Nothing Gold Can Stay (For Y)

I just heard the news. It's a strange thing about death - no matter how many people I have lost in my lifetime (and there have been too many), I just cannot become desensitized to it. It still shakes me to my very core. And I guess, as painful as it is, I am grateful for that.

And I will miss you. So often it's not about the grandiose gestures, but the little day-to-day things that make our (often) mundane existence more bearable. You did that for me for two years. With your endearing smile, your colorful outfits and kind compliments about my hair or my shoes, you made each day a little better than it would have been without you there. You made me laugh, something which to me is invaluable. I always looked forward to seeing you at work in the mornings, and you seemed to almost emanate kindness and empathy. Your earnestness and sincerity were not lost on me. The world has lost another beautiful soul.

I will miss you. Rest in peace.

Nothing Gold Can Stay
by Robert Frost

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
but only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Thanks to L for introducing me to this poem.

In Defense of Melancholy

The other day, when I was feeling particularly upset about something, I called my sister. At the sound of my tears, she repeated her usual stop-feeling-sorry-for-yourself-mantra, which was to tell me to "stop being so f*cking emo and go out and do something fun. Get your mind off of it!"

I could have taken her advice (and I sometimes do), but I am of the opinion that to do so would have been a disservice to myself. Simply put, I don't like to short-change my sadness or deny it its rightful place in my existence. In fact, I think it's an emotion of immeasurable value. This is an unusual concept. The idea of honoring your sorrow is not something that seems natural. It defies our traditional schema, which tells us that the ultimate goal is to “be happy”, which means we must do everything in our power to avoid, or minimize, our pain. There are a myriad of ways in which we as human beings try to circumvent the sorrow in life, yet it seems to seep out from us in spite of our sometimes gargantuan efforts to conceal it.

Which begs the question: why are people afraid of sadness? Why do we try to cover it up and pretend it doesn’t exist? Why is the sight of another person in tears so disconcerting? Why can’t we just let that person give voice to the anguish? Cry our eyes out, scream at the top of our lungs, throw something across the room! Sorrow is as vital to existence as joy. Heartache means that something is precious to us, that we are emotionally invested. It reminds us that we still have a stake in something - and without that, what is the point of anything, really?

Too often it seems to me that those around me elect to feel numbness. There is a sort of collective aversion to intensity. I think William Faulkner put it better than I ever could when he said “If I had to choose between grief and nothing, I’d choose grief”.

So, to all those who know me, if you see me in tears, don’t try to get me to "cheer up" right away and "put the bad thoughts out of my head". Just tell me to cry my f*cking eyes out, because you know what - it’s okay.

Soundtrack of the Week

A couple of weeks ago on yet another tedious date, a guy asked me "if there was a soundtrack to your life, what it be?". Because those prefrabricated types of interview questions really rankle me, I quickly responded "Cemetery Gates by The Smiths". I think this reply sufficiently unnerved him because thankfully the inquisition stopped there. (An aside - I once went on a date where a guy proceeded to ask me "What would you do if you won the lotto? What's the most painful thing you've ever experienced? What's your favorite thing in the world?..." in rapid fire succession. It was more painful than the time I was triple-teamed (the G-rated version!) by three Goldman Sachs investment bankers when interviewing for a job during my senior year of college...Cringe).

In any case, because I'm kind of bored, I decided to create a soundtrack of the week. Yes, I know it's only (Super!) Tuesday, but it's a work in progress. Maybe I should call it a soundtrack-of-the-first-day-and-a-half-of-the-week?

Oh, and thanks, Mr. X, for the inspiration.

1. Girl Anachronism - The Dresden Dolls
2. Gray Room - Damien Rice
3. Throw It All Away - Brandi Carlile
4. Bigmouth Strikes Again - The Smiths
5. How Am I Doing? - Anna Waronker
6. Keep Breathing - Ingrid Michaelson
7. This Year - The Mountain Goats
8. Better Days - Bruce Springsteen

Thank You, Gilda Radner, Maya Angelou and The Giants

People always talk about how failures "build character", how adversity "makes you stronger", and how we learn "what we're made of" when faced with seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Well, I generally consider platitudes suspect and view them with derision. Throw-away phrases are used to oversimplify things and reassure others when we don't know what the f*ck else to say. There is undoubtedly an element of truth to such statements - I won't deny that - but at the same time, to sum things up in this way necessarily dismisses what I call the "layered-ness" of things, for lack of a better term. And I wonder why. Isn't the intricacy of experience the most fascinating - albeit infuriating - part?

The late Gilda Radner put it more eloquently than I ever could:

"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity." - Gilda Radner

Lately, though, in the midst of a kind of watershed period in my life - in which I took a great risk which has sort of turned out to be a free-fall without a net - I feel the urge to cling to those very tired expressions and cliches. I'm not far enough removed from my current quagmire to relish the complexity and those damn platitudes seem so much more comforting...Hey, any port in a storm, right?

Well, in an effort to stop the self-flagellation that is my unfortunate tendency, I have decided that the words of the great Maya Angelou may be more appropriate:

"You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it." - Maya Angelou

So, when this mess does resolve itself - and it will, because if the Giants can beat the Patriots in spite of the latter's undefeated season, I can get through this - I hope that this experience will be one more failure that I can "rise from". And at some point - weeks months, maybe even years - into the future, I know I won't feel so disenfranchised from the ambiguity.

Popeye Said It Best

Several months ago in the midst of a conversation with a colleague, he suddenly stopped abruptly mid-sentence. “I can’t believe how honest you are. You don’t hold anything back, do you?” Well, I can’t say whether it was a compliment or a criticism – probably a bit of both.

I would love to say that my forthrightness stems from some noble impulse. But that would be a lie. And perhaps honesty is not the right word for it at all, because the concept of honesty assumes conscious intent. And it’s really much more basic than that. I simply do not know how to be otherwise.

My bluntness, though, has not been a boon. If I could play the part - and shut up f*ck up when the occasion calls for it - I would probably be more successful. I would undoubtedly have more friends. People would probably respect me more. And believe me, I’ve tried. But like a suit or dress that’s too tight, it keeps me from being able to breathe. Maybe it’s a copout, maybe I’m just lazy, or maybe I’ve finally just accepted myself, because, like the good sailor says, I am what I am.