Jaded

I had a series of experiences over the past few days that had me on an emotional roller coaster, and led me to the sense that in addition to being lonely (I am certifiably not depressed), I am extremely jaded.

Most people I know who are happy seem to be people whose lives have exceeded their expectations.  Either they grew up poor and surprised themselves by becoming comfortably off, or they were the first (or the only) person in their family to go to college and are impressed by their own knowledge and intelligence (I don't mean in an arrogant way, I mean in truly finding these things a source of pleasure), or they have moved to New York from somewhere else and continue to be amazed by all the possibilities.

Thursday night I went to hear a Skype conversation with a young couple from the church who have moved to Jerusalem to be "missionaries".  I put the word in quotes because to me it sounds slightly quaint, or possibly iffy, if "missionary" means trying to convert people.  But I was assured that Lutheran missionaries do not try to convert people, they only go where there are already Lutheran churches and try to help.  These two young people are good.  Truly good.  I love them very much.  So much that sometimes I want to cry.  I didn't grow up with people who were good.  I grew up with people who were ethical and generous, but that was always tempered with a good dose of intellectual snark.  Almost as if that snark were a mandatory component of being intelligent.  Then there were the people who rebelled against that by being touchy feely in a hippie-ish kind of way that I found silly.  The media seems to think that this younger generation (is it Gen X or Gen Y?  I can't keep track?)  invented "irony" but believe me, it was alive and well when my mother was growing up in the 1930s.  My mother modeled herself on Dorothy Parker with a dash of Elizabeth Bennett thrown in.

After I came home Thursday night I felt spiritually renewed, feeling that knowing those young people and seeing their joy in doing God's work had changed me somehow.  My life would be so much happier and simpler if I wanted to be good  instead of wanting to be a star (even in a tiny venue), but I don't.

Then on Friday night I heard Audra McDonald sing Make Someone Happy and thought, "why can't I just be happy with that?  All the fighting and friends with benefits aside, I have made one person happy for a long, long time, and she has made me happy.  Not everyone has that.  Why can't that make me happy?  Why can't it be enough?"

Lastly, I saw an interesting post on Facebook, from a woman from the church I am friendly with, who said her life was so rich and varied "beyond my expectations, coming from a small town" and you see that is the problem.  How can I be happy with anything when I've been up to my eyeballs in the best of everything since I was 5 years old?  My parents were not rich, and in fact after my father died my mother and I were poor, but they/she managed to take me to the ballet, the theater, concerts, museums, etc. so that by the time I was in High School I had seen it all.  What was left for me to do that could ever even live up to those standards?

For a while I could be a Lesbian activist.  Not many people were doing that, certainly not any women who looked like me, and it was considered edgy, different, pioneerish.  Maybe I was my own kind of missionary, now that I think of it.  Now that's gone.

Will I ever have the sense of wonder and excitement that people have to whom things are new?  I just don't think so.

And it's a two way street.  I do not impress anyone and very little impresses me.  I suppose the only thing that impresses me is the level of skill, expertise, and ambition that so many very young people have.  They start out starring in their chosen endeavor in High School (when I was in High School I was so overwhelmed with eating disorders, substance abuse, sexual conflict and apathy I could barely maintain a B average) and keep it up through prestigious schools.  Now it's true that many of them will probably not be any better off at 62 (I will be 63 before you know it) than I am, but what I'm seeing is the beginning of the story not the last chapters.

So now I am off to my choir "gig".  (Some people laugh at me for calling it that, as I don't get paid, but that's tough nuggies.  I work as hard as any paid choir singer.)  This piece has 8 parts and last Wednesday the choir director actually publicly noticed the "second sopranos" and said thank you for staying on a difficult part.  That was a first.  His specialty is that any compliments or criticisms are always very general.  I remember a friend of mine (another late starting classical singer) mentioning  how her previous choir director "made a fuss" over her and another singer in that choir with training. Well, I guess if the church is on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, good amateur singers don't impress anyone.

ETA: After rereading this I realize that it needs some clarification.  Obviously I have not seen and done it all.  In fact, I have been to very few places, far fewer than most people I know.  There are countries, cultures, animals, scenery, and many many other things here in the United States and abroad that I have not seen.  What I meant, was basically two things.  First, that having grown up in New York, I have seen and done everything there is to see and do here, the best and the worst, the scariest, the funniest, the most upscale and the most gutter.  So 9/11 excepted, there is nothing I have seen here as an adult, on the street, on the subway, or in a theater, that I find surprising, shocking, or astounding, in a good or a bad way.  And - and this is more to the point - there is absolutely nothing in my daily life that even approaches the tamer dreams or expectations I had growing up, let alone exceeding them.  I do fewer different kinds of things at work or at play than about 95% of the people I grew up with or those I know now.  So short of suddenly having the time, money, and freedom to travel, I can't think of anything that is likely to cross my path that will take my breath away, surprise me, or astonish me.  Nor is there anything among my meager accomplishments that is likely to amaze or astonish anyone else.  Which is very sad.