Dear Darling Ones,
I am not a joiner. Like Groucho Marx, I don’t want to be a part of any club that will have me as a member. Some of this comes out of self-preservation, rejecting people before they can reject me. Some of this comes from snobbery. I tend to think anything that is wildly, insanely popular across a broad range of people is bound to be mediocre.*
Because of this I rarely take part in the reindeer games that flit across social media. I don’t quote tweet and answer a lot of those questions designed to get a lot of tweets. I don’t share every astrological thing that personally victimizes me by being so damn accurate. I don’t share pictures of me as a child fashion icon or the last pic saved to my phone that’s an accurate representation of my mental health or the last meme or whatever.
I also try not to judge the people who do all those things all the time. I constantly have to remind myself of two of my life’s mottos:
- You can go ahead and shut the fuck up.
- People are not required to use social media/conduct their lives the way you want them to.
It’s surprisingly hard not to be a total dick all the time. I have deleted so much snark it cannot be quantified. A lot of times typing it out is enough for me because by the time I get ready to click post my “Go ahead and shut the fuck up” directive has kicked in.
So last night I went against my better instincts and played the latest Spotify reindeer game. This one involved them telling you about your unique musical tastes. I’m a sucker for this kind of thing, and when my niece shared that her #OnlyYou Unique Artist Pair was Liz Phair & The Weeknd.** My heart exploded and I wanted in. I mean, come on? LIZ PHAIR! That’s all me, Darling Ones. My influence. Mine.
Even with Jaycie’s influence I still hesitated, watching the little Spotify story on my phone. But then it said something like my unique moment was playing “The Modern Leper” by Frightened Rabbit at night. Seeing that pop up felt simultaneously like someone reveling my deepest, darkest secret and also like, “hey, we see you Jodi, doing your best.”
It made me both happy and sad. I still listen to “The Modern Leper” most every night, because it helps me sleep. Doing this also makes me feel a little bit like a psychopath or maybe someone who still sleeps with their security blanket from childhood. Admitting this is weird and makes me feel vulnerable.
For awhile I tried to listen to The Marfa Tapes before bed, but the laughter and banter between some of the songs would shock me awake because I thought someone was in my room with me.
So I posted it to my Instagram and of course the first thing I see when I jump to Twitter is a bunch of people reposting some guy making fun of people for doing exactly what I did. My first reaction was, “aww man, I knew it was dumb to share that.” My second reaction was, “Fuck you, why you gotta be such a dick?” My third reaction was, “Oh, aren’t you just super cool and unique shitting on something people are having fun with?”***
This is why I hate people. They are the worst. Zero stars.
In happier news, there’s a new member of the Sadness Garden. His name is Cub (after my Grandpa St. Martin) and as you can see above he came in a yellow pot because I am still knee-deep in my Yellow Period. I put him next to Muriel (named after my Grammu) and they both live on top of the bookcase that was my Grandpa’s. I got Muriel when my Grammu died in 2003 and that means that I’ve kept her alive for eighteen years and I think that makes me the Greatest Sadness Gardener of All Time.
Masochistically yours (because I love modern lepers all the time, it’s a reference to the Frightened Rabbit song),
*See: Twilight, Any singing competition, All the Law & Orders, Arcade Fire, Harry Potter, Star Wars, Game of Thrones, Lana Del Rey, that book about Crawdads, BLTs, any author whose first name Jonathan, Radiohead, National Honor Society (I only joined because my English teacher made me because she said it would look good on college applications), etc.
**My unique artist pair was Soul Coughing and Taylor Swift.
***A little too ironic, and yeah I really do think