How do the people we become comfortable with find their way into our lives?
The first time it happened, she was young and too new at life to realize she had met someone comfortable. His name was James and at the time she had no idea what was happening. Up until that point in her life, it had been the norm to be friends with girls. She was a girl and it was only expected that she have girlfriends. That’s just how it worked. Those were the easiest people to get close to and that was kind of what was expected. So grade school and junior high brought girlfriends. Then highschool brought more girlfriends. Girls that were catty and bitchy….girls that were looking to stab you in the back and looking for a reason to hate you even though they were your “best friend.” So she plugged on into college thinking that is what she would continue to experience. She had no idea what to do when the eclectic, bohemian, I haven’t cut my hair in months boy looked at her in writing class and said “Hi my name is James. Do you want to be my partner?” They had just been assigned one of those god damn, get to know you assignments, she was fresh meat and looking for a “safe” girl to participate with and she didn’t know what else to say but yes when he looked at her like that. Little did she know he was going to be the first “comfortable” person she met in her life. This was her first writing class of college, she was gun shy and now suddenly she had to look at this amazingly good looking boy and find out what his reading background involved. Like a naieve freshman, she started rambling off all these authors she had been forced to read in highschool hoping it would make her sound somewhat intelligent. At some point in the exercise he used the word existentialism to describe his way of thinking and she suddenly realized she had a whole lot of growing up to do…she had no idea what the f**k that even meant. But she did know it meant this was someone she needed to know. For some reason he was drawn to her and she suddenly understood that there were certain people she was going to need to know and he was one of them. At the end of class they of course had to go around the room and tell who their partner was and what they had learned about them. When it was their turn, she prayed that she remembered how to pronounce existentialism and hoped even harder that the instructor didn’t ask her what that meant. When class ended James slipped into his leather jacket with more buckles then she knew you could fit on a jacket and cruised out of class. As the door was about to close all she saw was his dingy rucksack and combat boots but she prayed that he would talk to her again.
So I got some new ink. And its only a week old and I have, of course, had to mess with it a lot…and every time I look at it, I think what the hell am I doing? I don’t think anyone I know (including myself) would peg me as a chick with tattoos. But the more I think about it, the more I think these tattoos are my silent protests against the person I am becoming…the person I said I would never be….the person I’m trying not to be. The person who works in corporate America, the person who owns a home, the person who can’t pick up and leave at a moments notice, the person who is seeping into my every molecule.
I was watching LA Ink tonight and during the show two of the girls participated in a night of speed dating. Now I am way beyond the dating stage so I am REALLY relieved this is something I will NEVER have to participate in (i’m hoping). But as I was watching this weird, new dating ritual I decided I would really suck at it. I think I would probably just freak most of the guys out. The way I see it, you’ve got like 5 minutes to figure out if you like this other person. So I’m thinking I can’t waste this time on where do you work, what do you like to do type questions. I’d want something funny, some obscure fact, the weirdest thing they had seen recently, the most inappropriate thing they had recently heard. At some point I’d probably snort and then my 5 minutes would be up.
Like I said…I’d suck at speed dating.
The K-State Wildcats may have beat the Kansas Jayhawks, but they still can’t GIVE away Wildcat merchandise.
The third day of February in Kansas provides nothing but cold, gray, dampness and a severe case of cabin fever, so I decided today was as good a day as any to try out this blogging thing. Besides I think my husband is tiring of my constant rambles. So….
My space of the planet is a college town in Kansas about 30 miles west of Kansas City. 10 AM on a Sunday morning finds me at a local Einstein Brothers as I wait for my newly purchased, iPod compatable car stereo to be installed.
Behind me is a table of two young guys and an older guy who (I’m pretty sure) is homeless…it looks like his belongings are in the suitcase he rolled in with. I cant tell if the young guys are homeless or just trying really hard to look that way. A fourth old guy (I’m assuming also homeless) joins them. His only concern for the day is how to get 4 blocks in the rain for cigarettes and how he’ll get money to purchase them. As they head out to the community center, I secretly wish my only concern of the day was how to get cigarettes.
Two college girls wander in, one of whom appears to be dressed for a night of partying. Based on the smudged, day old makeup, I’m assuming the outfit already witnessed a night of partying. I also assume at some point earlier that morning she took a walk of shame.
There is a young guy paying for his order who hasn’t taken his eyes off his cell phone since he came in the door. I find it fascinating that technology has turned us into a world of people occupying the same places but paying no attention to one another. I’m sure he couldn’t tell you how many people were in the restaurant or what any of them looked like. He certainly didn’t see me watching him.
As I’m getting ready to leave, a couple sits down next to me. She seems preppy…he seems pseudo-intellectual. She starts to read an article about Britany Spears…something about how the cost of paparazzi pictures has surged…and she has to ask what surge means. Ahhh, the institution of higher learning at its bes
I can’t think of a better way to start a Monday then driving to work and hearing Vanilla Ice. Every time that riff starts up on the radio, there’s that split second where you wonder if it is Vanilla Ice’s ‘Ice Ice Baby’ or Queen/David Bowie’s ‘Under Pressure.’ I always secretly hope it’s Vanilla Ice.