Hope you weren’t expecting any brilliant, in-depth posts from me this week. If you were looking for that type of thing, I highly recommend Sean’s Not much to gawk about, a smackdown of the weirdness, silliness and arrogance surrounding the non-publication of the GQ article “Vladimir Putin’s Dark Rise to Power,” and Matt Taibbi’s Sick and wrong, in which he lays out the 5 point plan followed by the gov’t. to kill healthcare reform. Indeed, I recommend these articles even if you are not actively looking for such things. Indeed, by not reading these articles you are doing yourself and everyone who knows you a serious disfavor because ultimately you have a responsibility as a citizen of the world to know this stuff. Ignorant people are the problem. Be the solution.
Another problem is depressed people. Who are worse than ignorant people, really. There’s the possibility that, given the knowledge they lack, the ignorant might actually do something about it. I think people prone to ignorance are also the kind of people who always want to be doing something. It’s just a matter of pointing them in the right direction and providing them with tangible rewards. Depressed people, however, possess the knowledge that should motivate them to action, but they succumb to inertia instead. In fact, they are usually quite knowledgeable precisely because they are content to sit and read, or think. And they are depressed precisely because they are quite knowledgeable. Do you think it is any coincidence most of these people live in blue states? raises one eyebrow…
I’m counting myself among the blue this week. Blue is my default category, yes. But there are shades, and this week is a decidedly more midnight blue than an Yves Klein or hyacinth. It’s the color of the sky Vincent painted after he did away with the ear. Happens every year at this time. You might call it “seasonal depression” but that would imply it has something to do with meteorology or astrology and not the fact that my mother died on September 7th. That was 9 years ago, abut now no matter what elaborate plan I invent to celebrate, distract or cope my way through this anniversary, it never ever works. Ever. I’ve taken vacations, gone into the woods, had parties, pretended it is just a normal day in a different month, ignored it, and once even entertained the idea of a nightcap of vodka and sleeping pills. (Don’t flip out. I didn’t do it. Obviously. Do you think I’m blogging from beyond the grave?)
It would be easier if it were just one day. The 7th. Limit the drama to 24 hours and move on. But I am unable to do so because the very week that begins with death ends with my birthday. I was never a fan of birthdays to start with. I didn’t even get to savor the stupid fun of the milestone 21st birthday since I was living at the time in a country with no enforced legal drinking age. Now, when I think of my birthday, I can’t get past the feelings of selfishness and humiliation which drove me to remind my family, they in the grips of a spectacular tragedy, impaled by grief, overwhelmed with all of the high stakes event planning that accompanies a death, that … well … it was my birthday.
So, as you see, a terrible week. (more…)