Hi Darling Ones,

From the very first time I saw “Reality Bites” at an Eau Claire movie theater with my pal Amy in 1994 I’ve been a Lelaina.

Of course I wanted to be a Vicky. Who didn’t? She was a sarcastic, droll, vintage, fuck & run kinda girl. She did not care about letters or sodas. I still kinda want to be Vicky.

Instead, I was an earnest, eager, “I was gonna be someone by the time I was 23” Lelaina. In 1994 I was sure I’d win a Pulitzer by the time I was 35. Probably while working at The New York Times

So adorable and delusional.

I cannot count how many times I’ve watched “Reality Bites” in the past 29 (ouch) years. It’s been a lot. Every single time I watched it I still identified myself as a Lelaina. Hell, I just watched it last year and was all, “Yup, I’m a Lainey. For sure.”

Darling Ones, I’ve been living a lie. I am not at all a Lelaina anymore. I’m a Troy. Not so Troy I would ever utter a phrase like, “ride my won melt,” but still Troy enough.

I am, as the youth say, shook.

From that thin vein of nihilism to the arrogance to the random pop cultural reference, I am the Troyist.

The evolution (devolution) into a Troy has been a long process.

I know exactly when it started, June of 2006 after my bookclub read Everyman by Philip Roth.

I remember this specifically, because it the first time Sister #2 and I had an argument about death and dying. We have very different views about dying.

I’m of the “we all die alone no matter what” school of thought. She believes it’s different if you die in a room surrounded by people you love.

My argument is that no matter how many people are around you, you’re still dying alone. Nobody is taking that journey with you. Even if you die in a mass annihilation event — the big white light — you’re still alone in your body, your mind.

She refuses to see this and thinks it’s a dark point of view. She say’s it’s very off-brand for me.

She also hates with a fiery passion that I live alone and will, probably, die alone. I am okay with it, because no matter what I will die alone.

We rehashed this argument in June when Sister #2 and #4 were here for our birthday. It was news to Sister #4 how much Sister #2 hates that we live alone.

Was that the beginning of my nihilism or did I have it all along and I just needed to discover it?

Anyway, I’m a Troy now. Feel free to hate me and be charmed by me in equal measure. It’s what we Troys do.

Welcome to the winter of my discontent,
Jodi