One magical (surprisingly quiet) summer night, my friends and I were walking between bars in Williamsburg when I heard a familiar tune.

Tender love is blind, it requires a dedication…

Across the street, headed in the opposite direction, a man was singing, loud enough to emote but not so loud he was performing. As far as he knew, there was no one else around.

All this love we feel needs no conversation…

I sang and danced along with him but just loud enough for my friends to hear– so I thought.

We ride it together ah ah, making love to each other ah ah…

He hears me. He sees me. The connection ignites! And just as we reach our respective corners we belt…

Islands in the Stream. That is what we are. No one in between how can we be wrong? Sail away with me to another world. And we can rely on each other ah ah. From one lover to another ah ah…

We continued walking our separate paths, grooving and humming along to the interlude.

When I think about that night, I remember myself having perfect pitch. And yet, every time I try to do a reprise at karaoke, something’s not quite right…

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I last posted about my summer at career services and the “grad school” booth I was coerced into hosting at the career fair. Quick recap: I flipped the switch and made it the “Ask a Philosopher” table. (A joke only my cohost and I seemed to be in on.) During the fair, we discovered that when people ask, does everything happen for a reason?, what they are really asking is, whether everything that happens is meant to happen to fulfill our destiny?

We threw it back to them as,

If you knew there was a predetermined meaning to your life, a destiny, a purpose you’re meant to fulfill, how would it change the way you live?

They then thanked us and walked away, many appearing uneasy. We certainly didn’t rep grad school, but we did cause a few existential crises.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

That’s really what we’re supposed to be out here doing anyway. F the ivory tower. Philosophy has a more important calling, and that, we answered!

We did tell them there was another way of thinking about the question. If we have a destiny, then we only appear to be in control of our lives. Our choices don’t really matter. What will be shall be.

The thing is, people who believe in destiny like to be pretty specific about who’s calling the shots.

It’s God’s plan. The Universe wills it. It’s written in the stars.

I’ve never heard any of these “greater forces” referred to in a poor light. They’re all assumed to be acting in our best interest in the end, even if tragedy after tragedy seems to suggest they could be evil or indifferent.

I mean, what if it’s the Old Testament God running the show?1 What’s worse than wildfires, floods, and fascism? War, the Corona Virus, and Judgment Day?

What happens to sinning, repenting, and judgment if–like they told me in Sunday school–God knows everything you’re going to do before you do it. Does this mean I’ve already been judged?

It’s bad enough my dog Gus judges me. Old-Testament God? I can’t imagine what he has in store. Fuxxed.

A bonus to this belief however is you could blame every mistake you make on God.

Hey, uh, I wrecked your car, but of course it’s not my fault. God willed it. Mysterious ways, you know?

One dicey result of believing things were meant to be is that at some (arbitrary) point you could decide to take your hands off the wheel. Any obstacle or challenge could be taken as a sign to give up or change course because “it wasn’t meant to be”. If that’s the case, what happens to your goals, your relationships, and the other possibilities life has to offer?

Do you believe in destiny?

Comment below!

Since I wasn’t getting out of it, I threw myself into it. My idea was to showcase how we think in grad school. My friend/classmate agreed to join the experiment, the “Ask a Philosopher” table. What resulted was more performance art than promotion. And for the best. If we were actually asked about grad school, we’d likely dissuade more than persuade. Given most teaching positions have become adjunct and debt is rampant, there are better opportunities elsewhere. Truthfully, I didn’t think the assignment through.

But the booth was a hit! People circled ‘round to hear us philosophize. Mostly we were asked “the greatest hits”,

Does God exist? What’s the meaning of life? How do we know the world is real?

But by far, the most popular question was,

Does everything happen for a reason?

We dug in with exhilaration!

Philosophy 101: clarify terms, remove ambiguity

We asked, what do you mean by reason? We gave options. Reason could be the cause of an effect. An example of an immediate cause: I fell off my skateboard because I hit a rock. They couldn’t care less for this reason.

They were looking for meaning, specifically meaning-as-purpose. They wanted to know the events in their life were necessary steps toward fulfilling some destiny. Usually people ask this question in the face of disappointment or loss, not at hair-brained career fair booths.

I guess grad school does present opportunities!

Really though, it’s flattering that people think we’d know. And yet, putting philosophers in the company of religious figures, fortunetellers, and cult leaders, shows how little people know about what we do.

I assumed people would know they weren’t getting answers at the “Ask a Philosopher” table.

Further proof that no one gets my jokes.

Really though, aside from our biological purpose, no one can speak to there being a greater end. Human knowledge doesn’t stretch that far. Although that’s never stopped preachers, prophets, and psychics from getting money and esteem off their “insights”.

