I think she's trying to say that she needs the camaraderie, the link with other women who understand that she'll even give a shit about the Elle douchetard, because she has insulated herself so deeply in "sufficiency" as to trick herself into thinking she didn't need love to get by, only brisk competence.
But, she had indeed loved, and lost, her past support group.
Or not. Or yes? I don't know, and have kind of forgotten where I was going with this anyway.
@labeled: That's kinda what I got out of it. She was convinced she didn't need the support of other human beings this time around...but a little bit of anxiety medication and she sure changed her tune.
So, uh...no woman is an island? I guess? Especially not the ones who are taking Xanax for a medical procedure?
@tscheese: I'd love to see the author come into this thread, and just say "Dumbasses, what didn't you GET?" - because I have a feeling she'd dig the Jezebels.
Maybe they should call it "postmodern love." Because in a postmodern world, you don't get your love in large, dramatic swoops. You have to collect it in small interactions with strangers and then try to paste it together into a patchwork imitation of the traditional forms of love--family love, romantic love... Or so the NY Times would have you think.
@bibliophage: i like it. also it's postmodern in that the love mimics itself, IE an essay about and essay quoted in a blog post. anti-mimetic representation! college knowledge!
You know that line in The Two Towers when Pippin says something like "the closer we are to danger, the further we are from harm", and Treebeard says something in return akin to "that doesn't make any sense to me..., but then, you are very small"?
the logic I use whenever I read Jez's Modern Love pieces.
@DangerMouse: Or regular-sized corn dogs, depending on the way the dosage affects your corn dog eating. Or would regular sized corn dogs be if you doubled your dose?
Sigh... You always bring the magazine out of the waiting room and into the appointment room. ALWAYS. Because if you don't you'll be stuck waiting for 45 minutes for a doctor to come in with nothing to read but pamphlets on anal fissures and bunions.
@pantsless economist: ever since i was a little girl, i've taken my mother's advice and brought a book to the doctor's office. on the other hand, i've put it down to check out those pamphlets. hey, i didn't know anything about molluscum before...
@BrutallyHonestBabes: Wasn't "The Kindness and Xanax of Strangers" some kind of avant-garde performance art we were going to do at some point? With, like, wine?
This one time I was on mood-altering substances and I tried to make chatty, friendly conversation with someone I didn't know well, I embarrassed the shit out of myself.
It was when I was coming out of an anaesthetic haze when I had foot surgery, and I was cracking all kinds of jokes at my very, very stoic podiatrist.
He just let me ramble for like five minutes and then asked me "Do you remember anything at all about the last five minutes?"
@tscheese: I sliced the tip of my finger off while in Architecture school 2 days before my final review, and had to give my presentation while all doped up. I kept pointing with my heavily bandaged finger, cracking ridiculous jokes, and fortunately don't remember a second of it other than my prof telling me to go home and go to bed after vomitting in the garbage can. My prof was awesome though, and not only did I present first (before the drugs really kicked in), but the critics he invited were people that knew me personally, so they were fully aware that I was not in my right mind. I really wish someone had videotaped this!
To this day, I still have no idea if I actually spoke about the building that I designed or not.
@SequinsMakeTheWorldGoRound: Science Fair State Finals, and there I was, 13 years old, fresh out of intensive care, doped up to the gills on Xanex, muscle relaxors and asthma medication and making stupid, stupid jokes to the judges. I don't think I talked about my project once.
@tscheese: I had a Valium the morning of my tonsillectomy. It kept me from crying, puking, or passing out in the pre-op area, which is good. It also made me post a photo of myself in my surgical gown and mob cap giving a thumbs-up with my IV'd hand on my Facebook page and say to my ENT, "Let's get this party started!" when I was wheeled into the OR.
@St. Francis of a Sissy: My endodontist gave me some Valium for my next root canal (long story) because I was kinda tense and shaky for the first one, and now I'm afraid to take one.
@Crabby Cakes wants some Dance Biscuits.: In college, I chose to hear my organic chemistry notes in Carrie-speak (or sometimes, in the voice of a dryly witty British man or of a 1920s Mafia gangster) because it helped to keep me awake.
@Your Screenplay Sucks: Oh, I do the charming British man ALL THE TIME WHEN I'M READING. Sorry, very excitable today. I'm currently reading a thick dry book o' Caesar and reading it in British-man-voice-in-head. It helps your remember stuff better, too.
That's been my experience with xanax. But I do want to scrounge some up for my wedding so I won't be blubbering all over everyone and shooting death looks at my annoying mother.
Though I felt at places she was talking about modern love as in a common bond between women similarly afflicted. Though this was never directly addressed, perhaps because of the Xanax haze?
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I think she's trying to say that she needs the camaraderie, the link with other women who understand that she'll even give a shit about the Elle douchetard, because she has insulated herself so deeply in "sufficiency" as to trick herself into thinking she didn't need love to get by, only brisk competence.
But, she had indeed loved, and lost, her past support group.
Or not. Or yes? I don't know, and have kind of forgotten where I was going with this anyway.
12/29/08
So, uh...no woman is an island? I guess? Especially not the ones who are taking Xanax for a medical procedure?
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the logic I use whenever I read Jez's Modern Love pieces.
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...i wish i still didn't.
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1) Find BHB
2) Drink with her
3) ????
4) Profit!
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It has nothing to do with love.
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It was when I was coming out of an anaesthetic haze when I had foot surgery, and I was cracking all kinds of jokes at my very, very stoic podiatrist.
He just let me ramble for like five minutes and then asked me "Do you remember anything at all about the last five minutes?"
I averred that I did not.
Camaraderie: I was doin it rong.
12/29/08
To this day, I still have no idea if I actually spoke about the building that I designed or not.
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Yeah, I didn't even merit a particpation ribbon.
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I don't know why this is happening, but it WILL NOT STOP.
Also, I really don't understand this "Modern Love" feature.
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That's been my experience with xanax. But I do want to scrounge some up for my wedding so I won't be blubbering all over everyone and shooting death looks at my annoying mother.
12/29/08
Though I felt at places she was talking about modern love as in a common bond between women similarly afflicted. Though this was never directly addressed, perhaps because of the Xanax haze?