Birthing Work That Means the Most
Last week I saw a couple of college friends I hadn't seen in like ten years and one of them annoyingly asked me, "So, what's going on?"
A LOT!!
Hey. It's me. Swati. The most inconsistent writer you know. For weeks I've been trying to assemble a somethingburger to chuck at you, but stuff keeps happening in the world and at home, and the tomatoes keep slipping out. The school year started. A bunch of people I like died (Dolly, Wendell, Gloria). My back has been hurting (another case of slimy discs slipping). My mom fell (she's ok, but needs to stop fighting about going to physical therapy). Life is life-ing me, friends.
The parent stuff is the hardest. Whenever I get mad at either one of them, I realize what my feelings are really about: them eventually leaving me forever. Reading and writing in my spare moments always ends up saving me, words becoming buoys in the turbulent water of life. So let's write a spell and get it all out, all of this so-called work I've been doing.
Back to School + Youth Employment Stuff
School started and we're a month in. I work at a different site now, a complete 180 from the basically-juvenile-hall I worked at for the last eight years. Now I'm at a hybrid school called the Academy of Innovation (AoI). They like to refer to themselves as "AI". I absolutely refuse to jump on the bandwagon. In fact, I'm fleshing out some informative sessions for parents and students on the use of AI. I'm a good person to do this because I'm still learning and have access to people (pointing at ur face) who have a lot of knowledge and stuff to say, but lack access to families and possibly know too much to be relatable. The students at AoI require little hand-holding otherwise and are self-motivated because they're immersed in something else outside of school, like art, acting, equestrian sports, hockey, etc. Hence the need for an alternative learning format.
The change has been good for me mentally and emotionally because my cortisol level has dropped significantly. There's more room in my brain now for creative projects. As opposed to wondering who stabbed who after school, or dealing with dysfunctional colleagues who need to go their separate ways. I will always consider my work at the continuation school to be the most meaningful, but it's very important to know when you've run your course, to acknowledge when a workplace ceases to be healthy, and to remember that nobody, not even you, is indispensable. I went from being a somebody on campus, an expert on certain programs, to a nobody who no longer gets invited to every meeting and gets to stay in her lane. It's a huge change. My commute is also shorter. I can be reading my morning book in my jammies to showered, made-up, and on campus within 20 minutes.
I also suddenly have more energy to work on nonprofit stuff. There is some solid program development work happening at Good Youth Jobs (there will be a website soon). I'm close to launching the first cohort of the Work Discovery Fellowship, a creative early work experience designed in response to the dearth of opportunities that allow youth to indulge in their interests and explore inwards, and ultimately create work they're drawn to as opposed to chase what they've breathlessly been told is economically viable by a bunch of fucking idiots who have no idea what they're talking about.
I'm very closely attuned to the narratives young people are fed in the age of AI, and how they're changing their behavior and choices. I recently attended a career-technical education curriculum breakfast where a leader within the district declared that, "Because of AI, college will be useless!" (All of his kids are in college.) Look, does higher ed have an inflation problem? Yes. Do colleges need to adapt course offerings to a changing world and economy? Always. But I think it's dangerous to use a confusing moment to fuel anti-college rhetoric. We're not thoughtfully questioning AI (aka a bunch of evil companies); we're just proactively complying and accepting the terms of some "great disruption" as if we have no agency or choices. It's bizarre.
Small Farming + Organic Emergence
I'm still in the small farm apprenticeship program and writing Field & Story, the corresponding pop-up newsletter, albeit not weekly lately because 1. I suck, and 2. There's so much going on behind the scenes with this experience, life, and other projects, that the week flits by I literally forget to do it. Patrick, the director of the EAT! Ecological Agricultural Training and Cultural Center, met my parents and I at our ranch property a few weeks ago and helped me prick the surface tension of revisiting that space after a few years of it rewilding. I avoided going there for so long because I would look at all of the overgrowth, process it as neglect on my part – of purpose, shared family dreams, my father's vision – and feel like an absolute failure. Talking to Patrick about all of this, hearing stories about his own father's passing and the eight acres he left behind, made me feel less horrible for being psychologically paralyzed by it all.
We examined the avocado trees, some of which are dead and some loaded with fruit, and walked to the back perimeter of the property where Patrick said a downed windmill might be the marker of an old well. Our class is going on a field trip soon to a mango orchard in Riverside and Patrick and I agreed that my family's property would be a good second field trip for our group to see a space in its "before state." The rewilding is apparently great because it allows one to see what naturally exists in a place, what that piece of earth really wants to be without the heavy-handed interference of humans.
There's respect for the land in allowing it to rewild, and this was powerful reframing for me. I'm always grateful when that happens. I'm working on a hand-drawn (colorable!) map of the farm so my classmates can walk around, observe, and take notes. And going back to nonprofit work for just a sec, EAT! is the first community partner for the Work Discovery Fellowship! There are a couple of young people in the program who will be awarded a stipend to learn, explore, and share their work on the land.
My worlds are colliding in the most organic way possible, and as an earthwormer who likes to wiggle and bump into things as opposed to set goals, I rely on affirming signals, like natural points of intersection, to know that I'm working on the right projects, in the right way, at the right pace, and that it's all going well.
