08 November 2011

bored to death

The following people were in ONE episode of Bored to Death:

Patton Oswalt, Sarah Silverman, John Hodgman, Ted Danson, Mary Steenbergen, Jason Schwartzman, Oliver Platt, Zach Galifianakis, and mother effing Olympia Dukakis.

Plus, those last two are lovers on the show.

This is the nexus of all that is good in the universe.

07 November 2011

errands for girls with rhythm

It used to be that one had many places to go. There was the bank, the grocery, perhaps the butcher, the dry cleaner, the library, the post office.

There was a very large and rather official-looking Bank of America near where I grew up. I would tag along with my mom when she went there dutifully every week to conduct business. It seemed so glamorous at the time. We were at The Bank. I was to Behave. My mom would be dressed for running her errands, and she would look great. Sort of like this:



These things don't seem to exist anymore. People wear flip-flops to the ATM and their children run around screaming. Nothing is glamorous, and nobody dresses for anything.

Maybe that is why I'm often so over-dressed for things. I miss the days when people tried. I miss sitting in my room at age eight, making pretend to-do lists and pretending to get ready to go out into the world as my best self. Kids don't do that anymore. What does a kid have to fantasize about today? Playing Angry Birds, probably.

01 August 2011

Amazing article in the New Yorker with a detailed description of the killing of bin Laden.

The raiding team then presented the President with an American flag that had been on board the rescue Chinook. Measuring three feet by five, the flag had been stretched, ironed, and framed. The SEALs and the pilots had signed it on the back; an inscription on the front read, “From the Joint Task Force Operation Neptune’s Spear, 01 May 2011: ‘For God and country. Geronimo.’ ” Obama promised to put the gift “somewhere private and meaningful to me.” Before the President returned to Washington, he posed for photographs with each team member and spoke with many of them, but he left one thing unsaid. He never asked who fired the kill shot, and the SEALs never volunteered to tell him.

26 July 2011

unhappy

In the early aughts, I had a feeling that I was unhappy. My life was somehow not fulfilling. Parts of me felt as though they were missing the the vigor of youth, even though I was still young. Unsatisfied, that is what I decided I was. This became a strong part of my inner narrative, and shadowed my view of everything.

Around 2006, things took a very bad turn, and so began a five-year journey of unemployment, underemployment, near-homelessness, debt, unprecedented depression, the loss of both of my cats, a complete break from the love of my life, drugs, bad living situations, extreme familial difficulties, watching my father die very slowly, and finally, a suicide attempt.

I look back now at 2000 to 2005 with some incredulity. What was it exactly about my life that was so horrible? I had a beautiful if imperfect home, a good job and still had some zest for life. My "dissatisfaction" lead me to create art projects. I fell in love twice. The heartbreak from those experiences, while obviously difficult, made me feel alive and caused me to learn a great deal about myself. I went on trips, I felt the sun, I listened to music as though it were my life's blood, I connected with people, I was generally a good friend. I tried to live a better life.

After the torrents of the last five years, things have calmed down now. But, like getting off a roller coaster, I still feel a bit sick. I still deal with depression and financial issues, a total lack of a love life, and an inability to see how anyone could ever love me. I feel numb usually. Because nothing seems worth it. I don't seek beautiful experiences and I don't create them. I am a writer who doesn't write. The last five years have spit me out, and here I am. Existing.

This is a whole lot more sad than feeling "dissatisfied." I wish I could tell my past self that there is nothing wrong with yearning for something more.