of eternity, the documented trauma which is “Writing Back to my 8th Grade Self.” In eighth grade, we had to write a letter to our senior high school selves. I don’t have a copy of the 8th grade letter, but from context clues, it contained a lot of concerns about my future appearance and my career plans. It also apparently had the phrase: “Watch your back or you will get hit by a semi.” Now, I’m sure that was lifted from a Nickelodeon show or something, but, GOD, if that was an original thought, my eighth grade self should be fucking feared.

Fast forward to senior year and my response. First of all, I claim natural laziness, which as an adult woman, I’m fucking laughing about. This bitch was in dance for 25-30 hours a week and was taking 6 AP classes. I think she was labeling rest between all of those things as “laziness.” I still come across this feeling today as I look around at my messy apartment. I’m not lazy; I just prioritize certain things over others. This is a very important reframing, high school Stephanie.

The next section was 3 sentences of me trying to work through the dance-related trauma that surfaced near the end of my senior year, which I will not have actually understood until therapy during this year. There’s some questionable internalized misogyny: “Even if I had a perfect nose, it would not be worth not knowing how to use exponents at the age of sixteen.” Now, I don’t know if that was directed at someone, or a description of a perceived archetype, but holy shit. Women support women, Stephanie!

Then, there is this section that made me weep. It was a response to a fear I guess I had in 8th grade that I didn’t know who I was or what my purpose was. Which like, obviously, you are fucking thirteen. My senior year response was one of ambivalence but also hopefulness.

I sincerely hope you are not disappointed in the person we’ve become. I really did try my best to find myself; however, I believe that one cannot find themselves if they are trying too consciously. It will happen someday when we don’t expect it. For now, we can only try our best. That is what I’m expecting from you, Eighth Grade Steffi: your best.

Like I’m crying again, just reading that over and over. I know in another 10 years when I read this, I will cringe in some way but holy shit, I needed to read that. I knew nothing about what was going to hit me in college, or in my 20s, but I’ve never stopped trying my best. The concept of my “best” has evolved. It is an aggregated measurement. I’m not going to be at 100% every day. My best no longer means pushing myself to the brink of burnout; it’s understanding the actual capacity of my life. I’ve gained new skills, I’ve lost old skills. I’ve failed massively. I’ve developed resilience. My new definition of best is a growth mindset that can sometimes be turned off.

As to the question finding myself…we really don’t have time to waste thinking about that. Just sleep to preserve your youthful skin.

My Month in Books: May 2021

I’ve always been an aspirational reader. As a creative person, I have a duty to consume the work of other creative people. The most lightweight version of this is watching a TikTok; the heaviest is reading a 400+ page book. Although I’ve leaned on the light side of the spectrum, reading and people who read have always had this strange allure. We all fell for Jess Marino scribbling notes in the margins of Rory Gilmore’s copy of Howl. Or his real life equivalents on the @hotguysreadingnyc Instagram. (Which Carley has now rightly shamed us for) So, in my attempt to be a “reading girl”, I’ve purchased dozens of books each year. I joined Book of the Month. I filled 3 IKEA shelves in my Brooklyn apartment. All so I could read around one book a year….maybe. 

I don’t know what happened this month. I watched Emma Chamberlain read East of Eden and said “Fuck. What am I doing with my life?” I was in a new city, somehow waking up 2 hours before work. I picked up one of my Book of the Months and went to town. I started reading at least a half hour before each work day. When I liked what I was reading, I read at night and all weekend. I made sure to read something that was semi-trashy every other book to keep it going. And now, all of sudden, I’m Rory Gilmore. (Well, no because I’m not an entitled grown adult who can’t complete a single interview despite a Yale Journalism degree.) But, I read now. I can talk about what bookssssss I’ve read this month. 

Disclaimer: I will not now, or ever, attempt to restrict a person’s right to create art. I will reserve the right to not like it. In rare cases, I might question why a company invested money in a book’s printing. But, I’ll aim to be specific in my reasoning, so people with different tastes than myself can safely give things a try.

