Hello dear reader.
Today I’m in a different kind of mood.
Little Miss “Starbucks-Obsessed/Subway-Riding/Downtown-Trendy/Drugged-Up Workaholic” has flown from the coop, at least temporarily.
(4 days ago)…
…there I was, burnt out by all those sales stats and advertising plans and scary office meetings…what was I to do? Well…I did what any corporate-slut would do: I ran away…away from the numbers…away from the scary meetings; I ran as fast as my floppy clown-feet would go.
In the end, I wound up 50 miles away, but had I really made it anywhere new?
NO.
As a matter of fact, I was back in my old hometown. It was Romi’s “ol’ stompin’ ground”, the place where it all began. More accurately though, it was the ”bloodied backdrop for my ancient battles with low self-esteem” (ahem…that was quite a mouthful; seriously though, please cue to the ”Gladiator” music).
The pathway to “Romi-Town” was not overwhelmed with weeds, nor was it draped in cobwebs. To tell you the truth, it’s a journey I make pretty often…a couple times a month, to be exact. The only difference? My usual stops only last about 1 or 2 days (as they’re made for the purposes of: getting home-made food, visiting a childhood friend here or there, and OF COURSE, visiting/hugging my cat 
).
This time though, I was in it for the long-run: 5 freakin’ days. I’m now in day 4 of 5, and I gotta say, it’s pretty damn strange being back here, especially when my day-times are free and clear. The siblings are here, the folks are here, but it ain’t Christmas; so wtf should I do?
That was my initial thought, so I did the only thing I could think of…
…I went to the mall.
And then…I went to the mall. I basically spent the last 3 days at the mall.
For anyone who’s lived in the super-suburban-suburbs, that’s pretty much the standard thing to do. In MY town, there’s a one-level mall on either side of the city-limits. I would argue that both these malls are EXACTLY the same (as many are), but you need to have two, so you can feel like you’re doing something different ;-) .
Whilst spending these days re-connecting with “My Town”, a funny thing happened; I began re-connecting with the people in “My Town” too. Every single person in the mall had a story, and in each and every case, I was thirsty to find out more. I soaked up all the moments that my senses would allow, and recorded every detail in the notebook of my mind.
For a while all my thoughts just sat there; they were SO backed up, and I wasn’t even sure how I’d share them. My mind was just a wreck of constipation (gross), but now that I’ve taken some pills, my thoughts are passing through at a healthy rate (too much info?)
Though I can’t fit it all on this blog, here are the highlights from ”the notebook of my mind”…a.k.a:
“Notes From the Mall” (abridged edition)
#1. Old Granny Drinking Iced Coffee
So I saw this wrinkled granny, and she was drinking iced coffee in the mall. She naturally caught my eye, as the sunlight kept dancing on and off her silver hair. I noticed a plastic bag sitting neatly under her chair. This signaled a recent purchase. That got me thinking: hmmm…what kind of stuff do grannies buy? Old-lady cream? Long sweaters with giant buttons? Kitten Calendars? (oh wait, I buy those…). I was terribly intrigued, but alas, it wasn’t a clear plastic bag, so I guess I would never know.
I continued to ponder the granny, and eventually my eyes met hers. This is the part where I’d describe our intense, 30-second stare-down. In reality, she seemed either cataract-ridden or blind (hence the guide-dog sitting next to her), so it was likely a one-sided stare-off. Nevertheless, those dark and murky eyes were frickin’ mesmerizing, to say the least. There was a story behind those eyes…what was she trying to tell me? I channeled her spirit (I know she’s not dead yet, but whatever), and here’s what it told me:
-She was a lover of the arts, and had dabbled in some pottery (back in the 1950′s). She was never any good, but she had always frickin’ loved it… goddammit, that was good enough for me.
-She was also a lover of men, with a storied past of epic trysts. She was one of those broads who had pleasured a bunch of presidents/prime ministers/movie stars from way-back-when, but she wasn’t about to kiss-and-tell.
-She did have a couple of grand-kids, but her furrowed brow said she could’ve done without them. I don’t blame her; kids are stupid and weird and unpredictable; they need to be caged, and fed crusty, day-old scraps. It’s the only way to keep them in line.
