“Let’s not forget that the little emotions are the great captains of our lives and we obey them without realizing it.” ~Vincent Van Gogh
This started Sunday late-evening:
I haven’t experienced this Sunday night Woe! Agony! Self-loathing! since the early days of Grey’s Anatomy. Possibly before and during the Denny Duquette era (Part I that is) when it showed on Sunday nights at 10. It was always Meredith’s last lines that got me along with the final strums of some indie song that screamed heartbreak. I always cried at the end. I’d be sitting there in my Capitol Hill apartment in a gross leather chair, crying because of some preposterous story line from the mind of Shonda Rhimes and each and every time I fell prey. I turned into a giant puddle of mush and I always thought it was because of the spectacular writing. The moving music. The romance and unrequited love. But it was just a catalyst for a good cry. Giant tears rolling down my cheeks as I sat huddled in the dark, mentally preparing for a new week. The thing that got me with those moments – those Sunday nights – was that in the grand scheme of things nothing was ever wrong. And yet there I was with this profound sense of unwavering sadness over this inexplicable thing.
It’s now Tuesday and I cannot for the life of me remember what had me so downtrodden and melodramatic and confusing my life with that of a doomed Shakespearean tale. But clearly it was something good that had me all worked up and near tears. Alas, it seems to be over now as these things always seem to pass once the doom and gloom of Sunday evening is over. That one time in a week when everything seems just a tad more stressful than it was just 12 hours prior. That one time of the week when the fear of what’s coming in the morning – the relentless hell that is Monday – seems a bit overwhelming and the week ahead could be amazing or it could be unnerving.
And again I’m struck with that BUT I WANT TO KNOW NOW feeling. I still hate not knowing what’s to come. Sunday night pathos could probably be cured with a magic 8 ball.
6 Comments
Oh, this keeps happening to me lately. One minute EVERYTHING IS AWFUL and then later I am all, what? Often I am in tears and a few days later I get my period and I am like, oh. Right.
Ugh. Life! So it goes.
i’ve been all weepy over the dumbest shit lately. i’m glad it’s not just me.
I know how it feels. Sucks!
Oh man how I used to weep the same way on those Sunday nights during Grey’s. Back when it was a GOOD SHOW.
You were probably just upset on Sunday because you had to work and I did nothing to make you feel better on gchat with my “oh, just forgot to change my status. Losers work on Sundays.” Because I’m an asshole like that.
Dude. On Sunday nights, I cry when the latest duo gets kicked off The Amazing Race. When you throw in some hormones and wine, I am downright inconsolable.
Oh, how I used to cry over Grey’s when it didn’t have characters sleeping with ghosts.