stream of consciousness, stream of water gushing down my street
I just realized that my last four Facebook posts were about
the rain. I’m a predictable SoCal native—like my cat OC (also a native), I am
surprised and a little unnerved when water starts falling out of the sky. I’m
one of those freaked-out drivers you hate. I stay home and ruin the economy,
although I did clean the house. Eventually.
When you put up barriers, you miss out on the love, Grumpy Cat. |
I might have a mild case of SAD, or I might be mildly
under-caffeinated. I griped at AK for having an overbooked day. I thought about
how I would be more confident if I lost six pounds. It’s March 1, which is a great day
to be ambitious about such things, except today feels like gloom, not rebirth.
I listened to This
American Life, an old one from 2002, where they spent the day on a Navy
aircraft carrier. Every time a plane landed on the ship, it was sort of iffy as
to whether it would crash or not. There were also reports about ship romances
and ship vending machines. Ultimately, everyone felt very committed to each
other and like they were part of an important mission. It reminded me of
Homeboy that way, and then I felt depressed that a mission to kill people and a
mission to stop the killing of people could look so similar.
Just when you think aircraft carrier life can't get any more fun, this guy shows up. |
Also in my feed: pregnancy and cancer and more rain. The
irony is I turned off a TED Talk about how technology is a cheap substitute for
actual friendship and vulnerability (another mindblower courtesy of TED) to log
onto Facebook.
On Friday my coworker Lauren got caught in the day’s worst
downpour—one of the gusts of wind-water-mist that made all the homies whoop and
applaud (because they are SoCal natives too). From my office window, I could
see her laughing and wrestling with her inside-out umbrella, pure Mary Poppins
stuff. I am so not Lauren or Mary Poppins. But I did just drink a two-teabag
mug of tea, so I expect things will be looking up soon.
Comments
I too am not at AWP and so feeling like Cinderella. But I went to my branch library this afternoon to pick up Roy Choi's memoir "LA Son" and guess what? EVERYONE in Boyle Heights is at the library today. It was like, dense as fruitcake in there.