Okay FINE! Pull my arm! I’ll admit it!!! I’m HEINOUS at keeping up with things, namely this newsletter. But to be fair, you guys don’t pay me to be consistent. You actually don’t pay me at all. Greedy jerks.
But I really do want to keep writing, so here is yet another attempt to get back on the Substack wagon. I also ran 1.8 miles yesterday and got a hot stone massage last week, so you could say Spring is my time of girlboss-ery and reinvent-ery. I’m starting myself off easy this week because the gears are quite rusty. Some life updates for you, some literary WD-40 for me, if you’re still here <3
March has always been my least favorite month. School wise, it’s historically meant an exhausting stretch with no built in holidays and nary the hope of a winter snow day. Weather wise, it’s always f*cking squishy.
Here in Hanoi, in the first March of my budding “adulthood”, last month can only be described as utter chaos. I almost long for one of those dull, sluggish months of yesteryear. But simultaneously, I am entering April feeling quite happy and increasingly at peace with the life I’m settling into. So what the hellz been up?
The Good
Let’s just get the elephant in the room out of the way -- yes, I have become a jock in 2022. It wasn’t what I set out to do, but sometimes the team just needs you.
I mentioned a few months ago that I joined a Gaelic Football team here, and since then it has become a creepily central part of my life. It turns out that Irish people have a habit of finding each other abroad and being very…. Irish about it. By this I mean they play their sports that nobody has ever heard of, they drink their Guinness, and they sing their little songs. And now I do too. In the past couple of months I scored my first point (different from a goal, less impressive), bought a pair of cleats, and traveled to Saigon for a sportz tournament. Bizarre.
Bizarre but at the same time wonderful. I always anticipated that these kinds of teams and hobbies would fall by the wayside after finishing school, and I feel quite lucky every time I get to say something stupid like “We’ll go for beers after the pitch”.
Speaking of hobbies (HOBBIESSS<3), boy has your girl taken on too many of them. While Thursday is for training and Friday is for kissing (anyone and everyone), Wednesday and Saturday have become for dance class. A real Troy Bolton dynamic if you ask me.
A few months ago, my wonderful neighbor Daniela asked if I wanted to tag along to a dance class she was teaching the next morning. And thus began the beautiful and bumbling renaissance of my dance career. Now, Ellie and I are full fledged members of the studio. We both take a Latin Jazz course and I take the Burlesque course, meaning every Saturday I drag myself out of bed to recap the night before with a bunch o’ girls in fishnets.
Every six weeks, the entire studio rents out a space, coordinates costumes, drinks red wine, and performs our dances for each other. It’s the single girliest thing I have ever and will ever take part in and I. LOVE. IT. I feel so absurdly, shamelessly one of the #ladies and as much as I want to make fun of it, I’ll admit that I also feel a level of sincerity about it. This brand of girliness became cringe and somewhat problematic long ago, but it can also be so warm to feel like a little clucking hen at times. The duality of woman.
The Bad
Another really cute thing I did in March is get COVID! And promptly give COVID to Ellie. I won’t bore you with the dirty details, I think we all know how it be. The best part was the naps and the worst part was the puzzle we did. It all looked like this:
Last month was also colored by some unfortunate bouts of friend drama, both out here and back home. With every year older I always think THIS is the year that friendship becomes simple. And I’m literally never right and I’m not sure I ever will be. Maybe, no matter how old we get, we’ll always have our little feelings and our sensitivities and our capacities for harshness.
My new thesis is that hopefully as you age you just get better at communicating your feelings and finding empathy. We’re all slowly going to become perfect sexy chatty empaths (??), but for now it’s hurt, be hurt, and reconcile. And that’s okay too, as a little practice in apologizing never hurt anyone.
And of course conflict, even at it’s most ridiculous or most painful, yields some wonderful comedy. For instance:
Some tension in my group here came to a head many drinks in on a friend’s birthday last month, bringing out nastiness in all of us. The kind of thing where you wake up the next morning in a daze of disbelief. The following day there were some much needed chats (a long time coming), but nevertheless irreparable damage to relationships.
That same day was ALSO supposed to be a joint birthday party between said friend and Ellie, the theme of which was obviously going to be “Pink”. Nobody even had to cancel the party to know it wasn’t going to happen. But the cake, pre-ordered in happier times, was delivered anyway.
And the Moldy
Every Spring in Hanoi, the temperature warms but winter’s humidity hangs around, creating the optimal climate for… mildew and rot <3. We lovingly refer to it as Moldy March and it is the worst.
The walls mold anywhere that even gets the slightest bit damp, bananas rot within a day, and beloved craft projects change color and sprout fuzz. One morning I flipped my pillow expecting the comfort of the cold side, only to be greeted by black splotches. I soaked half my closet in vinegar. The vinegar molded too.
Unrelated to the climate and entirely related to my own nonsensical decision making, I also spent the month of March rotting my insides. Specifically, my liver, lungs, and brain by way of cigarettes and alcohol. Vietnam lifted all COVID ~nightlife~ restrictions right after I got out of quarantine and I did not act cool about it.
I’m flip floppy on how I feel about the amount of partying I’ve been doing this year. On the one hand, it’s bad for my health, my thoughts, my finances, and my work ethic. On the other hand, it’s super fun. Perhaps more on this one day. In the meantime, if anyone has any brilliant hangover cures, kindly comment below.
Here: a picture of me tumbling off my bike at 3:00 a.m. but still gripping a sports trophy that I did not win. My better judgement tells me this shouldn’t be on the internet (goodbye potential of being the first lady president), but I find honesty to be so important in journalism.
The bullet points:
My latest read has been George Saunders’ A Swim in a Pond in the Rain. He’s a smart guy and this book is basically a load of cheap advice on writing and life? I highly recommend it for my fellow baby writers out there.
Last night I had a particularly excruciating Boy Talk with the fellow I’ve been ~seeing~. After 30 awkward minutes and 0 conclusions, we gave up and decided to do one of those Spotify blend things that makes a playlist for you based on your mutual taste. It told us that we have 55% compatibility.
My parents are coming to Hanoi in a few weeks!! Awwwww
What is something (ANYTHING!!!) that happened to you in the month of March?
Love you honey bunches-
Ryley
sophie and I kicked off march with a horror movie birthday extravaganza. she was carrie, I was jennifer check, we wore prom dresses covered in blood. other highlights included tony and alex dressing up as the shining twins, our very tall friend ben becoming the babadook, and the whole thing ending in karaoke. what a cruel trick we've never been able to attend a themed party together!!! I think the world would explode