Tuesday, June 21, 2011

rainy days.

I joke that my dog is my only friend, which like all jokes is only funny because it is partially true.

It's been starting to concern my mother. She has this vision of me turning into a woman with a semi-moustache wearing pleated trousers and raising a posse of hounds, or an eccentric who clothes her dog and takes it to the spa. Both visions are childless spinsters of course. It has led to several serious conversations that "dogs are no replacement for children."

I only thought of this because today I was taking the dog on a walk and it looked like it was about to rain.
"Hey I'm sorry I think it's going to rain.." and she looked at me.
"You don't want to get your feet wet do you?" :look:
"Yea well you don't mind but I do. We can walk more next time, I promise!"
And she seemed to shrug and we turned around.

So now we are conversing.

I realized that my mind has regressed. It's a depressing thought, to realize that I'm never thinking or learning anything new. I think the main cause is the internet. The internet and pop culture have taken over my brain, a stream of particle facts crammed through me. Do I really need to check the news every hour? Every 15 minutes? Does it matter what snarky comment someone is going to post on such and such forum, or how a critic views the latest episode of something? I recognized something was very wrong when I realized I knew every contestant on american idol, but I'd never actually heard them sing. I was just reading the recaps. hah it's like being in the matrix.

I suppose I need a filter.

There's a girl I see sometimes near our apartment, I think she must work in one of the buildings near by. She only has one leg, and she walks with crutches that strap in at the wrists. The amazing thing is that the only reason I first noticed her was because of her outfit and how put together she looked. It was winter and freezing cold, but she had on a dress. Her hair was perfectly blown out, she had make-up on, accessories, vest, jacket, and was even wearing heels with a fur trim sock. (that's when I realized it was *a heel*) I then started seeing her every few days, each time in another accessorized outfit and high heel, walking all the way to the bus stop.

I sometimes saw her on the bus, each time she stood, she never pushed for a seat, even as able-bodied people were shoving each other to sit down first. She looked so calm and balanced that I don't think people realized she was on crutches... with a high heel! It was impressive.

It made me feel slightly ashamed for looking like such a slob. Each time I happened to see her, I looked like I was escaping some disaster zone, unbrushed hair, bundled in some unfortunate man's sweatshirt or hoodie, loose jeans and converses, my books crammed into a shopping bag. As my mother would say "how rude" of me to force my sloppiness on the public, "Are you a man or woman? Please decide."

After a hiatus, I saw the girl again the other day. It was so hot I felt like I was melting onto the sidewalk. I was in flipflops, shorts, a shapeless t-shirt. And there she was, briskly walking, blown out hair, in a fresh lemon yellow dress with a tiny sweater and platform sandal. She didn't even look like she was sweating.