Cadaver Ken Clearly Does Not Understand the Assignment... ๐
I'm 45, a Billionaire, and Already Looking and Living Like a Waxy-ass Corpse!
Hello from Covidlandia, Lovelies, How the hell are you?
I feel like utter trash but I am going to attempt this (and laundry) anyway.
Yes, Iโm coming to you from a plague-laced deliriumโฆ remembering things I wanted to know as a rather dark child, likeโฆ โDo caterpillars know they are going to become butterflies? Or do they just build themselves a coffin and wake up pleasantly surprised?โ
Iโve been thinking a lot about the Universe and lifeโs assignmentsโฆ The smug dude above is my bestieโs latest match on Raya. Apparently, he gives potential dates a list of all the things theyโll hate about himโI donโt think Iโd need one.
Also, he thinks he looks 28โฆ But excuse me, Mr. Waxy-ass Cadaver, who starts off the whole murder mystery, somebody quick, call Marg Helgenberger, STAT! Because itโs time to play CSI!
And nothing against cadavers, theyโre unwavering professionals when it comes to Agatha Christie novelsโfrom debut to denouement. But our billionaire tech squire here looks as if his person has borne the brunt of a thousand grim humiliations; like heโs had to lie undiscovered for days in a dank cellar or maybe been left to pickle outside in the shadowy back alleys of darkest Gotham, then like heโs been poked and prodded after being shuttled to some remote morgue and laid out on the slab. He does NOT look ready for a Nora Ephron meet-cute or jazz hands under the stars at Lincoln Center.
Meanwhile, Iโm trying to think of the right word for the kind of body dysmorphia that gives you an inflated sense of fabulousness when really itโs kind of a physical Dunning-Kruger effect. Anyone? Get thisโฆ he plans to live to 200, but hereโs the thingโฆ between his kookadoo diet, all the kiddie-blood transfusions, the uber-strict sleep schedule (I mean, how do you even go to the opera?), the limited nookie, and all the no-talking rulesโitโs pretty much 200 years of life without any actual fun living?
My dude has clearly misunderstood the assignment.
Now, as the eternal student, think annoying Tracy Flick, except now old, I tend to think the Universe sends us these assignments, and often those assignments come in the form of lousy people. Sometimes I have been the lousy person. Other times, Iโve been not so awful, And lately, I've been asking how I can do a more nuanced job of showing up for the difficult assignment and NOT be a waxy cadaver, enforcing my jerkwad ways on unsuspecting normies. So, in a way, how can I be even MORE Tracy Flick-ish?
But what do you do when you show up for the assignment and say to the Universe, โOK, do your worst! I dare you. Have at it.โ And the Universe does? Like in Maui? Or with a condition that has you dying on repeat in front of your loved ones? Like epilepsy. Or with Princess Anne, getting kidnapped all the time, and each time, she had to be like, โNope, not bloody likely...โ
And then also... as a person watching a loved one with the Universe doing its worst to them, there's a quote I think about a lot lately... I don't know who it's by, but it goes, โIf only I could, I would absorb your pain and return it to you as love.โ
This is something I wish I could have done/could do more for my daughters and more for loved ones, especially in their moments of profound loss and actual dying... because THAT seems like the REAL assignment, Mr. Waxy-ass Cadaver.
Dr. Rachel Naomi Remen, who teaches this class at UCSF Med school, The Healersโ Art, says the way we deal with loss shapes our capacity to be present in life more than anything else. The way we protect ourselves from loss may be the way in which we distance ourselves from life. Hereโs her whole deal, if you want:
And midlife relationships are funny that wayโฆ because they are exactly like what Lisa Renee writes this week in her very wonderful Stack The Long Middle Leave me alone (but don't leave me)
That's so often how you end up feeling with those you love the most. But then, you also want to be not too far away going... โUm, yes hello? If you need me to absorb your pain and return it to you as love, Iโm available, but if not, no worries, Iโll just be over here quietly, on my islandโฆ wishing it for you.โ
I think as a person with epilepsy, Iโve spent a lot of time living at the edge of life because at any given moment I could seize and never wake up again. Most epileptic deaths happen in sleep at night. This lends a certain brand of stoicism and pragmatism to things. You start to thinkโฆ Best to be present as hell in daylight, when you are awake.
And as GenXers, we tell ourselves, โOk, you need to be the generational curse breaker determined to disrupt the cycle of dysfunction and trauma bla-bla-bla...โ
And then, you find out your dad had to kill his dinner on Saturdays just to eat, and in the course of doing so, had one of his knees shattered with a baseball bat and you're like, โHuh, maybe as a GenX misfit with a chronic condition thatโs now mostly under control, I don't have it so bad?โ Maybe just by existing, Iโm doing enough.
If you need me to absorb your pain and return it to you as love, Iโm available, but if not, no worries, Iโll just be over here quietly, on my little Covid islandโฆ wishing it for you.
Doofus(es) of the Week
Now, for our regularly scheduled segment! An abbreviated take this weekโฆ
Doofus #1: Covid... Excuse me, but now is NOT the time for a rehash. Can't you see enough is going onโbetween Jack Smith and Maui? Plus, you are derailing the lives of some of my favorite writers.
Doofus #2: Obviously, Mr. Waxy-ass Billionaire Cadaver. And I know the perfect single lady for him.
Doofus #3 Fire & Fire Safety Warning Systems: How is it that we can call people on the moon, but we canโt turn on an air raid siren to let them know a huge wall of fire is barrelling toward them at 90 mph? Where the f*ck was Elon Musk and Starlink then? We need people on Maui, not Mars, solving actual shit. Not planning cage-fighting matches, you chuckleheads. Again, we return to understanding the assignment.
But how to sum up this week? Um, the Trumps finally got Barbied, by AIโno less. It was only a matter of time.
Ok, thatโs enough for me. Iโm going to attempt laundry without (hopefully) murdering anyone in the building. Ha.
In the meantime, stay safe, Lovelies, and know that Iโm thinking of you always โ xoxo, gotham girl
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Just take it easy, your body will recover if given enough time. But it is hard to be patient!
You wore it better! Hope you are better.