Friday Fragments at Half-Past Kissin' Time
Friday Freewrites at Ordinary and Awesome
Fragmented... the way my brain has been feeling for a while now. Many ideas for posts, but not enough ooomph to get much written... and nothing's free... right?
Well, here goes...
There's so much wrong with our culture. Oh... where to begin? How 'bout... the music?? Listening to my kids' favorite station in the car... wait... what are they saying? and two and two and undress you and three and three and undress me and four and four let's freak some more meet me at the hotel motel holiday inn bring your boyfriends and girlfriends... what?? are they singing about orgies??? Even Ty was like eeeww that's gross...Where's Karen Carpenter rainy days and mondays and white lace and promises? Where's Bob Denver filling up my senses like a night in the forest? Where's the innocent sap keeping us innocent?
It took the entire summer, but I finally finished The Poisonwood Bible. I'd taken it out of the library on other occasions, but couldn't bring myself to read about a white missionary family in the Congo. sorry ladies. And Oprah's endorsement was the nail in the coffin as far as I was concerned. Well, my apologies to Ms Kingsolver for underestimating her talent. I loved her essay collection Small Wonders. And when Ms. Moon mentioned The Poisonwood Bible was one of her favorites, I went to the library and checked it out again. Amazing storytelling. I finished and immediately wanted to reread from the beginning, but I had already renewed it twice, and it was overdue by 5 days. I'll have to buy it. If by some miracle you haven't read it yet, you should. It's not a difficult read. It just took me so long because the only chance I get to read is... umm... 15 minutes... umm... every morning... in the bathroom... you know how it is.
On second thought, The Poisonwood Bible is an extremely difficult read. Especially if you're depressed. The funny ha fuckin ha thing about depression is that it completely colors every bit of information that enters your brain. Everything takes on a negative, overwhelming, disastrous, hopeless quality. Everything is futile, every act, no matter how innocent, becomes destructive. So my take home message after finishing this book is that we are all accomplices. We are all guilty. We are all responsible. No one is innocent and ignorance is not an excuse. A prescription for antibiotics for some kid's ear infection? I'm in bed with pharmaceutical thieves. Checking the air pressure in the minivan tires? I think of all the Congolese who had a hand chopped off because they didn't work fast enough on the Firestone Tire rubber plantations. McDonald's because it's just to overwhelming to think about cooking? Oh, don't get me started. All I can think of is the rampant destruction caused just because we want what we want. It's more than a little paralyzing. The more you read, the more you know...
Jack: Mom, it seems like your happy pill is starting to work
Me: Maybe... I don't know if it's the pill or it's just time or maybe it's both
Jack: Maybe you just think it's the pill, and you let yourself think happier thoughts instead of shoving them away and you feel... better
I raise an eyebrow at him
Jack: Yeah, I'm smart that way
And why is it that so many of us are overwhelmed, sad, anxious? What the fucking fuck is up with brain chemistry? Is that really it? I can't NOT think about it cause that's just the way MY brain works. I like answers. I like explanations. If I have to live with that's just the way it is, take the pill and shut up, I will. But it's not easy for me to leave it at that. Is it culture? Is it our environment? Is it genetic? Is it merely that we collectively create our reality and now we have named certain feelings as *dysthymic* *bipolar* *premenstrual dysphoric disorder* *clinical depression* *rapid cycling* *anxiety disorder* *post traumatic stress disorder* *panic attacks*. And prozac paxil lexapro celexa remeron zyban effexor cymbalta luvox zoloft wellbutrin sarafem abilify risperdal zyprexa. Do we conjure them by our belief in their existence? Do the names bestow previously nonexistent POWER? It's hard to imagine it's always been like this, yet it's hard to believe this is a contemporary phenomenon. And it's NOT cross cultural. So what's up with that?
WHERE'S MY FUCKING RED TENT?
Well, on a lighter note...
A profound and heartfelt thank you for the comments and love from Ms. Moon, Kori, JAM, Unknown Mami, Nola, BJ Mama, Alicia, Anouk, and my sister Adrienne whose cheeks are softer than the cheeks of my own children. Solidarity is an awesome thing. And the relationships we form in this bloggy universe, assumedly strange and anonymous, are so intimate that we dream of each other and tell each other our dark and honest secret fears and feelings with the press of a button, and get back love and support and laughter and the knowledge that we are not alone. It's an amazing thing.