It’s so much easier to be sane for other people than it is for yourself.
Turns out I am very ill and have been for a while. Oops! Right now I feel sick and miserable and if I have any sort of contact with other human beings it seems I can make them sick and miserable too. The truth is, my life has probably always been this way, except now the ailments are more physical.
I’m wondering if there is a way to start over and make friends and connections that do not know I have mono. I sort of feel like I must have ruined it with the other ones. I haven’t had human contact in about eight days, aside from family that is forced to provide a roof and soup for me. Isn’t eight days about the same time you forget people in? I think so.
Plus, I probably need to find people who I don’t care about a lot or who don’t care about themselves so I can make out with them and give them my mono.
I have no idea how I got this. It’s only slightly miserable, really. I do love soup and toast and movies and sleep. I pretty much love those things more than anything else, in fact. Maybe I have it too good. But either way, I sort of hope everything is okay. With everyone else and health and stuff. Yeah.
I should also mention that part of the reason why I made a blog post at all is because, in googling so much today, I realized that when you google me this blog does not appear as high up as it should in the search results. My twitter is the first thing, which is ridiculous, because my twitter is retarded. And after my twitter is some blind girl who can sing well, which is retarded because she isn’t me.
So, hey, here’s an idea. These are the top ten things people googled in the US today:
What the fuck are any of those and what the fuck do they mean? No wonder I’m not getting a book deal. I can’t even anticipate America’s need to know about pertinent topics like Tappy Philips.
I am currently googling the entire graduating class of Vassar College 1985 for my boss, even though I’ve been trying to think if there’s a more efficient way of finding this information than my own slow research techniques. Apparently there isn’t.
It seems that everyone who graduates from this college is, surprise!, either a doctor or a lawyer. If they aren’t one of the two, then they seem to have gone crazy and/or opened a non-profit that no one cares about.
I myself fail at science and have no attention span for law. The answer is clear then; I should become a spiritual healer in Texas.
There are a bunch of crows outside my window and it’s kind of freaky. They’re making crow noises and flying around in circles with no clear intention or purpose. There is no obvious stop to these antics, and let me tell you, it’s difficult to google Vassar alums when the world is seemingly ending outside your window.
My co-worker just stopped in to announce, “it’s Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds out there.” She is correct.
Shut up, birds. Seriously. This is getting ridiculous.
I also saw this movie this weekend, and it was also good. It made me distinctly aware of the mistakes I’ve made in my life. Specifically, I did not decide to be born in 1950 in the UK. If instead of choosing the year ’88 in the suburbs of Los Angeles I had made the more appropriate choice, then maybe I too could have been a part of a rebellious, sassy, and witty group of Brits on a boat. Most likely I would have played the role of the lesbian who made toast, but that would have been fine by me. I sort of wish cultural change and protest had the same panache it did back in the day. Now if you speak up about issues you are most likely some annoying person in an outdoor mall pestering people for money. But back in the ’60s it was all about music and being cool and beautiful and advocating a world of peace and freedom. And, on a boat???
Also, this is the bazillionth wonderful thing Richard Curtis has contributed to our cultural lexicon of British Comedy. I wish I could be him. However, again, this would have required being born at a different time in a different place, which were choices I failed to make. He’s funny and poignant and smart. I mean, he made Love Actually. While, Pirate Radio might be no Love Actually it is still delightful and fun. I actually cared about the characters in the end, which is not something I can usually say. Oh, I don’t know. British people are funny, and that’s it.
I really adored this movie. I think my favorite part might have been listening to foxes talk about their home mortgages. I was easily entertained by the juxtaposition of cartoon foxes with real life. Wes Anderson always creates really delightful movies, blah blah blah, and this time was no different. I’d pretty much go see it again. This movie made me feel more excited about the prospect of screenwriting, and also more excited about being a Vassar grad (Noah Baumbach co-wrote with Wes Anderson while Meryl Streep talked in it). However, in looking for fine print on my diploma, nowhere does it say I am entitled to work on whimsical films based on Roald Dahl books. In fact, it lists no life purpose anywhere. I think this must have been a mistake. Tangents aside, I found Fantastic Mr. Fox to be more than cute, but also maybe profound and inspiring. Or at least inspiring. It was fun and smart and I laughed a lot, much to the dismay of the grumpy dude sitting next to me (who, luckily, wasn’t my date). I might almost say it’s my favorite Wes Anderson movie now but… always a soft spot for the Royal Tenenbaums. Hard to say!