also, i apparently equate winning dancing with the stars and passing health care reform. in my life, i'd really take either

I have now been unemployed for over a quarter of a year. That’s an entire season. My unemployment baby is now in his second trimester. It took Donny Osmond less time to win Dancing with the Stars. We actually got the House to approve the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act faster than it took me to get a job. Also, the next person who refers to it as “Obamacare” gets punched in the face. In the Netflix queue of words that make me want to vomit all over myself, Obamacare is somewhere in between Brangelina and FTW (pretty high up the list, in case it isn’t obvious).

So, in these three months, I have discovered what surely others have discovered—people have an endless supply of bad advice. I don’t mean bad as in advice that could have been fruitful but went the other way. You know, the “sure, yeah, invest in that stock” or “I am pretty sure she said fifteen feet” or “I think his name is Martin” kind of advice. Nor am I talking about the kind of advice that was, I’m sure, helpful back in 1955 or whenever this person is drawing knowledge from. Like my grandmother, who suggested instead of buying I desk, I make one out of orange crates. Which is great advice for the Okies making it across the country from the Dust Bowl, I’m sure. But seeing as I question the quality and safety of the actual oranges from most stores, I doubt that a crate is anywhere to be seen. Not to mention the scene of me stacking together these crates sounds like beginning of the story of how I managed to nail my foot into my hardwood floor.

I am talking about the sort of bad advice that is just never good. It didn’t spoil over the fifty years that have passed since it was opened. It was just always useless. And not only is it never good, it is not even advice. I’m talking about one specific thing: the “oh, I wish I had that kind of free time! You must be getting all kinds of things done.” Thus is born something I have deemed the unemployment curse.

Now, the worst parts of unemployment are obvious—no money, no health insurance, not much reason to leave the house daily, job hunting is actually crushing my soul, and every time you write a cover letter, an angel loses its wings. But people seem to think that is a great opportunity to find yourself and to do something you’ve always wanted to do. I think these are the same kind of people who bet they would get tons of reading done in prison. So, they believe, instead of focusing on negative, take a good look at the positive!

I think the problem really is that people have this expectation that the only thing stopping them from writing a novel or selling all their worldly possessions and backpacking in the Andes or finally learning how to play tennis is the fact that they spend the day in the office. Remove that, and dreams can come true. What I think people fail to remember is that you don’t leave the layoff meeting thinking, yes, I am ready (to plagiarize) to cease to be earthbound and burden by practicality. What you are thinking is, wow, if I don’t find a job very soon, I won’t be able to pay rent after next month. What a great time to start making hemp necklaces and selling them on Etsy.com!

So, while you spend your day changing the recipient’s address on your cover letter and trying not to use too much shampoo, you are also laden with the guilt that you should be reading more, visiting more museums, taking more walks, doing the sort of things that everyone should be doing. But instead of the typical excuse that work takes up too much of your time and energy, you have “nothing stopping you.” So why wouldn’t you finally tackle classic Russian novels or clean out that closet you’ve been meaning to clean? Think of it as your very own stay-cation (also on the vom-word queue)!

The curse is exactly that feeling that you are somehow wasting this horrible experience, that somehow when you finally do get a job again, you will look back at these few months and rue not having better used your time. Which is just mean. Why would you do that? You, that person who is down, let me kick you! Not only are you feeling rejected and useless and sad, you should also feel lazy and uninspired! Forget that you have trouble finding a reason to get up in the AM and put on clean clothes, you really should be trying to visit as many cultural institutions as possible. You’ll regret it if you don’t! People think that they are being helpful, but really, they are just being mean.

There are positive, optimistic people who see life in a way that is both joyful and enlightened. And then there are just stupid people who fail to see things as they really are. They are the sort of people who think that a smile and a dream can get them through anything, while at the same time they are unaware of their own pathetic tendencies. You know, the person who thinks that falling down all the time makes them endearing, not difficult to be around. These are the kind of people who cheerfully serve up what they feel is positive, optimistic advice that is actually terrible not-advice, specifically because they are stupid.

I am getting a lot of reading done, though.

my favorite line from hamlet: oh, i am slain!

