Moments that stick in my mind (traded blog post)

27 Jun 2025

I traded blog posts with Zoe and the title I received is: Moments that stick in my mind.

The moments that stay with me tend to be words. Here are a few that come to mind:

• As C and I walked to class, he asked, "Can you walk next to me? I'm talking with you and I can't see you when you walk behind me." He didn't know it, but in that moment, I understood just how much my fear of being seen shaped my habits.

• B's wife, C, once told me that she was more comfortable hanging out with us than with her school friends. She explained that before seeing them, she'd spend hours studying the news — if she did not have an informed opinion (or worse, was unaware), they'd think less of her. It reminded me of advice urging people to read more just to become better conversationalists. I don't know, there's something about this I don't like — this social pressure "to know" for the sake of... other people knowing that we know.

• In my first agency job right after graduation, I helped the creative director close out projects. When I emailed to introduce myself to the first client, she responded with a large glamour shot of her face. The director looked over at my screen and remarked, "That was the first thing she sent me too." Since then, I've become aware of "pretty privilege." I am sorry that we live in a world where women feel like they have to lean into this.

• After a week exploring Japan, my mom said to me, "I'm traveling, eating good food, spending all this money shopping — and none of this makes me happy." I had planned a solo trip to Asia, but she insisted on coming along because it "wasn't safe" for a young woman to travel alone. I decided then that I would not allow this kind of intrusion again.

• My brother once told me that he loves spending his workdays sitting in "long, unproductive meetings" — the kind that accomplish nothing. He was serious, and I was appalled.

(Hum. This is veering more negative than I'd expected, but perhaps that's okay.)

• During a rough patch early on in our relationship, I said, "I think we'd be better off if we weren't together." He responded, "If that's what you want, we can talk about it. But if it isn't what you want, please don't say that." It was not what I wanted. I no longer allow my insecurity to drive my words.

• I was the new girl in school. In my first class, another Sylvia greeted me (because same name), gestured at a girl, and warned, "You should stay away from her. She threatened to kill someone." That girl is now my closest-oldest friend.

• When I was 14, my English teacher handed out pride bracelets to kids who were interested in having one. As I slipped mine on, a snooty girl expressed her displeasure with how visible the support was, "I don't understand why people feel the need to wear these." I was silent then, but my answer now is, "You are the reason."

• At my kindergarten graduation, every student was asked what we wanted to be when we grew up. Every girl said they wanted to grow up to be a mom; I said I wanted to be a banker. My mom admonished me right after the ceremony, "I'm not working so hard so that you can end up like me. You will be better than me."

• An old pastor said to me, "You're always so busy taking care of other people. When do you stop to care for yourself? Who's taking care of you?" Soon after, I stopped going to church and started caring for myself.

Well, I intended to write a few,¹ and then just kept going...

What's included here: These are moments that I return to, parts of stories that I tell, experiences that changed me, ideas that I feel strongly about. When I'm 80 and telling old stories, these will likely come up. 🤔

Not included here (even though they came to mind): All the times I was mean to someone — and the hurt I heard in their voices and saw in their eyes. But we don't need to list those out. I once started sharing these experiences with my sister, and she asked me to stop — because of how deeply uncomfortable she felt with recalling her own childhood behavior while listening to mine. 🙃

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The title I gave to Zoe is: My personal canon. Brendan describes it as "an encapsulation, in list form, of those things that have most shaped you. A sort of annotated bibliography of influences." I've written a My personal canon post too — it's still just a list at the moment, but I hope to add annotations (what they mean to me) eventually.

If trading blog post titles sounds fun to you, contact me — I'd be happy to trade.