This is my stop. Got to get off.
The Week in Selfies: 6/8/20 - 6/14/20
For this month, I’ve decided to keep the donation project going. At the end of June, based on new free and paid (new or converted) subscriptions, I’ll make a donation to the National Center for Transgender Equality.
If you are new here (welcome!) or need a refresher, you can always find more details of the project on my About page.
And thank you, as always, for being here.
If there is a magical thing that happens with moving day food, there is something similar that happens with a move-related media diet.
In 2010, a new graduate of Western Washington University, my stuff moved to Seattle and I stayed behind in Bellingham to participate in a theatre conference. During that week, I watched Will & Grace on a small tv on top of a big purple plastic bin. (I do still owe my dear friends, Cassi and Christina a large amount of back pay for moving all my stuff.) As I was preparing to move to New York for grad school (drink) in 2013, I had Frasier playing on a loop. That was basically self-flagellation as (spoilers…although it’s been over 15 years so tighten up man) towards the end of the series, Frasier is also preparing to leave Seattle. Some tears were shed. I don’t remember what, specifically, I was watching when I moved from Harlem to Astoria in 2016 but I vaguely remember running through some movie musicals.
And for this last move, it was everyone’s favorite sardonic, smart, introverted teenager, Daria.
Moving in 2020 was complicated for a number of reasons, but one of the major ones was the internet. Verizon was projecting the first available appointments as December. Using a hot-spot indefinitely was a bit tricky as there is a limit so I had to keep my usage to during workday hours. So, my apartment companion was limited to my DVD player and whatever DVDs I happened to have.
Yes, I do still have a DVD player. And actually, I need a new one as every time I put a DVD in these days, it plays for five minutes and then screams at me like a high school teacher that has been denied a Grease license. The DVD player is for show now. And I keep it around simply to try, every now and again, to see if it will play Daria for me without yelling.
Daria is a fundamental show to my being. Ask any sarcastic, depressed and/or anxious, now queer millennial if Daria was anywhere near their radar in their youth, and the answer is likely to be yes. The meaning of the show runs the gamut. For me, she represents my loud, loud fears about myself and the world and the quiet, surprising jolts of hope from unexpected places.
You see, over the series, Daria Morgendorfer was a bit of a guide. The series was a few years before I entered high school but was played enough on MTV that it felt like we were in it together. She was weird but managed to interact with all sorts of people with little resistance. She was always listening and a bit overly aware of her surroundings and far less astute about her own blindspots and obvious growing pains. Her best friend, a constant champion with a more extroverted nature and a ton of talent in her own right, always seems to be a little bit ahead of the curve. (You know who you are.) By her high school graduation, Daria was starting to come to terms with how much she didn’t know when she thought she knew it all. Whether she liked it or not, she was always learning and becoming a little more comfortable in her skin. In fact, unbeknownst to Daria Morgendorfer, she edged towards being more at ease with the knowledge that there was a future and she was in it.
As with most shows that deal with high schoolers, Daria is ultimately a show about change and growth; its appearance during my move to living alone in the midst of a global pandemic is unsurprising. Her monotone voice is soothing, her cynicism is prescient, and her growing pains are relatable. Oh, and the Sick Said World bits are more real than ridiculous now which adds an extra dimension to cyclical modernity of the show.
Daria is my friend and she always shows up at the right moment.
Monday, June 8, 2020
This was my “hills are alive” moment in my empty room. Only I’m not being filmed by a helicopter and consistently knocked over by the wind. I may not have even spun all the way around. But, you get it.
Tuesday, June 9, 2020
Did I almost forget to take a photo this day and was already in bed? NO. …no.
Wednesday, June 10, 2020
As my shirt says, I don’t know.
Thursday, June 11, 2020
Apparently this is another day I forgot to take a photo. If you have a guess as to what I was doing this day, leave a comment and let me know.
Friday, June 12, 2020
No comment.
Saturday, June 13, 2020
In hindsight, I did not need to spend hours (days) repainting my accent wall as our landlady never materialized and the building went up for sale not that long after we moved out. But I did get a good arm workout.
Sunday, June 14, 2020
I may go pop. Excuse me. EXCUSE ME.
This week, paying subscribers learned about inability to hold onto glass items. If that sounds intriguing to you, consider becoming a paid subscriber.