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the everyman memoirs

The official blog of author Tali Nay.
JUL
31

If You End up at Costco When You Need to Buy Ink

If you end up at Costco when you need to buy ink, you may not be able to remember what cartridge your printer takes.

If you stare long enough at the aisle of options, the number 61 will feel right.

If you get the 61 home, you'll realize you've actually bought a 61XL.

If you put the 61XL in your printer, you'll learn that a 61XL is not the same as a 61.

If this strikes you as ridiculous, you might let out an expression that rivals the tri-color cartridge now sitting useless in the drawer of your writing desk.

If you go back to Costco to buy a regular 61, you'll find out that Costco apparently no longer carries the 61.

If you track down a 61 at Staples, you'll be bugged at how much more you have to pay per cartridge.

And if you know anyone whose printer can take 61XL, you can count yourself ahead of the game for already having a stocking stuffer at this point in the year.

(Clearly this is destined to be picked up as a beloved children's book, at which point I will no longer care how much money I have to spend on ink cartridges.)

 

JUL
26

On Men Who Sleep Around

The crux of my question, really, is should women be OK with dating men who sleep around, but we'll get to that. First, because it's most of what has me waxing on the topic in general, I just read a book that's equal parts funny and informative, and how many things can you say that about? Not Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton, that's for sure. The book I read is called It Ended Badly, which discusses what the author dubs the worst breakups in history. Think Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn. Think Elizabeth Taylor and Eddie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds. I'll save you my Goodreads spiel, suffice it to say, I recommend this book. If you like history and/or have ever been through a breakup and/or want a reason to severely dislike Norman Mailer.

I was fascinated by several of these breakups, but the one that affected me most was Edith Wharton and Morton Fullerton. Supposedly her one love (oddly, her husband was not), Wharton and Fullerton's affair was brief but passionate, until he up and left without so much as a word. This resonated with me personally as it's what a love of mine did to me once, and reading excerpts from Edith's letters to Morton (essentially "Where are you? Are you coming back? I don't understand.") were pretty brutal. But what impressed me was how she was ultimately able to recover and become somewhat empowered by the whole situation. Look, I'm not here to judge Morton Fullerton...just to say that he was probably slutty and didn't treat her the way she deserved to be treated. Here, ultimately, is Edith, in a letter to Morton--a letter that I typed on my typewriter last night and stuck on the fridge because I found it so inspiring:

"What you wish, apparently, is to take of my life the inmost & uttermost that a woman--a woman like me--can give, for an hour, now and then, when it suits you; & when the hour is over, to leave me out of your mind & out of your life as a man leaves the companion who has afforded him a transient distraction. I think I am worth more than that, or worth, perhaps I had better say, something quite different."

Damn, girl. Truth.

Yet how many women can't bring themselves to say that? That they are worth more than an hour now and then? Too many of us.

Because of a rather uncharacteristic (for me) choice of recent male company, I decided to ask around as to whether this behavior was acceptable. I come from a very conservative background, and sometimes I like to check that against, well, reality. Here's how a conversation played out over lunch:

Me: So, should this bother me?

Friend: Pssssh, no. Look, this is what men do.

Me: But...so...you don't think it's gross at all?

Friend: I think it's gross if he doesn't shower in between, but other than that, no, I don't think it's gross.

I was fairly certain in the moment that I was hallucinating. And so I'm a bit relieved that based on all the other feedback I got, most women do ultimately want to be with someone who's not sleeping with anyone else. Of course, the catch here is that this isn't really about what most women think about a situation or what they say they would do. It's about what you would do. It's about what you will do. When he comes around for his next hour, when it suits him, are you going to take what you can get and feel lucky that he wants you for any amount of time at all (not saying this is never the answer), or can you muster the huevos to go all Edith on him and say the thing we're all not saying, even though we should (not saying this is as easy as it sounds...just that we are most certainly worth more than that).

 

 

JUL
17

Del Mar Opening Day

Opening Day at the local horse racing track wouldn't have been an event I would have predicted enjoying all that much, but sometimes in life it's nice to be disproved.

It wasn't so much the big hat (ok, so it was mostly the big hat), but rather the horses themselves that had me completely captivated. They're so skinny and fit...not at all like the horses I'd see at summer camp as a teenager. Which is apparently where all the fat horses go. And most of the time when a horse has high odds of winning, he wins. It made it easy for me, a total rookie, to call the first race, as well as another two beyond that. These were $2 bets, so it's not like I walked away rich (or with even as much as I'd spent in bets), but still, there's something incredibly satisfying about watching a horse cross the finish line first when you've got some money on him. And it was all I could do not to go all "Come on, Dover! Move your bloomin' ass!" on everyone.

Granted, there were things I could have done without. Like the copious amounts of alcohol being consumed, the long lines to place bets, and the fact that the theme for opening day women's attire in Del Mar seemed to be "Slutty." I swear it must have said that on the website somewhere. Dress as slutty as you can. Like, seriously. (I went vintage, naturally.) But all in all, I loved the experience, and I sort of can't wait to go back. Now who would have seen that coming??

JUL
11

Typesetting with Cats (Again)

It's hard to do, I'll have you know. What with my cat running all over the pages; the pages she assumes have been set out just for her. But no matter. It doesn't make me like this part of the process any less. So yes, round one of typesetting options is in the books. And seeing my words laid out for the first time on actual bookish pages is always equal parts exciting and confusing. Like, how did this happen? How are these my words? They look so official. And also, am I ready for this? Is the world? (Are my ex-boyfriends???)

In any case, bring on round two. And it's clear what my cat's vote is.

JUL
01

The Lights are so Bright

Taylor Swift certainly got those lyrics right. And I was reminded of this while back in New York City last week on vacation. It's a city I pine for often, even in the very act of praising heaven over how much less stressful my life has been since I moved away. Less epic as well, perhaps, but that's the tradeoff, people.

In any case, I was happy to be back even for just a few days, and I found it amusing that my friends scolded me for wanting to go to my favorite spots rather than spend my limited NYC time exploring new ones. But to me it was a no-brainer. So, yes, my friend turned to me at one point and said, "I can't believe you're back in New York and of all the places we could go for dinner, you want to go to Harlem Shake," but old habits die hard. So get off my back.

Levain Bakery was in the mix as well, as was a stroll across the Brooklyn Bridge, Central Park, and multiple Broadway shows, but that's my New York. That's the New York I love. It's the New York I've always loved. The stuff you can only find in New York. I don't see what's so shameful about that; about admitting your favorite things about a city are the very things all the tourists come to see.

One new experience I did have was marching in the Gay Pride Parade. I wasn't expecting to love it as much as I did, and since I'm straight, I wondered if my marching would appear phony to others for whom it means so much more personally, but the whole thing was just a giant puddle of love and celebration and acceptance. And who--gay or straight--wouldn't be on board with that? And so marching down Fifth Avenue, thousands upon thousands of people looking on and cheering, I felt part elated over the sheer positive energy wafting up from the streets and part sad that it can't be like this every day. Because everyone deserves that kind of pride in their sexuality, that kind of acceptance from others, and that kind of confidence to be authentically themselves.

So, see, I did manage to sneak in something new. Even if I ate falafel and pizza by the slice every day.

 

latest tweets

TaliNayBooks I think that's how you know it's a good book.
TaliNayBooks So engrossed in the end of #tinybeautifulthings that I didn't realize someone was stealing my carry-on from the plane. @CherylStrayed