Different ways that strangers treat me

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When I drive home on a normal day, people don’t notice me much. Everybody is reasonably respectful. But when I put my sunglasses on and hide my eyes, people get a lot more impatient with me. They pass me quickly, try to zoom ahead of me at stop signs, etc. I’m sure this has everything to do with the glasses and is in no way a reflection of my driving skills…

In the winter, if I wear my crocheted white owl hat with the cute tufted ears on top, people are really nice to me. They bag my groceries with extra care, talk to me like a friend, and look at me fondly. My adorable owl hat makes me an adorable owl hat person. I have learned that adorable owl hat people are very approachable and are already friends with everyone.

If I feel tired and weak, people look more nervous and keep more distance. I’m pale and get really dark lines under my eyes when I feel tired, so I think I can look pretty bad. Some people give me space, some people have a more supportive and protective air and try to cheer me up with careful, gentle jokes.

When I feel really sick and grouchy and have to go out and pump gas in my swishy pants, when all I want to do is crawl under a rock and die and I hate everyone, this is when guys seem most attracted to me. This has led me to the conclusion that there are lots of men out there who want a woman who will kick their ass.

These are huge differences in treatment, based on very small changes such as my mood or a single article of clothing. If you’re walking down the street, how differently do you treat each person who passes? Do you smile at one and not the other, mutter excuse me to one and avoid eye contact with the other? Why?

Once I read an essay or something (I’m sorry to have forgotten the details) by an African-American man. He noticed people getting tense if he walked down a lonely street near them. His solution to this was to start whistling Vivaldi. He said he could see their backs immediately loosen up. Hardened criminals don’t give their position away by whistling cheerful, cultured tunes!

I wonder how much of our personalities, clothing choices, etc are made to get other people to look at you the right way.

I wonder what we would each be if there was no peer pressure. I tell you what, I probably wouldn’t shower.

 

IMG_20180828_103253250

…who am I kidding. This drawing is my reality.

The Song of My People

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I sing a song of white privilege

A song of sunscreen and tomato sandwiches

A song of diet Cokes and Virginia Slims

I sing a song of chocolate chip cookies baked at midnight

Of Hershey’s nuggets

And meat with dinner every night

Of running down gravel roads, falling, and picking tiny rocks out of bloody palms

A song of homeschooling with a stay at home mom

Of please, and thank you, and Dear Lord

Of sit up straight

Of VHS tapes and shareware DOS games

Of Vivaldi and King James

Of Laurel and Hardy, and Scarface

Of Taily Bone on cassette, and Grimm’s Fairy Tales in hardback

Books and books and books and books

Wading the cold creek barefoot, the rocks don’t hurt after your feet go numb

Catching fireflies in the yard at dusk

More books, late into the night

Whoa, your dad’s house is huge! Are you rich?

Of exploring the woods

Dog bounding ahead, cats padding behind

My own secret church in a fallen tree

When I marvelled at life and wondered what I was,

A song with a touch of existential crisis

And even then

A nagging sense of guilt

 

 

 

Kid’s stuff… or maybe not

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Penorama said we should post something pointless. I’m always up for that!

I spent most of middle school writing stories with my friend Liz and giggling insanely in the corner of the classroom instead of doing work. When we wrote this, we must have been in… seventh grade, so 12-13ish?

This doesn’t make much sense… it was written by kids after all. Enjoy!

 

 

Darla and Doug

 

One day, a girl named Doug was walking along at the Zoo.  Suddenly a monkey swooped down from a tree and hit her on the head.  Then he threw coconuts at her.

“Ow! Ow!  Owwwongle?  Waahlamop.”

Then the monkey stole her purse and ran into the zookeeper.  Then the zookeepers took the monkey way and gassed it.

Doug said, “Glop-op-do?  Wa… Wha…  Where am I?”

A passerby said, “You were just hit on the head with coconuts when a zookeeper gassed a monkey who swooped down from a tree.  Or maybe it was a rhino.  I’m not sure. I couldn’t tell the difference.”

Doug said, “Cool!”

The passerby said, “Where are your parents?”

Doug said, “I don’t know.  I don’t remember having any.  Can I live with you?”

Passerby said, “But I’m a guy named Darla.  guys and girls don’t live together… Oh, well, I guess it’s an exception for me and you.

“OK.”  Darla said.  “I have to warn you, I’m forty-five and I live with my parents still.”

Doug said, “Oh, that’s alright.  I dig old guys.”

Darla said, “Don’t you go hitting on my dad!”

Doug said, “OK, I’ll just hit on you.  OK?”

“Sure!”

Darla and Doug walked away.  On the way home, they visited a pet shop and bought a monkey.

“Be good now,” said Doug.

“Okay,” said the monkey, Bart.  Then he stole some girl’s purse.

“I guess that just primate nature!” Doug laughed, then Darla laughed, and they walked home talking about cancer.  They also bought some ice cream with the money from the monkey’s new purse.

 

 

 

Genesis

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Inspired by Word of the Day prompt.

 

 

I am

a spider-smear on the wall

a tired little sigh from an old lady on the bus

gum on the sidewalk

 

transparent

 

Then you turn your head and look at me

You can see me.

I look down at my new hands

I am a woman, with such hands as these?

Is this shining hair my own?

And these strong legs carrying my weight?

I daren’t look in the mirror yet.

Not until you prove my face real

with a kiss.

 

 

 

 

 

Lady Chaos

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lady chaos

give me your blessing

i will switch sides

join, break, create, destroy, live, die, i will become you

lady chaos

you are already within me

my heart is black and red by turns

i cannot be everything at once

but i am anyway

warm human blood threads my veins

and icewater

i am primed with your changeable ichor

pump me up, let me loose, see what havoc i wreak

 

men with their puny plans

trying to set order

nothing tempts her like security

she eats empires, grinding even the ruins back down into shapelessness

she tosses fortunes to beggars

our lives hinge upon her whim

 

you throw me down

build me up

and when you are done with me

cast me aside

i know you’ll return

you always return

 

i carry her wishes           

(i hear her laughing)

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