Cheers

The plan I hatched to become a misanthrope and live out the rest of my life in solitude amongst the rustling bamboos  and croaking tree frogs derailed when I found myself having such a great time catching up with old friends.  It is hard to maintain the stance of a cranky curmudgeon when you can't stop smiling and your night is full of jameson shots music and beats; everywhere you turn there are people you've known for years, and there is so much to toast to - its all high fives and bumpy knuckles left and right.  It is even harder when you are doing this in high heels dancing around and wearing a scandalous terry cloth jumpsuit.  Renouncing humanity is not as easy as it sounds when  the people that you know are so much fun.  So it appears that I have a few more years before becoming anything that resembles a grumpy old jerk.  Salud! to the good friends that I saw on my birthday, and to my cousin for making it happen.  I've been lucky to know and be close to some of the most soulful people on the planet during these 26 years, and its because of all this time we've spent out there in this city seeking out good music and dancing.

Gifted at Making People Mad

I wish this website had a section in your profile titled 'what makes you really mad', because it would be interesting to see what people say vs. what they live up to.  Mine would read "phonies, hypocrisy and people who pick on people I love."  Its probably not that simple though - people who've checked "in a relationship" are on a different level, and their section might read anything from "having my birthday forgotten" to "when girls hit on my boyfriend" to whatever sort of craziness blooms in that relationship.   That's a different sort of mad altogether, not so topically substantial as things that affect a larger world, but with all the passion of railing against things beyond our control.   

I have enraged a few people in my life, and it has always been over something extremely stupid.  My dad almost disowned me when I was eighteen for writing a poem on the basement wall with an oil crayon.  This was extremely strange to me at the time, considering the fact that in the same weekend, the rest of the house had been painted in bright Simpsons colors (flourescent pink, electric blue, and mustard yellow) and adorned with Hawaiin print curtains and berzerk tracks of paint all over the ceiling, and I had nothing to do with any of that.  Caught up in the creative frenzy, I inscribed a poem in the wall that I hoped we could all learn from.  For months he brought up "my disrespect for personal property" in his blackest moods, which was a total joke to me, especially with the parrot painting over his head and the bamboo curtain swinging at his back.  It was so unfair.   

At the skatepark, I made a sworn enemy for life for accidently taking a dude out when we dropped into the bowl at the same time.  I just happened to be crouched low and wearing a helmet and aimed directly at his chest.  I was actually aiming for the the curve in the wall behind him.  It happens all the time, and an every day sort of occurence at the skatepark.  People crash into me, I crash into them, its not personal.  If it was, the skatepark would be a total kung fu hustle situation, and the personal vendettas would never end.  After the collision I jumped up in a panic and tried to pull him up too.  "Get up homey!"   

"GET THE FUCK OFF ME, you bitch!!!"  He couldn't quite breathe at the moment, but he could shout.  I climbed out of the pool holding back my tears and almost cried in the corner just for being yelled at.  When he staggered to his feet after a few minutes, the pool was lined with skaters waiting with wide eyes and baited breath.  It was a very dramatic moment.  You've never seen anyone more pissed off.  I had never made anyone who wasn't related to me that upset, and never even seen anyone get that sort of mad. 

This is the sort of mental dialogue and analysis that was going on in my head at that very moment: "breaking out into sobs is totally inappropriate right now - don't do it - no crying - why do I feel like crying? - did he just call me a bitch? - what do I do now? - must be stoic - warriors don't cry - must bite insides of cheeks - must make face cool down - he is gonna hate me for life - I wish he knocked me out instead - should I just go home? - stupid tears, stop crying - this is the worst day of my life - bite lip harder."

So I skated away with a clamped jaw and saved the crying until I went outside for a cigarette. 

Later on that night after the skate session I got drunk enough to sing "Living on a Prayer" with G at the karaoke bar.  I really didn't even want to sing the song at all, but felt as though I should be a good sport.  I felt extremely creeped out midway through, when in the middle of the song - embarrassingly as I was in mid-falsetto shriek - I felt an evil stare slice through me.  The guy I ran into was chainsmoking and giving me an intense, voodoo look of hatred.  He thought I was having tons of fun, and he was completely mistaken.  I had to keep singing though and finish the song - I couldn't drop the microphone and stare back at him.  Divas don't drop the mike!  That would be weird.

But I could tell from his eyes that I had made an enemy for life without even trying.

Once I almost got into a fight in the elevator at Trader Joes, after I looked backwards and flipped off a guy on the street who said "You can't ride that skateboard" as I skated past him.  It was New Years Eve, and I was trying to pick up some olives and bread before a dinner party.  I had already done my hair and put on makeup so I was this weird mixture of dressed up and dressed down in skate gear.  There were two guys in their thirties, tube sock and sweatpants wearing meatheads, and they got into the elevator with me after I had been waiting for it, pressing the call button like fifty times.  I was stuck.  I pulled my hat over my face and held my board at my side.

