This is one of my favorite songs of all time, but I haven’t actually listened to it in years. I lost it when my old laptop died and for some reason didn’t download it again. Anyway, I am in the process of making a (super!emo!) mix right now so I decided to track it down. Yep, still awesome.
“Jack seems to be the only one – Jake, Kate – these people seem to be the only ones who have a sense of déjà vu, like he remembers something but he doesn’t. Maybe this alternate timeline is what happens at the end of the season and everything ends up reverting to this and it’s almost like this is the future? So it’s definitely the future and if nothing ever happened to the island and it was underwater. So. Maybe that’s something that’s gonna happen to the island. And it’s gonna be destroyed. And it changed the whole past. And we haven’t seen certain characters, like Michael. They didn’t show a lot of characters like those characters were never on the plane. I’m very confused. Next week, they said answers. But they are always saying answers. So maybe they will give us some real answers this time. I don’t know what to think anymore. Every time I think I know what’s going on, it goes out the window. I think they need to give us a real big answer to a question that’s been going on for a long time. They’ve been giving us little answers to things people already had an idea about. So. I don’t know. It’s so confusing.”—Your weekly transcription of my coworkers discussing Lost by me, someone who has never watched the show. There’s a lot of talk about this Jacob guy.
I work in a tall commercial building downtown by Wall St, as I have mentioned before. I sit right in front of a window, which is nice because I have a view of the East River so I can watch the boats go by in the morning when the sun is reflecting off of the water. It can be really beautiful and calming. And then I know the weather is really bad when I look out to the river and I can’t see all the way into Brooklyn. I like my view; nobody else at my company has it.
Anyway, there is a new tall residential building directly across the way—no more than 25 feet, maybe?—that I can see right into. So this woman has moved in on one floor and she has a bunch of boxes everywhere and her husband or boyfriend or friend (?) is sitting talking on the phone. And then on the floor above them, I can see two guys walking around, one holding his Macbook in one hand, the other tromping around carelessly, his head swiveling from side to side like he’s looking for something. I feel a little like Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window, except instead of a broken leg I have a desk job. I hope I don’t see anything that looks anything remotely like a murder because I will flip my shit.
Also, I would feel really weird if they got naked or started having sex or something.
hey lady, i just wanted to say i'm really enjoying following you and also that i hope you're doing okay. <3 (i can't believe i just used that symbol), anaïs
Awwwh! Thank you, that really means a lot, especially considering your blog is so wonderful (but I’m sure you knew that already). And yes, I am doing fine, thanks. It’s not easy or anything (it never is), but it’s a day at a time, ya know? Just taking the time to wallow a bit. Publicly.
“Love blurs your vision; but after it recedes, you can see more clearly than ever. It’s like the tide going out, revealing whatever’s been thrown away and sunk: broken bottles, old gloves, rusting pop cans, nibbled fishbodies, bones. This is the kind of thing you see if you sit in the darkness with open eyes, not knowing the future. The ruin you’ve made.”—Margaret Atwood, Cat’s Eye
I woke up this morning and it was overcast outside so it felt like it was still early. I could barely open my eyes, it was like two little beasts were sitting on my eyelids, laughing at me. I got ready, got dressed, put on a hat and made sure the umbrella was in my bag and put on my rubber boots over my socks. Outside, rain. The snowbanks on the sides of the roads had finally melted overnight into large dirty puddles in the gutters. I wasn’t walking very fast. People kept passing me. In the morning, I am almost always slow. It takes me a long time to rev up, but by the time I am heading home in the afternoon, I am practically pushing people over, trying to get home as fast as I can.
But, anyway, I was walking slow this morning. I walk by a school on my way to the JMZ train and so there are a lot of kids that are being escorted by their parents. I think that it would be so weird to go to school in the middle of New York City, or at least in the middle of the Lower East Side. It used to be dangerous and full of violence and always the subject of Law & Order episodes and now it’s just a playground for people in their twenties and thirties. So to see an actual playground there is just kind of…weird. Off. Strange. But maybe I’m the warped one. I don’t know.
