To TV, or Not to TV?!

When I first moved back to Minnesota in January 2018, I didn’t have cable. I could watch shows on cable, but my partner and I could only watch them on an old iPad that was logged into a friend’s Comcast account, so it wasn’t ideal. Oh, and our internet was probably the jankiest and most unreliable signal imaginable. Sure, it was decent and we were 100% thankful, but you really can’t watch too much television using that method. It forces you to pick and choose your favorites and really focus on those.

Then one magical day we got a letter in the mail saying everyone in the building was getting new, extra fancy cable boxes that not only gave us all the channels but also allowed us to record shows while simultaneously watching other shows! I know this is definitely not a new technology, but holy moly, I was floored!

I remember racing—practically running—home from work the day of the installation, throwing open the door and seeing the television blasting my all time favorite channel ... yes, it was on Bravo! And I was in heaven. I remember feeling overwhelmed with emotion. Like seriously, who knew I missed television that much?!

It was like I had never seen or heard of television. I was hooked! I went from watching occasional reruns of I Love Lucy and Designing Women on DVD or barely watchable episodes of cable on an iPad to crisp HD real time cable. Oh, and the best part ... we could pause, fast-forward AND rewind when necessary! #MINDBLOWN!

I went from barely watching tv to ONLY watching tv! If you recommended a show, I would go home and watch it. The housewives on Bravo, the vampires on FX, the people living in the good place, the disgruntled store workers on NBC, all the trashy reality show contestants and really everyone in between became my new best friends! Ask Norris. It was bad, but I was living my best. And I was not ashamed. I loved watching tv!

Meanwhile, Norris liked cable, but he was also developing a secret love of something else ... podcasts. Now, I’d given podcasts a chance back when they were the new “it” thing (they still kind of are) but I’m talking when Serial first dropped in 2014 and people were still recording podcasts at their dining room table with a handheld recording device and a prayer! They were okay, but definitely nothing to write home about. And while I knew podcasts were becoming all the rage, I just wasn’t really interested in trying again.

For weeks I made fun of him because he’d developed this sort of catchphrase, “On my podcast …"

He’d come back from a run.

ME: How was your run?

HIM: It was good. On my podcast ...

He’d come home from the gym.

ME: How was the gym?

HIM: It was good. On my podcast ...

We’d be talking about the latest episode of Drag Race.

ME: What’d you think of ... ?

HIM: Oh, yeah. I agree. On my podcast ...

At one point I told him, he could only use the word “podcast” 10 times a day! I was over it. I didn’t want to hear about any more of his silly podcasts.

But then I found out Casey Wilson, my personal star of ABC’s Happy Endings (RIP), had a podcast devoted to all things Bravo and so in a moment of weakness, I decided to give it a shot. It was the perfect marriage between my love of Bravo and my love’s new love. Sure, I’ll listen to Bitch Sesh. It’s Bravo, it’s Casey, and it’s approachable.

As soon at it ended my world become a blur of media. I became hooked and I wanted more. So I asked around and someone recommended My Favorite Murder, a true crime comedy podcast. Yes, please. In only a matter of days, I was deep in a podcast rabbit hole. Books? What are those? All I know now is trash tv and vulgar podcasts about Bravo and true crime! Why read when someone can just fill your head with information and witty banter?!

Things really shifted when I realized one big advantage to podcasts. Unlike television, podcasts had the upper hand when it came to life in general. Not only could I get my fix, but I could do it while sitting, walking, running and even working! Yes, I could have a podcast running ALL DAY if I really wanted to listen. If cable television was heaven, clearly podcasts were the keys to the pearly gates!

FULL DISCLOSURE: This was only a few months ago. But last week while visiting my family for a couple days I realized I needed to chill out with television and podcasts.

As I sat in a restaurant with my family one evening, forcing awkward conversation across the table, I realized that even though I was missing all my favorite shows and unable to listen to a new episode of Bitch Sesh that just popped up in my notifications, everything would be okay. It would still be there later that night or even weeks later if necessary. I came to the obvious realization that TV and podcasts will always be there, but these moments and these people might not be so we shouldn’t take them for granted. Maybe my family and I don’t have the best relationship and maybe our conversations aren’t quite as entertaining as the ones on television or podcasts, but we’ll never make any progress if I spend my time with them day dreaming about my other “friends.”

Let’s be clear … I still 100% love television and podcasts, but if I miss a new episode here or there. I’m okay with that. Just look at all the unwatched episodes of Pose, Fosse/Verdon, Project Runway and Big Little Lies sitting on our DVR collecting dust.

- Noah Lee Jordan (#WNN)

SONG OF THE BLOG (#SOTB): “Never Really Over” - Katy Perry (For some reason the lyrics resonate with me and my relationship with television/podcasts.)

