The Raincoat

One of the coolest things I ever remember my mom doing is letting me wear a raincoat when it wasn't raining outside.  I was probably five or six (it was when we lived in St. Louis).  I was looking through the dark, back half of my older sister's closet-- the portion of the closet that held the soon-to-be-hand-me-downs.  I found a pastel purple raincoat, all shiny and squeaky-sounding with a detachable hood. I got so excited about wearing it because it appeared to be just my size and it looked almost brand new, like some gift straight from the gods.  (When you have as many older siblings as I have, mint condition hand-me-downs are an absolute rarity).  Anyway, I remember running downstairs to find mom and showing her what I found, begging her to let me wear it that day.  She let me try it on--JUST MY SIZE!!! I KNEW IT WOULD BE!!!! AHHHH!  I loved it.  I asked her if I could wear it, to which she responded, "But it's not raining today!...  Next time it rains, you can wear it.  How about that?"  I was devastated.  All the plans.  Thwarted.  Instead of being enveloped in a shiny, scientific, purple miracle coat, running through a field of flowers, flying kites and having butterflies land on my nose, I would have to wait till some other day--a rainy, groggy one that would arrive some time in the future.  Supposedly.  (It almost never rains when you want it to...)  I started to cry a little bit.  I had just gotten so excited about it too quickly.  My mom sort of snickered at me, paused and said, "Baby, I mean you can wear it today... If you really want.  If it means that much to you."

I wore the coat that day and it was so sunny.  I was probably shriveling ants all over the world with the reflection, but I remember it being the best day ever.  I wonder if my mom knows what a big deal that was.  She had retracted her desire to have me look respectable, like all the other kids sucking on their fingers and picking their nose.  I just got to be me for a day, wearing my little rain coat....  I wish I still had that little raincoat....

If I ever have kids, I want to let them pick out their own clothes a large part of the time.  Not always.  But whenever they want to, I want to let them be exactly who they want to be.  Not enough people in this world were raised that way.  The amount of freedoms you give to a person who is in the business of discovering themselves can never be redone.

And now to put the mushiness to rest, here's a video of a giant pigeon.

Sense of Smell and Anything Unordinary

Two completely unrelated things.

1.  My sense of smell is far too strong for my own good.  I attribute that to the deviated septum, which apparently is a one-way signal straight to my abnormally memory-infused gray matter.  Such a burden.  I shook someone's hand tonight and happened to scratch my face for some reason and smelled the person...  Weeyurd.  I couldn't decide whether to wash my hands five times to ensure the smell was gone or to just leave it be.  I'm still deciding apparently.  I remember certain people in my past having a particular smell, but I can never quite remember what it was.  I wonder if I would recognize it and if all the emotions would come back with the smell. Smell is such a strong sense.  It's a pity my nose is so Jewishly broken.  Not that Jews have big noses...

2.  I've been thinking about something lately.  I thrive on looking forward to things, surprises, random happenings.  Anything unordinary.  Which drives me to get tattoos on Valentine's Day, get my nose pierced on a whim, and chop my hair off whenever I get too bored.  I've always known this fact, but just gone along with it.  But I've been thinking today about my past.  The happiest I've admittedly been (that I remember) was when I was in a relationship.  That's not to say that I don't like being by myself.  For example, I ate Waffle House by myself just now and loved it (minus the onions that played hide and seek with me in my hashbrowns...  I finally gave up).  The first time I was happy, I was in a long-distance relationship.  The human aside, I was going out of town every other weekend, experiencing "new" things nonstop.  The second time I was happy, I had to keep quiet about everything.  It was like some secret game I was playing.  I haven't had a "normal" relationship in over five years.  I haven't even really liked a normal human being that liked me back in a normal, mature way in over five years.  And it makes me wonder how strong my drive actually is for something unordinary.  I feel like I should settle down with some fat guy who works in a cubicle and plays golf for fun just to tame me...  I think I would commit suicide.  It's not that I'm unhappy now.  Everything about my life is crazy and free to do whatever I want.  I have no ties.  There are things to look forward to.  I would think that it is exactly what I want.  But there are no goals.  I'm already tired of the nose ring.  I'm already tired of my short hair.  I wish I'd buzzed it.  I wish I'd kept it long.  I wish I was a black girl with an afro for a day.  The thing is, I can only create so many "unordinary" things for myself to experience.  Eventually, I'm going to be old and there won't be much to look forward to.  At this point, I feel that looking forward to things is the only reason that I keep going.  Whenever I get down, I comfort myself with the fact that things "won't always be the way they are now" or that "you don't know what will happen next; maybe it will be what you've been waiting on!"  The thing is, I'm starting to see that this could be a problem.  Because I will eventually get tired of any human.  And I'm starting to wonder why anyone hangs out with me in the first place; I know myself all too well--nothing surprises me much about even myself any more.  And all outside situations are circumstantial. The bottom line is, I can only create so many things to look forward to.  Eventually, I ought to realize that I'm setting myself up for disappointment if the things I look forward to don't pan out so well.  In the same way, I'm setting myself for unavoidable disappointment if the things I look forward to do pan out well...  Because I can only look forward to things for so long.  Eventually, I'll get bored with the idea of always looking forward and not enjoying things while I'm in them.  I dwell too much in the past and in the future.  The present almost always looks boring.  And if not now, wait...  It will soon.  I'm not trying to be depressing.  Just noticing that I have some major flaws to work through.  Does any of this make sense, or am I just thinking way too hard about myself?  Am I being selfish to even think this much about this issue?

Dude.  I need a good time.  Real soon.  A chill pill.  A relaxation brownie.  A turkey.  A honeyed ham.  A fresh bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios with bananas.  Full circle.  Get behind me, Satan.