Anna K by Jenny Lee

We started the reading journey with this beauty. To turn Tolstoy’s work into a Young Adult novel is an ambitious undertaking. It could have so easily been a Gossip Girl clone. The characters are similar to GG in that growing up in New York has propelled them towards adulthood faster than they can handle. The story is told from multiple perspectives which allows the reader to root for every character’s individual happiness. Lee’s choice to keep most of the tragic events from the original source material was very brave and wrecked my heart. I openly cried in a sports bar finishing this one. I will be forever grateful to this book for sparking my reading spirit. (5*)

Sometimes You Have To Lie by Leslie Brody

I do not like biographies. I will not read one for a very long time after reading this book. It felt like I was at a cocktail party where a bunch of old ladies vaguely tried to remember stories about someone they knew in college. In my will, I’m going to prohibit any use of my life rights besides adaptions of my memoirs or verified diaries. At least this book taught me that. More seriously, Louise Fitzhugh was a pretty badass lady; I wish the play she wrote about her life actually made it to the stage. (2*)

The Dating Plan by Sarah Desai

This was cute af. It was written by some personalization algorithm and delivered to my doorstep. A tall, strapping Irishman who is kinda douchey but is willing to work through his emotional trauma. A geeky girl exactly my age whose family is obsessed with her getting married. The “For You” page of books. What made this book especially great was its specificity. Our female lead is Indian and that was demonstrated in everything from her food choices to her family interactions. It made her feel like a real person. This book wasn’t deep, but I did finish it in 2 days. (4*) 

Severance by Ling Ma

I picked this book for a book club that I’m trying to start in my apartment building. It meets June 17th, and I’m probably going to forget everything about this book before then. It’s a book written in 2018 that discusses an epidemic coming from China. It’s more zombie apocalypse than Covid, but an interesting enough premise to read in my post-vax state. Some of the behavioral predictions, such as the resistance to take a virus seriously until it affects someone close to you, were spot on. I found the overall plot execution of the book a little unsatisfying as it tried to tell two stories (the time before the virus and the time after) in less than 300 pages. Ling Ma’s writing style is pretty interesting though, so I didn’t find it a waste of time. (3*)

American Royals by Katherine McGee

Being in DC, this was a no-brainer to pick up. It has very similar vibes to E!’s The Royals. It’s told from the four main women’s perspectives. I only really liked half of the women at a time, so it was nice having the ability to escape to a different story chapter by chapter. The premise of the future queen having to marry was a bit bizarre. I feel like Princess Diaries 2 already went through that shit. That element aside, this book almost sold me on having an American royal family as the executive branch. Why not? All the voters are idiots anyway. I’m interested in what the sequel has in store. (4*)

Persuasion by Jane Austen

I’m about to give Jane Austen 3-stars; strap in. Obviously, Jane Austen was a genius. Her work is the definition of beautiful writing. I listened to the audiobook while reading this and I soared through. It was a very calming read. That being said, this is the worst of her stories. The central couple, who we are apparently rooting for throughout the entirety of this short book, have like maybe one conversation where we see why they might be cute. It’s not like Elizabeth and Darcy, where we see the enemies to lovers journey through multiple tiny interactions. Or if it was, it went entirely over my head. I will say though that Jane Austen knows how to write rich people being shady to slightly less rich people. There are a lot of good gossip sessions in this one. Netflix is making this a series. I expect there will be a lot of walks on dirt roads. (3*)

The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green

This was a podcast that was turned into a book. It probably should have stayed a podcast. I can definitely imagine it being a delightful listen on a road trip or something. Reading it, especially straight-through like I did, was fucking exhausting. I wasn’t having fun. John is a great writer. There are multiple passages from this book that I took pictures of with my phone, so I wouldn’t forget them. However, he clouds his own writing with quotes from other writers. He is fully self aware of this and mentions that he does this too much in the last essay. THEN STOP. Also, the book has these footnotes that add almost nothing to the essays, except pulling the reader out of the flow. I think as podcast merch this is a decent enough fan purchase to have in your bathroom. I don’t know - maybe I don’t like essay collections… (3*)

