Writing Samples
I grew up in a suburb in Southern California near the city of Pasadena. There weren’t many other kids who lived in that neighborhood; school was someplace far away and nearly every nearby house was home to an elderly retired couple. The only other kids in that neighborhood were a brother and sister who lived down the street, both of whom were near-obsessed with kids’ MMO games: Wizard101, Toontown Online, Club Penguin. As I became friends with them and they introduced me to their favorite games, I also developed a fondness for them, though one in particular always stuck out to me: Webkinz, the original “toys-to-life” game.
As far as MMOs go, Webkinz was a simple one: you had a virtual pet to feed and take care of, a customizable house you could decorate and personalize, and, of course, there were minigame hubs you could visit and chat with other players in. What really set this game apart from the rest, however, was its main gimmick: every player’s pet came in the form of a real life plush toy, one with an attached code that you would enter in online. A digital simulacrum of your plushie would run around, talk to you, and ask you to feed it sandwiches.
- from “Scooter,” a personal essay.
At first Elaine thought she had been dreaming. She had woken up on her back in a room she didn't recognize, with walls elegantly dressed in a flowery, intricately-patterned paper. Underneath her was a mattress softer than anything she'd ever felt before, and she found herself dressed in a set of cotton pajamas that seemed too new to be hers. Strangest of all, though, was that - upon looking down at her arms beside her - she found them to be entirely translucent.
“This must be a dream,” she thought. That was the only explanation for any of it.
But when she brought her hand up to her arm and pinched herself as hard as she could, it suddenly seemed apparent that this was not a dream. Possibilities began to swirl around in her head. Had she been kidnapped? Was she hallucinating? She threw the pristine white covers off to the side and began running around the room in a panic, searching for something, anything, that might give her a clue as to what was going on.
- from “Moving On,” a short story.
Celebrities and Value
I am not a person who gets invested in the lives of celebrities. If you ask me, the things Harry Styles gets up to in his personal life are none of my business. I will react appropriately when made aware of certain controversies (Larry David physically attacking Elmo on live television was shocking, certainly), but generally I don't see the point in keeping up with news about famous people, no matter how much I might admire their singing or acting. From what I can tell, this doesn't seem to be a particularly common position; it seems like every time someone rich and famous sneezes, someone has to write an article about it and share it with the world.
I guess on some level I can understand the appeal of this. Celebrities live much more exciting lives than we do, afforded to them by their considerable talent and wealth; things that place them far above the lower rungs of society that the rest of us are shackled to. Famous people make more money than I can dream of, receive awards and draw crowds, wear fancy clothes and live in mansions. It seems only natural to be fascinated by them. They are apparently a special kind of people that the rest of us can never be.
Still, in many ways I find the extent to which this fascination goes somewhat perplexing. To my confusion, many celebrities sell their own branded products; while I might understand the appeal of, say, Gordon Ramsay-branded frozen lasagnas, I am fully confounded by the apparent demand for an AC/DC brand of wine. My theory is that this is a deeper level of fan investment; it isn't enough to simply know things about these people, one must own everything they make. I've never tried the AC/DC wine, but if internet reviews are to be believed it is overwhelmingly mediocre. The thing is, I don't think that's why someone might buy the AC/DC wine. I think the reason people buy branded products like these is simply to own something with the AC/DC name. I think having something like that makes people feel a little closer to their favorite celebrities. I think, perhaps, there is a part of a person that says, "maybe if I can own enough of their merchandise, maybe if I can get even closer to them, maybe I can feel like I'm up there with them."
This might explain why, similar to how Gordon Ramsay possesses his own brand of premade human food, the Instagram-famous cat Nala Cat has her own brand of premade cat food. Surely if we want to buy things endorsed by the rich and famous for ourselves, we must also buy these things for our pets. Even famous pets are worth emulating if it means we can get closer. Maybe our pets will be better if we can emulate theirs.
The idea of a rich and famous cat might sound ridiculous, and yet they somehow manage to exist despite this. Taylor Swift's cat, for example, supposedly has a net worth around ninety-seven million dollars. What troubles me about this is that I also have a cat. I would never think to appraise him like this; I do not think he has a particular monetary value. No one has ever seemed to care how much he is worth (the answer is quite a lot, though perhaps not monetarily), and the only conclusion I can draw from this is that Taylor Swift's cat is apparently a special kind of cat that my cat can never be. But I'm not sure I believe this.
There is a prevailing idea in our culture, it seems, that in order for something to have “value,” there must be a dollar sign attached to it. If I can’t measure something’s value in a dollar amount, can’t use cold hard economics to determine its worth to a potential consumer, how can I know if it is truly worth anything at all? How do I know it’s even real? And it appears we have taken this idea so far that we feel the need to apply it to people and their pets. When someone is famous enough, when they have achieved enough societal importance to be considered famous, we all get to look at them and their net worth. We nod and agree and say, “Of course she’s worth a lot of money. She has talent. She’s important. She’s more ‘real’ than the rest of us. She has more value.” I would like to question this idea, this instinct.
Dollar amounts are not real. Things have monetary value because we collectively agree that they do. We can assign these values to anything, but it is ridiculous to put so much stock in them, to equate them to importance in the way that we do. There are other ways to have value, and we can agree to assign value in other ways. Sure, it is nice to have money, but the degree to which we seem to worship it is almost dehumanizing.
I think there is a kind of inherent absurdity in attempting to measure the monetary value of someone’s pet cat. I think a cat is worth much more than that. I think a person is worth much more than that. I think the habit of worshiping celebrities is a ridiculous attempt at forming a relationship with someone who doesn’t know you exist. I think there is a certain sense of escape one gets when they are able to become invested in the life of someone more "exciting" or "interesting" or "important." I think celebrities slapping their faces on products helps them sell you this idea; that they are worth more than you, that their cats are more important than mine. I don’t think any one cat is more important than any other cat.
Bibliography
Bregel, Sarah. “Taylor Swift’s Cat, Olivia Benson, Is Allegedly Worth More than Travis Kelce.” BBC News, BBC, 8 Feb. 2024,
www.bbc.com/worklife/article/20240207-taylor-swifts-cat-olivia-benson-is-allegedly-the-3 rd-richest-pet-ever.
“Chef Gordon Ramsay Launches Delicious New Frozen Entrée Line, by Chef Ramsay.” Business Wire, 5 Sept. 2023,
www.businesswire.com/news/home/20230905926204/en/Chef-Gordon-Ramsay-Launches Delicious-New-Frozen-Entr%C3%A9e-Line-By-Chef-Ramsay.
Riddle, Tree. “AC/DC’s Wine Collection Now Available in the United States.” Loudwire, 26 June 2012, loudwire.com/acdcs-wine-collection-now-available-in-the-united-states/.