Besides gracing my top ten list for words most likely to be underlined by a red squiggle, it’s also a new adjective I can use to describe myself. Well not just yet, but very soon. As of this Saturday morning I will be a small shop-owner. And by small I mean stall. And by stall I mean 10 cast iron poles, forming the skeleton of a box, beside a few dozen others at a weekend flea market. And my merchandise? The clothes off my back. I take that back, it's actually the opposite. It's all the clothes I don't wear. I’m selling more than half my wardrobe in what I call a ‘clothing detox.’ My reasons are four fold.
Fold 1.
Space. I have too many meaningless shirts, vests and accessories that can only amount to one thing: baggage weight. Pounds I don’t need, which will cost money I don’t have, to even check on a plane home someday. Plus, once I sell the clothes that go in said baggage, I can sell the baggage itself.
Fold 2.
Experience. From the very first day I began going to the weekend feria, I was warmed by the impression the performers and vendors had left on me. Not only did they know each other, but they did this for each other. A social life no nightclub or sorority can ever say they so naturally reproduce, it’s exactly as it appears: street love. And entering that world was something I only comically imagined (in another life sort of way) since I bore witness.
Fold 3.
Pesos. The bottom line of so many built up stories, money rests at the seam of what makes sense. I’m going on what may be the most challenging journey of my young life in a few short weeks, and every last peso to make the travel more traversable, is duly appreciated.
Fold 4.
Español. I need as much practice as possible, and nothing says ‘cuanto cuesta’ like a small business venture. Whether it’s my customers or my entrepreneighbors, I’ll squeeze out every bit of Spanish juice they’ve got to offer. (You have such a dirty mind…)
Maybe I haven’t followed the most orthodox path post-graduation, but in my own tiny way I’m living in a manner I never knew I could. I take smaller steps in a much bigger world. It may not be a boutique on Park Ave or even a storefront in my hometown, but there is a salesman behind a counter with something to offer. In other words, it’s enough for me to believe in.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
I'm so twenty ten.
Over the past month I’ve grown accustom to this new skin. I’ve been letting my hair grow long, and found the sense in catching its wave in the tie of headband. I’ve been tugging a belt too long toward a knife-made hole and patching the soles of my shoes with the nearest spool of tape. I see the narrow space between productivity and resourcefulness.
I’ve been laughing at the shadow, cast in a brand new maturity, that graces my face at the end of each day and let it rest on the smile of my cheekbone until I itch like a child to be young again. And perhaps in it’s own little way, spread thin across this boy’s complexion, a twenty ounce bottle of shaving cream has become the only fountain of youth I need.
The greatest lesson I took from that van is that age is so god dam relative.
I’ve been laughing at the shadow, cast in a brand new maturity, that graces my face at the end of each day and let it rest on the smile of my cheekbone until I itch like a child to be young again. And perhaps in it’s own little way, spread thin across this boy’s complexion, a twenty ounce bottle of shaving cream has become the only fountain of youth I need.
The greatest lesson I took from that van is that age is so god dam relative.
For the first few minutes...
I'm skipping the middle, giving you now.
Spanish has become another concept to wrap my head around. Immersed as I may be, learning the ins and outs of a whole new language can rest uneasy on my jaw. I speak English for the greater portion of my day, as the tremendous influence of the ‘States’ is undeniable. But both before and after I reach for my headset, my world is of a different dialect. Castellano. And turning its terms and phrases on like a switch can be more like lighting a candle with a whimpering wick. Match after match, I attempt to get it right, but it takes time.
For the first few minutes, I can’t hear. I don’t know what the noises mean or accents are. I’ve been thinking too long in my own dam mind, in tones and phrases familiar to a far, northern climate. And for the first few minutes I need to stay still. I need to surpass the basic replies that normalcy and memorization have allowed me to breathe, and reach for the idiom under my tongue and the fancy palabra down my throat. For the first few minutes I feel stupid. I make noise without words and sound with no sense. I’m choking on a spanglish I thought was forgotten. My mouth dries out. Eventually I grow comfortable with what I know I know, but I still feel so far from second nature. I’ll get there, I’m sure.
Spanish has become another concept to wrap my head around. Immersed as I may be, learning the ins and outs of a whole new language can rest uneasy on my jaw. I speak English for the greater portion of my day, as the tremendous influence of the ‘States’ is undeniable. But both before and after I reach for my headset, my world is of a different dialect. Castellano. And turning its terms and phrases on like a switch can be more like lighting a candle with a whimpering wick. Match after match, I attempt to get it right, but it takes time.
For the first few minutes, I can’t hear. I don’t know what the noises mean or accents are. I’ve been thinking too long in my own dam mind, in tones and phrases familiar to a far, northern climate. And for the first few minutes I need to stay still. I need to surpass the basic replies that normalcy and memorization have allowed me to breathe, and reach for the idiom under my tongue and the fancy palabra down my throat. For the first few minutes I feel stupid. I make noise without words and sound with no sense. I’m choking on a spanglish I thought was forgotten. My mouth dries out. Eventually I grow comfortable with what I know I know, but I still feel so far from second nature. I’ll get there, I’m sure.
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