So I wrote all these reviews in one night at the end of the month. I don’t know if that was smart. Next month, I’ll probably write these as I go but still wait until the end of the month to publish versus just dumping in Goodreads. Goodreads doesn’t fully encapsulate the headspace I was in when reading an individual book. I probably didn’t like Persuasion as much because American Royals already exhausted me with rich people problems. John Green’s essays were likely too stark a pivot from romance. Although the monthly star average was pretty low, I would rank my overall reading 4*. My new found reading habit has given me writing topics, ice breakers, and city exploration activities. I can’t promise this breakneck pace next month, but there will be new books. 

What should I do after I graduate?

This is the eternal question posed by many an undergrad. Normally, the answers consist of jobs or further academia. Maybe a move to a new city. Maybe a year traveling throughout Europe. Regardless, there will be new challenges ahead. But luckily, at 22 years old, undergrads have the boundless energy and liver resilience needed to take them on.

But what if you have been completing an MBA while working full-time during a pandemic? This entire thing has been one big challenge. Your job has not gotten easier; in fact, you’ve had to learn how to manage people, and then, learn how to do it again completely remotely. Were the classes hard? I mean, at the very least time consuming. You’ve asked yourself in the middle of each semester, “Why the FUCK did you decide to do this?!” You’ve written five-figure check after five-figure check to a bursar who knows nothing about you.

And now you have a graduation date. It’s in your sights. 2 classes. 4.5 credits. July 3rd.

I’ve done a lot of work this year in therapy. Not that I’m going to post on the internet, of course. But only to say, I’ve slowly learned to separate my identity from my work and my achievements. My twenties have been an absolute rocket ship. After I finished undergrad, I started out in a role I didn’t love; this lead me to trying to find the perfect job. Because if I had the perfect job, then I would be happy. Then, I got the perfect job, and I pushed myself to become a leader at the perfect job. I took risks, failed, and iterated until I got to the next level in this bizarre career video game.

At some point, I decided to apply to business school. Recently reading my entrance essay, I was reminded of my complete lack of intention when taking this on. It mentioned something about wanting to be a founder, but, honestly, that was because that made the best narrative paired with the role I was in. I was accepted into the only school I applied to because I wanted to stay at my perfect job and go to school part-time.

I’ve been asked by a lot by friends if “business school is worth it” or “Do I regret it?” The answer quality would depend on the point in the semester and whether I was taking an accounting course, but most of the time I would say I was happy with my decision. In a lot of ways, school did make this pandemic less scary. It occupied a lot of my time. I’ve made some great friends. I’ve learned to read faster. I’ve learned to write faster and whatever level of succinctness required by an assignment: concise arguments for 1-page case write-ups and long, passive-voice personal narratives for 10-page papers. I’ve learned to have dialogues with people smarter than myself - which requires some comfort in sitting and listening. I’ve calculated NPVs, constructed brand strategies, and practiced six-way negotiations. This is the education that filled my designated 15-30 additional work hours per week.

Now I get those hours back. So what should I do after I graduate?

The old me, the astronaut, would have filled these hours with more. More energy towards my job. More side projects. Maybe founding that company from my essay. The new me also has some of these instincts, especially in creative pursuits. Should I start writing a blog? (Meta.) Should I continue the screenplay I wrote on school break and stage a reading somewhere? Should I start a YouTube channel? Should I start taking more fashion Instagrams?! Creative expression is healthy and I’m not going to shut down any whims to try new things. But I’m also not going to punish myself for a lack of consistency. There is no timeline for this. I already have a job. I don’t need a second one.

This manifesto is obviously mainly for myself, but welcome to my Roaring Thirties. Things might get weird.