I deserve a gold medal or at least a pat on the back by a man (or a woman or a genderqueer) wearing a gold medal for successfully going to a MALL on a SATURDAY and not having a TOTAL meltdown. You know, the kind of meltdown that results in me screaming into an overpriced and oversized sweater in a ridiculously narrow dressing room with bad mirrors and bad lighting and a bad lock on the door that doesn't lock or locks too well, which means either some bozo walks in on me half-naked and sobbing or I am trapped and have to decide whether I awkwardly ask the clerk who isn't there for assistance in escaping the confines of the torture chamber or I awkwardly crawl under the door and shuffle off to the sales rack to gain some sort of composure so I can interact with the cashier and buy, like, a hat or something. And will I ever wear the hat? Probably once at some forgettable concert where I will feel like a generic hipster fraud for wearing such a goofy hat I impulsively purchased after a total meltdown inside of a dressing room inside of a store inside of a mall inside of a city full of folks who don't have such fragile emotional lives. In other words, yeah, I'll wear the hat, but that doesn't mean I'm going to like it.
Hello! Right now I am spying on my weirdo neighbors in their backyard constructing what appears to be some kind of stove. They tend to have a lot of jovial dinners complete with laughter, languages I can't understand, and some kind of loin. Pork? Beef? Oh, and microphones. No, they don't grill microphones, but they use microphones (multiple microphones? no, probably just one.) to talk to the dinner guests. Are they making toasts? Are they sharing their favorite memories of grandma? Are they reciting love sonnets and dirty limericks? Again, I do not speak their language, so I have no clue. But they sound happy and there is usually applause after words are spoken, so I'm guessing all is well. But all of this is also annoying as crap to the neighbors who have to hear/smell/see everything at the dinner while they are trying to watch reruns alone on their couch with a half-frozen burrito waiting patiently on a paper plate. So yeah, keep it down over there, highly-social-speech-giving-stove-constructing neighbors.
Right now I am also chewing on ice! Typical! Tipper! Tipper Gore! Gorilla! Guerrilla! Guerrilla Girls! Feminism. Forever. Amen. Awoman. Awomyn. Alright alright alright.
I walked by a beggar today and wanted to give him a few bucks. This time I honestly had no bucks or doll hairs or scrilla or whatever. Just parking tokens, which I guess I could have given to him because who knows? Maybe that token would have saved his life by stopping a bullet or transforming into a genie who grants him three wishes. I had to pass him and just say hello and how are you and I looked down at my blue sneakers, shyly and a bit ashamed. I never know what to do or how to act or what to say in those situations/all situations. I guess the first thing I can do in any instance is to just be kind? Right? Like, be compassionate and patient and wish someone well. And listen! Listening is so so so achingly important. I do wish, however, that I had the kind of cash to just freely give to lots of people, whether friend or stranger or strange friend. Maybe the parking tokens I still have in my wallet actually will transform into a genie and grant me three wishes. I guess I'd have my first wish be: gimme lots of money (but without the danger and drama that can come along with it -- that isn't a second wish, though, that is included in the first wish, okay?) so I can buy lunch and a round of drinks for everyone in the world. And so I can build hospitals and schools and art centers and research labs that will be used in finding cures for all that ails. And river cruises. I would go on so many river cruises. Second wish? Well, wait a second. I don't quite know. I'm beginning to feel stupid for saying I'd wish for a lot of cash. Selfish? But I'm giving a lot of that cash away, yes? I don't know, man. Guilt and self-doubt stops me from even accepting wishes. No thanks, genie. Go back in your bottle/parking token. I'll just keep living life penniless and wishless.
Well, this post blows. Kidding, it's okay. It's just not what I intended for it to be. What was my intention? Maybe it was to have more linear thoughts, to discuss the power of simplicity/now/love, to tell you about my new 10-year-old BFF (I will tell you about her soon!!!). Maybe I should stop typing "maybe" and start typing out a list of all the cool things I can do for other people who really are penniless and hopeless and drowning in a society that expects them to be everything they cannot currently be. Maybe I can give them some relief, some tiny token of hope, some kind of hip hip hooray into a microphone at a dinner to tell them that they are worth it and they can make it and they can feast on the food I've cooked for them, for me, for us to share. Kumbaya! This is my wish.