The Weird Kid
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Squanderings
Okay. Back on the road.
They all became such fancy-pants. My old friends, the new ones I met in D.C. Alison and Sara, both spokespeople, one for a government bureau, one for an evil lobbying association. Kara, veterinarian. Leon, artist, dentist. Ron, showing me the two architectural magazines his designs are featured in this month. Andra, who is also a trained architect but changed lanes to open a doggy dress designer business in New Orleans. All under 35, some under 30.
After my speech at the wedding I disappeared. Leon said people came up and asked him about me, about what I did.
"I told them you were a huge literary critic for a major newspaper".
"But I'm not," I said, a little shocked. I'm a housewife. I've got a toddler. I write play reviews for a small paper in a small city.
With Leon, there is no point trying to make him feel sorry, trying to force an 80's family sitcom moment with him. No point in, "But Leon, don't you see? By lying, you're saying I'm not good enough just being me!"
It wouldn't work, because dear Leon would just be so happy that I'd finally gotten it.
"Yes! Jesus, thank you. You get it. Of course you're not good enough. Now stop squandering yourself and go be someone I can brag about without lying."
I wouldn't be telling the truth, anyway. I don't believe I'm okay just being me. This isn't me. I'm not supposed to be fat and confused and tense and unheard. I feel squandered.
Read tonight, "Nobody changes. They just get revealed."
They all became such fancy-pants. My old friends, the new ones I met in D.C. Alison and Sara, both spokespeople, one for a government bureau, one for an evil lobbying association. Kara, veterinarian. Leon, artist, dentist. Ron, showing me the two architectural magazines his designs are featured in this month. Andra, who is also a trained architect but changed lanes to open a doggy dress designer business in New Orleans. All under 35, some under 30.
After my speech at the wedding I disappeared. Leon said people came up and asked him about me, about what I did.
"I told them you were a huge literary critic for a major newspaper".
"But I'm not," I said, a little shocked. I'm a housewife. I've got a toddler. I write play reviews for a small paper in a small city.
With Leon, there is no point trying to make him feel sorry, trying to force an 80's family sitcom moment with him. No point in, "But Leon, don't you see? By lying, you're saying I'm not good enough just being me!"
It wouldn't work, because dear Leon would just be so happy that I'd finally gotten it.
"Yes! Jesus, thank you. You get it. Of course you're not good enough. Now stop squandering yourself and go be someone I can brag about without lying."
I wouldn't be telling the truth, anyway. I don't believe I'm okay just being me. This isn't me. I'm not supposed to be fat and confused and tense and unheard. I feel squandered.
Read tonight, "Nobody changes. They just get revealed."
posted by Imez at 9:05 PM
1 Comments:
Wow. Just wow. He sounds like an amazing friend in one way, and a jerk in another way. I'd like to meet him.
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