Spring Awakening a.k.a. How I Became a Zoloft Ad

Seems I'm not the only one being ridiculous this spring.

Seems I'm not the only one being ridiculous this spring.

I awake from a dream in which Pat Sajak is the bathroom attendant at a house party. He is just about to hand me a towel as I say, “This is really nice soap, Pat.” Today is going to be a great day.

Over the past few weeks my mood has been noticeably elevated. I rise in the morning, pulling back the curtains to see little green buds forming on the trees outside my window. I make my tea listening not to the grating voices of morning show anchors or crosstown buses hauling down the block, but real, live birds chirping outside. I prepare to leave putting on one sensible layer, not fifteen. It is spring in New York City and I could cry I’m so happy.

Like the star of a Zoloft commercial, I might as well be skipping down the sidewalk in a brightly colored trench coat with a basket of daisies I’m so excited about spring. Okay, I would never wear a brightly colored trench, but the feeling of warm exuberance this seasonal weather change has brought on is unlike that of recent years. Perhaps I am on something, or perhaps my ridiculousness has finally seeped into my brain, but this year feels different. It feels… good.

Every year, I greet spring like an old friend who makes you remember the good times and encourages you to perk up (“You’re right, Edna, I guess I do look a little pale.”). Blooming trees, the glorious sunlight, warmer temperatures and seemingly non-threatening bird families are met with a bear hug and a slight tear as I shrug off the dark winter months where we ate nothing but animal tendons and bone broth, wrapping ourselves in hides and taking bets on which frozen digits would be sacrificed first.

Wait, that’s from another dream—a tundra-themed nightmare I had after being forced to watch a Life Below Zero marathon by someone I call a loved one.

Truth be told, it was a mild winter in the Northeast compared to the past few years. We can both thank and be horrified by the effects of global warming in equal measure. This winter never quite got to the desperate, bone-chilling weeks on end we citizens of NYC have come to anticipate and, save for one good, old-fashioned blizzard barreling down on the city, it was never really in our way. Filthy, black slush, I hardly missed you.

And just like that, the twenty and thirty degree temperatures of the winter months moved on to March’s downright livable mid-fifties and began throwing some serious game our way by spiking to the high-sixties just enough to show us that the light at the end of the tunnel would be a magnificent one. I immediately began using my SPF 30 moisturizer.

Attitudes began changing, taking on an air of positive openness. “Oh, is this the line? No worries, you go ahead of me.” Don’t mind if I do. Now who’s on something? Yes, the upbeat, borderline joyful feeling that has filled our fair city like the pollen in our nasal membranes these last few weeks holds within its heart the very spirit of the season. Spring signifies rebirth, renewal, the ultimate fresh start—nature’s first giant step towards rejuvenation in its yearly lifecycle.

Widely recognized seasonal symbols like eggs, primarily associated with the Easter holiday, in fact trace their origins to Persia and ancient Egypt where they were exchanged as tokens of fertility and new life ahead of the spring harvest. The Druids took it a step further, burying eggs in the field to up their chances of a plentiful bounty. Isn’t it just like the Druids to take it literally?

Taking a cue from nature, rebirth appears to be what we humans are all about this season as well. People are out in droves. They’ve got their faces pointing towards the sun and, unlike prior years, they’re wearing practical spring transitional clothing. Spring’s cultural offerings have descended upon us. There is talk of new projects and new ideas. Spring fashion is fresh, floral and funky (take note, Zoloft commercial wardrobe lady). The culinary world is beside itself with spring groupies like kumquats, ramps and morels popping up on menus all over town. Efforts are being made to solidify summer plans as we look towards permanent sunny skies—wait, did someone just say summer?

Perhaps nothing about spring pulls at the heartstrings more than the promise it holds in its blossoming little hands: the promise of summer. When spring first begins to knock on our doors, we feel a little flutter in our bellies. Then, as spring announces it is back with a vengeance, we once again feel the flutter, but this time we allow ourselves to absorb it, to take it to the next level. We allow ourselves to fully realize that summer is coming. Summer, you beautiful, sparkling, coconut-scented queen of all that is right in the world.

And if that’s not enough to lighten our moods then the Zoloft isn’t working.

But, spring is too splendid of a season to be passed over for the thought of a day at the beach and a killer tan. Spring is nature’s most beautiful season (sorry, fall junkies), the season in which it presents humanity with gifts we could never produce on our own. If you blinked, you still couldn’t miss spring, shouting from the rooftops that she is here, continually reminding us to stop and look around. In this way, spring is very wise, for we humans are definitely in need of a few months of rebirth to prepare for the spoils of summer. There is work to be done, a winter of crankiness to shake off and I’m guessing you’re not quite bikini ready yet.

