on naming and spending

as a friend commented to me yesterday, 'it is hard to compete with fishjuice vodka'. and she doesn't know the half of it. but indeed it is, so it is not with out some sense of trepidation that attempt to scrape together some thoughts today. i feel compelled to do so, however, in case saturday's party is as insane as the last one* and i end up writing about splitting my trousers on the dancefloor** and you all think that all i am good for is drinking champagne and being silly***. i will therefore today attempt to talk about serious things. to wit: naming (and the narratives entangled therein (oh narrative arc! my favourite subject)) and consumption (which, actually, also related to the narratives we create and seek for ourselves and how we ascribe meaning to them through language (a.k.a. naming)).

first, consumption.

i have actually been thinking about this a bit lately. partially because i (finally) paid off my private student loans from law school. and, although i still have some public loans blowing in the wind somewhere, i am able to to ponder financial potentials that were heretofore impossible for me. it has also been interesting to just examine how i managed to finally pay them off (and how people respond when i tell them) - not buying any new clothes for a year and moving into a considerably cheaper flat that i share - and where i am choosing to spend money now that i have more disposable income - on other people and experiences. (well, and i immediately purchased a small heap of shoes. but i really needed some new shoes after that year! and i am imperfect. (i maintain that blue patent leather stilettos were also required.)) so i am thinking about this now becuase i my own rather subtle musings more became more pronounced after i read the following article: http://bitchmagazine.org/article/eat-pray-spend. the authors critique the self-help / priv-lit genre and the consumer culture it promotes among women as anti-feminist****. really worth a read. although this about sums it up:

Priv-lit perpetuates several negative assumptions about women and their relationship to money and responsibility. The first is that women can or should be willing to spend extravagantly, leave our families, or abandon our jobs in order to fit ill-defined notions of what it is to be “whole.” Another is the infantilizing notion that we need guides—often strangers who don’t know the specifics of our financial, spiritual, or emotional histories—to tell us the best way forward. The most problematic assumption, and the one that ties it most closely to current, mainstream forms of misogyny, is that women are inherently and deeply flawed, in need of consistent improvement throughout their lives, and those who don’t invest in addressing those flaws are ultimately doomed to making themselves, if not others, miserable.

very astute point(s). and yet. and yet so many of the intelligent, together women i know really loved eat pray love. although many felt guilty about it. [side query: how much of that speaks to elizabeth gilbert's strength as a writer and how much of it speaks to how compelling we find her narrative?] i remember when, once upon a lifetime when i worked in a big bad law firm in the big bad apple that was affectionately nicknamed 'the sweatshop' or 'the death star', the subject of eat pray love came up in a conversation i was having with one of my partner mentors. this particular partner mentor is truly amazing - smart and compassionate and accomplished, she ended up at the firm because it was the only job she could get in nyc in 1971 that would permit her to work a four-day week so that she could spend fridays caring for her two young daughters and supporting her rabbi-husband has he prepared for services and observe shabbat in the calm way she desired. she adhered to that schedule (not without challenges along the way) the entire time her children were growing up and made partner after many years with the firm. she and her husband also started a wonderful NGO working to empower farmers and communities in afghanistan, a country they travelled in and fell in love with in the late 60s / early 70s. [http://www.gpfa.org/] this woman seemed to have it all, respected in the world of international arbitration and in her community, she had a happy marriage, great kids, a thriving career, a successful NGO. she was an inspiration.