This left us philosophers with a few options:

A. Lie (which would’ve given me the opportunity to create a wondrous tale). B. Conduct a thought experiment about the implications of the existence or non-existence of fate. C. Throw their question back at them.

A. isn’t philosophy. B. was a rabbit hole leading to a nap. C. it had to be. So we asked,

If you knew there was a predetermined meaning to your life, a destiny, a purpose you’re meant to fulfill, how would it change the way you live?

They thanked us and walked away looking uneasy and confused. Luckily the Army was at the next booth. They had no shortage of answers.

Back to life, back to reality…

At the end of the fair, we thought it unlikely anyone would be going to grad school. We did our job, even if it wasn’t the one we were hired for.

We may not have been the heroes the career fair needed, but we’re the ones humanity deserves, even if we’re deluded for thinking that.

***

Question: If you knew there was a predetermined meaning to your life, a destiny, a purpose you’re meant to fulfill, how would it change the way you live?

Comment Below!!!

Having had heaps of therapy, I’ve determined not every disgruntlement warrants investigation. There’s more to life than contemplating mood swings ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I’ve also concluded that reflecting on unresolved issues is only half-the-hack to giving life a go. The other half is moving forward, or what I like to call creative living.

One method is self-care, which can be enjoyable: baths, a pedicure, bodywork, etc. Or not. Sometimes self-care means doing things you don’t want to do: get out of bed, the dishes, vacuum, etc.

I do the math: what I need in general and what I need now and what I can do in this moment.

For example, I really don’t like doing the dishes. I know full well however that every time I walk past a spread of dirty dishes, my mind repeats: I have to do the dishes. Every time, the dishes. More time = more dishes = increased dread.

One creative living hack I came up with is… to sing! Specifically I sing one of two Bob Dylan songs, and loudly. Tangled Up in Blue gets me through about 5 minutes of dish-washing. The other is my favorite Dylan song, Brownsville Girl. It’s an obscure ballad from a lesser known album, Knock Out Loaded. It’s a whopping 11+ minutes. Believe it or not, sometimes I have to start over ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway, one day my sh*t mood led me to make an appointment with bodywork (and general) genius Jon Musgrave. I found out about Jon 15 years or so ago when unintentionally eavesdropping on a Law & Order actor at the gym. He’s been a vital asset to my mental health and deserves his own 5k-word essay, which I’ve already written in a yelp review:)

Back to my sh~t mood.

I begrudgingly boarded the L on my way to my appointment. Then scowled and pouted from Brooklyn to the city. After which I shuffle-stomped up from the platform to the station. At the exit, I saw a young woman standing at the bottom of the stairs, baby in arms, empty stroller at her feet.

At first, I was annoyed that she was blocking the way, but quickly clocked the familiar equation: mom + baby + stroller ÷ stairs = help

I can’t even fake a smile as we make eye contact. I point to the stroller, then to the top of the stairs, and she nods in relief. I carry the stroller up the stairs and wait for her to meet me at the top.

Let’s be clear: I’m no hero. I’d be shocked if there was a NYer reading this that hasn’t done the math and helped out. I bet some of us have unique stories too. (Comment!)

I held the stroller while she put the little one in. She nodded repeatedly in gratitude. I gave a nod and a slight smile, a silent, you’re welcome and I walked away.

It wasn’t until two blocks later that I realized that smile was still on my face. More importantly my sh~t mood had vanished.

What I learned that day about living creatively is:

sometimes self-care means caring for others.

The massage was a bonus;)

P.S. I posted a follow-up story to NEWSFLASH: Someone Stole Trash! Check it out on my website jkbutseriously.substack.com

Despite how thorough I was at shaming all aggressors, except the police who deserved much more heat (pun intended)), it’s actually far out of my character to shame people because humans make mistakes.

The thing here though is that this was a bunch of people, making multiple mistakes, and poor judgment calls. It was a chain reaction of misplaced outrage, poor investigative journalism, and a cherry-picking of evidence that cost people their privacy, safety, and reputation.

The fact that this whole incident was ever even a thing is straight up baffling.

The other side: After publishing my story, I was contacted by the stooper, who agreed to talk about the incident.

The stooper is an interior designer living in Brooklyn. She was headed home after working late when she spotted a number of rugs that to everyone on reddit, IG, TikTok, et. al. were seemingly up for grabs. Except the owner of Chyelle, investigative journalist Kelly Kennedy at News12bk, the police, and other news outlets claimed it was.

