Sunday, December 21, 2014
Christmas Deconstruction and Signifiers
You know how people respond to things like the Sony/Amy Pascal/racist comments/North Korea thing by saying stuff like How could they be so stupid to write it down?
Whenever I text or write things like I wish I could just blow the whole place up or I just want to die, I wonder if it could one day be used against me even though I'm referring to the instance when I was fluffing Sophie's quilt and accidentally banged into the cheap Ikea paper lamp and so much dust went flying that I started choking on it, or the time when I ordered a hot fudge sundae from the fancy artisanal place and I didn't have time to eat it before a scheduled massage so I gave it back and then ran to the massage place where I was told that my masseuse had an emergency and we're so sorry but there is no one free for your appointment. Basically, I was out a sundae and a massage and it was one of the worst days I'd had in an age and both things were the remedy for the worst day, so I was f**ked. I cried in both instances, once as I finished making Sophie's bed and once in my car where I retreated without sundae or massage. What I really wanted to do was stomp my foot and cry in front of someone in both instances, but I actually texted a friend that I wish I could just blow the whole place up (my house) and I just want to die! (the massage was going to save the day).
Then again, I'm not the head of a giant movie studio or a dictator, but just a woman whose larger concerns are usurped at times by trivial or even bourgeois ones. I think it's doctoral students in English who call those signifiers or something. I was married once to a doctoral student in English literature and met a lot of people who lived and died by deconstruction. I never really understood it, nor the French people who made it up.
This morning I went to Ralph's and bought a literal basket full of things that are bad for you -- white flour, sugar, butter, chocolate chips, Crisco, chocolate wafer cookies, cinnamon balls, powdered sugar, brown sugar, a package of proscuitto bits and some pasta. I also bought a single slice of cheesecake with canned cherries on top and piped whipped cream. I don't know why I bought the last one because all the former stuff was for Christmas baking and one dinner, but I ate the slice of cheesecake in my car with a plastic fork. A few minutes later, I confessed to a friend via text that I'd done so (and here I am doing the same for you) and asked her whether it was too late to develop an eating disorder. She said yes, and while I don't mean to poke fun at what I know is a serious mental health issue, I honestly wanted to make myself throw up, and I still don't know what came over me as I'm not a binge eater.
Tis the season to be jolly.
La La La.