Not So Happy-Go-Lucky!

To an outside observer, I might seem like this extroverted Chatty Cathy, but deep down I’m actually not. I’m actually a pretty big introvert. And if you really knew me, you would know that for years I struggled with severe depression and anxiety. At one point, I even considered ending it once and for all.

I want to keep today’s post reletively brief because as much as I would love to deep dive into the reasons behind my depression and anxiety, I’m just not quite ready to disclose that. It was an extremely dark time in my life, and while I’m proud to have it behind me … it’s still very sensitive. So, unfortunately, that will just have to be a story for another day and I hope that’s okay.

As you may or may not know, May is Mental Health Awareness Month, and I think we should absolutely take that seriously. Ever since my own personal battle with mental health issues, the topic has held a very special place in my heart. No, you won’t see me waving a banner or marching in a local mental health parade because that’s just not quite my style but it is important to me.

Right now, there is a giant misconception about what depression looks like and guess what?! In reality, depression doesn’t have “a look.” Depression is a silent killer lurking in the shadows of ones mind manifesting differently for everyone. Don’t assume that just because your friend has been in hiding and avoiding the public eye that they are depressed. And definitely don’t assume your friend who is always the life of the party is perfectly fine. Often times it’s the people you least expect that are suffering. There is no carbon copy or cookie cutter form of depression.

During some of my darkest days, I was out and about almost every night. I was laughing, and dancing, and having “the most fun” in the public eye. I didn’t want people to question my happiness so I became a master pretender and silently prayed nobody knew the real thoughts swirling around my head. I was slowly sinking deeper and deeper into a seemingly endless pit of depression. I was too scared to tell people and for a while, I refused to get help. I thought I was just being dramatic and that I could handle it on my own but I was wrong. It wasn’t until I looked for help that I very quickly realized I was not alone. There were lots of people like me. I learned that sometimes people who are depressed are afraid to admit it because there’s such a stigma around it. And unfortunately, people who aren’t even close to depression often misuse and abuse the word ultimately negating its value, making it even harder to come forward.

Like I said before, depression has many forms and everyone deals with it differently. But no matter how we deal with it, it’s absolutely nothing to be ashamed of and should be taken seriously. Mental health issues require visibility and awareness, and the more we talk about it … the more we can make sure people get the help they need before it’s too late.

I’m not perfect. I’m not “fixed.” I am human and I will always be a work in progress. For as long as I’m alive, I will continue to fight and conquer my inner monsters. Can I safely say that my depression is behind me? I think so. Are there still occasional dark days? Sure, but now I know that I can overcome them.

For a while, depression felt like a weighted blanket that I was forced to carry around each day, and this might sound crazy but that weight made me a stronger person today. I had to go through that part of my life in order to thrive and unfortunately remind myself why I wanted to survive. It taught me to celebrate the highs, and not to linger on the lows. It taught me to seek to understand before jumping to judgment, something I’m still working on. But most importantly, going through the rough patch and getting help taught me that it’s okay to not be okay.

Blah, blah, blah … I said I would keep this short and I kind of did. Take time to check-in with the people you love. And by check-in, I mean REALLY check-in. Ask questions, be supportive and create a safe space for them. We are all humans and in the wise words of Disney’s High School Musical …

PS. If you or someone you know is suffering from depression, don’t be afraid to get help. I am not a professional (SHOCKER!) but I do recommend getting help if you need it. It wasn’t until I asked for help that I was truly able to get a handle on my depression and anxiety.

- Noah Lee Jordan (#WNN)

Find out more about Mental Health:

• Anxiety and Depression Association of America

• National Alliance on Mental Illness

• Mental Health America

• SAVE: Suicide Awareness Voices of Education

SONG OF THE BLOG (#SOTB): “Who You Are” - Jessie J

Colorblind and Completely in Love

I was somewhere in my early twenties and after weeks of mysteriously vanishing from social events and far too many lame excuses to bail on fun activities, I finally decided to come clean — I was dating someone new. By now we’d known each other long enough and I'd finally come to the conclusion that this guy was ready to meet my core group of friends — maybe not my family, but certainly my close compadres.

Now everyone knows introducing a new fling to friends is never easy, no matter how old you are. There’s the immediate barrage of questions, the unnerving fear they won’t approve or worse, they’ll manage to spill the one story you had every intention of never telling. And I will openly admit that I have been the fearless leader of such peanut galleries but this isn’t about that.

Having witnessed a few less than stellar introductions, I was always secretly terrified of being on the receiving end; hence, the reason I rarely brought potential suitors to the firing squad. The opinions of my close friends have always held a heavy weight and my friends have always been a bunch of bloodthirsty assassins with killer instincts. When they smell trouble, I usually listen because most of the time they’re right. Seriously though, listening to them more often might have saved me from a few bad relationships and a hearty handful of nightmare dates.