So let’s all take some inspiration from spring. Get on the bandwagon and embrace the optimism of the season. Take time to pause and observe the beauty of what surrounds you. Bury some eggs like the Druids. Absorb the positive vibes your fellow citizens are putting out. It may feel a bit ridiculous at first, but you’ve been ridiculous before. Come October, those feel-good vibes will pack up their summer separates for the long winter sojourn and you will sorely miss them as you are unpacking your hides.

Oh, and Pat wanted me to remind everyone that sandal season will soon be upon us. Do your part and get a pedicure. Together, we can change the world.

Because You Can't Un-Know.

Thanks bro. 

Thanks bro. 

 

Election season is a funny thing. Thinly disguised as “testing the waters,” politicians start posturing, taking the initial steps towards throwing their hats in the ring months before we are anywhere close to a vote, no matter that the majority of the electorate is essentially burned out by the time the actual election is upon us. That, of course, is what they’re counting on.

Listening tours, meet-and-greets, connecting with their base; it’s not unlike the unending postulating that goes on during football season about who will make the Super Bowl, except it’s a lot more mind-numbing and lasts six times as long. All of it is designed to get their names in our collective consciousness and get us talking about who will be our candidate.

At first, all the activity is somewhat amusing. Watching characters of all shapes and sizes—from very few races and religions—jockey for positions they will never end up in is nothing if not laughable. However, as the pool of wannabe candidates gets whittled down to the few souls who actually become contenders, the laughter stops. What you are reading and seeing on television continues to carry with it the humorous gaffes of election season, but the comments and conversations around you begin to take a turn when you realize those opinions actually belong to people you know and love.

Conservative, liberal; evangelical, atheist; pro-life, pro-choice, pro-gun, pro-marijuana; everyone has an opinion as they are absolutely entitled to. Yeah, America. But finding out we are not all of the same viewpoint can be a harsh reality, especially when the subject matter veers toward race, equality and the income gap. Where once they were jovial co-workers and friends, the revelation of political leanings and social policy opinions opposite those that you believe to be right and rational casts a pall over the relationship like an irritating shadow fronting on your tan line. It’s there, it’s creeping, it’s leaving its mark and you can’t do anything about it.

Facing the truth about the political leanings of those close to you is often a bitter and insanely ridiculous pill to swallow. Everyone deserves to have an opinion, you tell yourself, but it is a lot easier to feel that way when the people on the other side are halfway across the country. You picture them somewhere out there, living with their beliefs and their Spam and their taxidermy, and it has no bearing on your everyday life. Except that it does and election season underscores that glaring truth. Whether those thoughts are thousands of miles away or sitting across the table, they all matter now.

As does the rise in cost of a can of Spam, something we can all agree on.

The brave amongst us will try to force a friendly dialogue, try to discuss the issues in a civil manner and make our friends see that common sense lies in our viewpoint and we should all be on the same page. After all, we are thinking people and no one who thinks would think that way. This effort will inevitably fail and more details surrounding the background of these opposing views will surface, revealing them to be even more deep-seated than previously known. At this point, the brave will give up and the shadow on your tan line will become a crack in the bedrock of the relationship.

Forgive, forget, move on. We do it after every election, every disagreement, every unattractive revelation, but moving forward and erasing memory are two different things (although, Ridiculous in the City vehemently supports the development of brain cell replacement technology). According to the National Institutes of Health, we may remember less quickly over time, “When you remember something, you pull up a file. Memory doesn't always work perfectly. As people grow older, it may take longer to retrieve those files,” but the memory remains in there somewhere.

Adding to our inability to erase disturbing facts from our minds is the three-headed monster that is social media. A comment here or there by an associate is one thing, but now we are all witness to the depth of their views in the most public of arenas. A showing of support for a particular candidate or a comment against an issue can surprise you and bring with it a rash of scathing reactions from friends and strangers alike. Misinformation is rampant in any election, but in the age of social media, facts get tossed around and distorted so completely that people come to believe manufactured truths, especially if those facts support their way of thinking.

That’s why I switched to diet soda. I love that it’s healthy for me.

Come April of 2017, you may have forgotten your colleague’s unfortunate comments about civil rights, you may even have had a few laughs in the months since the election, the swearing in and, yes, the Super Bowl, but you know something now. You know something that separates you, something more fundamental than what you look like or where you grew up or whether you are a Warren G fan. And try as you might, you can’t un-know that. You can’t un-learn that which you really wish you had never heard. It’s like seeing Britney Spears shave her head in a drugged-out rage all over again. You can’t block it, you can’t quite believe it and it still makes you cringe.

You will still work together, still celebrate holidays at the same table, still laugh at the same dumb jokes, but when someone asks you to describe your friend now, you’ll say, “Biff is a pretty good guy. He’s funny, loves the Denver Broncos… but he voted for Ross Perot.” And that will be that. Because you can know, and you can think you know, but once you really know, you can’t un-know.

Proof that even memory is ridiculous. Was there ever any doubt?