November has come and gone, and the streets are alive with the sound of Kendrick. At the time of publication, we are a few hours short of when “GNX” was released, and it’s amazing how quickly it’s populated the airwaves. As someone who likes Kendrick Lamar’s music, it’s not the worst feeling in the world, even if this feels less like a heady “Mister Morale” joint and more of an excuse to have some fun. Everywhere you go, people are yelling “Mustard!” and hypothesizing whether this is a mixtape or an album. To be honest, I’m not educated enough on the differences but given that Doechii released a pretty fun “mixtape” a few months ago, I’ll take good music where I can. It may be a hot take to say neither of these are making me smile quite like Tyler the Creator’s “Chromakopia,” but that’s partially because I followed him since the Odd Future days and felt like I was onto something when I thought his theatricality was clever. I won’t tell you what to think, but I listened to “Goblin” recently and it’s a miracle that dude became a generational talent.
I don’t really know what can be said about November that hasn’t been rehashed to death. Despite not writing a whole heck of a lot on here, I still managed to churn out a post-election piece that covered my immediate feelings. While there’s some part of me that is instinctively cynical, I have forced myself to be optimistic in the hopes that it reciprocates positivity. I don’t reject the darkness, but I need something greater to emerge. Even on Election Night, I was experiencing a pseudo-dissociative state less because I was that shocked by the outcome, but because of how hyperbolic the response was. People I respected were fearing the end of their lives. Even rational minds insisted that Project 2025 would be so much the law of the land that every freedom would be immediately taken away. I say yes, it’s worth fighting for, but I have to believe we’re stronger in numbers. With that said, it’s hard not to feel like something was lost in the victory. Part of it was the self-esteem of getting to write “California in the White House,” but it’s also the revelation that The United States I want to believe in and the one others do isn’t the same. It’s less because of who won but the parties that be allowed it to happen without pushbacks. It makes you feel helpless to know power surpasses integrity now.
So yes, I have spent most of the past month seemingly getting daily updates from Pod Save America trying to do another hour on “what went wrong?” while I think the answer reeks of Groundhog Day logic. I’ll forgo further opinions other than it’s been obnoxious to deal with the aftermath. Despite the Democrats reflecting diplomacy in their concession, it has felt like this country is so broken that even a simple recognition of loss is met with tired misogyny and division. We’re at a point where a billionaire can threaten politicians with smear campaigns while TWO major social media websites are now operated by people involved with the administration. As a former journalism student, there is remorse regarding these patterns. AI threatens the form’s integrity. Even things like “dead internet theory” work as a perverse form of censorship. The long con of “fake news” is showing its true intentions, and I hate to think what can be lost when freedom of the press is fully removed. I get that this campaign was ran on alternative forms of media (as it always is), but it does feel like in the process traditional documentation is being negated to the point of going under. There’s a lot to worry about, but I think the risk of media literacy disappearing is the cornerstone.
The past few weeks validated a lot of concern I’ve had this year. It feels like we’re stepping away from something organic and humane. For as much as I don’t want to funnel myself into ceaseless nostalgia bait, I recognize what limited means of Wi-Fi meant even 20 years ago. It’s maybe why I loved Didi (2024) so much. There was this forced need to go out and engage with the world, and I don’t know that it’s there anymore. I am just as much to blame, but I do try to limit my phone use when in social situations. Even when I was eating by myself at In In Out, I did my best to just observe the room. There’s a lot of colorful personalities out there, and I think our human need to be observational is an underrated skill. The feeling of being cornered because you know a fact but can’t mentally retrieve it is a special kind of satisfying. To rely on didacticism is beautiful. It reminds you that you’re flawed and it’s okay to be wrong every now and then. We don’t need constant immediate gratification.
Maybe I’m thinking this way because I recently read Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World” and Philip Roth’s “American Pastoral.” Maybe it’s just that I’m getting old and this election has made me think about how a lot of these policies will define my entire 30s. I’ll be 39 by the next one, and by then it’s pretty much over. I’ll have spent 12 years under this new way of thinking, and I desperately want some new blood before I’ve totally lost my youth. I’ve never been one to romanticize the “age is just a number” pap, but I recognize that I’m responsible in part for some generational transition to younger family members. I need to believe their world will be better, but I can’t even assume next February is a cakewalk. As someone who was born in 1989, I’ve struggled to hold onto a fondness for the 90s just to know that it wasn’t always a Post-9/11 mentality. To me, knowing history is one of the best things we can do as a society. Trying to restrict it only worsens our collective consciousness.
