I had just finished writing a guest blog piece about Dreamy Smurf's bucket list. In the Smurf's Village game on the IPad, Dreamy Smurf teaches another smurf that a bucket list is a list of things you want to do before you die. I was particularly proud of the essay because I wrote about death, but in a "fun" way.
If reading about death can ever be fun.
My husband tried to level-set with me. "You're the only one who is interested in this. No one wants to read about death." Hurt, I stomped upstairs to go watch television in bed.
I turned to Girls, one of my new favorite HBO shows, written by Lena Dunham. Her character is a writer who feels that no one "gets" her.
In episode 9, the character Hannah (played by Lena) is explaining her latest essay to her co-worker about an ex boyfriend who was a hoarder. Then her co-worker starts to give her a hard time about her writing.
Imagine my surprise when I was watching episode 9 and this dialogue occurs:
Ray: What in the world could be more trivial than intimacy? Hmmm? Is there anything real you can write about?
Hannah: What do you think would be a real thing to write about?
Ray: I don't know, lot's of things. Cultural criticism. How about years of neglected abuse? How about acid rain? How about the plight of the giant Panda Bear. How about racial profiling? How about urban sprawl? How about divorce? How about DEATH? How about death? Death is the most fucking real. You should write about death. That's what you should write about, explore that. Death.
Of course I started screaming for my husband to come upstairs to watch the clip as if it were some validation that I was right.