Last night I was told, for the one millionth time, that I look like I am in high school. I know it was the one millionth time because I have been keeping track in my head. When the man said those words, “Do you go to East High?” the sky opened up and a flurry of balloons and streamers fell with celebration to the earth. A marching band gathered round us in a semicircle and played something by John Phillip Sousa, heavy on the cymbals. “You are the one millionth!” a loudspeaker declared. “There were nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine before you!” I followed the pomp by saying with a well-rehearsed smile, “Actually, I’ve been out of college for three years now.”
I may be the only woman in her mid-twenties who delights when she looks in the mirror and finds a wrinkle here or there. I’d like, someday, to look my age. Yes, yes, I know. “You’ll be happy when you’re 35 and look like you’re 21.” I know. I know you think that. It’s okay to stop telling me, though.
Tomorrow marks my one year anniversary at my current job. I am a lover of landmarks in time and space, and this one is no exception. There have been quite a few changes since I started last year, both professionally and personally, and maybe this is a sickness but I really enjoy reflecting obsessively on those changes. I love growth. And I love this job. One year later I can still say that. Anyway, there are some other major landmarks coming up, including the anniversary of my birth, including the one-year anniversary of the disbanding of The Art Table, which we intend to commemorate by playing a reunion show, which you probably shouldn’t miss, if you can help it.
Who invented popcorn, I wonder, or was that one of those “happy accidents”? In this day and age, one cannot freely wonder those types of things anymore without someone sighing “why don’t you Google it?” That’s what you were thinking, weren’t you? “Why don’t you Google it?” Let’s not do it, okay? Let’s not look it up, let’s just wonder. Let’s let that be enough.