Monday, March 14, 2011

An art form. Like sculpture.

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I spoke to my mother on the telephone today without getting angry once. She was making pasta primavera while her fiancee mowed her one acre yard filled with fruit trees.

He's good at a lot of things, she said, everything, except dancing. So instead of go to do ballroom dancing (that come free with her gym membership) we've been going to play golf. I did okay until I reach one of those watery places, she said, then I couldn't get past it. I kept hitting and hitting and the ball go nowhere. 

I told her she should get Tiger Woods golf because she was good at video games and it would be fun to play on her giant television.

Remember when you reached the highest possible score on Pac-Man when I was four and we were living in Korea, I said. You got mad because the game was over at 9,999,999 something. No I don't remember that, she said. The Atari's still in your house somewhere, I said. Oh, okay, that's nice. How are you? 

Fine, we're moving into a three bedroom/three bath place where the groundskeeper is installing a cat door in our bedroom window so the bugs won't get in while the cat goes in and out. 

**I don't know if I'm too attached to my cat, but that means a lot to me, even though the utilities are included in the duplex and I know this is really to conserve energy more than anything.

(That was my biggest news. I can't tell if that's good or bad. I suppose it's better than having lots of/or any bad news, or complaining about poverty or marriage or boredom.)


Then she told me about my 20-year-old cousin, her sister's younger daughter, who stopped going to her community college classes without telling anyone, without withdrawing, AWOL, Fs across the board to replace Fs earned the same way at a previous University. This means no refund, again. The crappiest GPA in the world. And a darker shade of gaining even temporary direction into Academic enlightenment.

She says she wants to do hair, said my mother. Hair?

My mind instantly went into judgement mode. I tried to rationalize positive projections into the future of a budding stylist. I thought about stylists in LA, the ones who do hair for runway shows in New York, New York hair stylists in general, and how people from every demographic made a big deal about having good hair. It's a big market if you think about it. An art form. Like sculpture.

I'm conflicted with my opinions about this whole ordeal. I know for a fact that my drop-out cousin is bright, and does not give a crap about anything. She works at American Eagle Outfitters in the mall making seven-plus an hour folding sweaters and her mom's a millionaire who earned every penny of her fortune by working her ass off.

I signed up for college because I had nothing better to do with my mornings than sleep. And went to college for seven years counting semester breaks and summers. Do I do anything with my degrees now? Nope. Have I? Oh yes. I learned a lot from the books I had to memorize, too. But I can see why my cousin feels the ways she feels about school being pointless. Even though she's nowhere near close to paying her dues. She's never read a book. Her only hobby is getting crunk.

Is my cousin a part of a slacker of all slackers generation derivative of my own? Does she see people like me wasting my degrees and think what's the point? Live life, right? Or is it fair to put her in a category at all? What if college really isn't for everyone? Or worse: what if she's dyslexic? If so, then I guess hair school won't care about that.
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