SelfAbsorbed.ME : ‘It’s Your Life, We Just Write it Funnier’

When I was a budding adolescent, mouth o’ metal and too-short flare jeans, I kept a spiral sketchbook full of angst, anger, and drawings of dogs. Home for the holidays, I stumbled upon this relic while searching for the young-adult series Song of the Lioness, four fantasy books about a lady knight with special healing powers and a super cool necklace that also served as birth control. I was secretly obsessed with the books throughout all of sixth and seventh grade. After my recent rocky journey through Twilight and New Moon, I felt a hankering to revisit the series that defined my tween years.
I never found the books, but perhaps the sketchbook was more revealing about who I was…not necessarily a good thing. The first page contained my name and address. The second page threatened, “IF YOU READ PAST THIS PAGE, YOU ARE A B - - - -.” I laughed, because B - - - - could mean many things: BLOKE, BRAID, BEARD. IF YOU READ PAST THIS PAGE, YOU ARE A BAGEL.

I looked at the small, carefully sketched pictures of a Dachshund, a Beagle, a Yorkshire Terrier. And then I turned to–oh no–my “WHY?” page. The “WHY?” page was a manifestation of my adolescent existential crisis: a page covered in questions beginning with the three-letter word. The center of the page contained the carefully penciled, all capital “WHY?” to both clarify and dramatize the purpose of the page.

Here are some of my favorite “WHY?” questions:

Why does Kelly G think she’s SO MUCH BETTER than everyone else? * Why can’t I be good at soccer? * Why do my palms sweat ALL THE TIME? * Why doesn’t Justin Bowman know who I am? * Why isn’t “good” a good enough answer when Mom and Dad ask me how my day was? * Why does everyone get so excited about Friday dances when the same things always happen? * Why do people have to be so mean to Ashley L.? She’s a really nice person. I don’t get it. [Scrawled below in scratchier, more “upset” handwriting] Not necessarily true!

I guess Ashley L. and I had a little tiff. I haven’t the slightest idea what it was about.

After rediscovering my suburban adolescent “WHY?” page, I started thinking that perhaps it would be cathartic to have a “WHY?” page for my modern-day self: the twenty-something New Yorker. (Or…at least a twenty-something wannabe New Yorker. When does one make the official switch to a legit resident? I now have a New York license in my possession, but I still don’t quite feel that I’ve earned my place in the big city.) It didn’t take me long to start filling up the sheet of paper:

Why is the only Facebook friend request that I’ve received in months from my mom? * Why does my roommate, Man, insist on buying toilet paper that feels like recycled sand paper? * Why oh why are they making another Sex and the City movie? * Why won’t Murray’s just toast my Whole Wheat Everything Bagel? (IF YOU READ PAST THIS QUESTION YOU ARE A BAGEL. OMGJK. Keep reading!) * Why, despite having lived here for upwards of a year and a half, does dating remain this mythical entity? * Why won’t the super return my phone calls? * Why doesn’t he understand that our leaky radiator is causing flash floods in one corner of our apartment? * Why do I lay awake at night for hours imagining different ways I could be killed in my sleep (electrocuted by the wires hanging outside my window, asphyxiated by gas leaking from our vintage stove, burned to a crisp by a fire in our apartment building—perhaps from issues with the aforementioned old stove, etc.)?

A “WHY?” page clears the head, trapping those unsolvable stresses, big or small, and taming them on the page–nothing seems quite as fierce or looming when it’s articulated as a succinct question. I haven’t had another Sex and the City II nightmare since I put pen to paper.

As for the original sketchbook, I looked through the rest of it, vacillating between feeling amused and horrified. A particular gem is a page, mostly blank, that says, “My one true wish is to be a witch like Sabrina [the Teenage Witch] I know it sounds stupid but it’s true!” Underneath it is a tiny cartoon drawing of a dog. I probably intended him to represent the talking animal companion I would have to go along with all my special witch powers. Sabrina had a saucy black cat, Salem, but I’m just not a cat person.

Cut to twelve years later:

My one true wish is to be like Liz Lemon [on 30 Rock]. I know it sounds stupid, but it’s true!
My hopes and dreams, fears and frustrations all might evolve over time, but I’m still really just a girl that dreams of living life like a sitcom, loves dogs, and wouldn’t mind a normal conversation with a boy. In New York, surrounded by constant movement and countless people–not to mention a lot of dogs that I ogle over the way many fuss over a cute baby–it seems that these wants are within reach.

After all, sharing a cubicle with Sushi Girl (“Oh em gee. My bee eff read my bee bee em like five mins ago and he still hasn’t responded. Double you tee eff!”) and harboring a secret in-office crush on the Windbreaker (a normal conversation is difficult when I feel myself heat up like I’m a little teapot every time he comes into view, but I’m working on it), not to mention living with Man the vegan biotch (“Ugh. Your cheese is touching my tempeh again. Gross.”) doesn’t feel that far off from fiction.

So stay tuned. After a winter hiatus, Stunned is back with all new episodes. And while 2010 is bound to be filled with some more thoughts of “WHY?”, my brand-new mentality for this year is “WHY NOT?”

Photo Credits: thewritingpages.blogspot.com, fantasyfiction.co.uk, breadwig.com