Friday, November 11, 2005
flip side.
we try occasionally to relieve the negativity here at kerouac says. you might not believe it, but it's true. i was touched to see deron write recently that people have scolded him his whole life for feeling sorry for himself, but that doesn't seem to keep it from happening; likewise, i've been told my whole life that my fatalism is in fact creating the very situation i think engenders my dark outlook and that if i could just have some faith, things would work out fine.
to which i say: interesting. but i don't buy it. some psychiatrist asserted, in this book about shadow syndromes, that mildly depressed people--those with dysthymia, which was my My First Barbie diagnosis, before the big guns kicked in--actually perceive the world more realistically than either "healthy" people or those who are more severely depressed. whereas 72% (i made that number up; i can't remember the actual one, but it's a strong majority) of the healthies think they are above average drivers, depressies are more likely to admit it they are possibly sucky drivers, and very probably not any better than anyone else. depressies also tend to have more realistic views about probabilities. mary tyler moore: we're going to make it after all! the depressed person*: we have about a 40/60 chance! one is righter, one is happier. i wear my hair in a flip right now, ala MTM, but i don't seem to be able to change myself at the core.
but, anyway, lest you think we are a black hole: we realized today that the first two years in a new city are never as good as the time after the first two years. it just gets easier. even if nothing big comes true or changes for the better, the time after the first two years is just categorically easier. at least for us. it happened even in my favorite city where i feel perenially at home. the dark parts were not this dark, but there was a gentle exhalation after i reached the two year mark.
and here, the winter is coming, and i am about to find a whole new season of weather i can't stand, but i looked around my subway station today and felt affectionate toward it. i didn't hate it, even though the MTA must represent everything i find most infuriating and painful about new york. it was mine. it was okay by me.
the last time i was home--i think i mentioned this then--two of my most intuitive friends predicted that i would flip a U and come to love new york. and i laughed; beer may have shot out my nose. i don't think they're right. but maybe this is what they meant: it will get better.
don't tell anyone. i still don't want to stay here. but my tolerance is growing. and i'm glad of the relief.
*have you read this david foster wallace book? it made me so scared. please, if i am ever that person, someone come give me a bus ticket to a town where no one knows me.
to which i say: interesting. but i don't buy it. some psychiatrist asserted, in this book about shadow syndromes, that mildly depressed people--those with dysthymia, which was my My First Barbie diagnosis, before the big guns kicked in--actually perceive the world more realistically than either "healthy" people or those who are more severely depressed. whereas 72% (i made that number up; i can't remember the actual one, but it's a strong majority) of the healthies think they are above average drivers, depressies are more likely to admit it they are possibly sucky drivers, and very probably not any better than anyone else. depressies also tend to have more realistic views about probabilities. mary tyler moore: we're going to make it after all! the depressed person*: we have about a 40/60 chance! one is righter, one is happier. i wear my hair in a flip right now, ala MTM, but i don't seem to be able to change myself at the core.
but, anyway, lest you think we are a black hole: we realized today that the first two years in a new city are never as good as the time after the first two years. it just gets easier. even if nothing big comes true or changes for the better, the time after the first two years is just categorically easier. at least for us. it happened even in my favorite city where i feel perenially at home. the dark parts were not this dark, but there was a gentle exhalation after i reached the two year mark.
and here, the winter is coming, and i am about to find a whole new season of weather i can't stand, but i looked around my subway station today and felt affectionate toward it. i didn't hate it, even though the MTA must represent everything i find most infuriating and painful about new york. it was mine. it was okay by me.
the last time i was home--i think i mentioned this then--two of my most intuitive friends predicted that i would flip a U and come to love new york. and i laughed; beer may have shot out my nose. i don't think they're right. but maybe this is what they meant: it will get better.
don't tell anyone. i still don't want to stay here. but my tolerance is growing. and i'm glad of the relief.
*have you read this david foster wallace book? it made me so scared. please, if i am ever that person, someone come give me a bus ticket to a town where no one knows me.
