I don’t know when my negative Nellydom started, but I know when it ended: last week. Sometime after I had a 2-episode mini-thon of The New Girl before viewing Zooey’s hosting appearance on SNL, followed by a secret On-Demanding of the Valentine episode of TNG and before I sat down to type this with my unapologetic cute bangs, red lips and big green-not-blue eyeballs.
I feel so free! You know, the darnedest thing about me is that on occasion I get so irrationally worked up about people/places/things that should have no impact on my life that I start thinking it’s the most original thing in the world for me to be all fuss-buckety about them. Or I’m sometimes too blinded by my own curmudgeondom to see the angry mob I’m in the middle of.
This being semi-the case with Miss Deschanel, I felt genuinely sad to learn recently the extent to which some entities go to belittle my newly embraced bringer of fun and joy. There are murderers and pedophiles and walking devils on Earth, who am I to begrudge a human cupcake (not linking to this)? Whatever that even means. And I love cupcakes, like 75 percent frosting cupcakes, so I’m out of the meanies club.
What I love: her hair, her make-up, her giant eyes, her voice that I thought bothered me until I realized she sounds exactly like my friend Elizabeth who I never get to see enough anymore and now I love her voice so much, her clothes that are the cleaned-up professional version of my grunge-y vintage dresses and cute tights look of 20 years that I should have adopted ages ago, her leather bunny Mandy Coon purse that I covet so severely, her girlfriends that seem to be the funniest chillest women always (not to mention that ability to be friends with women as well as gushing love for her sister and mother), gushing love for her sister and mother, that song with the cute video of her in a classroom, the video with her in the classroom -- I could go on and on.
The second episode of "The New Girl" I downloaded that fateful Saturday before SNL was the real clincher. It examined the utter distaste Jess’s roommate’s new girlfriend had for Jess, including a thorough dressing down itemizing the “annoying” things that make Jess Jess (for the sake of my essay, let’s just confuse Zooey and Jess, ok?). I was guilty of sounding like the new girlfriend -- for most of my life, but I was a Jess. I’m a Zooey/Jess! I take too much time to wrap presents; I want purses that are baby animals. And seriously how good was she on SNL? Olsen twin, forget it.
[Because I was also writing about Zooey Deschanel for today, but Rachel beat me to it, and because the quote is so good, Jess tells the girlfriend,""I brake for birds. I rock a lot of polka dots. I have touched glitter in the last 24 hours. I spend my entire day talking to children. And I find it fundamentally strange that you’re not a dessert person. It freaks me out. I’m sorry that I don’t talk like Murphy Brown. And I hate your pants suit. I wish it had ribbons on it or something just to make it slightly cuter but that doesn’t mean I’m not smart and tough and strong." ]
I may try to be tough and mean and hard-edged (crappy, stale defense mechanisms that don’t serve me well anymore), but I surround myself with the cutest cute stuff you’ve ever seen and I go over the top to make my life more fun. Not as much as I should, but I think I’m committed to doing it even more now.
I once had a baritone ukulele that I loved and bought with some of the money I got when my dad passed away. A former boyfriend clumsily stepped on it, snapping the neck right off. He didn’t see it as a big deal, said he’d replace it and never did. I never replaced it either (him, I did replace). Maybe it's time.
What am I saying here? I’m 39 years old, I’ve been like this my entire adult life, Zooey Deschanel is practically an invention from my own brain and I openly love and support her. Now. I’m fashionable late to the party, but it’s the cutest, most thoughtful party ever and I’m staying till Zooey kicks me out. I'm buying-the-She-&-Him-Christmas-Album-in-March serious about this.
I’m tired of being a begrudging aged hipster. I’m just me. And Zooey is the cat's particulars.