"I bet you can't ride that thing."  He started it, and I had been looking at the floor trying to avoid all this.

"I bet I can ride it way better than you.  Because you have to be in shape to balance on it."

"I'd be acting really tough too if I had a weapon in my hands like you."

"It's not a weapon, but I guess I could hit you with it, and I am sure that it would hurt."

Looking into those eyes was like staring into a blank wall, and every muscle in his faced was getting harder.  I wondered what would happen if he did have a skate board and it was a fair fight.  His friend totally had his back at first, but as he peered over the dude's shoulder he had time to absorb the details.  I made eye contact with him briefly before I locked eyes again with his buddy, who had all of his defenses up in his face.  I am five foot two and small boned, I had diamond earrings on with my jeans and skateshoes, a fur scarf, mascara, eyeliner and lipgloss.  My hair was braided so that I could have curly hair when I got home.  I was in the midst of getting ready for a New Years party. 

My perfume filled the elevator, emanating off my sweaty neck as the staredown continued.  They were so confused, and I watched them grow uncomfortable.

"Wait, how old are you?" the friend said.

"How old did you think I was?"

"I don't know... we thought you were younger... he didn't mean it... I'm sorry."  I was chagrined by the idea of a younger version of myself in a never ending staredown up and down all of the floors with these two knuckleheads. He pulled the other guy away as the doors finally opened.  He was glad to be getting pulled away, but I think he was still pretty mad.  The friend looked back a couple of times and soon they disappeared.  That did not just happen, I thought to myself, before a smile crept across my face and I had to hide it.

Another time, a woman who was shopping in the boutique that I worked in blistered at my refusal to negotiate the price of a handbag with her.  She wanted to exchange a coat for a purse, but the coat was used and out of season and it was just shady. I didn't like her attitude - she just came at me with unjustifiable rudeness.  We were head to head just above the counter. 

"Just sell it to me for a hundred dollars!!!!"

"I can't do it."

"I...have...never! heard of a business that treats people this way!  I know a lot of women who shop here! How are you going to feel when I tell them that you are the worst salesperson that I have ever met?"  She hissed it like a snake, dragging out each syllable.

"I am not the worst salesperson you have ever met.  There's no way.  And you know, you can't get something for nothing."  I chuckled silently at the last part as I sang it in my head.   

It grew worse.  She was working herself up, and I just remained calm and still, and my refusal to react enraged her.  I was tuning her out and looked her dead in the eyes, which started to water as she furiously freaked out.  I was on the verge of kicking her out when she just stomped out, throwing the purse to the ground.  "You can't just come in here and start throwing shit," I said to no one in particular as I picked up the purse and dusted it off.

I have the terrible habit of making things worse when people get mad at me.  I have the unfortunate tendency to giggle when I am nervous, which has led to some terrible situations filled with shame.  I have it under control now, but when I was younger my standard reaction to someone getting super emotional to me was a smile I tried to hide and a giggle that I'd bury in my hands.  It was nervousness and just impossible to surpress.  I got suspended in high school for giggling when I got caught smoking - I know I could have gotten out of it, but I had a nervous problem with authority which came out as a horrible smirk.  I remember the look on one boyfriend's face when he realized that I was smiling as he was on an angry tirade.  I was so disappointed in myself.  He got so mad that he couldn't even talk, and the apologies flowed endlessly from me.  "I'm so sorry, I wasn't laughing at you! I swear!  I just can't help laughing in times like this!  I should be crying, I know!"  I felt like a genius in How to Make a Bad Situation Worse.  Cat Stevens is right: it is a wild world, and it is hard to get by with a smile.

I am sure there are people who live their whole lives and dodge confrontations elegantly throughout them, like old ladies and nuns.  People who don't do what I do and giggle nervously in the face of a fully charged individual, but defuse them.  I wish I could inspire the opposite of anger, but it appears to be an uphill battle.  How do people do it?  When I was a little girl, I never made anyone seethe with anger with just a word or a glance; I guess that I just am not sure how to handle the very adult responsibility of bringing out emotions in people.  The worst part is that I examine my intentions on a daily basis and try to be mindful and conscious of people's feelings so much, that it makes me neurotic.  Doing so is worth it though, because I know that when I make people mad it wasn't because I was trying to.  Even when I am driving, biking or street skating: I will yield to people, do what I can not to cut anyone off, maneuver around - whatever it takes not to get in anyone's way.  I control everything that I can and try to look out as much as possible, but it appears that there is still no way to avoid making people mad.  The things that make a person blow up come out of left field sometimes.  It weirds me out that even though I long ago vowed to devote my life to perpetuating goodness in this world, I could still bring about the full extent of people's ire in ways I'd never dreamed of.