the year of magical thinking

I considered posting only after I've finished, and I still will, but I wanted to put it out there that I'm actually going for it. You know that which has been the title of my blog for . . . ever, will now have some actual grounds for legitimacy. Looking back on why I even named it that takes me to a place from my past that I don't mind revisiting. High school wasn't terribly painful for me at all, for what it was, I didn't mind - only I have no desire to return. But this takes me back to my junior year of AP english with Mr. Bell (who was a striking fusion of christian bale and joey from full house.) I loved that class, not many people did (frankly this is often the case, when everybody hates the workload/subject, i love it, and vice versa. i confess that the anti-conformist tuggings at my heart may have a small bit to play in this recurring pattern in my life.) 

Anyway, that's beside the point. In this class we read Joan Didion's Slouching Towards Bethlehem (and Amusing Ourselves to Death by Postman, check it out. my copy got ruined; i usually took my book with me to do laundry, and so she found a quaint little position in the corner of my laundry bag . . . and she got doused in a wayward bottle - sticky but smellin' sweet.) Sorry, distracted, but we read the book, a collection of essays, and rachel and i were smitten. we couldn't put it down. I read it on a plane ride (don't remember where) and carried it around like a badge of honor. Joan Didion understood how I felt about life. The way she articulated her thoughts on the sixties, and on people, and on drugs, and on howard hughes. Sheer brilliance. Well, I became a fan, to say the least. I looked into her other books (apparently, though i don't really remember doing this) and found the title of one of her other books. 

Ensuite, rachel and I decided to get blogs, that sounds weird - we decided to create blogs, and our titles came from a predictable source. First rachel set up her own, "notes from a native daughter" not surprisingly the title of an essay from slouching. Next the rachels blog - "on keeping a notebook" again, from slouching. And finally, I decided to call mine "a year of magical thinking." At the time I didn't really know that it was in fact the year, but for me, it was a year before I was going to college, and I figured I'd need magical thoughts to get me to that point. And then I considered changing it, as I'd gotten past that year, but then it was a year before I would be going to Paris, and it stuck. I confess I've felt very nonplussed about the title for a long time, but after reading the book (surprise surprise, the only way i can get past the shame of having not read it until this point is that i'm reading it now) I'm finding new inspiration and meaning and prevalence, into which I'll delve further once all is done. 

Anyway, I'm planning on finishing her off tonight at work (and no, I haven't finished anna karenina, so get off my back, it'll happen . . . soon .  . . eventually. don't worry) and bask in the glory of Didion. My love for her has been rekindled. If ever I were to become a writer, which still appeals to me in a small way, Joan Didion deserves some credit. She inspires me. She inspires my magical thinking.