This Feeling

The last time I dazedly checked in with all my friends like this was September 11. I’ve been walking around feeling sick. At Second Job I sat with my colleagues and we stared blankly. There were hugs and tears.

But really Allison K Williams said it best:

We woke up and everything was different. Maybe we woke in the middle of the night, tried not to check our phone, checked our phone anyway, and spent the hours before dawn in a bleak haze, waiting for the moment it was late enough to decently call someone. Maybe a call came—your mother has died. Or, it’s time to let the cat go. Or, our country has elected a demagogue.

Read the rest of the post here.

My grad-school-age friend is going to march. My preacher friend is going to preach. My friends with children are raising kids who will know better. I’m going to write, and maybe step up some local volunteer work with immigrants.


8 responses to “This Feeling

  1. I say: focus inward and find more things to get depressed about. OK? And this is a writers’ blog, so let’s see what other nightmares we can talk about.

    How about the mini-essay I just wrote for [biggest med journal in the world]? It was accepted a few months ago. Joy! and I got the email saying it was on-line today. I was surprised that I hadn’t seen the proof, but the editor and I had discussed the one (embarrassing) mistake in the original submission. So, no biggy, right?

    Wrong. The correction wasn’t made. It’s out there, and it’s tweeted. What a fool I look!

    So I can think about this rather than about the end of the world. It’s a good distraction.

    • Oh, HELL. I know that feeling. Makes you want to buy up every copy and burn it, or crash the server where your mistake is sitting in all its glory, with what seems to be a neon sign flashing over the wrong part in a way that makes you crave the apocalypse or at least the ant-bite death of that horrible editor who totally shamed you on purpose.

      Distractions are so helpful.

      • Ha! Of COURSE you already tweeted the link, maximal mortification being the writerly norm. Thank fuck they’ve fixed it. (Can we thank fuck? Should fuck then be capitalized, as if it were a person or an institution or something? The Institute of Fucknology, headed by Dr. Seymour Fuck. Thank you, Dr. Fuck.)

        I think this election has scrambled my brain.

  2. PPS- there is a G–! The journal is mortified and are going to correct the on-line version (as opposed to publishing a correction, which means “LOOKY! HERE! In case you missed the mistake the first time!).

    So, it has only lasted a day (I hope). And, the printed version will not have the mistake. What a relief!

  3. Dear Dr Fuck

    Please fix my mistake. It is all my fault. I was immodest in my predictions. I should never have said out loud that i thought he had an ice cube’s chance in hell of winning. I didn’t mean to have thought that.

    I didn’t this could happen any more than i thought 9/11could.


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