When I set out to learn about my mother's bridge club, the Jewish octogenarians behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, their gen, and the ragged path that led me back to my mother.
My intern accused me of being jaded. How can you not be jaded after doing something for 30 years. Then again, I’ve been jaded since the sixth grade. I knew then that life was predictable and wearying. I could tell what every teacher was going to say before they said it. I knew that nobody meant what they said. I knew that I was always going to be too sensitive and angry and sentimental and sorrowful. True excitement always seems manufactured to me. Happy people make me nervous and jealous if I thought it was real.
Are you jaded?
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Betsy Lerner 
Only when it comes to ….. politicians: Democrats, Republicans, Liberals, Conservatives, Radicals, Reactionaries, Libertarians….. CONGRESS most of all. Other than that, I’m pretty hopeful about all others, in general.
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Having a wet-behind-the-ears intern tell me I’m jaded would unjade me in an instant. It’s always fun tearing some youngster a new one. I sincerely hope you made the most of the opportunity.
Of course we’re all jaded in some ways. But there’s always something to unjade, disjade or dejade us, at least for awhile. Roar! Do not go gently into that bla bla, but rather, fuck with everyone’s expectations, beliefs, and anything else you can fuck with, whether it’s kosher or not. It does you, and the world, a disservice not to do so. ROAR!
Look up jaded, google it, call for your final answer about jaded and listed among the definition you may not find my name but you will find me listed as a contributor.
I try desperately to be realistic without false hope and though it’s hard, I’m the happy one pissng people off.
Yep, totally jaded because faux happy = passive aggressive and that’s soooo unattractive.
I like to call it cynical. I can still be angry.
Not so much jaded as disappointed. I tend to hope for the best. I’m realistic, but I can still dream.
Nope, not jaded or cynical this century. That was a Sargasso Sea for my soul, and a fine thing to leave in my wake. It took energy from me and those around me, and no good thing was there.
Old Fritz said he wasn’t in the world to meet my expectations, and he was on to something. The world often doesn’t meet my expectations, and I don’t try too hard to meet the expectations of others.
It is what it is, and I yam what I yam. Works for me.
So Frank how did you sail away and become who you yar?
I’m jaded. Left bereft
of a world too violent, unforgiving,
and violet with rage
and jade-green of all those satiated,
(yet secretly in admiration)
And who the hell are they?
Jaded of an impervious world
And just as afraid of being
underrated, confiscated,
and mostly…
lately
late
to my own
charade.
A politician when he swears, a woman when she cries. Nothing is as it seems.
On my 5th birthday, soaking in a tub frothy with soap bubbles, reflecting upon this impending New World of school, chores and responsibilities, I wept. I had a vision of that long trek, the difficulties, the less-than-wonderful possibilities lurking beyond the early childhood that was, now, in my past St. Paul, on the Damascus Road, couldn’t have been any more overwhelmed. I love that shade, Jade Green.
Not yet, but I’m working on it.
I ought to be considering what I know. Maybe it’s what I think I know…anyway, I’m pretty darn happy – in spite of myself. Go figure.
“Are you jaded?”
Insufficiently so. The bartending and the criminal defense work took the shine off the apple for a while, but I left those behind and this … thing … closer to the center of me came awake again. It’s the small-town boy I was. Not that the town was too small, but it was small enough. Whatever was cool in NYC in 67 didn’t get the imperial hinterlands till 77, and by then it was not so cool as true cool. That should have been enough to leave me jaded, but I wasn’t cool enough even for that. Standin’ on the corner, suitcase in my hand. The bus goes by and I’m still there.
So, jaded? Not so much. Though I will say, contemporary American fiction and poetry don’t do a hell of a lot for me anymore.
But I remain a card-carrying member of the He-Man Butterfly Lovers’ Club.
Jaded – Maggi, Pierce and E.J.
🙂