My Darkest Carrie Bradshaw Moment(So Far)

A note on the title:
In case there’s anyone reading this that remains uninitiated, Carrie Bradshaw is a columnist who often kicked off her writerly musings by writing that “she couldn’t help but wonder” this or that…hers were cuter, like “Is Sex Better Without Commitment?” or why is breaking up so hard to do.(as a student, I actually tried to write this one, in my then-ceaseless quest to not be “typecast” as a disabled writer—I did attempt to be rigorous and talk to people in the psychology department, but between the relentless innocence I tried to project then, and an epic fabrication scandal in my journalism department at the time, I think they thought I was fucking with them, quite frankly.) Not quite “it’s funny now,” but I can totally deal with the fact that kind of voiceless, bright but slightly inhuman pablum never saw daylight under my byline, not least because, even more than now, if someone tried to explain having chemistry with someone they didn’t like to me at nineteen or twenty, they might as well have talked to their dogs.
But here are the things about people’s response to the soft opening (that’s what he said) of the United States that I Couldn’t Help But Wonder:
Do people really love tubing and stuff that much? Doesn’t look that fun even without the threat of death.

If our government were more generous to its citizens and less equivocal in its messaging, would people be chomping at the bit this much?

Do they not understand that some of the people we have to worry about don’t look sick at all, or do they think youth and abledness give them a pass?

Are they perhaps, and this may be the darkest speculation, beginning to feel that these momentary pleasures are the best they can hope for?(sometimes I can get this, especially given the world the twentysomethings were born into, went to school in, graduated to.) even in my own life, I can’t be sure if my problem was that I’ve been too future-focused, or that the future I planned for wasn’t mine, but Rory Gilmore’s.

10 Reasons Why Electronic Diallers Are A Bit Like Strong Vegetables...

10. Sometimes I really don't want to deal with them.
9.  I can see that sometimes, and for some people,  they might be a good thing.
8.  I work my way through them very slowly.
7.  But I don't actively avoid them, as I did when I was younger.
6.  There is a lot of hype about how good they are.
5. When you say you struggle with one, everyone says "You haven't tried MY version yet.(although, of course, there was no recipe for HubDialler as there is for Brussels sprouts)
4.  There are some I've adjusted to, though I prefer ice cream.
3. they are both geeky topics found in small corners of the internet
2.  Hopefully, they both build healthier bodies, if you include the body politic.
1.  Any day I do more than gag on one is a win.

Sometimes It Feels Like I Grieve All The Time....

even my working through my disability stuff feels like this, too, really.(I'm so good at survivor's guilt that I have it already, not even being sure if I'm really a survivor or not. Part of it is habit/)
I also grieve that we have a leader who quotes death toll numbers as if he is talking about seating capacity in an arena or some shit, and my state has a weak-willed governor that's like "The olds and Indians, eh? Open for business."
I also grieve that I can't just look toward the next administration that might be coming and sigh with relief that now the adults will show up and now  can settle back.(Not that Tanahesi Coates would read this but if he did, he would see in that yearning traces of the Dream that gets broadcast on television all the time, and that even we white people don't really live, either, but that we got closer to, probably, than someone in W.  Baltimore.)
there is a book I got to review, but the ending was so happy that it made me sad because a happy ending looks like a vanishingly small prospect for me.

Kind of Had My Mind Blown By "Wonderstruck"--Bohemian Crip Watches Movies...

and not because I'm easy to please right now(Although that is kind of true.)
Not because it was visually beautiful but sort of hard to understand(Kind of hate how much these two things go hand in hand these days...what was the last beautiful film that was clear?"Amelie?" "Hugo?")
But I love that both young characters were deaf and, although they were struggling with it and it complicated their journey(A literal journey, divided through time...that is a bit of a long story, but they both came to the same NYC museum 40 years apart.) but it's not about healing or some long-suffering parent trying to find the "real person in the silence" or whatever...in fact, as many of us who grow up disabled kind of find(to varying degrees...the girl from the twenties is essentially abandoned by both parents) our parents to occasionally be antagonists, no matter how well-meaning or loving.
I loved that rejecting treatment kicked off the story instead of stalling it.