hand-me-downs are really junk sometimes

Don’t Wring Your Hand[-me-down]s

At least 40% of the items I own are hand-me-downs, and I love it.

In Boston, there is something called “Allston Christmas.” This refers to a period of days leading up to September 1st, the day on which most Boston leases begin. Items are shuffled out of residences to make way for people moving in and out. The sidewalks are littered with furniture, appliances, clothes, and odds-and-ends. Some items will make it into their intended moving trucks, some will be packed into groaning cars. The end result is seen a treasure trove of items abandoned on the side of the road. Boston becomes a giant, unofficial flea market.

Allston Christmas is a bizarre bazaar, a paradoxical acceptance of re-purposing and hand-me-downs, and the casual discarding of inconvenient items. I once found an awesome steam mop, and a giant bag of pennies. Literal free money.

I have moved 7 times in the last 7 years. Moving everything I own so many times in the last few years is a literal pain in my side. I’ve considered selling everything and moving into a hostel. Ultimately I kept my lot, and shuffled it from one end of Boston to the other. I get it – there’s a host of reasons to get rid of things, especially when you move. I’ve been there.

When I moved out on my own, I learned the hard lesson that my single, poor, self would not have the same standard of living as my established, dual-income parents. I thought once I had my own place, I could go nuts and decorate it just like I wanted, and as re-do it as often as I wanted. That’s what TV and the internet said would happen, and they never lie! Turns out that decorating is expensive, even if you’re a shrewd Marshall’s shopper. I have learned to embrace hand-me-downs, and to enjoy the fact that I don’t have to deal with all the expense and decision-making that comes with re-decorating.

Hand-me-downs seem to be an incredibly divisive topic. One camp embraces the practice, and the other eschews it. For example, there are not many eight-year-olds that want to wear their older sibling’s cast-off jeans. A child turning up his nose at a hand-me-down is understandable. The parent, in that scenario, understands that clothing kids can be an expensive process, and re-using a pair of jeans can be a godsend. Flash forward to adulthood, and some people still hold on to that mentality – they want something new, not something previously used. Another might, with equanimity, embrace a hand-me-down phone.

No one blinks if you mention upgrading an electronic gadget. If a new device has just come out, well then there’s no sense in holding on to the old one, right? When a new sneaker line drops, a queue will wrap around the block for the launch, though those folks likely own several dozen pairs already. If an appliance breaks, no one will judge you for just buying a new one – repairing becomes a distant second thought. There is an element of truth to upgrading; items are not built to last indefinitely. Bust when repair is possible, that’s when it’s a great time to embrace the hand-me-down mentality.

Not only is it economical to have secondhand goods, it’s environmentally sound. Less material is put into landfills, and the earth is stripped of fewer resources. The bed frame that I’ve transported from one apartment to the next has incurred fractional monetary and environmental costs in gas, but has saved the manufacturing and transport costs of new bed frames each time I’ve moved. Passing a smartphone from one person to another means that the rare earth metals and plastic won’t sit in a landfill for the next few thousand years. Going through my friends’ closets to source an outfit is cheaper than buying a new one, and means I’m not buying stuff I just don’t need.

I would like, for a moment, to empathize with those who avoid hand-me-downs. There is something a little magical about getting something new. I love it when I get a new game, or new jewelry. Perhaps not possessing hand-me-downs is a personal triumph – it can mean someone is (perhaps) climbing the socioeconomic ladder. I won’t bash that person for a moment, since the thrill of achievement, and the hard work it took to get there, sometimes is as well-deserved as the new shoes/vacuum cleaner/phone. In that sense, I applaud them.

On the whole, I think it’s time to accept and embrace hand-me-downs. Scale down waste, look out for others, and enjoy what you have. Secondhand stuff is nothing to sneeze at; be glad you have anything at all.

Thanking you in anticipation

feet on a longboard

“I’ve ‘Matthew McConaughey’-ed Twice at Work Now, What Do I Do?” How to Recover From “Alright, Alright, Alright.”

When your joke falls flat, your reaction will determine how well you sleep that night.

I get it; I am the queen of both impulsive decisions and terrible jokes. That is, jokes that are quintessential “dad” humor, and jokes that are poorly constructed. It can be an absolutely disastrous combination.

My family prizes humor – my father often says his dream job would have been to sit around and come up with one-liners. Growing up, this meant that any discussion our family had was punctuated with dumb puns, pop culture jabs and M*A*S*H-style spoofs. When a joke didn’t land, it would be brushed off. There was no harm in testing new material or reaching for the subject matter; the worst someone would do was blow a raspberry and boo a little. While this meant that I had a completely awesome and supportive environment, it also meant that I gave into my predisposition to just blurt out the first thing that came to mind.

