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recent posts
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Night Freak (Well, Dawn Actually)
Hating the Chair
If You Can't Do It, There's Always Buying It
Endless Distraction
Oh, Grow Up
Applying Oneself
The Colic Defense
Saying Something
Thriller
Education: TV & Preschool, Preschool & TV
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Hell... Handbasket... How?
I snuck out for about an hour and a half last night. A friend and fellow dog person had an opening of her fabulous photographs of film personalities (and if you're in the Lincoln Center area, trot up to the Walter Reade theater's gallery and see something terrific).
In the brief time I was at the opening, I had one of those rare "How Did I Get Here and How Can I Be Myself Again?" moments. I was actually expecting to have this kind of episode absolutely regularly after having a child, but they have been rather few and far between. Instead I get more frequent bouts of Plunging Disappointment when I realize I've forgotten to do something that would have been central in my pre-kid mind.
I fully expected to feel Plunging Disappointment last night. After all, the opening coincided with the New York Film Festival, which in the old days, I attended avidly and I was up in the theatre that I once visited so regularly that I was a bit too well-known not only to the people who worked there but also to the assorted crazed movie fans who religiously see everything just for the sake of it.
Anyway, and I should have known this would happen, while standing around, alone in the crowd admiring the pictures, I was tapped by someone I knew- another dog acquaintance- and all of a sudden the evening turned because she asked a simple question: "Have you started thinking about preschool for Felix?"
There's no escaping. The whole school issue is so firmly rooted in the zeitgeist, and everyone is applying to schools if not for toddlers, then for kindergartners or tweenage middle-schoolers or college kids. I turned mealy-mouthed and suddenly couldn't remember the names of any schools I applied to, couldn't remember why I was applying to them anyway, felt like an idiot because she kept mentioning places that I have never heard of (though they might not be around anymore)- though I agreed that the whole business is insane.
The whole time I was chatting, my eyes kept meeting those of David Cronenberg, as he stared out of a portrait at me. I have never wished more profoundly that I could be talking about sex maniac slugs or exploding brains and all kinds of body horror. I would have gladly discussed pus and trepenation at that point.
What the Hell happened? How did I get here? Usually I don't mind slipping in and out of mother-mode, but last night, I looked into Mr. Cronenberg's interesting eyes, and got stuck. The preschool chatter was enervating and I couldn't remember anything anyway, but the movies weren't letting me in.
posted by Elise at 1:58 PM
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