Why "My Old Ass" Spoke to My Young Ass

A movie review of sorts, and talk of quirky rituals, nostalgia and queer confusion

This week, my dad and I paid our local old-school movie theater a visit to see “My Old Ass,” a comedic coming of age film in which “an 18th birthday mushroom trip brings free-spirited Elliott (Maisy Stella) face-to-face with her wisecracking 39-year-old self (Aubrey Plaza).”

Though the “trip” wears off, Elliott’s “old ass” starts “handing out warnings about what her younger self should and shouldn’t do,” which prompts Elliott to “rethink everything about her family, love, and what’s becoming a transformative summer” prior to leaving for college. The film takes place (and is filmed) in Muskoka, Ontario - a thin place I now feel deeply compelled to visit and know. Elliott spends much of her days navigating the lake in her dinky motorboat, returning home now and then to her family’s adorable lakeside cottage.

Public response to the film has overwhelmingly highlighted its nostalgic feel and coziness. In many interviews the film’s director, Megan Park, shares her intention to create something that gives you that same feeling you’d get watching your favorite comfort movies, like “13 Going on 30” and “My Girl.” Inspiration for the plot came to Park during the pandemic when she was visiting her parents’ home, sleeping in her childhood bedroom. As someone currently doing just that, sleeping surrounded by old vision boards and a PB Teen furniture set - yeah, I was that bitch - I can seriously relate. Remarkably, my parents have preserved my adolescent shrine rather than gut it and convert the space into a craft room like most (although I certainly encourage them to make it their needlepoint sanctuary should they feel so inclined). On the eve of the first day of school each year, I recall looking up at the green “Rebecca’s Way” street sign perched above my doorway (it’s giving only child) and marking the start of a new chapter.

I’ve engaged in this somewhat neurotic type of pulse-taking as long as I can remember. Prior to studying abroad my junior year of college, I recall pressing my thumb to a knot of wood in our downstairs bathroom in Tahoe, consoling my anxious brain with the reminder that the next time I’d do this I would have finished my travels and returned to the comfort of my family home. Now, I was diagnosed in high school with a mild form of OCD - you’re like mmmyeah girl, coulda guessed that… and while I know this ritual screams “symptomatic,” I actually think it’s been helpful in punctuating my life. By pausing to think, “Wow, last time I was laying on this couch I was devastated by heartbreak,” I’m able to remind myself of the impermanence of life’s painful emotions. This exercise is like a solo 90 Day Dinner, and helps blunt the mind’s tendency to believe that things will never change.

One of the film’s core themes is sexual fluidity, which is a topic I contemplate often. Elliott, who has always identified as a lesbian, finds herself falling for a man and grapples with the implications of changing the label of her sexuality. This is a tension many in the queer community feel at one point or another, and I’ve made videos in the past discussing our tendency to reward and honor fluidity insofar as someone’s moving away from heteronormativity or binaries. If my TikTok feed is any indication, this is a veeeeery sensitive topic for many and everyone has their own take. A portion of the queer community has recently expressed exasperation at the discussion of bisexual erasure, for reasons ranging from valid to unfair in my opinion. But I gotta say, I haven’t seen many people talk about the experience of identifying as bisexual after having identified as lesbian.

About a month ago, I made a video about my recent experience with this exact trajectory. It was vulnerable and detailed, and after sitting on it for a few hours I decided I didn’t want to post it. Mostly because I was scared what my community would say. This past spring, I started seeing a guy I’d hook up with back in college, and found myself riddled with insecurity around it. Most of this strife was self-inflicted, although I was also criticized directly by a new friend I’d made.

I want to devote an entire post to that experience and how it’s impacted my self-expression and identification, so I won’t say more on it here. But what I will say is that watching Elliott grapple with this same question and perceived judgment on screen meant so much to me, and served as a reminder of how important it is to portray a diversity of lived experiences in the media - be it in the movies, on the news or in a TikTok video. So I just might hit “post” this week.

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Pumpkin Pancakes with Cinnamon Butter by Moribyan (link to recipe)

If you’re unfamiliar with Moribyan’s content then buckle up, folks. She’s on all platforms, so don’t worry Reels freaks, there’s something for you too ;) This weekend we hosted a sleepover for my niece and nephew, and I woke up Sunday morning itching to make them a seasonal treat (must be somethin’ about the crisp 96 degree heat we’re being subjected to…) This recipe was inspired by Luke’s in Gilmore Girls so obviously I was immediately sold, and they did NOT disappoint. Mom, Dad, sister, niece and nephew were all big fans.

Here’s her TikTok and here’s her Instagram

Spiced Vanilla Soul from Philz Coffee

I’ve been on my reformer pilates grind, as I am wont to do upon my return to the Bay. And at the 45-minute mark I get a renewed energy with the knowledge that I’m a mere 5 minutes from indulging in a tasty cup of Philz out on the quiet sunny patio next door. I’ve been making my way through their eclectic menu, and was really taken with the spiced vanilla soul. It’s slightly sweet, perfectly tangy and pairs well with a jaunt around the grocery store. 10/10.

If you enjoyed this post, please pass on a “like” or comment. I really love hearing your thoughts, and it helps make this feel less like an echo chamber :)