(For those who are more likely to ask what Jesus would do, I should note that subject heading was a joke. Darwin didn’t tell any species how to live nor did he argue that they evolved towards a goal or an ideal state of existence.)
That being said, Frank accused me several days ago of being a robot because I was urging him to reschedule something so that we could make it to the housing department this week to apply for low-income housing. I know rescheduling is a pain in the ass, but so is dealing with someone who drags his feet in doing what is necessary so that we can live within our means.
But I refuse not to do whatever we can to set things right. Am I being heartless or am I being responsible and proactive? I know how sad it is that we have to leave our place, which he’d put so much work into over the past 15 years or so and which has become my first real home, in fact, but he’s had difficulty making the rent as long as I’ve known him so how does our needing to leave come as a shock? And since it is a walk-up with insecure banisters that have screws poking out of them, can’t he see it’s not necessarily ideal for someone who uses a wheelchair and has difficulty climbing stairs? He said he’d move if we had to and now we have to, so why is this causing such bitterness towards me, as if I were getting what I wanted and always had it out for the poor apartment? If I hated the apartment so much, why am I so proud of it and so happy to finally be able to have a place to invite people to and show off? Can’t he see I’m just doing what I know I should and then will allow myself to mourn after business hours? Doesn’t he see we have to help ourselves? Or does he still hold out hope for a savior?
Now that I reflect on it, I wonder why I thought it’d be a novel idea to be solution-focused, as my therapist suggested. Haven’t I always been by nature? My first response is often to ask myself what I have to do and make a list of these tasks. I sank into procrastination only in college when too much was expected to me from a professor and I didn’t have the courage to admit I was overwhelmed, but now I can admit when I need help and seek the resources to help me when I don’t know how to do something myself. So why am I being made to feel so guilty?
Maybe that’s what struck my high school classmates as evidence I was unfazed, that I focused on what needed to get done. I admit to not sharing with them what I was going through, but how could they blame me when I had no friends to confide in and when my problems weren’t necessarily ones they could identify with or would be comfortable hearing? If only they knew that listening to me could count as a form of community service and provide evidence on their college application that they possessed empathy and compassion!
To be fair, I wasn’t the easiest person to warm up to. Maybe I am still the girl sitting by myself in the hallway, except Frank’s built a wall to portion off most of the hallway into what I use as my cubby. No, that girl was a clotted pore of repression. Thankfully, I no longer take years to recognize I have something to mourn, though my attempt to be honest to myself and others about the reality of a situation doesn’t make me the most sympathetic of individuals.
The question is, why am I still bothered that my high school Latin teacher told me, if Darwin was right, people like me wouldn’t exist? Knowing I’m behaving adaptively doesn’t save me from perpetually debating the value of my existence. Is that why his misguided attempt to be witty stings so much to this day, because no matter what I do, I question what all my adaptive behavior amounts to? Or is it obvious that I’m part of the great system of kin selection by inadvertently helping my brothers get laid?
“Lev, Frank’s balls.”






Last night in my dream I was on vacation with my family and the gossip revolved around anew Aladdin video we just had to see (don’t ask, don’t tell). In the new release, his opponent, the sultan, had seven wives he was treating like slaves that Aladdin had to save. In my sleep, I thought, if the film’s so good, why did it go straight to video and not appear in theaters first? Then it occurred to me, if this is an Aladdin film marketed to kids, how are parents going to explain why the sultan gets seven wives? And the Irish thought they had a claim on all the troubles.