Thursday, May 30, 2002

Young hipster viscously attacked

Becoming an adult is a strange and apparently long process, I’m 27 and I’m no where near feeling like one yet. But I am higher on the adulthood ladder than I was five years ago. There’ve been various events in my life, which have been rungs on that ladder, such as getting my first apartment, buying a car by myself, discovering I really enjoy tea. Do these things make you an adult? I think the world sees me in a much different way than I see myself. I think people I meet for the first time see me as an adult (my friends know better). They see the job, they see the slight marks around the eyes and the little bags under them. They see a could be late twenties or early thirties professional that works for a brokerage company. When I look at myself I don’t see any of these things. I see a goofy 17-year-old. That’s when the mental picture of myself solidified. So in my mind I will always be and look 17. Which is why I was horrified the other day while I was getting my haircut and the lady doing the cutting said “We’re about the same age right?” We were talking about your normal mundane “while getting your haircut” topics and she whips around and said that. Now to give you a full mental picture of this woman, she’s maybe 35, although probably older, and has that kind of fake blond, I’m trying to look young look, that only makes her look older. She’s lived some life, been around the block, been hurt a few times, has that rode hard and put away wet look. So when my 17-year-old self-image was confronted with “we’re about the same age” you can see why I was a little confused and appalled. A) I’m not close to your age, I’m in my teens in my mind and even if my mental image was closer to my real age I’m still not anywhere near your neighborhood of thirty something. And B)… I don’t have a B) but A) was enough don’t you think? The only thing that saved the experience was the fact that she relentlessly hit on me for the rest of the haircut. Touching me way more than was really necessary to cut my hair. So if the world sees me as a thirty something adult at least I’m a desirable thirty something adult… the “put away wet” woman thought so anyway.

Friday, May 17, 2002

What is this comprimise you speak of?

There are times when being single seems like a lonely row to hoe. Hardest when you’re newly single and you’re in that mode when all pop music and tragic love stories on TV and in the movies seem to be about you. The radio re-tells your story every 3 minutes in a slow tempo 4/4 time. You think nostalgically about old relationships and look upon couples embracing or walking hand in hand with deep envy. But most of the time you revel in the freedom of it. In the possibility behind every smile, in the joy of a first kiss and even if it’s been a while since your last first kiss, you know there will be more to come. I was thinking about all this while having a late lunch today at Café Barone. Sitting in the sun on the patio next to the fountain, reading my book, knowing there was no urgency to get back to work. Having the kind of lazy, do what you want feeling, which people in serious relationships don’t get to enjoy as often as they would like. The knowledge that my day was mine to do with what I wanted. These are the times when I love being single. When, while sitting in the sun I find myself smiling about nothing in particular. Being totally relaxed, and having that little touch of nervous energy that causes a tingly feeling in your extremities, caused by the joy of sitting in the sun, reading a great book and having a little too much caffeine. Last night I went to opening night of Starwars II “The Attack of the Clones,” a movie that I give a thumb sideways, at least it was better than the last one. I invited a few of my friends that are in serious relationships and they all had the same response, “I have to ask.” They said this the same way a little boy, who had gotten in trouble earlier in the day for spilling grape juice on the carpet, would. Saying they would ask knowing full well that they wouldn’t be “allowed” to go. I know some day I’ll be one of the carpet stainers and I’ll have to make the same compromises, like having to go home and watch “Gilmore Girls” instead of going for a pint after work. But in the meantime I’ll be the single guy smiling on the patio at Café Barone, having one more latte and reading for a while longer, because I can.

Friday, May 03, 2002

When brains attack

The human mind is an interesting place. It’s said that humans only use about 3% of their brain. The remaining 97% sits there dormant. But, I don’t ascribe to this theory. I know the remaining 97% is fully used. It’s used to record, catalog, and frequently recall every embarrassing moment you’ve experienced in your life. Ask someone to recall something important like where they put their tax information and they quietly furrow their brow and stare up into space, waiting for extra-terrestrial signals or divine intervention to reveal the secret tax form hiding place. But ask someone to tell you the story about the time they farted in front of their 4th grade class while making a speech about walruses, and effortlessly they can recite the story in vivid detail. This as a major function of the brain I find confusing. How did evolution and natural selection allow 97% of our intellect to be devoted to shameful memory storage? How does quick and accurate recollections of embarrassing moments further the human race? If only this speed-of-thought was utilized better, devoted to something like mathematics, we’d probably be living in underwater bubble cities like the science fiction movies of the 50’s promised. But instead, we are forced to live with a gray-matter super computer solely devoted to lowering our confidence by not letting us forget the time in the 7th grade we ran into a wall when Stacy Parra winked at us.

Wednesday, May 01, 2002

It was almost “Where can we take your crap?”

Is anyone else out there disturbed by the new UPS ad campaign? “What can brown do for you?” How did this ever get past the pitch meeting? Am I the only one who thinks of dookie every time they say brown? Am I the only one that answers the ad every time it comes on? Saying things like “Brown can require only one wipe” or “Brown can go down on the first flush” or “Brown can wait until I get out of the bridge traffic”? Common you’ve all thought the same things… I can’t be the only one… Hello…

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