The stooper had no idea she would be accused of “committing a crime”. I previously pointed out that in the footage she made no effort to conceal her identity or actions. What I didn’t know is that she took several trips to collect the rugs. That’s right,

she returned to the scene of the “crime” multiple times

In the footage you can see she was taking her own video. Yes, like most professional thieves, she documented her crime [eye roll]. As one reddit user suspected, she was taking a video to ask someone if they were interested in the rugs.

She was willing to share her video [shortened for brevity]:

Asking a client if they want rugs from the street is due diligence considering they were soaking wet and within access of dogs. The latter being especially important because, well,

if you know anything about dogs peeing on trash, then you know where one goes, many will follow.

She was relieved to find the rugs were not peed on. The cleaning process was still very intensive.

Let’s say for a moment we ignore the self-incriminating video, the un-concealed identity, and the dog piss. Instead, let’s focus on the investigation.

It’s surprising how simultaneously poor and thorough both the journalist and the police were in their work. Assuming the evidence that this was a criminal act was the video from the owner of Chyelle, Chyelle Milgrom, and her claim the rugs were put out on her balcony to dry. The police took her footage, which News12bk then publicized.

What about the cameras facing the store though? As the stooper’s video shows, several are rolled up and on the sidewalk.

Here are some hypotheticals followed by potential lines of reasoning. Scenario A) The police and the journalist did not check the footage facing Chyelle. Scenario B) The police and the journalist checked the footage facing Chyelle.

Scenario A would mean neither the police nor the journalist collected other evidence and on Milgrom’s word, determined this was a crime.

If Scenario B is the case and they both looked at footage facing the store, they would see the rugs rolled up on the ground and would have to believe rugs dry rolled up lol.

The other option to Scenario B is that the footage was intentionally concealed for the police report, which is a necessary step to filing an insurance claim. Then the footage was collected for outrage-driven click-bait journalism and/or the police saw an easy win.

Hypothetically ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Whether Scenario A or B is true, the police did take surveillance footage from angle to angle following the stooper from Chyelle to where she stored them.

By the time the police contacted the stooper and Kennedy at News12bk blasted her, she had already dried and steam cleaned the rugs. Then, by the time the story was picked up by CBS etc., there was an eruption of backlash on IG, reddit, TikTok, etc.

Since, according to Kennedy, Milgrom “only want[ed] her rugs back”, the police instructed the stooper to bring the rugs to the station by 8am the following morning. Aware of the poor press she was getting,

Milgrom posted a story on IG claiming the rugs were returned and no arrest was made, which wasn’t true.

At 8am the stooper promptly turned the rugs over to the police who arrested her. She was held for 7 hours.

She said the police were polite at first, but when the public started pointing out the injustice of the situation, that changed. On multiple occasions, she was refused the right to use the restroom.

The following day, the stooper went to Chyelle and asked Milgrom to correct the story and let people know: an arrest was made. Milgrom posted “that she didn’t want anyone arrested”.

As Kennedy reported, “all [Milgrom] wanted” was her rugs back.

And they were returned, clean and dry.

Here’s where I stand: The victim here is the “thief” who has been blasted all over the news, and honestly, should sue every moron involved for libel.

They did nothing wrong.

This is evident not only by the actual details of the situation but also because every single comment on the instagram story and reddit thread, points out that:

calling this “theft” was a grievous error in judgment.

Before pointing out exactly why everyone involved in this story, except for the “thief”, is an absolute moron, I’ll give those not privy to the situation some context.

Context A: There’s a phenomenon in NYC called stooping. Let this yahoo article explain it.

My friends and I are constantly sending each other pics of things we find and think the other might need. Half the furniture in my friends’ houses came from the street, or came from facebook marketplace where someone else found the item on the street.

Throughout this article I will show pictures of street finds that currently reside in my and my friends’ apartments. Like this lovely dining set my friend found off the Jefferson stop:

Context B: The other day @kellykennedytv and @news12bk published a segment about someone who stole trash.

Here’s what went wrong: Chyelle Milgrom, the owner of the vintage boutique in Bushwick, named Chyelle, called the police and filed a report that her rugs had been stolen….from outside her store. The police took this “theft” seriously and began an investigation. Then Kelly Kennedy at News 12 BK sought to capitalize on the outrage that someone could steal rugs…left outside on the sidewalk.

All of the offended parties should have reasoned:

this was not theft.

Let’s break down the story to show just how idiotic these judgement calls were…

Milgrom, via Kennedy, claims she, “had no choice but to hang six of her vintage rugs out on her balcony to dry”.

1. That’s not a balcony. She put the rugs on the street.

2. Oh, they were drying? Rugs don’t dry rolled up. Anyone who has ever owned a rug knows that and someone who owns a furniture store should definitely know that.