Be yourself. So say Chris Cornell and the genie from Aladdin and at least one episode of every family sitcom or teen drama ever written. Plus, that Polonius guy did. It remains one of those ubiquitous morals that we are supposed to take away from every awkward middle schooler who stuffs her bra and every high school nerd who tries to fit in with the jocks for a day by making fun of his once-and-future friends. I think the idea is supposed to be that “everyone is different, and that’s okay.”

But, it’s not. Be yourself is really “everyone is different, and different people shouldn’t interact with each other (so just accept your lot in life, you flat-chested nerd).” Be yourself is more often than not a request to stop something than it is to be anything. It is actively being passive, as opposed to actively being.

Not only that, it is doled out as advice in the toughest of decisions. Don’t know what to do, don’t know which path to take? Well, just be yourself! Oh, okay! Thank god. I thought I might actually have to choose between things. Now, the answer is clear. I should just be myself!

…

…

…

Now what?

I just don’t understand why it continues to be a thing. Has anyone ever been told that and then felt elucidatory sense of revelation?

I have a problem with the idea that we have one true self that was somehow created upon birth. From the moment we emerge from the womb (or, depending on your religious and scientific belief, when sperm meets ovum) engraved into our being is some immutable self that is more pure and more true than the eventual socialization that occurs with, well, living. And we can talk Plato and Aristotle all we want, but it is still a ridiculous idea.

Worse yet, to me, is the idea that people shouldn’t have to change themselves ever. Just be yourself! I mean, people mean that to a point. Just be yourself (unless you’re a racist, then don’t be yourself)! Yes, obviously. But, be yourself, even if you don’t fit in, even if no one likes you, even if everyone actually hates you. Sure, okay. That’s fine, if that’s what you want to do. Fair enough. But the idea that “well, if people don’t like you, maybe the problem is you (and it probably is)” is somehow cruel advice is beyond me. Some things are just not likable. So you either got to change them or own them. One or the other. But changing them does not make you a bad person. In fact, you just might be the better person. I know several people who could better both themselves and the world by changing who they are.

And ultimately, it is nonsense. Be yourself. Oh okay. Hold on. Right now I am embodying this host body like a body snatcher, but if you give me a minute, I can return to my true form. You are always yourself! It’s just that sometimes that self is a self-involved, pandering, trying-too-hard douchebag. But, yes, that is still being yourself! And certainly, I do not want you to be that self more. Don’t be yourself!

I think what they mean is to tell the truth. Don’t lie. Sure. I’m against the idea of people, say, pretending they’re doctors and treating people. I am also against people pretending they have had experiences that they have not. You did NOT grow up watching that TV show that ended before you were born! Don’t become a fan of it on Facebook! Some people just love to participate in experiences that they don’t belong to, desperately glomming onto every tragedy or joke, trying to suck the marrow out of it like the starving cavewoman in the video they showed us in sixth grade to show us how cavepersons survived (apparently, by sucking the marrow out of bones) (also, Microsoft Word did not accept “cavepeople” as a word, but was fine with “cavepersons,” and I am inclined to let them have it).

One thing that KILLS me is Americans who use the world “football” to describe soccer. Unless you also say “lift” and “rubbish” and bin” and “tube” and the other goofy words that British people use to describe things with much more normal names (Brolly? Really?), you can’t say football. Also, if you did not grow up within the British Commonwealth, you cannot say any of those words. We don’t queue up. We don’t eat crisps. We don’t put petrol in our lorries. We don’t wear jumpers or trainers that our mum bought us. Sorry, you live in America.

For the record: the argument that “it’s football, you kick the ball with your foot” is nonsense. I refuse to even acknowledge that as a thought. Just like whenever someone brings up the parkway / driveway nonsense. Things have funny names. Get over it. Don’t even mention it because it is neither observant nor comedic. Just shut up.

But all of that does not fall under “be yourself” but “stop being a douchebag,” which again, is not “be yourself” but “CHANGE yourself.” And that is change we can believe in. Yes! We! Can! (Seriously, stop.)

the third tier is still high enough that you'd die if you fell from it...

I don’t front. I am a huge American Idol fan. Intellectuals and snobs may turn up their noses, but I just don’t care. I love it. Well, I loved it. In the past few seasons, it has been quite abusive to me (when I have showed it nothing but love), but that’s not the point. The point is that I am a huge fan. Perhaps bigger than you’ve ever met. I don’t just watch the show and enjoy it. A good portion of my brain space is irreversibly committed to who sang what knowledge. Or to contestants you probably don’t even remember (I love you, Nikko Smith). And sometimes it pops out in what could be embarrassing conversations. Embarrassing if you front, which if you read my first line, I do not. Conversations like:

Person: Wow, I can’t believe Adam Lambert sang “Satisfaction” [on season 8 of Idol]. I wonder what it took to get the Stones to release that song to be covered.

