1/16/25

The Pittsburgh Steelers lost in a miserable fashion in the first round of the playoffs again. I shouldn’t be surprised. We are caught in purgatory, too weak a unit to compete with the Ravens or the Chiefs, too strong to tank for a high enough pick to draft a franchise quarterback. It has been a perpetual cycle for the last 8 years. A Steelers season goes something like this: 

1. Draft an offensive lineman that was taken higher than he should have been 
2. Steelers Nation finds a way to talk themselves into the starting quarterback (who is either never going to be great or has already hit his peak about ten years ago) 
3. We win a couple of games to start the season, including beating an injured Ravens 
4. The city of Pittsburgh is filled with hope 
5. @steelersbyjoey posts “WE’RE SO BACK” (we indeed are not so back) 
6. Signs look good to winning the division (we do not win the division) 
7. We end the regular season with a 9-8 record (way to keep the streak, Tomlin) 
8. We lose to the [insert an AFC contender with a young, great, franchise quarterback here] 
9. Fans don’t understand how they keep having faith in this team 

The faith in Tomlin, the belief in homegrown talent, the holding on to history–the city of Pittsburgh knows hope and yet, no cigar. The last time the Steelers won a playoff game was the first Trump Administration. Nothing’s changed. Everything has. 

1/22/25, in my notes app

Almost threw up listening to his voicemail today

3/9/25

I’m sitting at work and I’m trying to hold back the tears that are welling up completely out of my control. The reason is so stupid. The last straw always is. The tears come when you least expect them. It may have a correlation to when you’re microdosing your Lexapro because you don’t have enough to last you through spring break so the diluted feelings have become raw and suppressing them proves impossible – I really have to work on my endurance.

“JUST WRITE” written on a post-it note above my desk (which, as most things are, is an idea copied from my sister). How do any of us write about this world, accept this, resist this, find joy in this?

Maggie Smith asks, “This place could be beautiful, right? You could make this place beautiful.”

How do we write about this world, Maggie? Right now, right here, in this place? How do we go on, resist, bring children into this world? How can we make this place beautiful, wondrous, good? 

Executive Order 3/1/25: “The Order calls for new or updated agency guidance to facilitate increased timber production, sound forest management, reduced delivery times, and decreased timber supply uncertainty.”

Maggie, he wants to destroy the beautiful. He wants to destroy the trees, dominate the only mother we share. How can we reckon? Create? Maintain?

You told me we would never become strangers. I don’t care that the promise was unrealistic. You didn’t text me on my birthday, you broke the promise. Just tell me, how are you? 

Maggie, they are destroying the beauty that makes this life wonderful and I am thinking about a birthday text. They are dismantling the goodness of the work of public servants and supporting dictators and destroying what makes me look in awe at this planet, and I am thinking about a birthday text.

3/13/25

The NFL free agency period opened on Monday. The Steelers are still in football purgatory. The Raiders got Geno Smith, the Jets took Justin Fields from our grasp. Don’t worry though, we got Mason Rudolph back in the Steel City. Booyahhhhh. That’ll get us a playoff win, fosho. At least I’m not a Seahawks fan right now! Anyways, there are bigger fish to fry, there are always bigger fish to fry. 

4/3/25

He’s disappearing college students. His tariffs are about to trigger the second great depression. He is sending fathers to rot in a cell in El Salvador. He’s erasing the archive. He’s defunding vital education and using antisemitism as a dog whistle. He’s ignoring the courts. He’s disregarding legal visas. He’s gutting federal government public servants. They are planning military attacks on their personal phones. Lawyers, judges, universities are afraid of him. Planes are crashing. He’s destroying the National Parks. He’s disappearing college students. How do we write about this? How do we maintain hope? How do we make this place beautiful?

I’ve been trying to go to as many speaker talks as possible recently—trying to make sense of this world, trying to see if the experts can make sense of it. Jodi Kantor told us that because fewer people are absorbing journalism, the worry is that the footprint for potential impact is shrinking. Patrick Radden Keefe told us that our job is to witness the history happening before us; that we must document the downstream impacts and the human stories from these policies. He told us that even if there is no direct impact of writing the story, writing it means it will be cemented in the archive. Jennifer Morgan discussed the emergence of racial capitalism, that we cannot continue to separate the historicities of capitalism and slavery. 

Professor Eddie Glaude asked how we raise our babies in this. How do we raise our babies in this? Should we raise babies in this?

I’m trying to make sense of all of this, trying to ferociously write every drop of wisdom down, trying to use it to make sense of this world. After work, I will open spotify and decide whether I listen to Pod Save America or The Athletic Football Show. To listen and engage or to listen and escape. The perpetual fine line. 

4/3/25 (but after work)

I flipped on The Athletic Football Show. The Steelers are likely to sign anti-vax, pro-RFK Aaron Rodgers. Ain’t that something—the fine line doesn’t even exist. That’s okay though; that’s never what it was about.

Here we go, always (my first game, circa 2013)