If you need a reminder on what this is and why I’m saying things like “read if you like” on social media on a semi-regular basis, you can click right → here. Also if you’re reading this via email sorry it got too long for Gmail because of all of the pictures (you’ll see lol) and my inability to be concise so you’ll need to hit a “read more” link or view it some other way. My bad! Still lysm byeeeeee.
I Think About This A Lot: Martha Stewart On Social Media
There is a series in The Cut that is never far from my brain, which is ironic given its title and theme is “I Think About This A Lot.” I think about a lot of things, including that column, a lot. I remember on multiple occasions asking my ex what she was thinking about and having her respond with, “Nothing.” I’ve never related to anything less. There is always a stream of consciousness going off in my head, always an “x, y, and z” of different scenarios pinging away in my neural pathways, always a cacophony of thoughts demanding to be heard. Sometimes they’re heavy but other times they’re not so dark and depressing and filled with “wow everything is awful huh” levels of doom.
Which brings us here.
One of the things I could (and I suppose am) write a full ITATA on Ms. Martha Helen Stewart’s personal Instagram and just how painfully, deeply, unapologetically unaesthetic it is. For being the queen of the delicious dinner party and the dame of all-things-hospitality, the photos she posts are just truly the antithesis of both.
I mean look at this:
And this:Or this:
The awkward “from above but not quite” angles. The harsh and terrible lighting. The blurriness. The bizarre captions that accompany them all. You can’t look at those and tell me they don’t remind you of hostage photos you might see on a re-run of Criminal Minds. They’re AWFUL.
But it’s not just food pics that Martha executes so painfully. Pretty much nothing on this woman’s instagram (handle included! not the 48! she wasn’t even born that year!!!) is exempt.
Exhibit A:Martha?! What is this! Plz explain!! Why are you posting a random map about plant hardiness in the US to 2 million people? Why!!!
Exhibit B:While I do think “kerrigan dot joanne” (and it’s always the bitch with a cross unironically on her wall btw) is being a little unnecessarily harsh, I truly do not know what is going on here. The tape measurer, the blown out light, the spaces between “a” and “m” and within commas randomly within the sentences. It’s just mind boggling to me.
I suppose it’s mind boggling because for an 80-something woman it’s oddly, well, normal. Like…most celebrities—especially ones with a net worth of something near a half-billion—have such an intensely perfected and curated feed online. Their faces are always being hit just so by the light during golden hour, they probably have a food stylist at the ready for their morning bowls of overnight oats, everything is posted with purpose and almost a methodology to it. I shouldn’t say “almost.” The social manager in me knows it is. There’s absolutely nothing almost about it.
But Martha’s feed is entirely un-curated. It’s very, “oh yep MeeMaw posted her chicken lobster today and yep it does kind of have Saw vibes, bless her heart” …but in a way that can only be described as charming. She posts carousels that include warped crops of other people’s Facebook posts, strange closeups of her towels, and six of basically the same photo of her dog intermixed with tasteful thirst traps and truthfully? I am so into it. Can’t get enough. I hope she never stops.There’s absolutely an element of this where Martha has clearly lived so much life and acquired so much wealth and status she has reached a level of IDGAF that most of us will never know. But I find that DGAF when she also has indisputably more eyeballs on her than most of us will ever know to be, well, kind of aspirational. It’s the quintessential, polar opposite of thinking about something a lot. And if I think about anything a lot is is the fact that I am almost always thinking.
How does this look, how will this be received, does anyone else remember that essay where a girl said she was glad her friend died, can you really die from leftover rice, should I run for 40 minutes today or can I get the whole hour in, would a triple brie or humboldt fog look better on a cheeseboard, if a girl makes a cheeseboard for a party and doesn’t take a picture of it did it even happen, which windows are best to rant on TikTok in front of, which get the best light for those videos, who is getting served these videos, and how do they look, how are they going to be received, lather, rinse, repeat.
I poke fun and make my little one liners, but there is something about the freedom to just hit “post” with no care in the world I just love. In a world full of fixating on the curation of it all, Martha Stewart clearly cannot be bothered to overthink it. She posts what she wants when she wants to and then she goes about what is probably a lovely day, afternoon, meal, whatever it might be. That’s some goals behavior, if you ask me.
But who am I kidding she has always been goals for me.
