Lately, I’ve been having trouble sticking with an idea or point of inquiry for more than a few minutes at a time. I understand why this is happening—snore—and I understand the culture that enables, or encourages, a problem like this—snore—so instead of fighting it—snore!—I’m gonna go with it (snore?). Of course it’s possible the reason I can’t stick with anything is because the questions I’m asking about life these days are notably pointless, but what the hell.
1: Apropos of the Olympics, which ended 18 years ago, I notice that interviewers love asking athletes what the win “means to them.” I also notice it always means the same thing: It’s a “dream come true.” It’s “surreal.” So what I’m wondering is: are there really market data out there telling these reporters that a majority of viewers want this question to be asked ad nauseam? I mean, yes, the marching orders for all of us writer/journalist/media types is to humanize the subject (read: invade the subject’s privacy to the point of ruination). But are we really humanizing anyone who tells use winning a gold metal is a dream come true? Last night I dreamt I was in a car wreck except the car was an elephant. When that dream comes true, I’ll be sure to let you all know.
2: People who do not have situational awareness drive me crazy, but I can’t decide if the problem has to do with spaciness or ego. Like: if you’re gonna make a right turn but don’t put on your blinker so that the lady biking with her child in the back and dog in the basket nearly wipes out, killing all of them—do you fail to signal because you can’t be bothered to entertain the possibility someone might be in your blind spot or are you just out to lunch?
3: “Ted Lasso.” Season One was pretty delightful. Like: Who knew you could squeeze any more juice outta the comic difference between stereotyped cultures? Season Two, however, is mostly just silly. The schtick and template are the same, and yet its charms are spent. Juuuuuuiiiiiced.
4. “Findom.” True to form—I titled this stack for a reason—today is the first I’ve ever heard of this word. Financial + domination = findom, which is a shitty portmanteau because it reads like finn-dom but has to be pronounced Fine-dom, though I don’t want to be nebbishy about all this (someone recently told me the word “abrogate” is elitist, which I’m still miffed about—just because a word isn’t in circulation or even part of the common parlance doesn’t make it elitist. It just makes it unpopular. These aren’t the same thing! ). But I digress. Findom. I find it odd there’s a word for this. As described, it kinda sounds like what most married woman have experienced over the last 400 years, minus the verbal consent or pleasure.
5. I worry I’m getting dumb. That I don’t think about things with the same clarity or rigor as I did twenty years ago. That I care less. A professor of mine in college once told me that as you get older, you start to put on blinkers. That you get focused on just a few things at the expense of everything else. I was disgusted at the time. But now, well, I spend most of my time thinking about making enough money to raise my kid and making enough money for “retirement” and occasionally I think about writing and literature and how to communicate with the world, and, oh, yeah, about how the world is clearly coming to an end on my watch, but mostly not. And then I promise to watch less “My Feet Are Killing Me” and read more, write more, think more. And then I do none of these things. “My Feet Are Killing Me” is the grossest show ever, btw. Do not Google it. Do not say I didn’t warn you.
Well, enough about me. How you all doing? On the spectrum from total denial to imminent apocalypse, where’s your anxiety falling these days?