Is This Heaven, No It’s the Movies.
Field of Dreams came out when I was 12 and I was halfway through my twenties before I realized it was not loved by everybody in the world. My dad and Roger Ebert loved it, and in my world that meant everybody.
When I was 25, I took a class on film, and the instructor did not care for Field of Dreams. I was in shock. I respected this teacher and his movie choices. He got me to watch Some Like it Hot and Double Indemnity, but Field of Dreams, it seemed to me, if you loved movies, you had to love this movie. As I shared my outrage about this with others, I found some of them didn’t like Field of Dreams either. To console myself after these life-altering moments, I would go home and read Ebert’s review, where he reminded me “Field of Dreams will not appeal to grinches and grouches and realists.” Ebert gave me the best gift here; names to call people who don’t like Field of Dreams, because every good bar argument should end in “Oh yeah, well I guess that makes you a realist!”
Right now, I am on the last disc of Roger Ebert’s memoir. Listening to his book has meant feeling constant appreciation and inspiration. These feelings do not come from listening to Ebert talk of how he courageously handled his illness, That is, of course, a part of his book, but not it’s focus. The appreciative, inspiring feelings come from experiencing his writing.
Ebert writes with a beautiful combination of simplicity, pathos, and deftness. Whatever he writes passionately about, you crave instantly, whether it is a great movie, sex, or a Steak and Shake burger.
I was sad today when I put the last disc of his book in my cd player, and then I saw this video, and I smiled.
commercial break
Always,
First of all, how are you? It’s been a long time. I am sure you think I abandoned you for Playtex Gentle Glides and I’m sorry if there are any hurt feelings. Do remember though, that I stuck by you longer than most. My friends had ditched you by high school but, me, I stayed with, and only you, till I was a 22-year old college graduate. And don’t worry, I do think of you still, when I am in the feminine hygiene aisle at my grocery store and more recently, when I catch a glimpse of you on TV.
So, old friend, can I talk to you about the current commercial where you promote your new feminine pad by comparing it to memory foam? Can you explain to me how this works? If I use one of you, does the whole box all the sudden know how to contour itself to me? Or does each pad get to know my shape during it’s own stay in my underwear, cause according to your pamphlets, I’m not supposed to keep you down there that long. Also Always pad, what exactly is your foam remembering? Lots of different kinds of stuff has happened down there and I don’t need you to be my vaginal scrapbook. I want to understand your purpose memory foam maxi pad. Tell me your secrets.
Your Friend Always, (pun!)
Deena
There are no saints in relationships. Relationships are something we enter into voluntarily, Unless you are in a cult, or kidnapped, or something. But in most cases, we have chosen a relationship. Maybe you chose to be in a relationship with the most difficult companion in the world. That choice does not negate future choices. Choosing to stay does not make you more virtuous.
My husband has been called a saint for “sticking by me” through depression, which, frankly would never be said about the spouse of someone with ALS or Parkinson’s or IBS. I was gonna say cancer, but everything gets compared to cancer. I have decided ALS is the new cancer.
As you can imagine, this sainthood he is given is hurtful. I would have to imagine it is hurtful to both of us, as I assume being surprised he did not leave seems like you’re not giving him much credit.
It is hurtful to me because the mere decision to be married to me doesn’t seem like it should be saint-worthy
We make the choices we make and there are pros and cons for all of us.
Let’s leave sainthood for the people who are waitresses at deli’s in Palm Beach, and are being yelled at by old New Yorkers who feel they can be impatient cause they don’t have much time left.
Unlike most people, unless I am out of town, I do not like weekends.
I think I should not be a person who needs routines but I am good at my weekday routine.
Weekends reminds me of my ineptness/lack of willingness to try when it comes to housework. I will never be a good homemaker but trying harder is in my grasp.
When I was at camp mood disorder I actually had a special private meeting each week to plan out my weekends. I cannot remember if it helped.
Also at mood disorder camp they encourage you to put a mood tracker app on your phone, I did not really like the app I picked.( Apparently in addition to the many advantages of an iphone, they also have a much superior mood tracker app.) Even though I never use this app, it is still on my phone. Every time I turn on my phone it tells me the mood tracker app has unexpectedly quit. I think my mood tracker app killed itself.
Also, I feel extra needy lately. Not asking people for things needy, but sharing a lot of my life on facebook needy//wanting lots of hugs needy.
Also, Vince Vaughn is hosting SNL this weekend. My expectations are very low.
Also, I miss seeing Meshach Taylor act.
Also, I got to hold a new born baby yesterday.
Shehecheyanu.
A Mantra for the Clinically Depressed
Today’s advice for the hospitalized suicidal person (who has no social media access anyway)
Hospitals are a necessary evil and when you are well again (really, this does happen,) they provide the best comic fodder. Stay alive for the fodder. It would be a damn shame to not get that reward after your struggle.