although i worked quite closely with this partner***** on a number of cases and other projects, the occasion of our conversation that day was my inviting her to be a guest speaker at my book club when we were going to be discussing a book about afghanistan. rory stewart's the places in between, his account of walking across afghanistan in january, 2002. (incidentally, gender figured prominently in our conversation because of course a woman could never have written this book and of course rory is not at all conscious of this. then again, how many of us are truly conscious of our own privileges until something overwhelming and blinding forces us to see? and even then, our consciousness is typically fleeting.) the partner agreed, but she asked what other books we'd read. eat pray love was a last minute substitute because none of us could bear to get through the 600 pages of run-on sentences that comprised the book we had selected for that month. but i mentioned it when running through what we'd covered thus far that year. she wrinkled her nose when i mentioned eat pray love, commenting, "i read the first three pages but i couldn't bear to go any further. it was all so self-indulgent and ridiculous." she had and has a point. you don't achieve what this woman had achieved, both professionally, personally, and dare i say spiritually, by abandoning responsibilities and running off to eat gelato or pet cows every time god speaks to you while you're crying on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night. [confession: god has never spoken to me while i'm crying on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night. her loss, really. i am really funny when i'm crying on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night.] of course after the partner said that, i felt a pang of guilt for having finished the book. in one day even (shhhh!). and tumbled over myself trying to explain that it had been a last minute substitute and really the book club ladies were way more evolved than elizabeth gilbert, really. of course, when she came to book club the discussion about the places in between, we all really just wanted to know how she had done it, how she had managed to have it all. she answered simply, explaining that you can't have it all at once and must do things one at a time.

and now i am suitably tangled up in side stories and must unravel these threads in a tidy manner and draw a conclusion - we ought to be critical of how we're encouraged to consume (conscious of the cultural and gendered assumptions informing that encouragement) and consider the implications of our choices. the article is quick to point out that elizabeth gilbert's journey is not realistic to replicate or aspire to (people, after all that crying on the bathroom floor and walking out on her husband, she got to eat a lot of pasta, achieve some-sort-of-blue-light-enlightenment, marry a hot brazilian, live happily every after, and make millions). but maybe the reason the self-help priv-lit genre is so appealling even as we are conscious of how belittling and destructive it is (cf. the footnote somewhere down there about needing to orchestrate our own rescues) and also aware of the unhealthy wanton consumerism it promotes is its compelling cinderella suspension of disbelief aspect. i mean, who doesn't want to run away to eat gelato and pet cows, only to end up with an amazing latin lover and julia roberts playing you in a movie? that's some sweet glass slipper. although thankfully i am personally entirely over latin lovers in a serious way, so i that precise glass slipper wouldn't suit. in any case, enough on this. enjoy the article.

second, nomenclature.

this is the actual english name of a new restaurant the just opened near my office: "mr. pigger restaurant". awesome. i laughed out loud with joy and wonder when i saw it. the chinese name is yi kou zhu - a mouthful of pig. hmmm, i wonder if they serve pork.... i stumbled upon this delightful new addition to the neighbourhood two days after a rather interesting discussion about the importance of names. this is a subject i have personally considered at great length given that i have a boy's name and spent a good portion of my young life complaining about this to my parents. well, until my mother calmly informed me when i was about ten that they almost gave me the middle name of “baldface.” seriously. baldface was the name of the mountain that i was conceived on and they thought it would be a nice remembrance. i think it would have been nicer for them than for me – a blissful bit of hippie nostalgia since my mother’s pregnancy meant they had to move out of the tent in the woods and it was time for my ba to enter the corporate world. in any case, that made my boy's name feel like a blessing. i also had new appreciate for "jane" (my middle name). it's a hard-knock life.

