mija

In a lot of ways my daughter is like me. But in a big way we are totally different. Her recent blog entry points to this difference. Where she is comfortable moving through the lives of the rich and beautiful and famous, I am a total inept. Plop me down in an unknown town, a dive bar, a trailer park from hell, and I am at home, confident, happy. The thought of landing somewhere near LA and my throat constricts in panic. My daughter, on the other hand, laughs easily with these people, massages their naked bodies (and egos?), listens to their deepest secrets, becomes their best friend and confidante.

I can sit at a bar where I know no one and be happy as a clam. I can chat with vendors who come through the park or gringos who happen upon my site. I can happily dine alone, go to movies alone, travel to foreign countries alone, strike up conversations...with normal run-of-the-mill people. But if you seem perfect - lasered and suctioned and snipped and capped - then I cannot be around you. Because you have worked so hard to make yourself perfect, you will concentrate on my flaws. You will wonder "why hasn't she had her eyelids lifted?" which, and this is the truth, an acquaintance asked me not too long ago. She said "It's time for me to get my eyelids done again and by the look of it, you need yours done too." Great. Another flaw to focus on that I hadn't even thought about.

So I stay away from people who seem perfect. And rich.

Not only that but I have a fear of parties, of dates, of going to peoples' homes. If someone plops down on a barstool next to me and a conversation evolves, great; if not, that's fine too. If our meeting is less than organic, if it is planned, then I can't do it. For example, on Sunday I had a date to go to the Bicycle Vendor's casa to converse, to trade words and questions. In anticipation of our get-together I was a wreck all day. I had a near panic attack. When I did go to his house, I knocked lightly on his door, once. No one answered so I scurried back to my van and drove away. Today he said "I was in the shower but when I came to the door you were driving away."

The photographer asked if I would assist her at a local family's son's wedding. She asked would I shoot video and I said I would. Immediately I thought "shit, why did I say I would do that?" and began thinking up excuses.

I am a total fucking nutcase.

Which brings me to the subject of change. What does it take to change this kind of insane behavior? I guess it starts by saying 'yes' and then following through with the commitment. I went to the Bicycle Vendor's house yesterday and it was fun. I won't back out of my videographer duties. I'll try to learn by my daughter's example. However, I will not be going to LA any time soon. And if she doesn't come back from Atlanta, like if the reformed mafia guy ain't so reformed, then I think I'll be happy sticking with my cowboy bars and fellow trailer trash.