To sketch a framework of (horrifying) things that have come out of my mouth in a professional or formal setting:

Tim, the really nice HR guy: “Ooh, coffee. I need another cup. You like it black?”

Myself: “Yep, as black as my soul.”

Ross, my manager: “Jesus, Emily.”

(I was then forbidden from speaking to corporate unsupervised)

Another time –

Coworker picking up the phone: “Good morning-“

Myself: “VIETNAM!” 

(I’m not allowed to say this in the office any more)

To finish this up –

Global Entry Officer conducting my interview: “Right, so anyone traveling in your party without enrolling in this program will not be able to go through the PreCheck line, they-“

Myself: “Yep, they’ll have to go through the peon line.”

(He gave me the hairy eyeball, but I ultimately was approved for the program)

This is not an exhaustive list by any stretch of the imagination. There’s a great deal of tiny interactions I’m sure I’ve forgotten that involved stupid puns, or knock-knock jokes with terrible punchlines, etc, etc.

The point being is that I had to learn the hard way to roll with the failures. If I didn’t, I would be miserable constantly. I would be doubting every fifth word coming out of my mouth and tossing and turning at night reliving all of the awkward moments I had placed myself in from the moment I could speak until the time I walked out of the office that day. A small chuckle, maybe a self-deprecating comment and a smile goes a long way toward smoothing any ruffled feathers or awkward silence or looks. It doesn’t have to be perfect – I’m certainly not claiming to be – but it’s critical to be able to roll with anything. Even if the roll is a Nat 1.

Regarding the Matthew McConaughey impression that brought you here: please evaluate why you’ve said “alright alright alright” twice in a single day. Then, embrace the McConaissance and begin perfecting your drawl. Only take on rom-coms until you decide to shed your surfer life and become a dramatic actor. Youths these days, man, I get older, they stay the same age. Or something like that.

yrs as always

someone had some serious focus on this pile of clothes

I Moved a Pile of Laundry From the Chair to the Bed & Back for a Week – You’ll Never Guess What Happens Next!

Right hand to God, I think 60%* of my Facebook feed is terrible clickbait.

I get it, I really do. Somehow you have to break the flow of constant images and information competing for attention and make someone click on your article. A really easy way to do that is to have a cliffhanger-like title. It’s so common that there are literally websitessubredditsFacebook pages, and twitter accounts designed to go through the article so you don’t have to.

My favorite articles are ones that pair the “what happens next!title with an unrelated image.  Though, let’s be honest – it’s rarely an article. It’s usually 26 semi-related slides that all require different pages to be loaded. Gotta maximize that ad revenue, son!

The articles’ contents are really just appealing to the lowest common denominator – unabashed and morbid curiosity. I say this with at least four clickbait-y gadget reviews in my reading list. There is no condemnation from me for clicking on one of these articles. Seriously; cliffhangers have a long and storied (sorry) past of hooking a crowd in to obtain interest and engage them. Clickbait titles are just very tiny cliffhangers. It’s what you lean over your desk to discuss with your coworker instead of dealing with Cheryl from accounting. The end of last night’s popular sitcom; the articles with titles proclaiming “x celebrity did this action and you can too!

I’m not saying anything new, but I would like to propose alternate clickbait. Title your photos with “My baby did this, and I can hardly believe it” and put their (normal) action in the caption. Like, we all know your baby has smiled – it’s gas, by the way, it’s always gas – but spice up the presentation. Maybe your baby’s month-by-month photos with the stickers could be something like “My baby is the size of a vegetable, and I can’t believe it!” It’s a pumpkin.

If our lives are going to be slowly consumed by clickbait, let’s embrace it, and make it our own.

Oh, if you were curious about the laundry situation, I’m still resolving it. The bottom drawer of my bureau has broken (the front panel has come off) and I’m whining and moaning about whether to repair it or purchase a new dresser. While normally I’d have just fixed it by now, the drawer is an amalgam of tiny nails, dovetail joinery, and a little bit of glue – I’m not even sure where to start. The whole bureau is a masterpiece of 80’s construction and style. Purchased for the grand total of “I found it on the side of the road,” it’s been a faithful companion, but I might just have to take it out back and put ‘er down.

Sent From My iPhone

*The other 40% of my Facebook feed consists of about 10% personal posts – life stuff, kids, event photos – and 30% cat and dog photos. I have no regrets.