I truly feel that I birthed my celebrity profile. Also, strongly recommend working with Self, it’s been an incredible experience in terms of support and responsiveness and editing and re-editing and being patient with me going DRASTICALLY over word count (THREE THOUSAND OVER). My husband’s job was to make me stay out of the Google doc over the weekend (my editors also didn’t want me in there) so I copied a full draft into an email so I could sneakily read it over and over.)
I want to write MORE. I want this to be the thing that makes that happen. I want to say “yes” to jobs I’m nervous about. I feel as though I’ve spent the last five years building a brand so this profile could go wide enough for me to get real actual genuine work. I want to be a writer. This newsletter has helped, so, thank you!
Also, this is a genuine ask, can you PLEASE all share it on all your social when it drops? I crave virality. I want people to read it who aren’t just my 50 friends in new media. In exchange for this, perhaps a….
Featured Cat? OR TWO? Please meet Wolfgang and Rufio.
Via their human companion, Michelle: “They have been brothers for going on five years and they are absolutely peachy 90% of the time and then 10% of the time they are destructive monsters. I did not make them pose like this I promise.”
“Wolfgang loves a warm lap, drools like a hound, and can’t resist chewing on anything green and leafy. Rufio is a sassy speed demon who has successfully caught his own (very long) tail on numerous occasions; his favourite food is “this thing that Mom is eating.” (Once stole a Dorito out of my mouth.) Their Game of Thrones personas are, respectively, Hot Pie and Arya.”
Bonus pics because OF COURSE:
Bless you, darlings.
This is certainly horror-adjacent. My favourite investigative journalist when it comes to aircraft and space disasters is the genius William Langewiesche, and he has finally written the definitive account of what happened to MH 370:
The mystery surrounding MH370 has been a focus of continued investigation and a source of sometimes feverish public speculation. The loss devastated families on four continents. The idea that a sophisticated machine, with its modern instruments and redundant communications, could simply vanish seems beyond the realm of possibility. It is hard to permanently delete an email, and living off the grid is nearly unachievable even when the attempt is deliberate. A Boeing 777 is meant to be electronically accessible at all times. The disappearance of the airplane has provoked a host of theories. Many are preposterous. All are given life by the fact that, in this age, commercial airplanes don’t just vanish.
Absolute unit:
Dear Care and Feeding,
My son is 2 years and 5 months, which I know is on the early side for this, but he grasps the general concept of the potty and is intrigued by it. He’s also the youngest in his class, and he observes slightly older kids using the potty like champs and seeks to emulate them. Perhaps most importantly, he knows, as his sister did before him, that a gummy bear awaits him if he potties successfully. Here’s where we are: Night after night after night, he sits happily on the potty for a good long while, eventually climbs down, then gets into the bath and, standing up, calmly, and with a sense of great purpose, pees in his bath. I try to anticipate this by talking him through it, but it doesn’t matter. He seems generally happy with this state of affairs. What am I doing wrong?
I also just want to clarify that I’m not pushing the lad in any way—this is all very much led by him! Just wondering if there are fruitful ways I can guide him in this new hobby he is pursuing.
—Ew
My friend Jeanna Kadlec wrote something beautiful about leaving her faith behind but keeping Jennifer Knapp:
At the turn of the millennium, there was no Christian rock singer more critically acclaimed than Jennifer Knapp, no one whose star was more on the rise. No one whose gold-certified albums had her opening for fellow Christian rock stars and playing Lillith Fair. She released three albums between 1998 and 2001, back-to-back, and then, at the height of her success, just as she was poised to reach megastardom—she quit. Moved to Australia. Went off the grid.
Rumors swirled. The most persistent one? She was a lesbian. And was sick of hiding it.
The year Jennifer Knapp quit Christian music, I was fourteen years old, devoutly Christian, and decidedly not out to myself. It was 2001 and I was on the brink of starting high school. We had moved to a new state when I started middle school and I’d spent most of my time as the new kid trying to join friend groups only to get kicked out of them. I had a propensity for a certain intensity in friendship that other girls didn’t like. So I found solace and belonging elsewhere: with books in the school library and with God at church.
The move to Wisconsin in 1999, in particular, catalyzed and radicalized my faith. It uprooted my family from our support system and pushed me further toward the evangelical idea of God’s presence in my everyday life.