Books + Design Dabbling
Over the summer I read Notes on Artist Publishing by Amelia Greenhall of ANEMONE and it jailbroke my creative soul. I decided I'm going to write a bunch of books, call them books, and publish them myself. Some small, half-statement publications, and one big one I'm calling THE FOOD BOOK for now. I can't tell you what it's about yet because I'm not entirely sure. Some kind of hybrid cookbook memoir thing that has to do with my family, our food business, home cooking traditions, the neighborhood where it all took place (here), and the labor that brought it all to bear. I've been writing around it for years, but have been terrified to dive into the genuine article because it means sifting through memories, recipes, photos, and ephemera from 35 years in the trade, and even longer as a family.
I used to think that doing this as my parents age would devastate me, so I avoided it. But I've found the opposite to be true. Revisiting, reliving, and rehashing the past makes me realize we're survivors, and that fortifies me. Working on this project allows me to step into the role of observer, which is a refuge compared to always being a participant. I'm encouraged by the growing number of writers and creators folding aging parents and caregiving into their work, its voice. Finally.
I have some quirky ideas for THE FOOD BOOK'S design, which I'm trying to learn more about through another book I just discovered and can't put down: The Design of Books by Debbie Berne. I discovered Debbie through Frances Abrantes Baca's recent Substack tribute: Headnotes: Thoughts on Cookbook Design. I also purchased a copy of Cookbooking: A Fan's Guide because I couldn't resist!!! But I swear I'm not getting hung up on aesthetics!! I want to write the damn thing to see what it is first. But it's fun to think about it all!! I'm a designer now, goyz!
I want to share this snippet from Debbie's website about her experience writing Cookbooking, which was updated after her passing:
Debbie jumped right into her next book idea. It was planned to be an entertaining look at the history of cookbooks, with an eye toward design, and bursting with pictorial energy. She sold the proposal in early 2024 only to be diagnosed with glioblastoma the very next week. A surgery quickly followed. At that point she thought the book would never happen. But within weeks she was back at it; researching, writing, photographing, and sharing on Instagram. She did all this while undergoing chemotherapy, radiation, and multiple surgeries. As the obstacles mounted, she grew ever more determined to outpace the tumor. We are happy to say that she completed the book this fall, leaving us with a beautiful record of her indomitable spirit and passion for books.
We have no excuse for not birthing the work most important to us.
I've taken a couple of classes recently to scratch my new design itch. One was a Risograph printing class at Punch Kiss Press. I hopped on an early morning train to Union Station with my friend Brittany who works at the Metropolitan Water District. She gave me a tour (relevant to the irrigation unit of my farm program!), I ate a rock hard bagel with chemical cheese in the employee cafeteria, and lallygagged on Olvera Street, all of which was overshadowed by the putrid stench of that gigantic meat warehouse that burned down in Hawthorne. Eventually I Female Uber-ed to Punch Kiss in Pico-Union and managed to stay awake despite waking up at 4 am thanks to Karina, the owner, and her lively tutorial on the various quirks of her haunted Riso machine. I even got to design and print a short run of a two-tone project I'll never be sharing with anyone. But here's a picture of the fabulous lunch I ate after my class.
Last week I took an online course called How to Make Books with my friend Tessie from the Transom Audio Storytelling Workshop (which I chronicled in a pop-up newsletter here.) The webinar was a bit crowded, but I'm a fan of Mike Monteiro's work, and I left overdosed on inspiration and notes on PDF design and upload. Mike reminds me of the zero fucks, do whatever you want how can I help you high school teacher we've all had if we're lucky. It's an energy I try to emulate as much as possible, in and out of the classroom. Adults need this energy all the time, perhaps more than kids. That's because the workplace will beat all sense of freedom and joy out of you, regardless of the number of foosball tables on the premises. For the record, I've never worked anywhere with foosball tables. Only Bunn-O-Matics, which don't lie to you about where you are.
Speaking of Transom, that reminds me! In July I wrote another pop-up newsletter about my period while on my period called The Period Papers. Again, we're doing stuff for ourselves to build confidence and voice, and also to see what we can get away with. About thirty people subscribed and it was a wonderful experience even when I felt like a total weirdo. The most popular issues were Keeping Time and Logistics. I shared this project recently with Dianne, a friend and food writing mentor, and she wrote back...
I absolutely LOVED reading your posts about periods. I really enjoy hearing from you and seeing what you’re up to. You have so much creative talent, Swati.
Dianne's note made my heart sing because this lady has standards. Women lift women in a way I rarely see men doing, and that is our gift.
I think this is a good place to stop. But not before I share a link to my favorite thing I read this week written by Ashlie Stevens, another woman I adore!
Ashlie D. Stevens
The punch card is almost comically unsophisticated. It cannot send a push notification. It does not know where I live, what time I usually eat lunch or whether I have recently been searching for sandwiches. If I neglect it for six months, it will not announce that it misses me. And yet, it works.
Did you make it this far? You deserve a postcard prize. If you want one, send your mailing address to hello@swatiwrites.com.
No spam, no sharing to third party. Only you and me.