the conversation i was having the other day was more focused on amusing english names in china, or chinese names for english products. i recalled how, living in shanghai in 2001-2002, i experienced a sudden burst of joy when i discovered the slim, serious man behind the counter serving my latte at the starbucks near my flat in the french concession was named “cocaine.” i really loved cocaine the starbucks barrista. he was my unabashed favourite. i also loved getting coffee from cocaine. it gave me a greater kick than the caffeine. and it was about as close to the real stuff as i’d ever get, so it felt risqué somehow – like i was drinking cocacola back when the “coca” meant something. (speaking of cocacola, the chinese name for coke is possibly the best branding ever. a transliteration - kekoukele – that roughly translates to “makes mouths happy.” brilliant.) before i left shanghai, i asked cocaine why he had chosen that name. he shrugged and said, "everybody likes it." i nodded and thanked him for my coffee. i started to tell him i would miss him, but then i realised that was a bit much and better contained. i could save my pain at this parting for when i was crying on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night waiting for god to speak to me. other than cocaine, my favourite friend from afar in shanghai was a sweet young man named "clocean". when pressed about his choice, he explained he couldn't decide between "cloud" and "ocean". i loved this so much, and so did my crazywonderful family, that we now have a sculpture in the backyard named clocean. seriously. the spare house key is in his ear.

so, t.s. elliott tells us that the naming of cats is a difficult matter. as is the naming of daughters, starbucks barristas, and pork restaurants. but a recent email prompted me to consider the significance of naming charities. i received an invitation to a fundraising dinner for an organisation called "compassion for migrant children". i was simply struck by what a brilliant name that is. who doesn't want to have compassion for migrant children? or at least support those who do? i mean, not even 'empathy for migrant children' comes close. it's really the compassion that strikes you right in the chest and makes you want to cough up all of your renminbi to eat chilli bean noodles with bbq pork & apple salad. [curious, there is a lot of pork in this post.] yes, they included the menu in the invite. an unfortunate choice really. detracts slightly from the power of being smacked in the chest with compassion for migrant children because you immediately start considering entrees. but oh well. after receiving this email, i started contemplating how compassion could be worked into the names of all sorts of charities. and, naturally, considering inappropriate alternatives. 'mild frustration with migrant children' or 'contempt for disadvantaged communities' or 'apathy over minority rights' or 'mild concern for the poor'. really without compassion, why bother at all? also, the fact that i am sharing these thoughts with you may be the reason that god doesn't speak to me when i am crying on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night******.

so i hope this all suitably thoughtful and amusing such that i can return to writing about dancing come sunday morning. of course, if i find a glass slipper between now and then you'll hear about that too.



*please see the post dated may 9, 2010 'smells like teen spirit'. (i still have not worked out how to link, sorry.) it is my fervent hope that no one humps the couches this time. at least not before midnight.

**something i have done on more than one occasion. SJ.

***incidentally, this might be all that i am good for. ok now we're at three footnotes in one sentence. once again perhaps i need to reconsider structure.

****i appreciate that in the 'about us' section, the creators of bitch magazine quote rebeca west: "People call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat."

*****i know, too many stars! but one of my nicknames is sparkleicious. but i am getting ahead of myself, we are still on the subject of consumption, not names. and we're in a footnote. the point of which was to note that it was actually thanks to this partner's intervention that i was able to find a place in the firm's international arbitration / litigation group at our firm. i reached out to her after being fairly horribly sexually harassed by the project finance partner whose group i was originally meant to join. i was still young enough and inexperienced in the sometimes subtle misogyny that pervades corporate life and how it is managed, so this was a bit daunting. perhaps particularly because i didn't want to make real accusations, i simply wanted to escape. [sigh. i could write a book about all the inappropriate things men in the legal profession have said to me or suggested.] in any case, she painly and quietly orchestrated my rescue. well, really i orchestrated my own rescue. (you always do. it's the only way.) she implemented it. without a fuss. for which i was forever thankful.