Jesse: Well, Bo Bice sang it in season 4.

Person: Really?

Jesse: Oh, and Gina Glocksen sang “Paint It, Black” in season 6.

Person: …

Jesse: Yeah, you just got schooled.

Perhaps you are wondering to yourself, who was the 11^th contestant voted off in season 3? Why that would be Matthew Rogers. What song did he sing? That would be “Amazed” by Lonestar. You know who else sang a Lonestar song? Well, Anthony Federov sang one in season 4 (“I’m Already There”). Perhaps you are wondering what song Katharine McPhee auditioned with. Well that would be “God Bless the Child.” Mikalah Gordon also sang that song on the show (2^nd week of the semifinals) and for the season 4 CD.

I have had a two-digit number’s worth of dreams in which I am a contestant (and one in which I was a contestant on So You Think You Can Dance. I had told everyone I know to watch me on the show and then it dawned on me that I can’t dance. Panic.). I have without irony used the sentence, “I worry what I would pick for ‘Country Week.’” I have correctly predicted, based on the theme, what a contestant will sing multiple times (two weeks in a row I said, “ugh I bet he’s going to sing/ruin X” right before David Cook came out and was right [“Always Be My Baby’ and “Music of the Night”]). And boom goes the dynamite.

But, despite all of this, I would not classify myself beyond the 3^rd tier of fandom. I truly believe there exists at least two higher echelons of fans. I have never spent money on any Idol merch other than music (which I argue is the one piece of merchandise you are supposed to buy. Right? It is a music show. Shouldn’t you buy the music?). That is, I have never seen the show in person or attended any of the tours. I have never bought a t-shirt or poster or anything like that. So, there is a level of fan that does that, which has to be higher than me. If you are walking around sporting a t-shirt with David Archuleta’s smiling face on it, you automatically outdo my knowledge that Diana DeGarmo came out first in the semifinal rounds of season 3 and sang “I Got the Music in Me.” (Seriously, I got like a B- on my British Literature quote identification midterm. This ability cannot be used for good, only evil.)

But then there is that top tier: actually crazy people. I make no claims of sanity, and those Jordin Sparks-clad fans are certainly not excluded from the tea party, but there is a level of crazy that runs just inexplicably deep. For example, nothing having to do with American Idol has come remotely close to making me cry (nor should it). I would never, ever, ever enter the world of online message boards about the show. Ever ever ever. Ever. The extreme emotional connection people feel and, for some reason, have to share with this online community of fellow crazies is stupefying. Something about the level of anonymity combined with the actual disconnect from the show (were you on it?) and the reality that it is just a TV show (yes, just) creates this perfect storm of overreaction and misplaced passion that could knock a moving freight train out of its tracks. There exists this legion of superfans that send hate mail to votefortheworst.com and make signs to hold up at their televisions for, presumably, contestants who cannot possibly see them and organize petitions to get their “unfairly” ousted favorite contestant back on the show.

But this isn’t Idol’s fault. I actually believe it is the other way around. American Idol didn’t make crazy fans out of these people; these people were always crazy. Like really, actually, I don’t know if they should be allowed to drive, please tell me these people are not responsible for children crazy. The kind of people that, after revealing their obsession, you discreetly feel for your keys should the need for a weapon arise. The kind of people that don’t seem to notice that your eyebrows had permanently risen since they started talking to you. The kind of people that you don’t make sudden movements around. These people, they just happen to direct all that crazy toward American Idol. Anything that has regular fans has crazy fans. TV shows, celebrities, comic books, Barack Obama. In fact, I bet things you didn’t think could have regular fans have crazy fans. I’m sure there are people out there with deep emotional attachments to the varieties of pudding or the styles of nail clippers or the brands of decks of playing cards.

Also, just to go back a tic, I hope that the inventor of the caps lock key, the inventor of the YouTube comment, and the inventor of “reply all” are sharing a table in Hell for crimes against humanity. Just saying.