Tuesday, March 23, 2004
they closing the somethings down.
i went, over the weekend, to allentown, pennsylvania. it was strangely restful, and i feel better than i did before i went. i visited one of my best, most missed college chums--someone i see far less than i'd like to, but circumstances have once again put us within three hours of each other, so it's about to get better.
i got to spend time in an apartment that seemed like a home, with a yard and astroturf, and space for a dining room table and all the plastic figurines owned by my friend's boyfriend. they're all on a tall, shallow shelf bolted to the wall of their bedroom--as you're lying in bed, you're staring at about nine levels of primary colored five-inch superhero action figures. i love this, and that when one of them falls in the night and my friend stirs nervously, his boyfriend begins to chant, "it's catwoman! it's catwoman! it's catwoman!" because he can identify them by sound when they fall off the shelf in the night.
he's a doctor now, this friend. the PhD kind. and he teaches the students that we were, not so long ago (or rather, that he was--i never touched neuroscience with any kind of pole). it made me wistful, and then, eventually, it made me feel a little bit better. my friend sometimes feels like he played it safe and should have done what i did, just as i am beginning to feel that what i understood as a brave and necessary risk was possibly more like shutting blind eyes to any sort of plan for happiness.
another day, another call to the powers who be in an effort to get back on the mental health train. beaurocracy can shove it, in my opinion.
best,
louella.
i got to spend time in an apartment that seemed like a home, with a yard and astroturf, and space for a dining room table and all the plastic figurines owned by my friend's boyfriend. they're all on a tall, shallow shelf bolted to the wall of their bedroom--as you're lying in bed, you're staring at about nine levels of primary colored five-inch superhero action figures. i love this, and that when one of them falls in the night and my friend stirs nervously, his boyfriend begins to chant, "it's catwoman! it's catwoman! it's catwoman!" because he can identify them by sound when they fall off the shelf in the night.
he's a doctor now, this friend. the PhD kind. and he teaches the students that we were, not so long ago (or rather, that he was--i never touched neuroscience with any kind of pole). it made me wistful, and then, eventually, it made me feel a little bit better. my friend sometimes feels like he played it safe and should have done what i did, just as i am beginning to feel that what i understood as a brave and necessary risk was possibly more like shutting blind eyes to any sort of plan for happiness.
another day, another call to the powers who be in an effort to get back on the mental health train. beaurocracy can shove it, in my opinion.
best,
louella.
