Life is Pandemonium

Lately, life seems to be an endless medley of one of my favorite television theme songs of all time:

You take the good / You take the bad / *mumble mumble hum hum* / and then you have..

Yes, pumpkins... you're learning The Facts of Life. And as I slowly continue to come to terms with life after college, I'm not convinced that the writer had any idea what it meant to educate oneself of these truisms of existence. Or -- and this is more likely the reality -- I have no idea what these Facts of Life are. Because the ones that I'm uncovering are more hideous and more unflattering that Blair's gigantic shoulder pads that she insisted on stitching into each of her off-white, rhinestone-adorned overcoats. The ones I am unearthing are more unexpected than when I finally realized that the gorgeous Kim Fields used to be that horrible roller skate-toting brat Tootie... and when I finally realized that the chick who played Jo was, well, a chick.

In other words, it's not at all as sing-songy as the girls who lived with Mrs. Garrett (or, in the final two seasons, with Beverly Ann Stickle, played by the indominable Cloris Leachman) would have led me to believe. There are worse things than living in a house with 38 girls -- like living in a house with 39 girls. There are worse things than getting braces and waking on the morning of Homecoming to find an enormous zit has planted itself firmly on the tip of your nose -- those zits will still reappear in the morning before a big job interview. And there are worse things than being a character of a sit-com (albeit a D-level series).

On the flipside, there are better things that Nancy McKeon's mullet -- like passing a baby calf through your asshole. [But seriously, this is just a technicality -- basically everything is better than her mullet.]

But let's break this down lyric by lyric.

1. "You take the good" - things that are going well in my life
-I am back in New York, and SO happy to be in that position. Being the only Dem in all of Ohio was not only a lonely feeling, but I was getting physically ill. Regularly.
-I have a pretty good job, and I feel like my education isn't a waste there. I am being challenged in a business environment, and while it's not somewhere I would have imagined myself -- ever -- it's a good start.
-Ohio State beat Michigan.
-I have started reading a lot lately and have stopped watching as much TV.

2. "You take the bad" - things that need some improvement
-Though I am back in New York, I am about to move to Brooklyn. Now, I am for the most part okay with this, but the little Manhattan snob that hides deep in me has a really hard time accepting my fate as a demi-B&Ter. (That's the Blair in me.)
-I can already taste the long hours of work ahead of me, the dues we pay as a young professional. (Speaking of "tasting," that's very clearly the Natalie in me -- I do adore Mindy Cohn, and I want her to know that big IS beautiful.)
-Ohio State beat Michigan. Which is awesome.
-The reason I am missing so much TV is because I have to share my TV.

The other lyrics are really just me pulling out words from nowhere, and I can't convince myself that I have any idea what they are anyway.

But it's kind of true -- for every good, you have a little bad. I just wish this song had conveyed to me HOW STRONGLY you feel those extremes. And how, when you feel them at the same time, it's utter pandemonium. I can see how the smallest action makes a difference; I can see how a little change could make something snap.

I am not a positive person by nature. This is not something I keep secret from anyone who knows me. I am the narrow-eyed pessimist, the one who revels in the failures of others more than in my own spoils. But even a pessimist wants to experience unabashed bliss. Even a pessimist has to believe in happiness.

If I may steal from Joan Didion, the most talented writer ever (and, as of this week, a newly crowned winner of the 2005 National Book Award), I am slowly Slouching Toward my own Bethlehem, without cause or understanding of what my Bethlehem is. I am slouching -- not running, not even jogging, not even necessarily willing. I am slouching, because I have neither the energy nor the confidence to walk with chest out and shoulders back.

But I am slouching. I am not static, immobile. My slouching allows me to bear the bad. It allows me to feel the good, but to prepare for the bad.

And, who knows? Perhaps my Bethlehem will be in Brooklyn.