Dear Girl,
Oh. That’s okay. You can actually wear regular pants to class. I imagine that there’s at least one pair of semi-clean jeans somewhere in your dorm room. Why don’t you use the 5 minutes that it took you to put your hair up in those pigtails and go put jeans on instead. No-no-no, believe me; I get it. You feel that you have a license – nay, an obligation – to not only be comfortable at all times during this period of your life but also to communicate this to the world through fashion. After all, you’ve got a lot of studying to do. First of all, I’m just not convinced that you really slept in those pajama bottoms. Second of all, put some pants on.
Thanks,
Jean
Author's note: Yes, this was already printed in Third Place: The Magazine, but not everyone got to see it there. Would hate for anyone to miss out. Wink face wink face wink face.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
So. We've been trying to get a company (Fun, Inc) off the ground for years. Recent events have made me wonder if this jokey, glib, 3 AM business plan might actually have some substance to it.
Because...the thing about real jobs is....most of them suck. Most of the time you don't want to go to them. And when you are there, most of the time you want to leave them. This seems like a very strange way to spend a life. I understand that this could be an attitude problem that is specific to me. But from where I'm standing, the daily compromises it takes to be a human being in the world who can afford toothpaste and only conduct a minimal amount of evil are astounding. Before you can even celebrate your third 25th birthday you are neck deep in a life that consists of too many untenable concepts to mention here.
Too bad that red wine can fail you and sex only lasts like 15 seconds.
Ha. I'm kidding. Red wine never fails me.
My mother very seriously wants to start a company that manufactures and sells rose-colored glasses. Like, actual glasses you wear on your face. She says they do wonderful things for your mood. A few years ago Clare won a silly pair at a raffle or something. They are huge and Elton John-esque with sequins on the tips. On rainy days she puts them on and looks out the window. Apparently, after about half hour the world doesn't seem so dark or menacing and she can set about doing things... like making her signature meal of chicken, white rice and green beans or saying foul things to our cats or searching craigslist for most tragic, most mentally ill displays of humanity.... all with a little extra swing in her step.
I was ready to sweep this into the category of Mom Is Weird, So What? part of my brain but when I was home she made me try on the rose-colored glasses. And no shit. They work. Nothing changes too dramatically, things just seem brighter a tad more whimsical. After awhile, you forget you are wearing them. Until you answer the door and your cousin sighs, tilts her head and shields the face of her newborn child.
Seriously though. The grass is literally greener wearing rose-colored glasses. It's disappointing to take them off and see that "green" is more of a dull army shade. But then you just put them back on. Much better than all these drugs people seem to get involved with.
With all of this pigflurecessiondepression collective freak out I think this may be just what the world needs. Pretty soon all you'll be seeing is cute piglets and sepia toned daydreams of simpler times.
We need $5,000 to develop the product. I have about 80 of those dollars.
Let's have a meeting. Shall we say 3 AM Friday? I'll bring the wine.
Because...the thing about real jobs is....most of them suck. Most of the time you don't want to go to them. And when you are there, most of the time you want to leave them. This seems like a very strange way to spend a life. I understand that this could be an attitude problem that is specific to me. But from where I'm standing, the daily compromises it takes to be a human being in the world who can afford toothpaste and only conduct a minimal amount of evil are astounding. Before you can even celebrate your third 25th birthday you are neck deep in a life that consists of too many untenable concepts to mention here.
Too bad that red wine can fail you and sex only lasts like 15 seconds.
Ha. I'm kidding. Red wine never fails me.
My mother very seriously wants to start a company that manufactures and sells rose-colored glasses. Like, actual glasses you wear on your face. She says they do wonderful things for your mood. A few years ago Clare won a silly pair at a raffle or something. They are huge and Elton John-esque with sequins on the tips. On rainy days she puts them on and looks out the window. Apparently, after about half hour the world doesn't seem so dark or menacing and she can set about doing things... like making her signature meal of chicken, white rice and green beans or saying foul things to our cats or searching craigslist for most tragic, most mentally ill displays of humanity.... all with a little extra swing in her step.
I was ready to sweep this into the category of Mom Is Weird, So What? part of my brain but when I was home she made me try on the rose-colored glasses. And no shit. They work. Nothing changes too dramatically, things just seem brighter a tad more whimsical. After awhile, you forget you are wearing them. Until you answer the door and your cousin sighs, tilts her head and shields the face of her newborn child.
Seriously though. The grass is literally greener wearing rose-colored glasses. It's disappointing to take them off and see that "green" is more of a dull army shade. But then you just put them back on. Much better than all these drugs people seem to get involved with.
With all of this pigflurecessiondepression collective freak out I think this may be just what the world needs. Pretty soon all you'll be seeing is cute piglets and sepia toned daydreams of simpler times.
We need $5,000 to develop the product. I have about 80 of those dollars.
Let's have a meeting. Shall we say 3 AM Friday? I'll bring the wine.
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