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minor rebellion ~ #6

Today my computer yelled at me.

Well, more accurately, Facebook yelled at me.  Funny how guilty you can feel after a scolding from an inanimate object run by electrical impulses sent through a system of mysterious, invisible, mathematical equations.  (is the internet alien-based?  hmmm….that’s a blog for another day)

I play a stupid, addicting cooking game on Facebook, and we used to be able to add friends willy-nilly.  Which is great, because this game is ridiculous and you have to bug everyone you’ve ever met in your life to advance at all.  Complete strangers are helpful in these quests; they don’t know you from Adam, but don’t care –  they’ll send whatever parts you need so long as it helps them down the line.

But Facebook has changed a ‘friending’ policy, so that you can’t send friend requests to people you don’t already know, or know friends of.  (this blog is getting confusing; are you with me here?)  Which is great, really, because I feel more hopeful about the stalker I tried to block, and the chance that he might not be a bother again.  (although technically I still work with him, so I guess this won’t help overall)

Well I failed to read all the fine print of the updated ‘friend/not friend’ prviacy policy, and I got a note that the Facebook gods were scornful of me and needed some kind of blood sacrifice, or a gigabyte of cheese pizza or something.  Yeesh… make me feel guilty for playing your damn game, why don’t you!  So, I’m sorry person I upset by sending you a note that you could have easily just said “NO” to.  And I’m sorry Facebook, that I upset your delicate structure and offended your new and improved policies.

Whew…getting in trouble by strangers and the World Wide controller of all thoughts is hard work, and tiring.  I better go lie down.

Minor Rebellion # 5: ‘children playing’

this kid doesn't look all that slow to me...

The end of summer is drawing near, and while the sky is a beautiful clear blue, I have selected a short sleeved sweatshirt top and shorts for my outfitting.  Despite what people think of Southern California, there is fog in the morning, bursts of rain in the fall, and an occassional blustery wind sweeping through from a blazing forest fire somewhere in the hills.  It’s best to be prepared for sudden chills at the beginning of fall.

Plus, the area I am playing in today is shady with trees and the sun hasn’t found its way in through the foliage cover.  But that is fine with me.  I’m feeling a little secretive today anyway.  My friend – Mary – has asked me over for a long last day of freedom before our new school year begins, and we have to start worrying about geography, vocabulary and math issues.  And so, having dined on egg-salad sandwiches and lemonade, we now find ourselves lumbering around the street a few blocks from Mary’s house.

The street is quiet.

Must be all the old people are still at work.

Mary and I sit on the sidewalk and talk about important, life changing issues, like that cute boy Paul Mayasich, whom I am almost in love with.  We find sticks to fling at the bushes and make kazoos out of blades of grass.  The thrilling days of summer wind to an end and we are solemn in our longing for more vacation time.  Suddenly I am struck with a lightning bolt of brilliance, convinced I have found a way to give us both that last boost of adrenaline we will desperately need to start another boring, confining and exhausting school year.

I lead Mary to the middle of the road and sit with her in the street.  It’s a residential street, not a busy highway.  There aren’t six lanes of traffic, or even a Tastee-Freeze at the corner.  It’s just a neighborhood block.  Still, cars come down the street, drivers eager to reach their homes after a long and annoying work day.  But before they arrive home for the night, they encounter us, sitting Indian style in the shade of the trees.

It takes them a minute to notice us…they weren’t really expecting anything out of the ordinary, and we are in the shade after all.  They slow down, of course, these aren’t homicidal maniacs here – just average working class folk, on their way home and irritated at two stupid children playing in the middle of the street.  But they slow down, instead of mowing us over, and honk their horns with a stern, scolding look that tells me they have children of their own.

Slowly, with great effort and much drama, Mary and I get up off the asphalt.  We look them dead in the eyes.  We let our jaws drop slack, and roll our eyes in the back of our heads.  We flail our arms and make strange gargling noises, heads lolling around like they are not at all attached in any way.  We lumber toward the cars with our outstretched arms, our intentions unclear, but perhaps an afternoon snack is on the agenda.

And one after the other, each driver looks at us with wide, unbelieving eyes.  You might think they are just shaking their heads, rolling their eyes because we are stupid kids being stupid kids.  Personally, I think they are fear stricken and headed home in terror, because they have quietly wet themselves in the car.  Another successful Zombie attack to write down in my diary…

Minor Rebellion; 10.6.10

 

I want to be a rebellious old lady.
I mean, not right now, obviously, I’m just getting started in life!

Today on my way to work, a skinny old lady with a shock of gray hair crossed the street on a red light in front of me. All her little old lady friends stood on the corner, compliantly waiting for the light to turn green and allow them to cross the street in safety and relative anonymity. Not this chick. Hands in her pockets, posture slumped slightly BACKWARDS, not like a hunched up old lady; like a former cool cat, strutting across the street with a sort of nonchalant “hey, whassup?” kind of attitude. Only she scurried across the street, because she didn’t really want to get hit by oncoming traffic; she just wanted to be a touch defiant, and live on the fast lane for a minute or two. She wanted the rush of adrenaline that comes with minor rebellions and innocent civil disobedience. She wanted to embrace her youth and strength and power and live in the moment – in the powerful, exhilarating, precious moment that is today. That is NOW.

She ran across the street with a smile on her face and a glance back at her timid friends, and crossed over into a world of possibility.

And I want to be just like her.