***Even I know that! I had a leak in my apartment last week that drenched one of my rugs. Did I put it outside? No, because I wasn’t throwing it away. It’s currently draped over a chair inside my apartment with a fan on it. And guess how much my rug cost? $40 on facebook marketplace.***

3. Have you ever heard of stooping?

   It’s a well established practice in NYC. Some people even make their living off of it. If you don’t like it, or if you’re trying to get money from your insurance company, don’t criminalize the person who didn’t realize that there was a moron putting 4K worth of rolled up rugs on the street to dry.

   

4. What about the neighborhood where 4k worth of rugs were rolled up and left to dry on the street?

   I’m guessing in the only 8 mos. since the store has been open, Milgrom knows little about the neighborhood. There’s four homeless shelters within a 3 block radius of the store on 199 Cook. Many homeless people choose not to go to their shelter by curfew and end up kicking it on the street. If the rugs weren’t taken by someone stooping 2 hours after close, they’d have been taken as a mat for sleeping. If they were, would the police even bother?

5. For comparison, there’s a guy that’s been coming inside my building to steal our packages. Our landlord and several tenants have filed police reports. We have pictures of the thief–who wears a hat and hoodie–put up all over the building.

   I’d like to know when News 12 BK and the Police will be on the scene of this actual crime.

   

6. Finally, you know, dogs pee on trash. When you put things outside on the street, expect them to be peed on in due time.

If this case came before me as a judge, I would throw my hands up and scoff at the justice system. I’d also suggest the poor “thief”, who has had their identity publicly displayed and damaged in a news story, sue Chyelle Milgrom and News 12 BK for libel.

I write with passion about this situation because:

1) the outrage over someone’s trash being taken by someone other than sanitation is such a waste (pun intended) of publicity and police resources.

And

2) they identified and criminalized an innocent person, which could have just as easily been me considering the photo below contains a lamp, monitor, tablecloth, and bins, all of which I got from the street.

ARREST ME!!!

Oh and my friend wanted to share a video of the bookshelf they got in Carroll Gardens

Truthfully, I was clued into the above before I arrived in NYC. And since I didn’t come here to steal the show, how I was presenting didn’t matter too much to me. I didn’t own contacts, my glasses covered most of my face, and my hair was usually unbrushed with a dread or two forming at the base of my head.

I was referred to as a hipster. And although I aggressively denied any affiliation with that kind, I did attend all their parties. LOL.

This give-no-f~s approach to superficial judgments took a 180 turn when I started dating. That’s when I realized people on the street, at bars, the grocery store, etc., are swipers. Choosing sweatpants over yoga pants could determine the direction their finger moved on the app.

Suddenly I was afraid to be seen carrying toilet paper.

If I forgot my tote I would internally apologize to the planet while asking for a plastic bag. This was futile at the bodega because their plastic bags are made for bacon, egg, and cheeses (BECs). Watching my bodega guy watch me try to cram a 4-pack of toilet paper rolls into the tiny plastic bag was the kind of shame I was willing to endure, because…

God forbid anyone thinks I s~t!

Luckily it didn’t take long for me to realize anxiety in this particular vein(vain) was silly. One of my NY-born-and-bred friends had to bring stool samples to his doctor. He took the subway. They were sealed for safety but did it cross his mind that people might smell him? It didn’t. And when I asked, his reply was, IDGAF.

Transplants who came here to work, or came for school and stayed to work, spend a lot of wasted energy caring about appearances when the work is all that really matters.

If other people care about what we’re doing, we’re on the right track. If we care about what other people think about us, we’ve derailed.

Furgeddabout the shit on your shoe. You’ve got places to be and people to see. JK! You’re going to need to get that off before your next appointment. Gotta draw the line somewhere. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

***

Anyone else out there give up on carrying about superficial embarrassments?

Anyone have suggestions on where to draw the line?

If you’re a recent transplant and have yet to cry publicly, give it time. And when that time comes, please, don’t hold back.

If you’ve lived in NYC awhile and haven’t cried in public, you’re probably not doing enough crying and should seek professional help. JK…but seriously, very seriously.

In the latter case, hitting the city streets might help. My friend leaves her apartment to cry because having other people see her sad makes her feel bad for herself, which turns on the faucet.

For confused surburbanites, context can help.

A. In NYC most of us commute by foot or public transit. Occasionally we may need to call a car. For better (given traffic and alternate side parking) or worse (not easily getting the f out of dodge or to Rockaway), most of us do not own cars that can shelter our tears.

B. As far as private places in public, it’s easier to come across a twenty dollar bill that accidentally fell out of someone’s pocket when they grabbed their chapstick than a public restroom. And even if you did find an accessible bathroom it won’t be more than a minute before someone jiggles the handle a second time.

