Prosthetic

Difficulty in zooming out. You know when something feels off? Something's just not sitting quite right. I've felt it all weekend. And here I am at the end of said weekend. I don't have a "job," but I workhorse the days away, both good and not so good. I should take a day to not this week. It's difficult though. When I have afternoon meetings scheduled. And I need to stay sharp and focused but also can't over-focus.

Chill, I wish I could believe. It feels right to pet a sweet dog by a pool at my friends' girlfriend's birthday. I even post a short video, but later when I go to look at it I am bombarded by recurring footage of our despicable VP avoiding eye contact with immigrants. Suddenly I feel guilt for the dog video.

Puhg and I have Thai lunch and I gush about what I'm learning to feel about my career. One step out the door I'm watching a mentally ill man scream on the sidewalk, and a person inside me throws up her hands, "Oh why bother at all?" I am all caught up on Big Little Lies now. Nicole Kidman, what a delight. I remember The Hours, but at the same time I can't remember much about The Hours. It was So Important and Noteworthy and got Awards, but it boils down to oh, I don't know. There was a prosthetic nose.

We just talked about Meryl today even. I voiced I was reading a scene in a play about a Kentucky family accidentally selling the minerals on their land for what they thought would be a good price. But, no, it was stupid Rockefeller gutting the soil for oil. Puhg and I stew. It's hard not to despise rich people. We work on it. We really do. But it's hard. I know comparatively to the entire globe I am rich, so that buys me some humility. I start to go down a Google hole, a conspiracy hole even, wondering why when you Google "I Hate Rich People" there's a bunch of websites that tell you not to hate rich people. Exactly what Larry Page wants I am sure. But so, anyway, no person should have that much money. A coworker of mine once said "A million dollars really isn't that much money" and I wanted flip a desk. But then we think about some people with their millions. (Like Meryl.) Less reprehensible than most, but still, but still. Another co-worker once said some people do deserve their money. She said Jay-Z and Beyonce do, but it is literally impossible to "make" the money they keep. Ethically. To really actually make all the value. At some point, we made the money off poor people. We all have. Until Jay-Z pays the people in factories manufacturing his CDs a full living wage, he didn't make the money. Meryl is a treasure, no doubt, but I know sweatshops made her costumes. It's not her fault. It's not anyone's fault, which is why it's been happening for so long and will likely never end until the oceans swallow us whole.

And in these moments when I know everything will die--either peacefully or not so--I think being a writer is both the best and stupidest idea I could have come to. I believe both that loafing around watching TV with someone I love is the best use of time and also the saddest. I'll write something happier tomorrow.