-Overall, this wrinkly old broad had lived a hell of a life. And the way that she sat there, cupping that delicious iced coffee, staring out at nothing, all blind and shit, it was dignified. I love that granny, and I will never forget her.
#2: The Jewelry Store Dreamers
It had been a long while since I’d walked past a shopping-mall jeweler. Though I only gazed-in for a minute or two, I saw two hearts slowly beating as one. There they were, a couple of blushing lovers, checking out the “blingedy-bling” ring case . I watched the ”Future Mrs.” push the ring through her stubby-ass finger, admiring a beauty that would forever eclipse her own. Her trucker fiance looked on in a sweaty fashion, and I wondered where his head was at…How did he feel about relinquishing 3-months’ salary for a piece of rock? Was he okay with the fact that “a lifetime of love” would mean an extra 30-pounds of “wife”, in 2.5 years or less? I hope he was okay with that.
Couple aside, I started thinking about ME as well. “Where was Romi at” in life? The way I saw it, I was a silly little girl who just worked and worked and worked, whilst trying to save a good amount of cash. And for WHAT? I don’t know man, I don’t know…so here I was, this chick with some liquid assets, but where the fuck was my goddamn bling? I realized right then and there: I want more jewels. If I have to go to a jewelry store and buy it for my goddamn self, then FINE, but let it be known: I WANT MINE! So yeah, I’m gonna start buying lotsa gems for ROMI, and then I’m gonna wear them all . It will show the world that I love ROMI, and it will make me look like a Christmas tree (which is always a good thing). Okay then.
#3 Teenage Love and All That Goodness
As my travels through the mall continued, I was hit with a bout of nostalgia, as I walked by the ice cream joint. I saw some baby-birds in love, and it was…beautiful.
You know what I love? I love how teenagers hold “half-hands”; like sometimes they only hold “pinky-fingers”, whilst dragging each other around, in a shaky and reckless fashion…it’s magical. I also love how they rub each others’ bottoms, in that “devil-may-care” kinda way; I’d like to see a 40-year old try to pull that off. My favorite part perhaps, is when the girl sits on her boyfriend’s lap, so they can start-up the porno-makeout, for all the world to see. It’s even better when the ice cream makes its way into the mix, ohhh….hell yes .
As I watched these two go at it (whilst getting somewhat “excited” in the process 
), I wondered if they’d ever find the path to life-long love…Judging by the way the teenage boy was groping his gal, he hadn’t been laid just yet. According to my calculations then, this romance would last for another two weeks (give or take). This made me very happy. I love ”love” .
I’m not sure why this stuff makes me so nostalgic, when I never had these moments of my own. I suppose it’s more like “imaginary-nostalgia”, and that’s alright with me too. The only problem with imaginary-nostalgia, is that it makes you yearn for those feelings in the “here and now”, even if your chances are long in the past. I guess that’s my own personal problem, and I’ll get through it, whether that leads to licking a 15-year-old’s face…or not.
———–
So there you have it, my journey through the mall.
After spending those days in the mall, I finally stopped seeing fellow man as just “a blur”. Instead, I remembered that we ALL have a story, a life, a dream. In the process of connecting with my fellow man, I saw my own soul re-surface, a soul that had been noticeably MIA. I’m not naive of course, ’cause I know I’ll go to work on Tuesday, and look at all those numbers, and go to all those meetings, and stomp on people’s necks (as required), ’cause hey…that’s what Romi does! For a few short days though, I was living a life in my town, and I saw my old soul staring back at me. It was a beautiful thing, and I say “thanks” to all those people in the mall, ’cause YOU were the ones who made it happen.
That is all.
It was one of those mornings where I wished long and hard for a loyal monkey-butler. Yes…“home-delivered lattes”, what a dream…
nutmeg”. In my experience (self-righteous tone), I find that the regular nutmeg over-powers the drink, whereas….(blah, blah, blah, he went on about nutmeg for another 5 minutes)…But hey, that’s just my “barista-expert” opinion” (picture the axe-murderer-smile once again…)
