049. Beauty is…

08Mar08

A vagina.

Indian food.

Awkward moments.

A roomfull of people cheering at my mother. Who was moaning her heart out.

Exiling ourselves from the bar and wandering Market Street.

Kind young baristas who basically give away coffee and let two strange seventeen year olds stay an hour after closing, talking and laughing with them as she cleans.

A birthday card.

A story told without words.

A comment.

Friends.

Today was strange, moody throughout the school time. It was an angry, frustrated spirit that permeated the school. I stole away, sleeping in Power Row in between classes, working the box office and talking to Many. I learned the secret ways of ticket selling. Afterschool, the grouchy vibe still lingered, pushing normally-friendly into mildly-hostile. It resolved itself only as we left school.

Leaving school, the mood swung upward. Wonderful Indian food, horribly incorrect jokes, intelligent debates on politics and war and the feminine mind. My parents, Dan, Caitlin, Trevor, and I. It was hilarious- my parents were in top form, laughing freely and joking familiarly. They acted as they do when we’re alone, and shocked my friends. People who don’t know them well are fooled into believing they are normal. Snort. My parents are many things, few of which are normal. My parents are the best role-models, most loving, and a damn hoot to hang around.

After that, the milling around (complete with Chocolate Vaginas, hugging various well-loved older women, and so on) was a blast. We bought vagina magnetic poetry. It tosses around words such as “wet” “stroke” and “kiss”. It’s sexy. And shirts. It was all and more than expected, laughter and jokes.

The monologues themselves had the usual amazing power in the words. Despite this, I feel the last one I saw was far more powerful, though. The readers/actresses/vagina warriors had the timing down, as well as passion and voices. Two out of three for most skits. Still, the words were still strong enough to carry their message.

My mother. She had timing. And MAN. Did the crowd go crazy!

Afterwards, Dan and Caitlin left for home. Since we were driving Trev, he hung around with me. We tried to stay with my parents and my mom’s sibs, but it go old quick. Being in a bar without being able to drink, with teachers in the room, is awkward. We made up a dumb excuse (“Getting some coffee”) and left.

Neither of us expected Soulful to be open, and generally took it as a chance to talk freely and laugh about the entire night. When we got there, we were surprised. We had ten minutes! We came in, apologized to Jess (the barista) for coming in so late. She, the epitome of sweetness, wanted us to order whatever. When I tried for a latte, turns out the espresso machine was being dumb. She then, as apology (and possibly for company), gave us two of the largest coffees for the price of the small. Invited us to stay until she closed up- which ended up being an entire hour after closing. We chilled on the sofa, laughed, talked with her, let her clean and talked amongst ourselves. It was so much fun! She gave two wayward teens, with nowhere to chill, a spot to simply sit, sip coffee, and be. Lovely, lovely girl. She did this for strangers. Two random teens.

I am blessed. My totem, my angels, my spirits, whatever, have been kind. Every bad day is followed by a gift. A greeting. A card. A book. Kindness from strangers. Luck. I want to be pass on the incredible feeling of love, share what the fates have handed me.

Truly, it is a cycle.

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4 Responses to “049. Beauty is…”

  1. 1 raalla

    Indian food has a strange charm. I cannot remember a night when I ate it and didn’t end up with a special memory, or at least a good time.

  2. 2 Katling

    School and real life really are different worlds, aren’t they? On one hand, you have a very structured society, on the other, a cahcophany of societies. Glad even while school didn’t work, outside life did. :)

  3. 3 Pip

    Indian food does have that strange power. It also has amazing servers- besides the blond kid who always waits on us. Even that minor inconvenience has been resolved- we have an elaborate fantasy story centered around “Tim’s” past. Any and all screwups are added to the story lexicon of greatness.

    School is structured in hopelessness, some days. I love the chaos far more <3. And thank you, lovey.

  4. 4 bylandl

    Katling! You’re on wordpress? o_0 Yay!


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