******another confession: i don't cry on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night. i prefer crying in corners. please see the post dated november 10, 2009 'a world changed'. (again, i still haven't worked out how to link.) although yikes, if you can actually be bothered to go read that post you may be struck, as i just was, about the gyring nature of my thoughts in this space. (and yes, the gyre reference was a shout out to yeats. what can i say? i'm into shout-outs these days.) i was beginning to think about having come to china to fall wholly and completely into myself even then (and even amid great and sudden heartbreak (thus the discussion of crying in corners)). and was quoting goethe then too. am i consistent or merely all too predictable? unclear.

the legal charade offers an opportunity

i celebrated thanksgiving yesterday with a warm and wonderful collection of "beijing family". we were american, canadian, chinese, german, french, italian, australian. it was the first thanksgiving for some, a familiar tradition for others. after the meal, i encouraged everyone to go around the table and share what they were thankful for. that sharing seems to me to be the whole purpose of the holiday. (although i understand that some say overeating is the real agenda.) in any case, when it was my turn, after being thankful for my nephews, my family and friends and other blessings of the past year, i said i was thankful for the legal charade in this country has given me the opportunity to do such meaningful work. a bit cynical, perhaps, but i stumbled across the expression this week and it more accurately captures my work here than any other term.

i came across the "legal charade" concept in philip pan's excellent 'out of mao's shadow', which i have been meaning to read for some time but only just did so. it's very well arranged, thoughtful, and thought-provoking. in a chapter about one of the weiquan (rights protecting) lawyers there is this illuminating passage:

given the city's reputation for corruption, it seemed doubtful he had much of a chance of winning the case, and i asked him why he was even bothering. he laughed, and acknowledges that he didn't expect to win. "i still have to do a good job," he explained. "that's my obligation to my clients." but there was more to it than that. the party claimed to govern by the rule of law. it debated legislation, set up courts, hired judges, held trials - it wrapped itself in the trappings of the law, because doing so conferred an aura of legitimacy on it. it was a charade, of course. the party spent three times more on its riot control police than it did on courts and prosecutors, and when push came to shove, it believed it had the authority to do whatever it wanted, legal or not. pu understood this as well as anyone. but he believed the legal charade offered an opportunity. using the courtroom as a stage, he intended to present a convincing case to the public. if he did a good job, the party could still rule against him, but it would have to drop the charade, expose its commitment to the law as a fraud, and pay a price in damage to its image. the stronger the case he presented, pu believed, the higher that price would be, and if it were high enough, party leaders might think twice about putting themselves above the legal system. in that moment of hesitation, something remarkable could happen. the charade could become a reality and the party could be constrained by its own sham laws.

i recognized my own work, so humble in comparison to the courageous work of the weiquan lawyers, in this passage. we are also well aware of the charade and operate by ceaselessly finding spaces where that hesitation might allow justice to rush in.

i didn't mean to be insulting when i said i was thankful for the charade. the chinese people deserve so much better. but without the charade the situation would be much bleaker. at least the illusion of the rule of law provides hope that one day the party will be compelled to live up to its own laws. what progress has been made in recent years - what freedoms and rights the chinese people now enjoy - has come only because individuals have demanded and fought for it, and because the party has retreated in the face of such pressure. the hope is therefore essential to securing even greater freedom in china. and for that hope i am thankful.

i seem to be having a number of conversations about china's future lately. what else is there to talk about, really? ; ). i am always surprised at how easily outsiders are willing to overlook or throw a shiny gloss on the situation here. how there's a subtle cringe that certain people make when i call this country's government what it is: authoritarian. i understand china is seen as the land of incredible, limitless economic opportunity. (and the corporate authoritarian government wants you to see her that way.) but are the opportunities credible without rule of law? and is market access worth wearing blinders for? i sometimes wonder why it seems that the world coddles china and swallows the governments glossy images. she doesn't coddle us.

it is an interesting time to be back here. i am curious to see whether the charade will ever unravel and am intrigued to see how such events it will unfold. in the meanwhile, we beat on, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

team america: -1

the nobel peace prize committee acknowledged even as it announced obama as this year's shocking upset recipient, that it was aspirational award. it was an expression of hope (desperation?), a fervent wish that he will be the change we want to see in the world. (incidentally, gandhi, whose words i am borrowing here and who basically cornered the market in living your principles, never received the peace prize.) i wonder if when they were deciding to award him the prize, the committee members had lofty aspirations for obama's engagement with china on human rights. that might have helped convince them to overlook the chinese human rights activists being considered for the award, the choice of whom this year would have sent a powerful message to china as it celebrated 60 years of CCP suppression. i wonder if those lofty aspirations might have included a joint statement at the end of obama's visit in which "both sides recognized that the united states and china have differences on the issue of human rights". so much for human rights being universal. that's the best our world crusader for peace could do?!? yowza.