Either way, when game night rolled around and it was time to throw my new beau to the wolves, I prepared myself mentally, filled him in on all the must-know details, approached my friend's apartment and hand-in-hand we rang the doorbell — all the while feeling as though I would vomit. By the end of the night, despite all their secret whispers of criticism (and let’s be honest, looking back he really was a complete loser) only one comment really stuck with me …

“I’m surprised he’s white. Will your family be okay with that?”

Will my family be okay with what … me dating a white guy?! Seriously? I was stunned. In the moment, I didn’t have a great comeback or even a full sentence. I distinctly remember sort of laughing and half mumbling something before awkwardly excusing myself so I could use the restroom slash get the hell outta there.

It was 2011, was this still a legitimate question?

My date never heard the comment, and I’m glad I never mentioned it. I can only imagine how I might have felt if the roles were reversed and I heard something so naive when surrounded by his tight-knit clan of friends. Not to mention, how I might have felt if he’d mustered the same lame response I did back then. #SMH

Now before that night, there’s a good chance I’d never noticed or blatantly ignored similar comments since they were never really directed my way specifically. Like when my pretty, blonde-haired, blue-eyed friend constantly mentioned her lack of attraction to guys of ethnicity or how she, “just didn’t know what her parents would do if she brought home a black guy.” I usually just ignored it. And to be perfectly honest, I know I’ve been guilty of saying something equally atrocious to a friend during a night of drunken buffoonery. If I remember correctly, I think I said something along the lines of, “it’s about time you finally tried to date someone of your own kind. Now you will finally bring honor to your family” to an Asian friend of mine. Yikes. Definitely not my proudest moment. Even typing it back makes me cringe and think I should probably call and apologize for that one.

As someone who has predominately found themselves in interracial relationships, I actively support the idea. I constantly root for the long-term success of interracial couples in the public eye — there they are, happy for everyone to see. Take that, haters! Even still, I fear that despite the changes in generations and the abundance of these “mixed” couples floating around, interracial love will always hold a small stigma with some.

So what does it feel like to be in an interracial relationship? Well … I can’t necessarily speak for everyone, but for me, there’s a moment near the beginning when I constantly worry that my date and I will be judged — that those around us will not approve of our mutual twitterpation. And if you’ve seen the film, Get Out, there’s almost always that nerve wracking feeling before meeting their family where you think, “I really hope they know I’m black and this isn’t some weird surprise.” Sure, after a while, it usually subsides, but every now and then — especially since moving to the Caucasian covered land of Minnesota — I still feel uneasy. It’s not Minnesota’s fault for being predominately Caucasian, but coming from Arizona and Colorado, there’s at least a little more diversity there. And even though, I’d like to believe people here are accepting, every now and then I catch a curious glance that seems to say, “hmm … gay AND interracial?!”

A majority of people might indeed be “ready for mixed relationships” and a lot of these uneasy feelings might stem from my own insecurities and lack of confidence. But while I have always been a supporter of love in all its forms, sadly the world as a whole is not. Sure, it’s okay to be friends with someone outside your race, and let’s face it, most of us have a “token” friend of some sort but more than that — white with white, black with black and never shall the two meet for more than a fling.

SIDE NOTE: My partner and I just saw A Bronx Tale: The Musical when it came through the Twin Cities, and while the plot is respectfully thin, a bulk of it is about this very subject. So it rang a little close to home.

Sometimes there’s just a natural attraction to people of a certain similar physical appearance or because you grew up in a place where that was really your only option. Sometimes you just want to step outside your comfort zone because you heard, “once you go black you never go back” or something similar about another race, and now gosh darn-it you just want to know the truth. And sometimes you just meet someone great, decide you want to spend more time with him or her, and you don’t care what anyone else thinks. In any circumstance who are we to judge the who and the why behind it all? Navigating the emotional map known as “love” is already difficult enough, so why should people make it even more complicated by adding their two cents. If people are in love, far be it from me to tell them no.

An often-overused cliché says, “love is blind” and I whole-heartedly agree, it should be. I know that I personally have been in love multiple times with people of varying ethnicities, and currently I’m extremely happy with a partner who just so happens to be Caucasian. Lately, it feels like our world is taking a dark turn, and as hard as we’ve fought for love and equal rights, hate still manages to show it’s ugly face. But it is my deepest hope that we can turn this around and that one-day couples of every kind can showcase their love out in the open and without judgement. You may read this and assume I’m primarily advocating for the acceptance of interracial relationships, and yes that’s partially true but deep down what I’m really advocating for is the acceptance of love in general.

 "More happy love! More happy, happy love!" - John Keats

- Noah Lee Jordan (#WNN)

SONG OF THE BLOG (#SOTB): “Love Hangover” - Diana Ross