Seth Rogan Thinks You’re a Unique Snowflake Too
Posted by Moose on March 3rd, 2009. Filed under: Uncategorized.Your comments are one of the reasons I love the internet. Sometimes I don’t blog about certain things for fear of being whiny or feeling like I’m fishing for compliments. (I’ve been known to succumb to the fishing – one might even call it whaling, of Ahab-like proportions. So I try to avoid it whenever possible.) But if I feel something, chances are good some of you feel it too. I think that’s why blogs are so valuable. Shared human experience keeps us all from clawing off our skin in long, painful sheets of frustration, especially when so many of us are prone to thinking I AM THE ONLY ONE, A UNIQUE SNOWFLAKE, WHICH IS GREAT, EXCEPT SHE WHO STANDS APART FROM THE HERD DIES. AND I DON’T WANT TO DIE. AT LEAST NOT BEFORE SEEING SETH ROGAN IN PERSON. Etc.
Dooce wrote a post years ago describing the downward spiral of depression in a way that helped me recognize some of my own destructive cycles, patterns I’ve since been able to completely eradicate. If we get an Academy Award-style speech on our way out of life, mine will include a haiku homage to Dooce and her excellent descriptive power. Reading about someone’s life resonates in a way an informative yet scratchy medical journal can never hope to match. My brain wants to cling to what I understand, and trust me, I do not understand ideas described with words like agonal and hemoperfusion.
So: Thank you all. Thank you for posting and thank you for reading and thank you for commenting and thanks for being so pretty.
As with anything, I think the key is to assess where you are, take note of where you’d like to be, and carve yourself a path. Accepting reality is crucial. Unfortunately.
My current plan of attack is to write for at least an hour a day. Every day. And, hey look! It’s worked. For a grand total of three and a half days. (I kind of cheated yesterday. Ahem. IT WAS THE BACHELOR FINALE. THERE WERE TACOS. AND CHAMPAGNE. So cut me a break, yo.) (We begin to see where lack of discipline makes its sweeping entrance, trailing a ratty velour jacket and smelling like cigarette smoke.) My reality also includes accepting and appreciating the job I have, because it could be so much worse. As anyone who reads the news can attest.
Therefore:
Reasons My Job Doesn’t Suck
1. It keeps me in Miette salt caramels and wee apartments.
2. Everyone is very nice and appreciative. Even the people who would be forgiven for trampling the peons on their way to Attending To Important Matters of State.
3. There’s a water club.
4. Keen dedication to partying. Something festive happens every month or so, usually involving some form of construction paper decoration and a Costco-size vat of ice cream. Or lawyers in drag and interns decked out in full-body dog suits, complete with feet and floppy ears.
5. Funny people. I admit I wasn’t sure how I felt about this at first. Everyone knows I’m the funny one.
6. Allows me to indulge in whimsical fantasy, such as envisioning a trap door underneath my desk, one that opens onto a small island in the South Pacific, complete with white sand and a tanned young man named Paco to bring me strawberry daquiris and rub my feet. My trap door comes with a soulless doppelganger to answer email and attend my meetings.
7. Did I mention the caramels?
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March 3rd, 2009 at 11:41 pm
Yay, Moose’s version of Grace in Small Things! I’m so glad you’re doing some writing for you AGAIN! When I’m done with this next batch of mind-numbing guidebooks, we really should start that accountability group (and I’m going to go ahead and nominate May as our noble sensei).
March 4th, 2009 at 9:48 am
May as our noble sensei. Brilliant. Thus nominated. Perhaps we should inform her that she is our new guru. Paid in macarons and humble bows.
March 4th, 2009 at 11:08 am
Miette’s salted caramels are one of my job’s greatest perks, too. LOVE. And on really bad days? I cut straight to the chase with a chocolate cupcake with white buttercream frosting. The tiny flower on top really makes it work for me.
March 4th, 2009 at 11:37 am
please to send some salt caramels along with some girl scout cookies, mmmkay?
good for you for writing every day…and you totally get a pass to watch the bachelor…because hello, insanity.
March 4th, 2009 at 2:18 pm
Sensei, here. It’s actually oddly simple to get writing done. In fact, I’m happy to tell you my schedule and my punishing little regimen anytime you like. Or maybe I’ll blog about it. Hmmm…thought brewing.
But be warned–getting writing done on a consistent basis does lovely things for the self esteem and bad things to your coffee addiction.
Seriously, once I started writing regularly, I was so much happier. I know you can do it and please let me know if there’s a way I can help.
March 4th, 2009 at 2:21 pm
I should come up with a catchy name for my writing program, like the 30-Day Shred.
Hmm…I’ll call it: Bang Out a Book a Year or Bust
March 4th, 2009 at 4:47 pm
It’s true that Dooce does have a way of putting things. Sometimes I read her posts and laugh for days. Other times I’m like “that’s my life! OH MY GOD!” And other times, the more poignant times, I’m just thankful she has such a good sense of humor.
Anyway, what I really meant to say here was that I’d stick around for caramels too!
March 4th, 2009 at 4:50 pm
I’m proud of you for writing! Yay!
Caramels are always accepted.
March 5th, 2009 at 9:54 am
I didn’t respond to your last post because I get super weird and non-commenty when I see that a gazillion people already left comments, but the entire time I was reading your last post I was thinking “YES! Exactly!!! Me tooooo!”
I don’t know what the solution is, and I also try to look at all the positive things, which does help. I think the thing that annoys me most about my lack of drive and ambition is that I think I’m so awesome, but have nothing to back that up with. Is that weird? Anyway, I love reading your blog and about your life, so keep it up!
March 6th, 2009 at 11:33 am
I didn’t comment on the last one because… well, it’s not you, it’s me.
Sorry, lame attempt at a joke (but really, I have gone incommunicado for no reason I can immediately pinpoint. Hi!)
Delurking to say:
1) Can I borrow your trapdoor/soulless minion? Because that’s a spectacular kind of awesome.
2) “We begin to see where lack of discipline makes its sweeping entrance, trailing a ratty velour jacket and smelling like cigarette smoke.” Very nice
3) I hid my stash of salt caramels so well that I can’t find them. Weekend plan: tear the house apart in search of salty, caramely goodness.