as his ever so stage-managed visit in china comes to a close, i find myself wondering whether the nobel peace prize committee has buyer's remorse. indeed, whether we all do. i confess i am deeply disappointed in the president's seeming acquiescence to all of the chinese concerns and his failure to stand up for the very principles - the universal nature of human rights, speaking truth to power, not compromising american principles of justice in the name of political or economic goals, a commitment to the rule of law, openness and candid dialogue, an end to politics as usual - that were the foundation of his campaign.

yet, some will say, obama faces unprecedented challenges and he just needs more time to actualize the above. in other words, the chinese own us. or at least the majority of our debt. so the united states is in a deeply compromised position.* is that sufficient justification to kowtow to both the form and the substance of the chinese arrangement of and priorities for this visit? i wonder what gandhi would say.

i only hope that things can improve from here. i would say it would be difficult for things to worsen, but i don't want to tempt fate. the title of this blog is a nod to the universality of the human condition and my failed attempt to express that idea to chinese university classmates. once upon a lifetime i spent a year at the training school for the chinese foreign service and so was immersed in political conversations about international affairs. one afternoon hanging out by the pingpong tables, i found myself making a pitch for the universal. i was arguing that we are all more alike than we are different, regardless of nationality or race or religion. “we’re all red on the inside,” i explained to blank stares. this image entirely failed. i was talking about blood and trying to speak poetically about our common humanity. my classmates thought that i was talking about communism. team universal: 0. team china: 1. i gave up then and went back to watching the pingpong. i feel as though obama is doing the same now. unfortunately, there's a lot more at stake.


*leaving aside for now the human rights issues that continue to dog us at home which further compromise america's discussion of human rights abroad. perhaps most distressing are those related to the so-called war on terror: guantanamo, extraordinary rendition, the shameful ruling last week undermining our own rule of law and denying maher arar due process: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/03/nyregion/03arar-web.html?scp=2&sq=maher%20arar&st=cse

rule of law is not market access

once upon a time there was the leader of a large american business association in beijing that was dedicated to expanding opportunities for and representing US corporate interests in china. in a cleverly opportunistic ploy timed to coincide with an impending visit by the US president, said leader wrote an op-ed piece in a major american newspaper using talk of the rule of law / legal developments in china in a thinly veiled effort to further to promote US corporate interests. his conflating of the rule of law and market access for / the economic interests of US corporates was infuriating to one humble human rights lawyer in beijing because it belittles and cheapens the concept of the rule of law and also the reasons that rule of law promotion is part of US foreign policy and should be something that the president raises on his trip. in a curious twist of fate, this lawyer was slated to give a lunch-time presentation at this large business association on the very day that she spent her morning commute fuming over this piece. happily ever after.

big surprise - the lawyer is me and the op-ed was by the president of amcham and it was published in the nytimes. ahem: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/11/opinion/11iht-edwatkins.html?partner=rssnyt&emc=rss (oh and i am speaking an at amcham event during lunch today. a program by the women's professional committee on 'women in legal affairs'. i am the public interest pony.)