I got on the train and I started flipping through my book, The Best American Short Stories - 2007, edited by Stephen King. I have been trying hard to think of a story for my next submission for my creative writing class. And the problem is that I can’t think of anything. I know that people say that you should write what you know, but the major events of my life have all revolved around boys or heartbreak or friendships failing or something. Especially these past few years. There have been no wars, no deaths, no real dysfunction to speak of. Dating! Guys! Working girl! Travel! So what you’re left with is basically chick lit, which kind of sucks because it’s the same thing Nick Hornby is writing except he’s being taken more seriously. Whatever. And I am not specifically asking for any horrible events to happen to me, just that my horrible events are all about boys, which makes me feel really empty. I don’t want to write about it because I find it all to be so terribly boring and redundant. A girl in her twenties is having trouble dating? Tell me another one!
And then I got on the train and I was reading my book and all of a sudden I look up and there is a boy there. And he’s pretty cute—tall, lanky, blonde hair with a bit of a Nordic vibe. And he’s looking at me in that kind of curious way, like, “Oh, hello.” It’s a way I kind of forgot about in the past five months. And then I thought, “Dammit! Boys!” And I started reading my book again, more intensely. “Balto” by T.C. Boyle. It’s good.
And a bunch of short stories written by my writing classmates.
This Tumblr is so great for finding reading material. I have put so many books on my to-read list this way. Also, interesting note, according to them, women read like a million times more than guys do. On trains, at least.
yesterday. but finding that he had premeditated and gathered all my stuff that i had left at his place and put it in a plastic bag on my dining room table was the nail in the coffin. i am devastated and so, so hurt and so, so shocked. i don’t know what to do or how to cope. how could somebody tell you it is the best relationship they’ve ever had and tell you they still love you in the same breath they tell you that they think they should stop seeing you?
“But um, tonight should be really good. Anything with Locke. Anything with Locke is really good. Hopefully they’ll answer some secrets tonight because they are not answering any questions. That whole thing last week was Said was like, Whaaaaaaaat? I mean, they’re still not answering any questions. I can’t belive Kate. I don’t know how they’re going to tie in this whole other… I’m just trying to figure out how they’re going to tie in this other reality with what’s going on now. Maybe they’re going to try with what they did… What’s that, season 4 where they’re going through everybody’s lives back in the mainland? Maybe they’re going to do that with this. I mean, it looks that way because they did Jack and they did Kate, and maybe Hurley or Sawyer? I’m going to go with Sawyer. Did they take Kate from LA? I’m trying to remember her flashback. I don’t remember where she was living at when they asked her… Was she in LA? I don’t remember.”—Another discussion about Lost by my coworkers, transcribed by me, someone who has never watched the show.
My 10-year high school reunion is coming up. A few years ago I would have scratched out my own eyeballs upon receiving the invitation, howling, “WHEN DID I GET SO OLLLLLD!?” while the bevy of cats I rented for the occasion ate my decaying flesh. But no more! I’ve moved on!
I can credit this change in perception to two things:
1. I’ve come to realize I actually enjoy being in my late 20s.
2. I am not attending.
Now, when I have talked about the event with others, the argument from people who did not attend my high school goes something like this: “It will be fun! You’ll see people you wouldn’t have seen! You guys can discuss Ye Olde Tymes from the year 2000! Britney! Limp Bizkit! ‘The Thong Song’ by Sisqo! Bring It On! And an assortment of other delightful pop culture artifacts!” And although this argument is compelling, whenever I talk to people with whom I’ve kept in touch from my high school, a dark look washes over their face and they say, “No way in hell.” With the distance (Manhattan to Southern California), expense ($100 — I am hoping they are serving Cristal out of goblets made of crystal and gold that are encrusted with rubies) and Facebook (I already know how the pimply guy I sat next to in Geometry is doing, as well as his pierced wife and 2 year-old son), there are a multitude of reasons why I should not attend.
So, no high school reunion for me. If only the reunion committee would stop harassing me, then I’d really be set.