Lather, Rise, Repeat

On Trying to Focus in a World Out of Focus

I’ve had a really hard time concentrating lately. This upsets me because I’ve always prided myself on my ability to focus and knuckle down when needed. For example, I once memorized a famous British poem in under an hour.

Okay, it was actually the lyrics to Wham!’s “Club Tropicana” that I memorized, but my point is that my powers of concentration are on the wane. What used to be a laser-like focus is now more of a laser-pointer-entertaining-a-cat-like focus. Shiny light! Shiny light! Shiny light!

I know most of the blame can be placed on technology and social media. It was a lot easier to avoid distraction in my younger days when “checking my phone” meant picking up the receiver and listening to the dial tone until my dad yelled, “What the hell are you doing? Put the damn phone down in case someone’s trying to call us! Jeezus, you kids.”

Now it’s not that simple. How can we resist constant distraction when we all grasp onto our cell phones like we’re Mission Control at the Johnson Space Center? We know it’s not healthy, but we can’t put them down because we might miss something. What if someone’s trying to reach us? What if there’s a new podcast episode? What if ground control is landing the space shuttle and needs our help?! Houston, we have a problem and the problem is my T-Mobile plan.

But what’s perhaps worse than my focus being pulled in all directions is when it’s pulled into a black hole. Like when I casually click on a news story, read a bit of horrific/scary/upsetting news, then can’t return to what I was doing just five minutes ago because I’m now in the fetal position. It goes like this:

1. I’m writing a humor piece.

2. While Googling “what name of Muppet that like sex chickens” for research purposes, I somehow see a headline about the upcoming presidential election.

3. I click on the headline and read the beyond scary predictions.

4. Humor piece + all remaining hope now abandoned like a dilapidated Orange Julius in a suburban mall.

It’s not easy to just get back to what I was doing when I’m now shaken and worried. When the bad news is unrelenting. Of course I could just not read the news. I could bury my head in the sand and pretend everything’s great, like all of the happy dummies in my Pilates class do, but that feels wrong to me. I’m the type of person that wants to know if I’m in the asteroid’s path. Not the type of person that one day looks up at the sky and says, “What’s the deal with that flaming thing? Should I move my Land Rover or AUGHHHHHH.”

If you’re going to punch me in the face, I want to know at least two weeks in advance.

The reading the news scenario also leads to a gigantic loss of motivation I call “What’s the point?” Wherein I think things like, “Sure, I could finish writing this excellent parody piece called Fast Times at Ridgemont Adult Living Facility, but I just read that we lost yet another reproductive right today so WHAT’S THE POINT?”

Like, I’m sorry the Alabama religious whackos made IVF illegal and now you can’t start a family, but hey, want to read this funny bit I wrote about 75-year-old Mike Damone selling REO Speedwagon tickets in a nursing home? What’s that? You don’t want to read it and I should go f-ck myself? I understand completely and shall now return to my regularly scheduled catatonia.

So what can I do, what can any of us do, to combat this loss of focus and motivation in an increasingly dark world? To not let this prevailing sense of impending doom derail us on an hourly basis? To not strap on a pair of suspenders and stand in the backyard yelling like Fred Sanford? Which wouldn’t even work for me because I live next door to a MAGA woman named Elizabeth and she’d probably watch me die while saying something nasty about Obamacare.

Allow me to explain what we can do, what my way of coping is, in this TED Talk that will never happen because the one time I was asked to do a TED Talk, I suggested it be about Barry Manilow and TED never contacted me again.

What we can do to not fall into the pit of despair is Lather, Rinse, Repeat. Like this:

• Lather: Spend a few minutes catching up on the latest headlines. Read that Trump will send all women over the age of 50 to mine for gold in Alaska after he’s elected because he wants more 14K toilets to abuse and women over 50 are gross. Start to clutch heart and yell, “IT’S THE BIG ONE” but then stop.

• Rinse: Put down the phone and shake the bad news off via a soothing action. This could be going outside, playing with a dog or cat, holding a baby that’s not crying, deep breathing, stretching, watching a dumb but funny show, reading a brilliant satire piece about Ridgemont High, hugging a loved one, making a donation, signing up to volunteer, etc. Rinse that shit off.

• Repeat: Start again, but not right away. Instead of checking the news just a few hours later, see how long you can resist. Then see how much longer you can go the next time. Soon maybe the rinsing will be twice or three times as long as the lathering. Maybe even longer. Maybe you’ll feel so much better that you’ll skip an entire day of shampooing! You may be greasy, but you’ll be much more calm.

I don’t know, it’s worth a shot, right? I think I’ll keep trying to lather, rinse, repeat, and I’m also going to try to get over the “What’s the point?” lack of motivation I feel because there is a point to writing funny things, and to putting something light and feel-good into the world. There really is. We need it.

At least that’s what I think every time I stand on a table and happily recite “Club Tropicana, drinks are free, fun and sunshine, there's enough for everyone, all that's missing is the sea, but don't worry — you can suntan.”

Thanks for reading!

—Wendi