I Don’t Need an Antidepressant. I Need Vogue.

My Life, My List

I don’t have a life so much as a list. Without a clearly-defined set of priorities, I stop functioning. But lately, my list of tasks tends to get overwhelming, not so much because there isn’t time for everything, but because I find the things I have to do draining.

Here, for example, is a typical list:

• Finish reading “Low Back Disorders” textbook.
• Do McGill big 3 exercises
• Write blog article
• Look up laws regarding driver safety in New Jersey
• Find readable source that explains gate theory of pain
• Go for walk
• Figure out why garbage disposal is making that weird noise

Notice any patterns?

So much of my day is devoted to researching my health problems, or managing them, or planning around them. Many tasks that aren’t obviously related to my sitting disability require me to factor in my disability anyway.

For example, I don’t apply to any jobs that require frequent travel. A Zoom call often requires rearranging the furniture so I can kneel or lie down. And many of my meals are chosen specifically because they can be eaten on the couch.

My tasks are not pointless. The research I’ve done on sciatica and sitting disabilities has taught me how to manage my health concerns, and find workarounds for common problems. I’m in much better shape now than I was a few months ago. And through this blog, my research can (I hope) be of use to others as well.

But even though my tasks have a purpose, and even though the results are non-negligible, I still find myself looking at my list, and wondering if there’s a cliff nearby that I could walk off of.

Disability is, I must confess, a depressing topic. I’ve talked to smart, intrepid, and talented people with sitting disabilities. I’ve always found those conversations to be uplifting rather than depressing. But even the most thoughtful and resourceful person with a sitting disability has a broken dream lying somewhere behind them. The Specter of How Things Might Have Been lurks just behind your shoulder.

My dreams now center on getting airlines to adopt bunk beds, or having remote work become the norm. I have fantasized about putting ceiling hooks around my house, and then wearing a harness and cinching myself up. Like with rock climbing, except I would just hang there. I have imagined a bicycle that was also a scooter.

In short, my dreams are now limited to things that would bring me back to a normal level of functioning. They are not about me winning a pole dancing competition, or visiting every European capital. Last year, I thought about hiking a 20-mile stretch of river trail, which seemed achievable. Then I remembered I can’t carry a heavy backpack. Even modest goals have to be downgraded.

Sometimes reality bears down too heavily upon me, and then I need to disappear into a land of glitter and glitz. Where the lighting suits everyone, and fights are all about posturing. Where the landlady can sing like a Broadway diva, and the back-alley plastic surgeon can help you hide a dead body. Where “Realness” takes work, and ghosts show up to help you be your best self. This is how I became obsessed with Pose.

Posers

The show centers around New York City’s LGBTQ+ ballroom culture in the late 80s and early 90s. Houses are led by mothers (in this show, all transgendered women) who adopt their “children” from among the strays that wind up sleeping on the peers. These kids headed to New York after being kicked out of their birth families. Houses provide social and financial support, but also exist to compete in balls. Think Cinderella’s ball, but with bigger shoes, and trophies that aren’t a prince.

Now, I would watch high school students read insurance policies if the costumes were good enough. I will MOST DEFINITELY watch transgendered ladies, who all look like supermodels, recreate Marie Antoinette’s beheading and then get into bitch fights with each other.

One review noted, “Pose is already revolutionary in its sprawling cast of trans characters played by trans actors. But it feels nearly as revolutionary as a gritty Peak TV drama that tries to be kind and generous to its characters whenever possible.” Which is a lovely summation, and a partial explanation for its charm.

I can’t put on my socks in the morning without laying on the bed and wriggling into them. How beautiful, then, to peek at a world where characters show up at a ball wearing royal regalia stolen from a museum. I test my physical limits when I pick up a crumb off the floor. How charming, then, to think that there are men who can dance as naturally and elegantly as dolphins swim.

It’s not that the show shies away from unpleasant topics. Given the time, place, and demographic, AIDS is nearly as unavoidable as prejudice. One transgendered woman is murdered in a hotel room, and others are compelled to turn to sex work. But even the tragedies are cinematic. In one scene, a woman with AIDS is too weak to stand, so she goes to a ball in a wheelchair. That does not prevent her from rocking her lip synch routine, and taking home a trophy.

Maybe I should start lip synching.

TV Looks Different This Side of 30

Once, just after I finished college, I was at a meeting for my community theater, and one of the board members said, “Why do they always have to pick shows that are so serious? Why can’t we do some happy shows where everybody dances and the main characters end up married?”

I muttered some diplomatic response, but I wanted to roll my eyes. How pedestrian, I thought. Art was a serious business. Playwrights and actors were charged with capturing the Truth of Human Existence. A good play could be funny, but never light. It should be an intellectual exercise for the audience.

Back then, the ink on my diploma was still fresh. As an English major, I was taught by people who were paid to appreciate art, and surrounded by people who paid to appreciate art. I harbored some snooty opinions of my own. I didn’t think plays should be consumed like popcorn.

Eventually, my ivory-tower pretensions collided with the real world. You can guess which survived impact better.

I worked no jobs, and then I worked stressful jobs. I had a bad relationship. I moved across the country, lived in the human equivalent of an anthill, and developed a strange medical condition. I realized that people often spent enough time pondering the Truth of Human Existence during their work and personal lives. If people used media to escape, that was their right.

…Also, I started doing it.

I have nothing mean to say about the scripting, pacing, or acting in Pose. But if those qualities were lacking, and only the glitter quotient remained, I would like it nearly as well. Life is hard enough. I want to have a ball.