Monster

Today on the train I sat beside a guy in the earliest of the early twenties.  He had a Monster energy drink in one hand and was wearing a hat emblazoned with the same logo.  When I looked again I realized that his shirt and hoodie also had the distinctive slime-green M printed on them.  Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he had the logo tattooed on his arm.

Yep, not only was he entirely decked out in energy drink merchandise, but he actually had the brand's logo tattooed on him as well.  This was such a foreign idea to me, to become a living and breathing advertisement for a brand that I didn't personally invent.  What would drive someone to do that?

I know many people become personally invested in consumer goods, allowing it to become part of their identity.  There are people who will live and die for Nike shoes or Levi's jeans or a Luis Vuitton handbag.  I have a friend whose nickname is a clothing brand popularized in the 90's... for the longest time I didn't even know his real name.  Nicknames can be changed, though, and your obsession with this brand or that can be quietly forgotten when you find a different brand that you like better.  A tattoo is a pretty serious commitment.

Then again, I'm quick to avoid and deny corporate advertising whenever possible.  When William Gibson's Pattern Recognition was released, I had a few people tell me that they couldn't see Cayce (who goes so far as to have the logos sanded off of the buttons of her jeans) as described in the story because they were so busy imagining her as me.  I don't think I'm that obsessive - and I've even calmed down over the years as I have gotten other things in my life to worry about - but perhaps it clouds my perception in matters like these.

Curiosity was killing me (and Jess, who was yelling at me via text message "Talk to him!!!  Ask him if he likes Red Bull!") so I said, "Hey, the ink is really well done. [It was well done, this is not a lie.]  Where'd you get it?"  I intended to ask if Monster employed or sponsored him somehow, but apparently I greatly underestimated my own intimidation factor.

He muttered, "NYC."  Then he stood up abruptly and made for the door, nearly tripping on my feet as he crossed over me.  It was my stop as well, so I followed him and stood behind him while the train ground to a halt.  As he exited I noticed that he had a lanyard with the Monster brand and that he had pulled the labels off of his Oakley sunglasses.

God, people are weird and I love them.  Is it any wonder that I just want to study them forever?

Anticipate

Sometimes I dream that I get a text or a call or an IM that says, “You should come over, I miss you.”  I throw on my shoes and grab my bag and make the ten minute walk to the train in five so that I’m panting like an over-excited dog when I throw myself down into a seat, just like always.  It’s hot now, though, no snow to excuse the red face and the running.  I clear the obstacle course that is 16th between California and Market in record time, too, skipping down the escalators at Market Street Station.

Then I’m standing in front of the screens that explain the buses and the times and I realize... I don’t know which bus to take.  It’s not the AB or BX anymore.  It hasn’t been in months, and I was just thinking the other day that I missed giggling at the “Kiss and Ride” sign at the McCaslin stop.  I wrack my brain, there’s something big that I’m forgetting.  What is it that I’m not remembering?  

I start to panic.  How can I not know which bus to take?  For gods’ sake, I basically live on public transportation.  I take a deep breath in and concentrate: where exactly am I going?

Then I remember. Oh, right, this dream again.  Ah, well.

---

On Facebook there’s an announcement that a friend of mine split up with his girlfriend.  I pick up my phone and stare at his number for a few minutes.  It seems like there should be some words that will make it a little better, some magical phrase to fix a wounded heart, but I don’t know them.  I put the phone down, then pick it back up again.

I tell him that I love him and offer up wine and cookies.  He doesn’t take me up on the offer, but thanks me anyway.  I feel like being human is making all of us tired right now.

---

Last night was all blues music and solitude.  Today is productivity (dishes, library, artsy things, laundry) and Parov Stelar.  School starts next week and there is no ambivalence this time - I simply cannot wait to dig in. Whether it's distraction that I'm craving or just forward momentum, my classes seem like the perfect antidote to what's ailing me.

Solid Gold

The other day I told my best girl my super-secret weapon for dealing with tough situations, and then decided that it was simply selfish to keep it a secret for any longer.  So, here's what you do:

When you are in the middle of some extremely stressful or crazy point in your life, take a second and imagine yourself in 30 years.  You're sitting with your best friends, you've got a glass of wine (or margarita or whiskey or whatever your poison is) and are regaling them with your stories.  Sure, they've heard all of them before, but when you're old you get to retell stories and no one is allowed to call you on it.

Is this story, the one you're living through right now, going to make the cut?  Are you companions going to laugh or gasp or yell, "Oh I know you did NOT!" when you tell them about it?

In my mind, I'm sitting on a patio of a quasi-swanky restaurant with Andrea, Jane, Becca, Sarah, et al. I've got a glass of red wine in my right hand and I'm waving it around all crazy while making faces, impersonating voices, and perhaps talking a little too loud.  My girls are howling with laughter at my antics, occasionally telling me that I am so wrong for what I just said.  The waiters are mildly scandalized, but what are they going to do?  Throw the nice old ladies out?  Besides, we tip really well, and we're regulars.  Even they have to snicker a little at our self-deprecating tales about bad jobs, bad boyfriends, bad investments, and bad luck.

"... so there I am covered in blood, having just flashed the entire neighborhood my ass..."

"... and I said 'fuck it, if we're going to be homeless, we sure as shit aren't doing it here' and we headed west two days later..."

"... then the teacher was like 'you realize you missed the final entirely?' and I about pissed myself until..."

"... I thought he was trying to screw us all over but it turned out that the building manager was selling the coffee shop out from under him and he had no idea..."

It doesn't cure whatever craziness I'm going through at any given point, but it certainly takes the sting out to realize that it's going to be hilarious to tell when I'm old.