Letters to the Editor
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been reading salon advice column since Mr. Blue days
Just went back through some of Mr. Blue's columns. What a breath of fresh air! And only 1-2 paragraphs of answer per question!
There is a certain arrogance mingled with sadness in Cary's writing that is absent in Mr. Blue's. Perhaps the fact that he's been emotionally and physically wounded makes it necessary for him to write in such a manner. I don't know. I just get tired of people who always write/talk about themselves even though they're supposed to be talking about and helping the LW with THEIR problem.
Cary must've had more negative responses to his column lately to make him write that intro today. Perhaps there's something that Cary can learn from these (constructive) criticisms?
Based on what he wrote, however, it seems he's only willing to take the praise and disregard anything negative because he's an "artiste." We who dare criticize are philistines who aren't able to appreciate his artistic gift. It's ironic that he writes, "It is a luxury of power to avoid introspection, to merrily skip out on the self-interrogation that leads to humility" when so often there's no humility in his own writing.
And let's not get started on the desperate peddling of his book in the column...
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midlife blues
I'm in my late thirties and going through some of the same stuff as the LW. I have also resisted meds (have read too many scary articles about side effects) and have found some helpful insight through reading Jungian texts.
It wasn't all that long ago that people only lived until their early or mid-forties, so I sometimes think that a midlife crisis is a result of the psyche just petering out, despite the fact that we now can physically survive into our eighties.
I've noticed, among other things, that music rarely affects me in the profound ways it did when I was younger, and I think that must be the psychological result of some type of dulling of the senses as I age. Yet I do very much appreciate the point Cary made that this is not all about internal stuff, that, in fact, life is a struggle, and times are particularly grim in this country at this particular moment.
I'm single, and, at this age, am finding it impossible to sustain a community of friends, never mind a relationship, just when I need them most. People are lost in marriages and child-raising, and perhaps because of the war on the middle class, both singles and marrieds seem unable to find the time or energy to reach out to friends. So that's been tough, going it alone, and I'm kept up at night by the lack of connection in my life. My subconscious knows that I'm not getting what I need and is urging me to fix the problem, but I am finding it difficult to do so. I recently moved and attempted to start a new career in order to change up my life, but I had to go back to my original career just so I could survive financially. So now I'm back on the treadmill, facing two weeks off a year, with not much in the way of a social life to offset the stress.
It sucks, but all my single friends are in the same boat at this age. Yet we all seem to be struggling through it alone.
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What keeps you...
from engaging in pointless public self-defense?
Nothing, apparently. Cary, you may well be a good writer, but that's not your job. You are an advice columnist (and I in no way demean the profession when I say this). By definition, it's supposed to be about the letter writers, not you and your sensitive, artful prose. Get over yourself.
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Beautifully said
I love how real you are, Cary. And how real your LW's are, too. Today's column perfectly exemplifies why yours is the first advice column I've ever subscribed to. Your letter writers' willingness to share their struggles in such a humble way always moves me, often to tears. And your compassion, humor, intuition, and tell-it-like-it-is and from-the-heart perspective have helped me work my own way through similar struggles more times than I can count. For that I thank you.
I agree that we are living in scary times. Sometimes I feel utterly despondent about humanity and the cruel havoc we wreak daily on our fragile planet, the precious and vulnerable non-human animals we share it with, and one another.
Your column is often a reality check for me that there ARE still beautiful souls among us, striving to make this world a kinder place. For that I thank you most.
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There's a blood test for clinical depression??
Weird. Never heard of that. (Sure, if it were related to a thyroid problem like someone said, they could check for that.)
Spent a couple of decades suicidally depressed every day, and every hour of most of those days, before finally allowing myself to try meds. I had creative outlets (got award attention in my own small creative pond, even), I knew damn well I was objectively better off than 99% of the people on the planet, did a little counseling for a while.
But, you know, shit, it wasn't until I finally took an SSRI that I didn't imagine opening my veins 24/7. So kudos to you with the magic levitating bootstraps, but sometimes the brain seems to actually have a physical wound that all the PMA in the world doesn't erase.
But, I still don't think there's a blood test for it yet.
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What brought this on?
Yeah, Mr Tennis, I don't think you are a very good columnist. I think you are self-absorbed and just not a very good writer. These, however, are minor points.
I was really crushed when "Mr. Blue" left. He was pithy--and profound--with a bit of melancholy that didn't slip into ruminating self-pity! Quite a feat. But I thought I'd give you a chance. When did thinhg go sour for me? Maybe it was when you mentioned that you were discussing a LW's problems with your friends--after giving a run-down on the wine you were drinking and the lovely meal you were eating. Hey, I don't mind if an advice columnist goes out to seek an outside opinion--but the thought of someone's problems being a sort of amuse bouche for a bunch of priviledged Bay-Area types was a bit much for me. Or maybe it was when you said that you were only playing the persona of an advice columnist--and that sometimes you'd just jump out--like a jack-in the box--with advice that wasn't really advice. Well, guess what? You really can't have it both ways. What really got me was when he told the guy to go over and talk to the crazy neighbor to get his money. It was the singular most dangerous piece of "advice" that I have ever seen. And I don't care if it were all wrapped up in a piece of tie-dyed old hippie ruminations--it was criminally dangerous.
Once in a while you write something decent and even profound, but it just isn't worth trying to sort through all the verbose self-pitying garbage. And that doesn't make me a troll, or someone who is sitting in the chair, or want you to sit in a chair (whatever that means). It just means I'd take Carolyn Hax or Date Girl over you any day of the week.