I AM WOMAN: Drunk on Sudafed and Oscar Wilde

The Web site for the award-winning alternative weekly, the Philadelphia City Paper.

0 comments

I AM WOMAN: Drunk on Sudafed and Oscar Wilde

POSTED: Tuesday, February 8, 2011, 3:00 PM

Filed Under: I Am Woman

In contrast to our weekly dude column Man Cave, I Am Woman adds a feminine touch by chronicling the weekend adventures of a single Philadelphia socialite:

I have become a philosopher: This weekend I took some "me" time to reevaluate my life and reflect on my past actions. I cannot, however, take all of the credit for my new-found wisdom, my prophetic thoughts mostly stemmed from the Sudafed I took every four to six hours. To top it off, I had elephantine proportions of homework to do, part of which included one of my favorite poets, Oscar Wilde. I fell in love with Wilde's eccentric way of seeing the world during my first year of high school. So like any nerd propelled by the momentum of wanting to know more, I bought books — any book that talked about Wilde, no matter who the author. Later, as I divulged deeper into my readings, my mind started to drift. I play this game with myself which may seem a little strange, and it happens often enough that I refer to is as the "What-Ifs." I literally sit down and imagine if all the decisions I had made in that day or week had been the opposite. For example, "What if I had missed that train by five minutes, would I have met my Valentine?" After playing the "What-Ifs" through two more doses of Sudafed, I came to the conclusion that I am not perfect but content with myself in ways that allow me to be happy every day. Mentally worn out, the following day my friends came over with a care package that included soups, more Sudafed, cough drops, movies, Cosmo mags, and juice. I fell asleep somewhere in the middle of Dear John, a movie all about what ifs, and woke up to surprise brownies. Spending all day with good friends like these only reinforces the good decisions I have made. Oscar Wilde once said, "But what is the good of friendship if one cannot say exactly what one means? Anybody can say charming things and try to please and to flatter, but a true friend always says unpleasant things, and does not mind giving pain. Indeed, if he is a really true friend he prefers it, for he knows that then he is doing good." I couldn't agree more.

Posted by Jillian Weir-Reeves @ 3:00 PM Permalink | Post a comment

0 comments

Comments (0)

PHILLY LOVE NOTES: An ode to Spruce Street
Q&A with SHARI SOLANIS: "The goal isn't pornography"
ICE CUBE: In Memoriam: Joe Tartaglia
CONCERT REVIEW & PHOTOS: James Blake @ TLA 5/11
What we're trying to do this weekend
SEXY TIME Q&A: I've never had an orgasm during sex with a man — and I'm 30!
Coming soon to Philly: Two cockamamie movie promotion schemes
Q&A with Tony Goldwyn: "Life is gray, and relationships are, too"
CONCERT REVIEW: Primus (3D & quadraphonic sound) @ The Tower 10/17
ICEPACK ILLUSTRATED: The Archbishop meets the Geator, the Mayor goes suit shopping, Le Bec Fin fin.

About this blog

Featuring everything from event roundups to concert reviews and sex talk, City Paper's Critical Mass is a space for off-the-wall coverage of Philly's A&E scene.

Follow Critical Mass editors Patrick Rapa and Emily Guendelsberger on Twitter:

@mission2denmark | @emilygee

Search this blog:

Topics:

Blog archives:

May
April
March

February
January

Past Archives: