An Allergic Reaction to Seattle.
It's true. I had an allergic reaction to Seattle. The body itching all over. Pain all over and difficult to stand kind. It was from the greenery. Thank God I was staying at a hotel with amenities. Like big beds. Big, comfy beds. And mini bars. And an excellent restaurant next door with affordable and excellent sushi rolls and fusion food for dinner as opposed to nothing (which up till now I was used to) and an even more excellent bartender named Rob from NYC who provides great food service in what can be an extremely busy bar area (they have two - count 'em - two happy hours-- one from 4 to 6 and another from 10 to 1) . Oh. And there's the other things, too. Like a valet who will go across the street and move a car that has been parked in a public lot because there was no room at the valet stand. Which I would normally have no problem waiting at but I was in too much pain and there were busses. Big busses. Blocking the path in gridlock. As well as not very nice commuters anxious to get home or somewhere else that was more interesting than their cars. Not that I blame them. But pain is paramount. And itching. I don't like either. And not while in a car. In gridlock. Or in a strange town. Not that Seattle is strange. But you get what I mean. It's not my town. No, that would be LA or New York. Or a few other stops in the road.
Don't get me wrong. Seattle is beautiful. And a cool city. But not my city. I can just tell. Kelly said she could picture me here. But I think it's too clean for me. I like things a little messier. A little more confused. A little more eclectic. And colorful. Or maybe just real. And honest. With that comes understanding. Even though there is diversity here. Which is something I don't feel in The OC. Not the real kind. It might be a melting pot, but it's a privileged pot. Sure, Seattle is a city city. Still. It just feels different to me. Certainly, if I actually felt different that might help a bit in how I perceive it. Being in pain makes you less prone to adventure and open as a whole. Still.
The store I was at today was not so nice. Aesthetically, yes. People-wise aka cast-wise? Just kind of odd. Not particularly warm or friendly. And then there were some unusual incidents where people who came in and needed help. Too much help. For this particular cast. Because it was not just with their skin. But their lives.
Okay. So it may not exactly be the norm. What started as too much dryness and hormonal breakouts turned into talk about 14 back surgeries, a brother who died in Vietnam when this woman was 15, a failing marriage, a few too many suicide attempts and a desire to contract cancer. All from just one woman. Who was clearly trying to fix her life by treating her face. And I get that. So I listened. And knew that she didn't really want to die. She just wanted someone to listen. She wouldn't be trying to fix the external if she wanted to die. It would be a waste. Besides, she was still trying. Just on something she felt was more manageable. I get it. But the cast? Not so much. The cast at the store got wigged out when they overheard her talking to me and came up and told me I had a meeting to go to and was late and should hurry. So I got confused and actually went to the back. Like a moron. I was in the moment and not thinking they would pull me away. But they did. They didn't have much empathy for this woman. Called her crazy. And you know? They weren't paying me to be there. So what was the big deal? There was no one else around to overhear. I was only selling this woman the very basic things that I knew she actually needed and told her to try samples of the rest to see how she felt afterwards. I wasn't about to take advantage of her. Who does that? But who can't give ten, fifteen minutes of their day when someone needs to be heard? Someone in pain? She wasn't hurting anyone else. Their reaction was weird to me. And felt kind of sterile. Maybe that's what I get here. A lack of reality or willingness to see it or a desire to be a part of it. And that's what I mean by messiness. In New York? It's okay. Although the reaction might be a bit more real. They would get what was happening with her. And that would even happen in LA. With my friends at least. That's my LA. I'm lucky for those friends. They would let me help that lady. And understand that it mattered. Not pull me away and get creeped out like she was contagious or something. Okay, so it's retail. Like they said. And it's not their job. But they're also human. And unless they have something more important to do or more pressing which they didn't and I didn't at the time, what's the harm?
In the worlds I fit in? People understand. Even if the reaction is a reality check and to get candid. They understand that it's not just a crazy lady. It's someone who needs something. And it's not about a skin cream. Another woman said to me what she was uncomfortable saying to the cast members. She didn't want to spend a lot of money. She was a single mom and she didn't have it. But she wanted her skin to stop breaking out. And she was tired of getting samples of things to try. She was so happy to have someone want to help her find something that would help that she could afford that by the end of our conversation, she gave me a hug. Okay, a little effusive, I get it. But you know what? Who cares? It mattered to her. Still, they thought she was another crazy. And that's what I got here. A lack of seeing things in the bigger picture. It was too black and white. I say, give me the gray. Tomorrow I'm seeing my friend who lives in Portland. Who lives in a big house with a washer and dryer on each floor. It's a huge house. To be honest. With flat screens. And land. Lots of land. And a three car garage. Or four. I think it might be four. But she's real. And she gets kind of depressed there. Because if you want to be real. And want the outdoors to have sunshine when maybe you don't? I just think that sometimes you're in pain. Be it physical or mental. And sometimes things aren't always so clean and tidy and big and spacious. With room to walk away. Not that it's not nice to pretend that everything is fine and have a few amenities thrown your way. I mean, everyone likes amenities.
Don't get me wrong. Seattle is beautiful. And a cool city. But not my city. I can just tell. Kelly said she could picture me here. But I think it's too clean for me. I like things a little messier. A little more confused. A little more eclectic. And colorful. Or maybe just real. And honest. With that comes understanding. Even though there is diversity here. Which is something I don't feel in The OC. Not the real kind. It might be a melting pot, but it's a privileged pot. Sure, Seattle is a city city. Still. It just feels different to me. Certainly, if I actually felt different that might help a bit in how I perceive it. Being in pain makes you less prone to adventure and open as a whole. Still.
The store I was at today was not so nice. Aesthetically, yes. People-wise aka cast-wise? Just kind of odd. Not particularly warm or friendly. And then there were some unusual incidents where people who came in and needed help. Too much help. For this particular cast. Because it was not just with their skin. But their lives.
Okay. So it may not exactly be the norm. What started as too much dryness and hormonal breakouts turned into talk about 14 back surgeries, a brother who died in Vietnam when this woman was 15, a failing marriage, a few too many suicide attempts and a desire to contract cancer. All from just one woman. Who was clearly trying to fix her life by treating her face. And I get that. So I listened. And knew that she didn't really want to die. She just wanted someone to listen. She wouldn't be trying to fix the external if she wanted to die. It would be a waste. Besides, she was still trying. Just on something she felt was more manageable. I get it. But the cast? Not so much. The cast at the store got wigged out when they overheard her talking to me and came up and told me I had a meeting to go to and was late and should hurry. So I got confused and actually went to the back. Like a moron. I was in the moment and not thinking they would pull me away. But they did. They didn't have much empathy for this woman. Called her crazy. And you know? They weren't paying me to be there. So what was the big deal? There was no one else around to overhear. I was only selling this woman the very basic things that I knew she actually needed and told her to try samples of the rest to see how she felt afterwards. I wasn't about to take advantage of her. Who does that? But who can't give ten, fifteen minutes of their day when someone needs to be heard? Someone in pain? She wasn't hurting anyone else. Their reaction was weird to me. And felt kind of sterile. Maybe that's what I get here. A lack of reality or willingness to see it or a desire to be a part of it. And that's what I mean by messiness. In New York? It's okay. Although the reaction might be a bit more real. They would get what was happening with her. And that would even happen in LA. With my friends at least. That's my LA. I'm lucky for those friends. They would let me help that lady. And understand that it mattered. Not pull me away and get creeped out like she was contagious or something. Okay, so it's retail. Like they said. And it's not their job. But they're also human. And unless they have something more important to do or more pressing which they didn't and I didn't at the time, what's the harm?
In the worlds I fit in? People understand. Even if the reaction is a reality check and to get candid. They understand that it's not just a crazy lady. It's someone who needs something. And it's not about a skin cream. Another woman said to me what she was uncomfortable saying to the cast members. She didn't want to spend a lot of money. She was a single mom and she didn't have it. But she wanted her skin to stop breaking out. And she was tired of getting samples of things to try. She was so happy to have someone want to help her find something that would help that she could afford that by the end of our conversation, she gave me a hug. Okay, a little effusive, I get it. But you know what? Who cares? It mattered to her. Still, they thought she was another crazy. And that's what I got here. A lack of seeing things in the bigger picture. It was too black and white. I say, give me the gray. Tomorrow I'm seeing my friend who lives in Portland. Who lives in a big house with a washer and dryer on each floor. It's a huge house. To be honest. With flat screens. And land. Lots of land. And a three car garage. Or four. I think it might be four. But she's real. And she gets kind of depressed there. Because if you want to be real. And want the outdoors to have sunshine when maybe you don't? I just think that sometimes you're in pain. Be it physical or mental. And sometimes things aren't always so clean and tidy and big and spacious. With room to walk away. Not that it's not nice to pretend that everything is fine and have a few amenities thrown your way. I mean, everyone likes amenities.
posted by jodypwrites | 2:45 AM
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