A sobering detail

It disturbs but also elates me that I feel so uninterested in most aspects of pop culture these days. Disturbs me because I worry that I'm missing something obvious that makes fashion, celebrity news, or whatever intriguing; elates because I think I can devote the time I'm not wasting on these pursuits toward other, more meaningful projects. Except then I don't. Instead I waste my time taking care of stupid, frivolous "tasks" that I've crowded the pages of my daily planner with. E.B. White had a point when he said something like "creativy blossoms when one ignores the major and minor distractions." I think I'm too enamored with the minute distractions of everyday life to ever devote myself entirely to a creative endeavor -- the kind that swallows all my time and becomes something astounding and fulfilling.

A girl at a friend's party tonight told me about a book she read called "The Tender Bar"...or something like that. Came out not too long ago and was on all sorts of bestseller lists. About a guy who grew up in the New York region (maybe?) and interned as a copyboy at the NYT. He gets along great with the staff and is convinced he's going to be hired as a junior reporter upon finihing his internship; in fact, he's told as much by his supervisors. But come the last day of his term, the news is broken to him that he just didn't make the cut. And this was after he'd told all his friends he was going to be a reporter at the NYT. That was a bit of discouraging news coming from someone in a position of authority: that is, someone who has a life here and has the appearance of one who knows what she's doing with her life.