The doctor ordered knee surgery for me in terms of that cracking,pop,crunching sound I’ve experienced ever since I spent a measly 5 minutes being Kitchig on those roller blades. You spent four years dedicating yourself to sports and daily training to be a pre-teen athlete and you find yourself wondering when you can squeeze in the time to fix what’s broken. Such thoughts ran through my head “maybe I should find a first floor apartment? How am I going to be in shape if I can’t move?” “Take away my ability to walk for a week and I’ll melt. I’ll melt.”
I had a dream last night- that I got caught in a pyramid scheme involving dynamite, English currency, and a baby. I played the role of some clever woman, dodging bombs and not taking morally tainted money. There was a scene where I was in Taoromina, Sicily and then I was pulled out of sleep by my alarm. It must be the sand in the air- cuz I feel ten pounds heavier today.
Pyramid schemes. The U.S was full of them, and when I first graduated- all job offers seemed to be an amazing sounding job- with an interview at some dodgy place with a greased out 21 year old by the name of Al who drove a 1987 Caddy. I would stay long enough to get into the office and announce: “This is a pyramid scheme”. “No it’s not”, “Yes it is.” “No it’s not”. “This is stupid”. “I’m sorry you feel this way ma’am.” “Don’t call me ma’am, you’re only a year younger than I”. “Well ma’am, I think you should take the time to understand our purpose.” “I went to uni for this? this is ridiculous, you and your pyramid scheme for a worthless product.” “this isn’t a pyramid scheme.””of course it is.”
My dad would call to see how these interviews went. I’d tell him it was a pyramid scheme and I’d get a lecture how I shouldn’t waste my time on Pyramid schemes and we’d get into some tiff about my career future and I’d find myself bringing him oysters to make up for my disrespect.
more coffee please.
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