I’m trying to move forward in this essay, but it’s difficult because there’s been a lot of time to think. On the one hand, I am grateful that most people I know online have lightened their stress just a smidge. Most have kiboshed Twitter in favor of Bluesky, and I’m hoping it doesn’t get tainted immediately. With that said, noticing how Elon Musk has mutated Twitter’s “too big to fail” policy into a personal challenge has been devastating. Again, it encapsulates most of my Post-Myspace years online and have connected me to a lot of formative relationships. To know it’s probably fading into a propaganda tool full of meaningless bots makes you question the permanence of anything. It can all be over just like that. Things will disappear and all that’s left is the digital version of your youth now inhabiting empty lots as modern teenagers struggle to find the coveted “third place” that won’t kick them out for loitering.
I just want to believe that next year could be an improvement. Culturally, we are supposed to continually evolve. That involves moving forward, and right now it feels like we’re stuck in a regression to the means narrative that feels lacking. On Election Day, I went to see the new Robert Zemeckis film Here (2024) and was moved. I think it’s a late-career masterpiece and the shot in the arm I needed to get through the night. It may be naïve and even fantastical among its flaws, but there is something beautiful about the America it represents. It’s the feeling that we can all live in the same area over centuries and be surprised by the small ways we are all connected. The central house inhabits so many pivotal moments in these characters’ intimate lives, and it encourages me to think more fondly of the mundanity in my own life.
Which is all to say that I realized what I needed after an election like this was to take some time to myself. I saw Milo Manheim in American Idiot down at The Mark Taper Theater, and it really spoke to this idea that we are stronger in numbers. Things may not always work out, but there will always be a community. The irony of walking by The Dorothy Chandler Pavillion on the way out was not lost on me as they were setting up for the Wicked (2024) premiere the next day (so much pink and green). Even then, it makes you realize that these problems aren’t new. We overcame them before and odds are we can again. Yes, many won’t be so fortunate but you have to hope for a better future. It’s maybe why I was swayed to buy All the Beauty and the Bloodshed (2022) during the recent Criterion Flash Sale. To me, it’s the biggest selling point of art as expression for greater purpose and preservation.
The fear of silencing LGBTQIA+ voices bothers me. To be pithy, I think their perspectives are often much more interesting and alive with innovation. When you’re always questioning your life, you are forced to find clever ways to project it. I think living in Los Angeles County has spoiled me into thinking there’s enough of a safety net to keep it from ever going away. Next door to The Mark Taper was The Ahmanson Theater where this past summer I saw A Strange Loop with a rainbow-clad audience that was along for the messy queerness on display. I was at The Greek listening to Ben Platt talk about his then-fiancé with supportive applause. I’ve recently listened to “Transa” (yes, all four hours’ worth) and was in an awe at how many trans/non-binary artists are out there. I want to believe that, again, there’s strength in numbers. For as much as there’s been blows from the uncompassionate, I want to believe love will win. The dreaded bathroom bills will be protested. The banned books will reach the masses. Voices will be heard. Changes will be made.
I don’t even know if that’s too optimistic anymore. Maybe everyone who was freaking out on November 5 were onto something. I have a friend in Texas who I think of regularly because she feels trapped in terrible rules. It’s helped me to recognize how Southern California isn’t necessarily the place change is needed most. Still, with the risk of everything falling apart, it’s hard to fully be removed from the conversation. I have spent a fair share of my time away from social media trying to appreciate the larger world. I’ve done my best to avoid toxic conversations. Even then, I feel like I wind up back here less with the optimism of updating my wardrobe for winter or how Anora (2024) reminded me that I generally don’t like Sean Baker movies. Instead, I am stuck thinking of November as “the month THAT happened” in part because it’s still happening. The administration is taking shape as we speak. How do you not have opinions?
But I need to recognize that a lot of other things have been going on in the world. I have gone a near 2,000 words without mentioning The Camarillo Fire that populated news stories for a good week less than 24 hours after Election Night. In general a wildfire triggers a panic state in me, but knowing that it went almost a day with 0% containment as hundreds of homes and thousands of acres burned is alarming. It would eventually become the third most destructive wildfire in a decade, and I do fear a lot of what makes California wonderful is disappearing along with it. With that said, I need to give firefighters credit for putting up the hard fight and making a difference.
There can be good in the world. I’ve seen it in my own state. For as much as I worry that the federal reserves won’t be there when a worse fire emerges, I have to believe there will be interference. Somebody will make a difference and persuade politicians to respect their constituents.
To start moving onto more positive stories, I want to mention something that has interested me greatly… volleyball! While it’s tragic that the season is at an end already, I am happy to have attended a few games for my beloved CSULB. We had a great team of players that I’ve watched turn things around. While I don’t know that we’re yet at a point where we rank among the best of the NCAA, there’s still a thrill in watching them among the Big West circles and seeing how they hold up against Hawaii or Cal Poly. I was fortunate to catch them a final time last week when they played C-Sun. While it also featured one of the worst sets I’ve seen live, it also was one last chance to appreciate what we have. Many are in the history books already and I’m sure will become local legends. With that said, it was a great senior night that really laid home the idea that community does make a difference in how much you enjoy something. As of this publication, Long Beach is still in the tournament for an NCAA bid. As you can guess, I hope they can eek out a victory just to mirror the men’s basketball team from earlier this year (though with much less controversial firing).