Knapp’s debut album, Kansas, opens with a prelude, “Faithful to Me,” in which the speaker sings directly to God: And reaching out my weary hand / I pray that you’ll understand / you’re the only one who’s faithful to me.
A perfect articulation of how I felt about God, from a tender age. Philippians 4:4-6 says, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Like other fundamentalists who interpret the Bible literally, I took this to heart.
When my eighth-grade art teacher massaged my shoulders, when the boys at youth group tackled me in a field and pinned me beneath them, when my dad yelled at my mom and pushed her against a wall: Present your requests to God, and the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your heart and mind.
Captain Awkward nailed it:
Hi Captain!
Low stakes question here regarding the delicate situation of my housemates’ generally lovely parents. I live in a house with several people, including a couple with two kids who are also my landlords (the couple, not the kids). I’ve been here for five years and I love it! The situation is wonderful, the dynamic is relaxed and positive, and we’re all on the same page re: cleaning, respect, visitors, whatever. The couple (I’ll call them Fred and Joe) will sometimes invite Joe’s parents to stay and look after the kids while they go on vacation, a situation which we are all generally fine with.
However, I am becoming increasingly annoyed that Joe’s parents completely take over the house when they are here. For example:
1) Joe’s mother has a predilection for cleaning, rearranging and reorganizing the house. I’ll come home to find dishes reorganized, things put in different places, etc. I realize she is trying to be helpful, and I don’t mind (and am in fact grateful) for the fridge to be cleaned or the shelves dusted, but I find it annoying to open a closet and find things completely reordered. It’s my stuff too, not just Joe’s — though I have to say, even if it were just me, and MY mother came and reorganized things without asking, we would have words!
2) Things get loud, especially in the mornings. Loud talking, Facetiming, playing with the kids (it’s a big house and usually Fred and Joe move the kids away from the bedrooms in the mornings so others can sleep), etc. I work late and have a night-owl schedule. I have a white noise machine and ear plugs, but last night the noise in the morning was loud enough that I woke early anyway. I addressed this once and it briefly improved things, but time passes and maybe they forget…?
3) They don’t seem to realize that I am an actual member of the household and not a guest of their son. For example, I left a note out to inform everyone that my friend was coming to stay for a few days. They insisted that I call Fred and Joe to ask permission. I believe Joe’s father’s exact words were, “Please text Joe — it’s not my house, so I can’t say yes or no.” Captain, I’m a grown woman who pays rent, utilities, and groceries at a home I’ve lived in for years. I realize not everyone can be privy to a group dynamic of which they aren’t a member, but is it weird that I find it deeply insulting that they, who are themselves guests in the place where I live, are treating me like a child? Am I being oversensitive here?
I’d like to find a way to preemptively deal with these things, either internally for myself or externally with Fred, Joe, my other housemate, and Joe’s parents, without causing friction for anyone. Joe’s parents are actually really nice people, and I’d like to have a cordial relationship with them. I also don’t want to jeopardize the dynamic of the house. What do I do? Do I just put up with this because they are only here a few times a year (though it is usually for a week or more)? Do I say something? If so, to whom, and how? What do I do preemptively and/or in the moment? If they were my parents it would be one thing, but they aren’t. I realize this is low stakes, and maybe I should just deal and try not to be around much, but it feels shitty to be made to feel this way in my home, however well-meaning they are.
Thanks, Captain! Love your site and look forward to your take.
Signed,
The dog treats are on the low shelf for a reason kthx
(she/her)P.S. As of the time I’m writing this, Joe’s mother has moved the Tupperware to the place SHE wants it for the SECOND TIME THIS WEEK — after I moved it back to its home *again*. Please help.
MUSIC VIDEOS:
hadestown
oklahoma
kate rusby
more kate
laura marling
hometown hero sarah harmer
rilo
MORE STAN ROGERS
ok one more
I love you all. Have a magnificent day. DO that thing you’ve been avoiding! Then make some tea.
xooxoxo
n
So excited to read the profile! Also my turning-two-tomorrow kid only fell asleep if we sang Barrett's Privateers, the Mary Ellen Carter, and The Northwest Passage on a loop for like an hour straight for a solid 8 months of her life so I owe Stan Rogers big time.
KATE RUSBY IS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE