For the last few days, I have felt like this:
I don’t know what my deal is. I can only guess it’s a combination of the end of the school year, the reality of leaving for the entire summer, my attempting to research and write a thesis with no direction or oversight or idea what I’m doing, and trying to figure out where we’ll live in the fall when our lease is up (which has become a very complicated issue recently – more on that later). While on the outside it may appear that I’m still going about my daily business like a normal human, internally, I’m wearing a powder blue blazer and a white turtleneck and am screaming in the phone booth of my soul.
Because I am insufferable lately, I recently went to Disneyland and was a total jerk about it. (Yes. I’m a soulless animal.)
I discovered a horrifying pink-caped Ewok, marketed to girls of course, because God forbid a female child be interested in a Star Wars character wearing it’s (original) brown costume. (Brown is not a girl color. Obvi.)
I sat in front of some amateur geographers on It’s A Small World, who shouted over the music at each other such gems as:
“I’m thinking that’s the North Pole or the South Pole” when we passed by snowy icebergs littered with seals and
“IRELAND! IRELAND! IRELAND!” when giant glittery shamrocks came into view and
“Is this all Mexico? Or Paraguay? Or Uraguay? Or Venezuela? Or Brazil? Or Chile? Or Ecuador? Or Colombia?” when we saw sombreros.
“Did you know that Egypt is part of Africa?”
“This must be America. Oklahoma? Kansas? Arkansas? Texas?”
“China? Korea? South Korea? North Korea? Thailand? Japan? Thailand? Thailand? THAILAND?”
It was indeed a very small world and I wanted out.
Mostly, though, I stood in lines and judged the shit out of everyone’s tattoos. Sorry, everyone. They were all pretty terrible.