I occasionally have those introspective moments in which I suddenly realize that I am not as smart or as normal as I like to think I am.
Sometimes I turn on the radio while driving, hoping that whatever song is playing on the independent local station is using exactly the right words to explain whatever situation it is I am going through and thus potentially solve my life's problem. And to the magic of subconscious and deep desire-just like when you link a horoscope to any trivial aspect of your life-the song lyrics fit like puzzle pieces into my bonkers life.
But why so desperately seek the advice of a disconnected late-night radio DJ? Because, world, while driving home at two in the morning, I came to the sad realization that every problem I have with other people is fairly representative of my own flaws.
Every time the radio dispenses its advice, I get this ugly wake-up call telling me that I should be listening to my own advice, that my critiques of other people are errors I am equally guilty of.
But why does it sting so much every time this consciousness surfaces? Having gone through this with many an indie classic, shouldn't I have gotten over experiencing these realizations a long time ago?
One might think so, but unfortunately I think this is just the beginning of it. The realizations grew especially strong this year when I moved in with three other lovely ladies into a humble, but tiny apartment. Every move I made elicited some kind of a reaction, and I realized that I have an effect on people too, that I am not, in fact, immune to criticism. I am not the only person in this world.
Isn't this one of Piaget's stages of development? Am I, in fact, just now surpassing being a four-year-old? I don't actually know if that's the right age: Psychology 202 was not my favorite. But the answer is no, this is just a marker in time, a phase dealt with in college, a coming-of-age story. Someone should probably write a paper on me.
Anyway, this awful roommate realization happened recently-and it hurt especially bad. To not realize my actions had consequences-I felt like an idiot. How can I expect them to act a certain way when I cannot even do it myself? I am stuck in this perpetual cycle of trying to figure out what is my problem and what is something I can actually pin on someone else? Am I psychotic or did this person actually screw up? Where is Judy Blume's book for this situation?
There is some awful combination of pride and self-disgust working together here, something that would be easily wrapped up and forgotten about in a sitcom. In real life, however, I have to deal, and new-wave folk lyrics are not going to help. So what is the next step, I ask myself. I need to expect the same of myself as I do out of other people. But this, I think I may need to consult my horoscope.
Having coming-of-age advice for Emily? Send it to elindeman@wisc.edu and hope no one leaves her dirty dishes in her sink for too long.
