There are days, even after 80-some of these Cranes, that I look at my pile of triangles and trapezoids and wonder: How does this all go together?
Somedays I get it perfectly; others, I’m a bit off.
Date: May 10, 2013
Days Spent on Project: 82
Location: Apartment, Washington Heights, NYC
Person I would have sent it to: I will dedicate today’s Crane to Miss Torke, another one of my speech and diction teachers at Brebeuf.
Why was Public Speaking, Elocution, and Diction something offered at my high school?
Anyway, her assignments to memorize and recite various monologues from movies and plays and books continued the lessons I learned in Mr. Hicks’ Speech class. I enjoyed standing in front of people. I could confidently earn their attention. I could get them to listen. I felt comfortable doing it.
Big lessons to learn for the kid who just wanted to disappear forever a few years prior.
Music I listened to while sewing: Spotify is playing me music by an artist named Lusine!
My quest to turn my apartment into an early aught’s grungy coffee-shop continue, in not-so-breaking news.
Thoughts/Feelings behind the block: Yesterday felt was if there was a connective energy buzzing in the air.
To provide some backstory… There’s a blog called Hyperbole and a Half, written by Allie Brosh. It’s been dormant for what seems like an eternity, although it’s probably only been a year. Her last post was about how debilitating Depression can be.
I feel like she’s been upfront in many of her posts about suffering from Depression. Not hearing from her, and knowing that some of her last posts were about not being the brightest place, made me wonder what was going on.
On Wednesday, it was announced on her blog that she would be posting something the next day.
And it was like an explosion happened in social-media-land. Many of my friends on Facebook or acquaintances on Twitter picked up on it. Many expressed happiness to know she was still around. We couldn’t wait to read and see what she had written.
Well, here it is. (Click here!)
It shouldn’t be a surprise that it again deals with her experiences with Depression. What gets me is how incredibly honest and upfront she is. What gets me is how she balances an incredibly weighty and sensitive, yet glossed over, topic with innocent and entertaining artwork.
That she manages to write and draw humor around a subject, while NAILING what it feels like to battle depression is commendable.
I wish there were a way to nominate her for a Pulitzer. I hope she knows what kind of service she, and her blog, has done and can do regarding the de-stigmatization of Depression (and mental illness).
I’ll leave you with a quote: “I’ll just say this: Nobody can guarantee that it’s going to be okay, but — and I don’t know if this will be comforting to anyone else — the possibility exists that there’s a piece of corn on a floor somewhere that will make you just as confused about why you are laughing as you have ever been about why you are depressed. And even if everything still seems like hopeless bullshit, maybe it’s just pointless bullshit or weird bullshit or possibly not even bullshit. I don’t know.”
Weighty, right? Spot in, even?
What got me more about this was that several of my friends seemed to be saying the same thing: commending her, supporting her, applauding her bravery and humor and insight.
I’ve come to realize that more than a few of my friends and acquaintances deal with depression in their lives; whether the Upper-Case D Depression or not, it seems I’m not the only one who sometimes feels like I walk around in a fog.
Talking to a friend about it last night (via Facebook, of course), I was reminded that Allie’s “kernel of corn” moment is an optimistic way to end her blog entry and that the truth is that those moments don’t happen like that.
And I agree: life isn’t tidy or nice enough for us to have those specific moments when things snap back into place and we’re directed back towards a better path.
But I also think we DO have those “kernel of corn” opportunities in life. There will be things or people or ideas or feelings that remind us about a different path that we might take for a while. The sad part, in my opinion, is that we’ll eventually be misdirected away again. I feel that. My friend agreed. I think Allie might too.
It’s all a journey, none of which is easy.
So, let’s wrap today’s entry up thusly: we’re not alone. Other people out there, as strange as it seems, feel or don’t feel like you. Kernels of corn may not be waiting for us, but we can all try to find stand-ins that remind us to look another way for a while.