Tag Archives: Joan Didion

Excitement, please

It’s that time of year for making resolutions or—as some prefer—setting intentions. Don’t worry.  I’m not leading into a list of what I hope to achieve in 2013, at least not in terms of pages written, pieces published, books read, or pounds lost.  I am, however, going to write about what I want more of in 2013: Enthusiasm. I have a complicated relationship with the emotion, dating to an early humiliation on the schoolyard involving bunny ears.  Every since Halloween 1967, I’ve had to be careful, lest I show too much enthusiasm and wind up scarred by ridicule.  I’ll spare … Continue reading

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Sick Day

Sickly characters hold a certain romanticized (sickly) appeal.  Mary Lennox in The Secret Garden.  Mary Ingalls (once she went blind) in the Little House books.  Jane Eyre’s pious childhood friend Helen Burns.  Beth in Little Women.  Joan Didion in her essay about migraine, “In Bed.” I thought of them all this morning, as I lay propped up with an ice pack on my forehead.  Husband slept solidly next to me, dawn light edged the curtains, and I had to throw up.  Yes, a migraine—though not nearly as severe as Didion’s.  Mine was banished with a pill, a trip down the … Continue reading

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