I STARTED work thinking about Gatsby.
I FINISHED work and bought candy.

I know these things may seem innocuous but for anyone who’s known me a while, it’s clear we are in the DANGER ZONE.

When I first read The Great Gatsby, I despised almost every single character in the book. I suppose I related to the narrator because I think you’re supposed to, but where he admired Gatsby and at least somewhat romanticised the time and lifestyle, I thought they were all detestable.

I read Gatsby not too long after my parents’ divorce and my passionate negative feelings toward the characters is probably yet another example of my redirected anger from my parents’ divorce but that’s not what interests me today.

I saw Baz Luhrmann’s Gatsby film earlier this week and now, both in the film and just thinking about the basic story, I relate to Gatsby. And I pity him. And I’m ashamed of what I see in myself that is like him. “She’ll call in the morning. She’ll call. I’m gonna wait up. She’ll call.”

I’ve been taken advantage of like that so many times, romantically and platonically and I’m ashamed that I so easily hold out hopeless hope like that. I find myself vilifying the Daisy’s of my life, even those I’m still friends with and whose company I honestly enjoy.

Is this why The Great Gatsby is popular? Is this why you like it?

DOCTOR WHO. NOVEMBER 23RD. I AM SO IN.

I’m gonna miss the primal scream.
I’m gonna miss that unsatisfied feeling I always got when I left the parties to go to bed like “No, I wasn’t done hanging out with the people I like yet!”
I’m gonna miss people crying when they least expect it.
I’m not gonna miss people applauding other people climbing the doors but I WILL miss seeing people get up there for the first time and looking around with wonder and pride.
I’m gonna miss people accidentally showing the best of themselves.
I’ve already been missing “PASS” for a while but now I’m gonna miss “THIS TOO SHALL”
I’m gonna miss whatever magic spell that makes non-writers write and non-actors act.
I’m gonna miss being a historian.
I’m gonna miss the passion with which we attacked each other matched only by the passion with which we defended each other.
I’m gonna miss the almost annual Oedipus sketches and performances of “Hey Jude”
I’m gonna miss the door to nature, the door to reality, the tech booth, and the piano closet.
I’m gonna miss the totally worth it injuries.

I’m gonna miss my stars.