Citizen Anxiety
70. Fear that The Purloined Letter was written by Poe, not Conan Doyle. It was.
71. Fear that no one actually believes that you’re going to join a gym. Or take boxing classes.
72. Fear that you now know the ending to Million Dollar Baby. Allayed by the newfound knowledge that you would have hated that movie.
73. Fear that if you can’t get it together enough to send pertinent information to writers of recommendation letters, going back to school won’t help you.
74. Fear that your desire to be nice to people would be more easily fulfilled if, rather than worrying about others overhearing the snarky things you say about them, you just didn’t say them.
75. Fear of a Veronica Mars/Logan Echolls breakup. Deeper, far more unsettling fear that you don’t actually care anymore. Congratulations, Rob Thomas!
76. Fear that everyone thinks your hair is too long. Fear that being “the Hermione” of a given group requires more than just long hair and a misleading air of superiority.
77. Fear that you don’t eat enough fruits and vegetables. How is that possible?
78. Fear of looking like a sucker.
79. Fear that you should go back to eating fish before there are no more fish. It’s a confusing fear.
80. Fear that you would not in fact make a good celebrity ghostwriter.
From the Department of Ships that Have Sailed:
81. Fear that an unkind note—writer, you—will be left where it might easily be found by its subject.
82. Fear that, this time, your room will never be clean again.
. . . allayed.
83. Fear that, after record numbers of voters show up at the polls, you will be turned away and told that they’ve “already collected enough votes.”
. . . dismissed.
84. Fear that your return to blog-writing will only be temporary—your absence having been a source of guilt for months—and that you have exhausted your stock of anxieties.
. . . unlikely.
To Be Continued
71. Fear that no one actually believes that you’re going to join a gym. Or take boxing classes.
72. Fear that you now know the ending to Million Dollar Baby. Allayed by the newfound knowledge that you would have hated that movie.
73. Fear that if you can’t get it together enough to send pertinent information to writers of recommendation letters, going back to school won’t help you.
74. Fear that your desire to be nice to people would be more easily fulfilled if, rather than worrying about others overhearing the snarky things you say about them, you just didn’t say them.
75. Fear of a Veronica Mars/Logan Echolls breakup. Deeper, far more unsettling fear that you don’t actually care anymore. Congratulations, Rob Thomas!
76. Fear that everyone thinks your hair is too long. Fear that being “the Hermione” of a given group requires more than just long hair and a misleading air of superiority.
77. Fear that you don’t eat enough fruits and vegetables. How is that possible?
78. Fear of looking like a sucker.
79. Fear that you should go back to eating fish before there are no more fish. It’s a confusing fear.
80. Fear that you would not in fact make a good celebrity ghostwriter.
From the Department of Ships that Have Sailed:
81. Fear that an unkind note—writer, you—will be left where it might easily be found by its subject.
82. Fear that, this time, your room will never be clean again.
. . . allayed.
83. Fear that, after record numbers of voters show up at the polls, you will be turned away and told that they’ve “already collected enough votes.”
. . . dismissed.
84. Fear that your return to blog-writing will only be temporary—your absence having been a source of guilt for months—and that you have exhausted your stock of anxieties.
. . . unlikely.
To Be Continued