Being sensitive and empathetic, yet also f~less, I’d lived here only 3 months before my first good street-cry. I remember it well…

I was walking home from The New School, where I had just started my grad program. My apt was a straight shot down 13th st. just past 2nd ave. I started crying when I hit Broadway (drama unintended). I don’t remember what I was crying about so it must not have been too important.

My tears were slow and steady, so no doubt some kind of recurring sadness that couldn’t be cured by an unbridled balling. Maybe it was loneliness. Maybe it was because reading Hegel is really hard.

When I reached 3rd ave my nose was stuffed, my eyes were puffy and red, and the right sleeve of my hoodie was damp. I didn’t have tissues ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

As I was waiting for the light to change, a large black SUV drove past uncharacteristically slow. In the backseat, peering through the open window, I saw Uma Thurman staring at me. Far from mirroring my sorrow, she was searching my face, as if clocking its contortions as observable traits for a character study.

I suppose some people might “pull themselves together” or “snap out of it”, but I had my priorities straight. I was steadfast in my gloom, unflinchingly so.

Anyway, when the opportunity to cry presents itself, let nothing stand in your way: not a crowded train not a taxi driver not a celebrity sighting.

Your duty to yourself is to overcome and sometimes the only way out is through tears.

Uma Thurman can watch all she wants.

When was your last good public cry??? Comment Below!

Although the ghoster cuts off communication, they do anything but disappear. Instead they become the center of an unsolved mystery, surrounded by a whirlwind of emotions like hurt, anger, spite, insecurity, shame, disillusionment and disheartenment (to name a lot but not all). The ghosted agonizes over what they did wrong and what was wrong with them, even going so far as to ask if they can be loved. In short, they question their worth.

What was it about being ignored that made them feel unworthy?

Why was their worth dependent on acknowledgement?

The answer to the intense feels and deep thoughts was in those questions.

The Reason

When we think about how we know we’re human we may be tempted to take a scientific approach. We could say that we have a certain sequence of DNA or the quality of consciousness. But that’s what we know about humans, which we haven’t known for long considering the origin of our species. In reality, we know we’re human because we’re seen by other humans.

This doesn’t mean that we’re treated humanely. That’s a whole other can of worms. And please don’t get me started on Descartes. Or do. Come at me bro lol ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It means being ghosted denies us

the recognition that lets us know we’re human.

Being treated as if we don’t exist by someone who once acknowledged our existence, our humaneness, has a sting to it that lingers. Suddenly we hold the worth of a rock. And yep, you guessed it, the invisibility of our very being makes us the damn ghost.

The Remedy

What we need in this instance is to turn to the humans that do see us. It helps to find comfort in friends and family or on #substack (heheh). Knowing other humans have experienced the same thoughts and feelings–even if in another context–reaffirms that having these thoughts and feelings is part of what makes us human.

And when it comes to ghosting, I found it helpful to remind friends that it’s not about them. These ghosters are strangers, and also, not ideal connections. If you need help relaying this information, you can use the scripts below;)

What to say to others after a Ghosting

1-3 dates:

They have no idea who you are and how wonderful of a person you are. They have a singular contextual glimpse of your personality. They know nothing of your character. This is not a personal assessment.

Squashed.

4-6 dates:

Oh, they suck. They barely got to know you. This is their loss.

Also, you dodged an f~n bullet. This is an indicator of their empathy and ability to deal with complex emotional situations and they failed the test.

Good riddance.

No lies.

Months: This damage is tough to undo because the temporal investment and deeper feelings are often measured against the “ticking clock” of aging, career advancing, and babymaking.

Still, perspective does a world of good:

F that M~F~N F~R. It’s a good thing you found out who they are now. The last thing you want is to get more serious with someone who doesn’t consider your feelings.

OMG imagine if you did get more involved? It’d be so awful if you had started adjusting your life and building a future with someone who gives zero f~s about hurting you.

Trust me, I know it doesn’t feel like this now, and ideally you would have never met this azzh^t, but things being what they are, this is the best outcome. What if you guys decided to get a pet, share a mortgage, or got pregnant? Holy Hell!

If none of this has been helpful, you can always try:

JK! But seriously.

The hurt of ghosting appears t…

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posting up

I’ll be posting every week…

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Philosophy 101: To look for an answer we have to understand the question.

Both “meaning” and “life” have multiple definitions:

Meaning:

In I <3 Huckabees Naomi Watts’ charact…

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At 8 years old, my faith went south. And I’m not talking about our move to Florida, though that is where this story unfolds. Our first year there we were …

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