By Vega Subramaniam
I am someone with many, many interests. Too many to list. Every once in awhile, I’ll run into someone just a bit older than I am who, when I ask about retirement, will say they’re not ready … Read More
By Vega Subramaniam
The other day, I was talking with Mala about some work I was doing, and I said, “it’s going pretty well, actually!” My immediate, split-second response to my own statement was, “I mean, there’s stuff that could be better. It’s still a work in progress.”
Why did I do that? Do you do that, too—immediately diminish a positive statement you make about yourself? But why? I mean, “it’s going pretty well” was not an inaccurate statement. It was already qualified by the word “pretty.” Would I say that to someone else? “You did that really well! I mean, obviously it could be better.” You know what: no, I don’t see me doing that.
What animates my compulsion to qualify positive statements I make about myself? I think it’s a sense that I need to ward off accusations of bragging, or that I’ll jinx it/draw the wrath of the Evil Eye. There’s this inner voice that somehow I will be punished for this by The Universe. I want to calm that voice with my retraction.
But is it necessary? Does it work? Read More
By Vega Subramaniam
I’m (in a perhaps losing battle with my attempt toward) writing a thing. It started off as a 2021 NaNoWriMo lark. And then, over the course of 2022, it took steadily greater importance in my mind and life. What it is, is: it’s a mystery novel. I started writing a mystery novel. I know, right?! I was pretty proud of myself. It required me to stretch. To call it a departure from my regularly scheduled programming wouldn’t do justice to how much of a departure it was.
So anyway, yeah. A mystery novel. I spent a decent amount of time on this project through much of 2022, all the way into the middle of summer…until I didn’t. Some time in the middle of summer, I just stopped.I stopped opening the file, I stopped reading other mysteries, I stopped obsessing in the shower about how I was going to get Cassandra to confront Mateo, I stopped all of it. And I don’t have to tell you how that goes. How the longer you avoid something, the more huge and impassable it becomes.
There’s a lesson here, though, a lesson I keep forgetting. And that lesson is that when I’m avoiding something that seems like it should be doable, it’s almost always because there’s an underlying barrier that I haven’t yet examined.
By Vega and Mala
Hello, my friends! How are you? Are you OK? Probably not. Or at least, probably not totally, even if sort of. Just like Mala and me! Just like all of us. If you’re tired, welcome. There’s … Read More
By Vega Subramaniam
Do you want to know something that Mala does? Routinely? She takes leftovers out of the fridge, transfers them to a stainless steel plate, puts the plate into the microwave, and turns on the heat.
Do you know anyone else who does this? Of course not! Neither do I! And yet, the microwave has not exploded. Our kitchen has not been set on fire (well, not because of the microwave, anyway, but that’s a story for another day). How is this possible?
I have no idea. But I know it is possible, because I watch it happen almost every day. NOW, ask me if I have ever, even one single time, used the microwave to heat something on a metal plate or metal anything, for that matter? Of course I have not! Since the advent of the microwave, the Rule is that you don’t put metal in it. And even after our environmental scientist friend assured us that you could actually put some metals in the microwave…I stick to my Rule.
Likewise, though it is the Year of Our Lord 2021, both Mala and I unfailingly and painstakingly rinse every dish we put into our fancy new dishwasher. We had friends visit recently who have tween children. These tween children take their food-infested, crusted-over, crumb-filled plates directly from the table to the dishwasher, open the dishwasher, and pop in their plates. No water, no sink involved. The first time we ran the dishwasher after they did this, we just shut our eyes, crossed our fingers, and prepared to re-wash half a dozen dishes.
And what do you know, all the dishes came out sparkly clean. Couldn’t tell ours apart from the tweens’. Who knew. And yet, even after two weeks of tween dish-loading, Mala and I still stick to our Rule. For my part, I keep thinking, what if I’m missing something major? It ain’t broke, so why would I try to fix it? It just makes me uncomfortable, and there’s no harm in doing the rinsing, right?
OK, how does this apply to compensation, you ask? Well, let me turn it over to Mala to explain!
Our assumptions about the “common sense truth” about the world are almost unshakeable. This applies equally to habits and “truths” about microwaves and dishwashers and to those about compensation policy. It’s time to change that. From how we determine salaries to cost of living adjustments to retirement contributions—in the name of gender and racial justice and reparations, I think it’s time to reexamine our Rules* around compensation. Read More
I was reading an article in The New Yorker about Icelandic volcanoes, as you do. The author went to rather great lengths to witness the eruption of one particular volcano: Fagradalsfjall (on a side note, who’s with me that all geologic names the world over be in Icelandic). Like, great lengths. Dirt devils attacked her from all sides. Wind gusts, which sounded like revving jet engines, continually almost knocked her over, once successfully blowing her a foot downhill. The temperature was in the 40s.