what troubles me so much about this piece is that he twists around ideas about the rule of law to suit commercial purposes. the issue of chinese lawyers practicing at foreign firms is not a rule of law issue, but a market access issue. it is not something that is of concern to chinese lawyers (who can now receive comparable salaries and do comparable work at chinese firms) as it is to american law firms wanting to expand the scope of their practice in china. it also has nothing to do with the integrity of the chinese legal system. i acknowledge that there are significant economic rule of law issues to be addressed in china and that mr. watkins represents the business community. however, by focusing only on the commercial, he misrepresents the concept of the rule of law and the reasons why its promotion is a significant portion of US foreign policy. to ignore entirely the human rights and civil liberities issues that are central to rule of law work, while trying to stretch the concept to cover US corporate interests, is insulting. rule of law promotion can be an effective long-term antidote to poverty, conflict, endemic corruption, and disregard for human rights. these are all things that i believe amcham's members have an interest in, even if only because of the potential to improve their bottom line. perhaps i am too sensitive or too much of a rule of law purist, but i was offended by his article. would be curious to see what others think.

interestingly, i had dinner last night with two of china's leading environmentalist and a foundation person from HK who has been supporting work on water issues in china and is launching a new project aimed at investors. she was in town to participate in two programs on socially responsible investment and wanted to speak with us about supporting this new project. the goal (simply expressed) is to influence they way investors approach china and getting involved in companies or initatives that impact the water sector. we had a very interesting conversation. between that and reading the amcham op-ed this morning, i am struck anew at the need to get the business community onboard with a vision for a sustainable future. of course that will never happen until it becomes profitable. so, dear readers, how do we make that happen? and how do we make it happen before its too late? of course, there is growing momentum towards the development of 'green' industries and socially responsible investing. but that is still the fringe and a feel-good movement at the periphery, rather than the core, of commerce and investing. (i think partially because of the way flows of financial information are controlled.) if a sustainable approach could be mainstreamed, oh what a wonderful world.

and with that, i ought to go consider what i will say at this lunch event. i am still fighting off a lingering sickness (the second round of snow didn't help) and am realizing that i am ill much more here than i was before i moved to beijing. i am wondering if the pollution has an impact. it must. i will try not to snozzle too much while speaking.

on suppression and short shorts

so, clearly my post-a-day plan crumbled. i could blame the firewall or my frequent travels to second tier cities to ganbei (do shots of) mediocre hongjiu (red wine) with local partners. i could bemoan my frustrating lack of email access on a few critical occasions (june 4 / 20th anniversary of the tiananmen massacre) just after writing amazing, insightful collections of thoughts that i am unable to share. i could claim that i have been too caught up in life - pushing forward the frontiers of the rule of law (update: still no independent judiciary in china), keeping track of little trouble (takes more time than you'd think), and searching for new and interesting ways to consume red bean (latest obsession: red bean and yogurt popsicles). instead, i will not attempt to make excuses. in fact, these months of silence are liberating in a sense. i can now safely assuming that anyone who was attempting to read my musings has given up so i can write with the comfort of anonymity, knowing that i am just writing for myself. which is what i sat down to do today.

i determined that it's time for reflection in light of my recent birthday and all that has been happening in this land of late. birthdays always make me thoughtful. so does the imprisonment of human rights lawyers. and pollution. and bad haircuts. i am wearing my “inspi(red)” t-shirt at the moment, perhaps to make up for the uninspiring weather. it's as though a pall has descended on or been draped over the city for the last few weeks. the sky and air are grey, and it is oppressively hot. it’s perhaps appropriate; were i to pick a word to describe the essence of beijing this august it would be ‘suppression’. maybe that’s the name of paint colour of the beijing sky were it to be tinned: ‘suppression: beijing grey’ – looks great in bathrooms!

the suppression has been disheartening and weighing heavily on me (not unlike the polluted haze that you cannot escape breathing). i sometimes wish that i could not let it get to me, that i could not get tangled up in it emotionally. but i have come to accept that, even as i am every seeking to quiet my mind and cultivate the inner tranquility which transcends outer experience, feeling deeply is simply part of who i am. i feel the suppression of which i speak – the assault on gong meng / the open constitution initiative, a Chinese legal NGO doing public interest advocacy entirely within the bounds of the law, and the detaining of xu zhiyong, its founder, and zhuang lu, its sweet young financial manger; the announcement by the MOJ that all law firms will have a party liaison to monitor their work; the reminder from above that the role of lawyers is to serve the party leadership; and the continued and increasingly widespread control of the internet – in the same way that i feel this oppressive, pollute heat. it is all around and only seems to be getting worse. more disturbing shades of grey, hotter, and more quietly tolerated as simply the way things are.