Speaking of men’s basketball… CSULB has introduced the new team along with a coach that has a decent pedigree to his resume. For as much as I’m too sentimental around the previous group that really put up good numbers, I want to be supportive and see them grow. Right now they are a *good* team, but nobody gels perfectly right out of the gate. Given that we’re still in preseason, the best that can be said is that they’re rough around the edges and have an idea of what will be great. If it can be reached by season’s end, then I’ll write that off as a success. The new team’s reputation is going to be rough for awhile just because of who came before, but I am already intrigued by the new faces. They are, at very least, good rebounders. Their shooting leaves something to be desired but, for a team that hasn’t played a month together yet, they aren’t that hopeless. Then again, I was keen on the idea that Fullerton’s volleyball team would win A FEW games while outdoing themselves with a fat goose egg. I could be completely wrong about this.
Part of me thinks that I have been a bit too dour in this month’s entry and haven’t really celebrated everything that matters to me. Did I mention that I saw Come From Away for the first time in six years? I forgot how much I love that show and think it’s one of the few I’d call essential theater. I’m also going to see Jason Alexander in Fiddler on the Roof later today, so wonder of wonder miracles of miracles to that. I’m also overdue to see Wicked, which I’ve seen great reviews for and was one of the first musicals I saw post-pandemic that made me remember why I loved seeing musicals with audiences. Also, Jon M. Chu is one of my favorite modern movie musical directors and hope this shares any enthusiasm that I’ve had for the underappreciated In the Heights (2019). Also, Ethel Cain is coming out with a new album in January called “Perverts.” Given how “Preacher’s Daughter” resonated with me, I’m hoping it’s another gem.
But for now, I’m going to conclude by talking about what this time of year is like for me. I’m writing this prior to Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. For as much as I’m aware that it’s heartless capitalism, there is something I’ve enjoyed about watching the parade and being taken in by the cheeriness and crowds. There’s always Broadway performances. With that said, I think it’s the equivalent to watching basketball all day on Christmas. It’s something to bond over and appreciate with those in my life. I’m not somebody who is sentimental about the cooking side of holidays. To me, it distracts from the greater potential of interactions and appreciating everyone’s company. To me, holidays aren’t about overworking. It's about the opposite. I’m sure it’s okay to do some noble gestures, but I hate how it’s often reduced to cooking food.
I suppose the parade is just something to reflect the seasonal changes. Beyond the advertising, it’s a chance to be optimistic and get caught up in the wonder. I’ve tried to appreciate everything from other people’s perspectives. For as hard as it is, it makes the day more meaningful. I want to believe they’ll have enough fondness to think of the day better than I do. To me, any day is a chance for hospitality and memories. The pressure to make one 24-hour period matter more than the others is ridiculous. Then again, I’m the type to see weather delays and airport cancellations and wonder why anyone sacrifices the headache. I’m from a family who has sometimes postponed the big celebration to January even to fit everyone’s schedules. Christmas is less a date than an idea.
I’m hoping the parade warms me up just a bit. For as much as I’m trying to prepare myself for a month straight of chintzy Christmas bops and existentialism around socially-mandated cheer, I recognize that it’s a special time of year. We may not all have the same traditions, but they’re reminders of how life has purpose. Like did you know I’ve watched The Green Knight (2021) every year around now? Unlike the tired Die Hard (1988) debate, I assure you it qualifies as a Christmas movie. I’m also thrilled to add The Holdovers (2023) to my post-Christmas playlist (I may even write a piece why I think it’s a better New Year’s Eve movie tonally). With that said, my winter music of choice is Emancipator’s “Soon It Will Be Cold Enough.” I’d argue it’s the perfect wintry record for those wanting to vibe out. If Spotify Wrapped was solely made by the past few weeks, I’m sure it would frequent a spot.
The end of the year brings out the reminiscing in me, so I assume I’ll be talking about my year in some capacity. I don’t think I will be doing a “big project” like I did last year, but I’m hoping to feel inspired and rediscover something that made the past 12 months worth cherishing. There’s been a lot that I’m proud of, but it’s only when I stop to think about it that everything falls into place. This hasn’t been a perfect year for me, but enough has gone right for me to think it wasn’t a total waste. What am I talking about? If I care, you’ll learn about it soon. For now, I end with encouragement for those who took November a bit too rough. Find community. Find your reason to live. It may not be as accepted by others, but it will make your time on Earth mean a little more. Happy holidays to whomever it concerns. Hope you enjoyed the parade.
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