Exhibit:Just A Little Nod To People I Have Pissed Off Online
I have talked about coming of age on the internet a lot. Ad nauseam, if you will. Perhaps too much, I would even dare to say! I am nothing if not self-aware! But I am going to talk about it some more because this is my Substack and I’ll be annoying if I want to. 🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶
One of the consequences of going viral or getting any sort of momentum online is you will inevitably piss at least someone off. And for whatever reason, people are very comfortable being absolute menaces when they’re even minorly annoyed on the good ol’ world wide web. See kerrigan.joanne going after Martha. It’s probably (definitely) because anonymity is a HELL of a drug, but it is sort of interesting how easily people allow themselves to get riled up by strangers on the internet.
Sometimes it’s more expected than others. I know the second I open my mouth to yap yet again about how I think Taylor Swift is a capitalist first and person second, a bunch of girls who have spent way too much money on the same iterations of the same album(s) and merch are gonna hope I fall face down into a pool. I know when I talk about how megachurches are cults I’m opening myself up to many Bible verses making their way towards me with the cross emoji. Back when Trump was still in office, I knew if I was vocal even in the slightest about how much splitting time between New York, Mar-a-lago, and D.C. cost tax payers, dudes with “Don’t Tread on Me” flags as their profile pictures would look for any excuse to call me a d*k*. Sometimes you can completely see the rage coming before a view has even been calculated.
But other times, it’s surprising. And oftentimes those surprising times are, frankly, pretty fucking funny.
The latest group of people I have even subtly annoyed online are White Women who love Olive Oil. Yes, truly. But more specifically, White Women who Love Graza Olive Oil. This is Hilaria Baldwin to me for many reasons, the first of which being I am also a White Women who Loves Graza Olive Oil. The second of which being, it is olive oil not world peace. The third of which being, who the fuck cares what I think about what you do in your own kitchen? I’m not calling you an idiot sandwich and even if I was, I cannot take your Drizzle away from you, Sadie!
Anyway I will keep this short because it is truly dumb even if it makes me giggle.
To all of the ladies who are upset that I said you shouldn’t use this to cook with because it is a different product than an actual cooking oil here is what I have to say to you:The brand agrees with me so stay mad! 👼🫒👼🫒👼🫒
I do not dream of labor, but this kind of sounds like the dream.
I’ve talked before about how much I love a long read. And today I read this essay by Mickie Meinhardt that moved me in many different ways.
In short (but seriously, you should read it in its entirety, it’s very good) Meinhardt writes about how losing her mom in 2020 unexpectedly challenged her to reevaluate the life she was living and ultimately pushed her to leave New York, move back to her small, hometown in Maryland and open a book/wine shop. It is not all “this happened and led me to the life of my dreams.” Meinhardt talks at length about how the only way it was possible to pursue this was because of her mom’s life insurance policy. Seeing this new chapter to actual fruition was only possible because she lost someone deeply important to her. The good came very much intertwined with the bad, even if the good looks a certain way when framed up nicely for a personal essay or Instagram.
The last four years have changed the way I look at hustle culture and money and success and ambition and work and (gestures) all of the above profoundly. I don’t care about becoming rich in the way I once did. I don’t need to be the most successful Barbie in the dream house to feel like I deserved to be invited to the party. Feeling accomplished at 30-something and post-pandemic feels wildly different to me than it used to at 20-something when my Cool Job™ was also a huuuge part of my personality.
These days I don’t have a “dream job” or a “dream moment” in which I’ll be awarded a coveted gold star and know I have absolutely “made it.” Instead the things that I dream about feel more tied to to the things that make me feel like a whole person, a loved person, a good friend, an involved community member, or simply part of something more. Part of something less tied to the amount of commas in my bank account and more tied to what I can do beyond that.
Now don’t get me wrong. To be all of those things, you have to have money. Ya can’t escape the capitalism even if it sounds idealistic!!! But being able to do those things, provide those things, *be* those things is the goal, not the money that it would take in order to do them. It’s not a chicken vs. egg situation, if that makes sense. The order of operations is very much not up for debate.
I think, at least for me, the reason why Meinhardt’s story (well, a part of it) sounds like “the dream” is because she was able to turn her job ie: the way she makes money into the doing, providing, and being ie: the way she is part of a bigger something. Does she make money and an income by providing this space to her community? Of course. But she provides the space to the community first and foremost.
There’s a very dumb little song (no offense to the singer/writer, I’m sure they’re very nice) going viral at the moment about “liking this little life.” And as cringe as it has become (that’s the internet for ya lol) that’s really the goal if you think about it. Accolades, bursting wallets, sprawling McMansions, the newest of new of all of the things aren’t the signs that you’re actually happy and “liking this little life.” They don’t answer whether or not you’re a living a life that feels content. That you’ve landed in a life that feels like one you’re proud to be at the center of.
