Ladies and Gentlemen, I turned 21. Two years ago I thought this day would never come, and suddenly it has come and gone and it was fun! The elegant HoDo, bros at Rooters and Irish fun at Dempsey's. It was really fun. So I hadn't gone out since my birthday on friday until St. Patrick's day and didn't even go to the bars then- I couldn't get myself to brave the frat guys and drunk girls at Dempsey's. Anyway, I'm happy to be of age- now I can sing karaoke and go to shows with my brothers!
Last week I had an interview at Red Lobster. This was a terrible idea considering my irrational fear of underwater creatures. I walked in for my interview and found myself waiting on a bench next to a tank of lobsters looking all sad with their pinchers tied up. Forcing myself to look away, I nearly screamed when I saw a life-size stingray and had to face a different way to avoid its beady eyes. The rest of the interview consisted of me trying not to stutter over questions about teamwork while my eyes darted away from nautical-patterned wallpaper, all the while with the tag still in my cardigan. I should stay away from sea-themed restaurants.
I started watching Mad Men. It's fantastic. I was avoiding watching it because I knew I'd love it and really don't have time in my life to follow another show. However, I'm committed now. I love Mad Men. Their clothes, the music, even their voices. It's too late to turn back now.
And now, a turn:
I was feeling sentimental today. Maybe that's not the right word, but I was feeling something.
When I was a kid, I would go about my day without even considering that someone could be judging me, categorizing me. Even dancing, in the crazy way kids do, I never thought about it. Things were more fun before we learned about our insecurities. But we taught one other to be afraid. When I was a kid, I put on certain clothes just because they were comfortable or the colors made me smile. Now, before I put on clothes, I stand in front of the mirror forever, asking myself if I look ok. And now, when I dance, I assume people are watching and judging. “Carefree” goes by a different definition after a certain age. When you're 4, it literally means you don't have a care. When you're 21, it means that you care a little bit less than everybody else. In the fall, I stomped grapes in Cortona, Italy. A local woman's 4-year-old girl named Marguerita was there. After the stomping, we all started dancing to Italian music and she joined in. And the minute she did, we all let go. Even Gino, the 72-year-old gardener, was a child again. We danced for what seemed like hours, and I didn't for a moment feel judged. People grew tired and, eventually, only Ari, me, and Marguerita remained. We followed her lead, imitated her dance. She taught us what we had forgotten, before we learned how to be insecure.
