Day at the Zoo
Hot today. Adventurous day. We didn't chill for long at the park to my disappointment, as she wanted to got a drink somewhere, Starbucks or Jamba Juice. I suggested we go to the store and get some mangos to blend up a drink. When we got there, we got lazy and decided to head to Starbucks. Since I've never really ordered anything there except a Frappacino, I asked, "Do you guys have fruit?" The guy answered with a big list of available fruits they could mix for me. "Gimme something with strawberry and banana in it." They made it. I was surprised. I thought it was going to be a complicated process involving deciphering the menu, calculating nutritional content, and analyzing the price.
Went outside and took a sip. Good Lord, this thing is sweet! My friend thirsted for some water. I asked, "Is it me, or does this taste more like a dessert than a drink? I mean, c'mon, what kind of drink do you need a drink to wash it down with?" Besides shots of liquor of course. I didn't want it to sound like I was having a bad time though, so I added that it tastes good and thanked her for taking me out to the zoo. The latter comment probably confused her more since we hadn't gone to a place with animals behind metal bars today.
What should we do now? Normally, I'd go back home and read a book or website, watch a video on weird science, or just lounge on my bed drawing and listening to some elevator music. But since I was with someone, I decided to not bore her. I took on her suggestion to go to the theatre though we had no idea what movies were currently playing. I asked her which movies were not scary. Scary movies give me bad dreams. Since we didn't recognize most of the movie names, I decided to pick a PG movie, reasoning that anything beyond PG would consist of too much sex and violence and possibly be scary. Now, though I like sex dreams, I'd rather have them triggered by tactile experiences rather than artificial ones. I've had enough of that with Internet pr0n. "Monster House" was playing. An animation. Yay! Animations don't give me bad dreams. Should be goofy funny, too, which is a plus.
Familiar themes. Smart-ass kids, skeptical and cynical, just like the adults in the story, the hero kid being the only open-minded one. The stereotypes drawn were dead on. Little boy in a haunted house sees explosives, what's the automatic response? "Explosives, so cool!" Know-it-all girl-scout exhibits her capitalistic prowess haggling with a bitchy babysitter impressed by her incisive cynicism. At this point, I lose track of which side of the mirror is real, art or reality.
The only unrealistic thing was how brave and compassionate the boy was. Like wolves in sheep clothes, maybe the artists were trying to subliminally train the next generation to be more open-minded and stand up for their very valid questions. I'd love to think that, but as I toyed with the Cup'o'Sugar TM in the conveniently placed cup holder and listened to kids laugh at the more "adult" (i.e. cynical) jokes, I questioned their success.
Oh, but they're trying their best in an unforgiving corporate world to squeeze even a little ray of sunshine through the cracks of the munitions factory! Okay fine, here's a pat on the back and my $6.50 vote for drawing the line two inches further away from Sodom.
We left the theatre and went back to my place. I wanted to just chill out and do something from the aforementioned list (read, watch science video, draw, music), so I sheepishly mentioned it, "What I would normally do at this hour..." She didn't reply. I start talking about the Viktor Frankl book I just finished reading. Note to self: genocide stories are a social buzzkill.
My friend mentions that another one of her cousins got married, bringing emphasis to our ticking clocks. I tell her that I've been late for every cultural rite of passage, or, more accurately, my curriculum is just plain out of order. Where's my college degree, high-paying corporate job, fiance, and honeymoon in Maui? Oh, but I got Zen jokes up the wazzoo and can make up a new meaning for life in 2 minutes! Where's my fancy suit and my fancy car, driving up to my fancy office? Oh, but I'm essentially retired! And instead of a tropical island resort, I stay in farmhouses, attics, and cornfields. When I run out of gas or plane fare, I sleep in a scientist's basement and program a robot for him.
Why am I justifying my existence? Because I dropped my script somewhere, and I'm just making all this up as I go along. I have to make the story believable somehow.