Sometimes you feel real old, older than you are. Check the aches and pains, the hairline, the demands of life. Responsibilities, responsibilities. Worse things have happened to all of us; the circus wasn’t as good as you thought it would be, the movie stunk, etc., etc…
Punching the clock, punching the wall, hating your boss. You can’t go if you don’t know, and you can’t know if you don’t go. And everybody in the world has their own song in their heads. The best songs ever. Problem is figuring a way to get them out and present them to others.
You’ve got to know where the brakes are. Enjoy life at a realistic pace. You crazy youngsters, what with your nightlife and everything. And it’s important to trust other people while putting stock in yourself as well. Reevaluating your priorities, checking yourself daily.
Not everybody is a victim of circumstance; conversely, nobody should feel like a martyr all the time. Problem? It’s hard enough to communicate these days; some of us don’t even get the chance. Some others don’t know they have a chance.
When you travel frequently, you find a lot of images. And sometimes, you have to try and make the best of a bad situation: more often than not, we grin and bear it. Other times, you learn to enjoy some small facet of your predicament. Nothing too elaborate, just an attempt to adjust priorities. Revolution starts at home, preferably in the bathroom mirror.
Example? Winter always comes too soon. This year was the worst I can remember, except when I was five years old. Pushed open the front door, got lost in the snow.
and I was still in law school, and I missed my first class on my first day of classes on my final semester. He thought it was because I got drunk even though that wasn’t the case. So he gave me a lecture on how I needed to be more responsible and set better boundaries, and cited my lavish dinner parties as an example of my irresponsible excess.
Was he wearing a t-shirt that said “Another Child Executed By Your Police”?
People post about today being a long day because of the Art midterm they had.
Please, PLEASE, tell me just how difficult it was while I sit here and find the stress and strain of a pipe at an angle of 30 degrees under water with a 200# load attached to it and oil flowing through it at a velocity of 1.5km/h.
**Sidenote: I do not have anything against art majors. I just think you might have better things to complain about. If you don’t, you are damn lucky.
A benefit of my slight budget increase this year is that I’ve been able to use some of it to bring back columnists to the Observer.
The first one we did in-house: Drew Grant is writing every couple of weeks or so about her ongoing quest to become and New York socialite and the various people who are playing Henry Higgins to her Eliza Doolittle (Patrick McMullan, Mary Alice Stephenson, etc). You can read her “Menace to Society” columns here.
Bookforum editor Chris Lehmann, who’s one of the smartest people I know, is also writing for us, and his column is about the intersection of politics and culture. His column last week was a piece about (and interview with) Sandra Fluke.
Former Observer managing editor Una LaMarche is also writing, and her column is an in-depth chronicling of Park Slope parenting (which offers no shortage of material). We occasionally do re-write exercises to get everyone on the same page about Observer style and tone (basically, everyone rewrites something dry and Observer-ifies it) and read the two or three funniest aloud in staff meetings. And Una was always the person to beat on rewrites. Her first I Am SAHM column is here.
And lastly, but certainly not leastly, the brilliant and hilarious Shalom Auslander is doing a country life column for us. (He lives in Woodstock.) It’s Verlyn Klinkenborg if Verlyn Klinkenborg were a little twisted and had an incredibly dark sense of humor. His first column is “What We Can Learn From Our Friends, The Flowers”. Also recommended: his recently-published novel, Hope: A Tragedy, wherein the protagonist finds Anne Frank in his attic.