What’s up? How are you? Did you pack a lunch or eat out today? Do you meal prep? If so, how do you do that and keep your soul from being crushed into a million tiny pieces? Are you filled with existential angst? Is there a God? Are we in a simulation? Is this the Matrix? Was The Matrix just a PR disaster for the real Matrix? Why is getting to the gym literally climbing Mount Everest? Are you doing okay? Having a good day? Is your boss on your ass about something? Are people driving you crazy? Are you content? Unsatisfied? Are you enjoying the ride? Is skincare a scam? What’s your favorite color? Are you in love? What are your plans for the weekend? Have you seen any good movies lately? Do you have any good Instant Pot recipes you can send me? Do you doubt yourself? What’s your favorite store to shop at? Should I try to learn to play the piano again? Are my hands too small?
You can answer a few of those if you want. Or you can ponder and stare off into the distance and then get up and have a drink of water and go about your day and never think about me again.
As I write this I’m listening to jazz. Who do I think I am? Do I fancy myself some sort of distinguished writerly type? Because I know for a fact that is not how I present. Someone once told me my vibe was that of a person riding in the sidecar of a motorcycle. The person in a sidecar of a motorcycle does not exude mystery! I want to exude mystery goddamnit! Who is she? I want the people to whisper. Who is that gorgeous mysterious women in the corner tickling the ivories? I am grappling with the fact that I am not cool. Someone called me “adorkable” the other day. What an insult! “Quirky” is another slap in the face. I want to be edgy and unapproachable, elegant and inaccessible, sharp and cunning. I want to be dripping in diamonds, knife in my garter, the works! I want to be so beautiful no one will look me in the eye! Everybody talks to me. No one is intimidated. I’m always being asked for directions, despite the fact I never know where I am. I have heard so many Uber drivers’ life stories. One Uber Driver told me the entire story of how all three of his engagements fell through. “The one where I asked her at The Top of the Rock, that one really hurt.” He said to me. “I can imagine” I responded, thinking wistfully about the discarded earphones in my bag.
The Kindergarten Circus
My nephew is in Kindergarten this year, and I’ll be moved and close enough to home by the time he’s in the Kindergarten Circus, a tradition at my school (which he now attends!) It’s so cute, I’m so excited. When I was in the Circus, I desperately wanted to be a seal, because the seals got to eat Swedish Fish. If you weren’t a seal you were basically gutter trash. I was a Tiger. I was devastated. On the day of the Circus my tail fell into the toilet. I was shattered, filled to the brim with shame at my wet pathetic tiger tail. The second day (it’s a two day production, Connecticut really goes for it) I didn’t show to school, claiming I was sick. That was the day they filmed the Circus. There’s no record of me as a Tiger, only my memory. That moment of realization, the feel of the soggy tail, the tears in my eyes. Childhood is traumatic and funny.
Target is the best store to shop at. I love a big sprawling Suburban Target. One you can get lost in for hours. I like to smell all the shampoos and think about life. I’m doing good, second guessing myself a lot, but luckily have a support system that runs deep. Full of self-doubt, navigating that as best I can. I made some Chili for the week but I made too much and now I’ve got a case of too much chili. I don’t know how to meal prep. It crushes my soul to even think about it. My favorite color is yellow. I want to get my car painted yellow. I want yellow to drench my life. I think this is a simulation. My friend Carly sent me an article about it and I haven’t read it yet. I’m sorry Carly.