One of the things I’ve been talking about a lot in therapy is surrendering to the idea that maybe the life I thought was going to land me in that idyllic, happy forever place might be nothing like what I thought it would be previously. It’s very hard to feel like you were solidly on your way towards something that made Little You feel safe and held and happy, only to find yourself at the start of a new laborious, slightly (or very) scary, unknown trail.
There’s not a doubt in my mind that opening up a speciality bookstore/wine shop after losing a parent in a seasonal, East Coast town with a population of less than 7,000 full-time residents during the pandemic was an extremely labor-intensive, terrifying trail. But it’s a trail that has an inarguably lovely, satisfying, special kind of ending. An “it was all worth it” kind of ending.
And that’s what we all really want, isn’t it? To feel it was all worth it? To know that we left something meaningful behind? To have reached the end of something hard and have something bigger and more impactful than us to show for it?
I dunno! That sounds like one helluva dream to me.Would You Rather…
Woof that was a little emotional! Let’s get back to the lols, shall we??!
There are few things I love more than committing to the bit. Which is why when I saw this TikTok, I knew my latest bit was born. 🫲🌈🫱Tiktok failed to load.
Enable 3rd party cookies or use another browserAnd I have made good on that promise to always commit to the bit by sending friends various “would you rather’s” at sporadic, random, inexplicable times on any given day. See below for an example:
I love a good conversation. I know—quite the breathtakingly, revolutionary statement there, Kendra. But there is something about finding yourself enveloped in an unexpectedly interesting back and forth that to me feels like my brain is getting a hot stone massage.
I may think that hating small talk is a sign of being boring (which is a thought I stand behind!!!) but that doesn’t mean I don’t think it’s possible to be a boring conversationalist. I think we should all be working towards being a person who can keep the convo flowing, who can find ways to entertain those across from us at the dinner table, who get genuine “wow, that’s a good question” musings from people who we’re curious about.
They might have started as a stupid little bit to continue being The Funny Girl, but these dumb little “would you rather’s” have proven to be a catalyst for sparking actually interesting conversations. They’ve unlocked thoughts, memories, stories, anecdotes, jokes, and endless “wtf why kendra?!!?” texts which make me lol. They’ve also led me into conversations about heartbreak, the patriarchy, internalized misogyny, or just why picking someone up from the airport is a love language. For a silly little bit, they’re really something.
I won’t give away all my secrets because a girl has to have something to keep close to the chest but here are a few that I’ve found spark really interesting responses. Because I think we should all be having better conversations in our various interactions in life. Enjoy and you’re welcome.
Would You Rather:
Always be just a little bit too cold—not freezing—when you’re sleeping and have no way to remedy the situation? No extra blankets, no adjusting a thermostat, no closing a window. You’re just resigned to being slightly shivering.
OR
Never be able to have a temperature in the shower that’s actually comfortable? It’ll aways be a little too cold or a little too hot. You can adjust to one or the other, but you will never find that baby bear level of just right between the two.
Would You Rather:
Be resigned to only sleeping on a pair (as in just two!) of 22-year-old boy pillows for the rest of your life? The kind of pillows that are probably 25 to 30+ years old, definitely hand-me-downs that should have been thrown out, are stained, flat, and can basically be rolled like a tortilla and that is all you get.
OR
Every time you go out the soda water where you’re at is flat? If you drink, this means all of your cocktails will be vodka (or whatever liquor) waters and you can’t order anything else. If you don’t drink it means your drinks will also be water, but with just the saddest, most pathetic whisper of lime or lemon and you cannot order anything else.
Would You Rather:
Get to spend one afternoon with the parent (or caregiver! insert whichever works best for your situation) who traumatized you the most but it’s a version of them who went to therapy, got help, and tried their best to break cycles? You will remember the afternoon and things will go back to “normal” at the end of it.
OR
Get to spend one full day seeing what life would have been like if you had stayed with the person who broke your heart the most? You will remember it after the fact but it will not alter the trajectory of your relationship in any way.And speaking of interesting conversations I will leave you with this because I wanted to keep this on the light side, as much as my emo Cancer moon fought for the other option:
If you ever find yourself in need of a great conversation starter, I highly recommend finding a food chart like this (there are DOZENS of different ones, I promise) and asking whoever you’re chatting with to pick their top three. You can allow one (1) honorable mention. I’ve sent several variations in the past and been told it was the moment that person fell head over heels for me, not to brag. It’s very fun and you deserve to have fun convos. No more boring convos 2024, okay?! Okay.
Oh and also the correct answer is:
Icelandic, Coney Dog (no mustard, idc), Seattle Dog. In that order ok bye. 🌭