sadly, it seems that the prevailing idea in the international rule of law community over the last few months – that this is just a sensitive time – may be misguided, a collective willing illusion perhaps. this suppression, and the party’s seeing lawyers as a threat to their power, seems here to stay. not something that is likely to abate after national day and the 60th anniversary festivities have concluded. i’m afraid this particular shade of control won’t wash away after a rainstorm like the polluted air. and i fear for what this means, not only for china, but the world. china’s power and size cannot be underestimated. astute point that, i know, but i think it needs to be said over and over again. especially when so many – individuals, artists, economies, nations, corporations, NGOs, journalists – are willing to self-censor and resist speaking truth to power in order to gain access to china. but is market access / relationship building / the capacity to do programming in the people’s republic worth it? it’s something i struggle with.

one positive aspect of this increasingly grey backdrop to my life is that it compliments my miserable new hair colour. long story short: (1 attempt to get subtle highlights before my sisters wedding + 1 inexperienced stylist who had never touched blonde hair before = madonna meets jessica rabbit strawberry bottle blonde nightmare) x (1 senior stylist who insisted he could “fix it” + 4 more hours of torture involving various shades of purple) = a head full of deep purple / brown hair best described as “ripe plum”. with time, that shade has faded to a reddish brown (goes great with suppression!). and most of my hair has now been chopped off. (as the (new) stylist who cut it said, my hair was “huai le” or broken, so had to go.) not exactly the look i was going for as i properly enter and embrace my 30s, but a good lesson in what really matters in life (spirit, love) and what doesn’t (hair, superficial form).

a word on being “in my 30s”. i am now 31. on my birthday, i sat down to compose a list for myself of 31 thoughts on being 31. (i have recently also accepted that i love lists. unfortunately only lists of impractical things – dreams, ideas, places to visit, interesting meditations or quotes, interesting words, plays i will produce one day in my political theatre, names for my future children, names for my current imaginary pets, images i want to use in somewhere in a piece of writing some day, pros and cons. lists of practical things – groceries, errands, things i need for the flat, things to pick up when i am back in north america to bring back – have no interest to me and i can never, or at least rarely bring myself to make them. instead, i make grocery lists in my head and invariably cannot find them when i am at the market. standing lost amid the spices, however, i could easily rummage around in my bag and pull out a list of 30 things to do in my 30s i made on my last birthday that is still in my diary. this is a deeply flawed system.) when i decided to list 31 thoughts on being 31, i didn’t get very far. it felt too monumental a task. i was turning all metaphysical, hippie-zen-slumber-party-theology on myself and thinking of thoughts like “there is only love” and somehow i couldn’t have that as thought number 2. thought number 1 was easy: “it might be time to stop wearing short shorts”. to avoid swimming through pools of my own existential and spiritual angst, questioning, joy, and overthinking, i decided to stop the list there. so my deep thought on turning 31 is that it might be time to stop wearing short-shorts. operative word in that sentence being “might”.

in all seriousness, i am trying not to take this birthday – and the attendant social pressures that seem to come with it – too seriously. but it has not always been easy. especially with all my brooding on and breathing in various shades of grey lately, i have found myself questioning what i am doing and where i am going – in so many senses – in a more urgent way than i did a few short weeks ago when i was a sweet, young, wisp of a girl. there’s something more substantial about being 31. time to be wholly yourself, unapologetically, and give deeply, love unconditionally, and not compromise. though i suppose we ought to do that at any age. always.