I’ve been thinking a lot this year about what I’ve learned in life so far. I’ve been thinking, if I were to bundle up all of my life experiences into a pithy little book of bullshit platitudes and truisms and motivational nuggets that could go in the little spinning caddie in the checkout aisle at Barnes & Noble, what would I have to say?
I turned 32 last week. I was thinking about it, and here’s how I’d rank the stages of my life so far, from best to worst:
1. Early 20s;
3. Early 30s;
5. Late 20s;
6. Adolescence; and
When you’re a kid, everybody tells you that you might think that being an adult is awesome because you can do whatever you want, but when you become an adult, you’ll realize that adults have all these responsibilities and have to work really hard.
They’re lying, though, because being an adult is awesome because you can do whatever you want.
Say that you’re trying to get work as, I don’t know, an elephant. Because, while it wouldn’t be your dream job or anything – maybe you’d really like to be a tiger – you’ve actually been working as a vole for the past however many years, and elephant would be a big step up for you, and you think you’d be a really good elephant, because every time you’ve done it for free, everyone’s been really happy with you, but it’s impossible to get work as an elephant if you don’t have over 5 years of professional experience as an elephant, and it’s really frustrating and makes you feel like a total idiot. Continue reading “No One’s Hiring Elephants Right Now”
I never joined a sorority in college, but I was thinking that if I had joined one, I would have had my sorority name be Sister Mary Margaret Catherine Elizabeth Benedictus Championos, and I would have painted my cell a light color to make it seem airier, and accessorized it with Target’s Back-to-School Cell Style!™ line, which is both affordable and cute. And I would have taken the crackers but refused the common cup, and then just consecrated a little half-glass of wine for myself later, in my cell after the kegger. Also, everyone makes the mistake of signing up for gardening chore because they think it’s all flowers and sunshine, but in fact, it’s hot, exhausting, difficult labor. I would have signed up for salad prep, because nobody actually wants that, but it’s super easy.
I’m just temping at a University right now, and everyone is getting ready for Rush Week, so I’ve been thinking about how I never took the opportunity to participate in all that sort of thing. But, you can’t do everything there is to do in life, and I used my college years well in learning everything there is to know about unicorns.
For weeks now, the rumblings have been distant and low, but each day, they grow closer: echoes of a distant dread. Through the subterranean tunnels, it comes, the Balrog – ambition withers in its path, dreams splinter and snap. Deep into the city where the willful urban twixter po’ folk dwell, with their no benefits, their clothes from six years ago, their hopeful new iphones. It comes even for them, the Nothing, wiping out all in its path. Even those small, powerless grubs who have elected to find a little-noticed crevice on a larger creature, and hunker down there, making no noise, causing little harm, silently sucking…they, too, will be dragged forth, out into the glaring light of day, and counted. The fire of this crisis leaves no pore unscoured – even the armpits and nostrils of the corporate beasts will be flushed clean.
It comes. Closer and closer, it comes. It sucks up years, it grays youth, it brings forth the sweat from even the most habitually sedated brow…
Listen up, New Yorkers who live in high-rise apartment buildings: just because you cannot see into the windows of surrounding buildings does not mean that you are not lit up like Christmas to people across the way. If you do exercise videos in the buff toward the back of your apartment…oh, man, can I still see you. Without even trying. In fact, it’s very hard not to see you. And I’m sure other people can see you, too, and are probably not as polite about looking away as I am. Continue reading “Public Displays Of Private Affairs”