The question that kept occurring to me upon reading this article, of course, was why? Why would you go to such great lengths, and put yourself so into harm’s way, to see…lava? You know you can see it on TV, right? Don’t get me wrong; I’m as big of a nature girl as the next person, but that doesn’t mean I want gale-force winds pushing me halfway down a mountain. I just looked up the etymology of “gale.” It likely comes from the Old Norse galinn, which means “furious, mad, frantic.” I rest my case.
I also kept thinking: she wasn’t the only one there. There were all these other people she encountered once she arrived. She noted their various responses, some celebrating, some taking photos, others just gazing in awe.
And that’s it, of course. That’s the reason people risk life and limb to look at lava. Awe.
I do so admire people who have a thing, who have that kind of passion. I don’t know that I would scale a mountain in gale-force winds for…well, anything, honestly, not even a crossword puzzle tournament. If you can imagine.
That did get me thinking about “awe,” though, and its various manifestations. Read More
By Vega Subramaniam
“Expectation is the root of all heartache.” — (Probably not) Shakespeare
We’re hearing a lot about “hope” these days. Hope for vaccinations and herd immunity. Hope for a relatively speedy economic recovery. Hope for a return to normalcy this year. And yet, “hope” is brittle and bruised. It is for me, anyway. The heartbreaking anti-Asian violence around the country and most recently in Georgia has driven me around the bend. I will refrain from piling onto the “me too” stories because of course me too. But I digress.
The moment you think that you can take a breath, the next truly terrible thing happens. And in the name of all that is holy, why does it always have to be truly terrible, like off-the-charts terrible? Why can’t we go back to the good old days of only sort of terrible? (I kid, I kid.)
After a year of shattered expectations, it feels foreign to bank on, well, anything when it comes to the multiple fronts of pandemic, justice, and climate (a non-exhaustive list, to be clear).
We humans sure have a tortured relationship to “hope,” considering that it’s omnipresent and unavoidable. Hope, we think, is a delusion, a tone-deaf luxury, a psychic landmine. It’s elusive and easily dashed. It’s not worth having; certainly not worth chasing. It is also, I mean, as I said, unavoidable, and also, like, a precious and powerful state of mind that keeps us living to fight another day. Read More
By Vega Subramaniam
The confluence of three things recently got me to thinking about the larger purpose of larger purposes.
The first thing is our “Intentional Life Planning” retreat. After years of offering it In Real Life, Mala and I had planned to bring the offering online for the very first time. It was something we had been dreaming about for years. It was, truly, a decade-long aspiration. And we were well into the project and had a timeline and Google doc and everything.
And then we were derailed. Mala experienced suddenly- and dramatically-increased eldercare responsibilities, including four hospitalizations since October. Given this new reality, we recognized that we needed to hit “pause” on our online “Intentional Life Planning” offering—because (oh, the irony) our lives have now become so very unpredictable.
So the most impossible thing we could do right now is to commit to showing up, with preparedness, at specific calendared times, on a regular basis.
By Vega Subramaniam
Pretty much all the time, the same event—a marriage, a funeral, a holiday celebration…an election…—is an occasion for both celebration and mourning—laden also with all the emotions in between and sideways and tangential and, for that matter, random.
I’ve been really struggling with my internal whiplash of mixed emotions. That’s been true my whole life, of course. But it’s taken on a whole new life since November 7 December 14 January 5 January 6 January 20 today. I’m buried by the whiplash. It flattens me. The work my brain is doing to consolidate all the incoming! is too much.
The very real highs of “Biden/Harris!” “First Black/South Asian (Tamilian!)/Woman Vice President!” “Vaccine!” “Electoral College!” “Georgia!” are yoked to the equally real lows of “Ever-Increasing Pandemic Deaths!” “Billionaire-Supported Misogynist Islamophobic Anti-Semitic Nativists!” “Violent White Supremacist Insurrectionists Full-Throatedly Supported By Half The Country And Also Most Of The Elected Representatives And, Well, At Least A Few Of The Senators! All Of Whom Were There In The Room Where It Happened! And Had A Momentary Epiphany! Followed Immediately By That Sweet, Sweet Billionaire-Supported White Supremacist Collective Amnesia!” Read More
By Vega Subramaniam
Well, friends, we’re almost there. Not that I’m quite sure what “there” means, exactly. Should I be worried? Probably. Am I still feeling hopeful? Yes. Am I feeling maybe even a bit festive? Also yes! I don’t know what’s coming up for you over the next few weeks, but I hope it is OK. I hope you (and we) are and continue, somehow, to be OK.
As with all things 2020, I’m feeling equal parts blessed and heartbroken right now. Blessed because Mala and I will be closing up shop for a few weeks, which means time to wind down, rejuvenate, and set (crosswords) intentions (more crosswords) for the year ahead (still more crosswords). Heartbroken because we had the opportunity to work with two of the most talented and conscientious humans I’ve ever met, and today is our last day together as a team.
We SEEM happy, I will allow, but inside, we’re a slobbering mess.
This is a more self-involved post than is typical. I hope you’ll bear with me.
