Realization: Maybe it’s not that I *can’t* do this corporate thing, but that I don’t want to. I keep resisting the adult world like it’s pulling wisdom teeth. When I was maybe 4, I used to play house with an elaborate imaginary family, complete with a husband who was a fisherman and a daughter in a red dress named Jodie. Now people are actually starting to *treat* me like an adult, and I don’t want any part of it. Responsibility? Etiquette? Luncheon conversation? I don’t think so. Someone tell them I’m just a kid.

“How do they fuckin’ know I didn’t litter?” — Tracy, on a “Thank you for not littering” sign

This weekend Amanda, Tara and I stayed at Tracy’s house in a suburb of New York, went to a Barenaked Ladies concert on Saturday night, and took a bus back on Sunday. In two days, we sipped daquiris by the pool, saw an excellent show, and inched through traffic jams singing our favorite songs, just glad to be together. But there were really surreal moments, too. Moments where I just stopped, looked around, and asked myself, *what* am I doing here?:

  • Picking up Tara in Chinatown, after her bus ride from Boston on a Chinese charter tour. No one spoke enough English to tell us when her bus was arriving, as we wandered through streets of vendors selling lumps of dough and alien fruits, smelling frying fat and car exhaust.
  • At the concert, standing behind a couple energetically grinding and gyrating together in a display that would have been gross, if not for their detached Tom-Jones smiles.
  • Also at the concert, when suddenly two groups of girls next to us and behind us started arguing over a guy, looking like a West Side Story rumble in the making. Suddenly they all ran off and came back friends.
  • After the concert: Following the general drunken herd in total darkness along the side of a highway for half a mile, then realizing our car was in the other direction.
  • Walking to the bus station through a grimy neighborhood near Times Square, passing in quick succession a gently smiling man playing an accordian for his family and a man shouting like he was about to beat up some woman.
  • The bus ride home, between the baby whining in Portugese and the French couple making out and the New Yorker talking on his cell phone for half an hour.
  • Wearily waking to the D.C. bus station at 11:30pm, solicited by illegitimate cab drivers and surrounded by general chaos.

Update: I’m waiting to go to New York. We were supposed to leave at 3. Amanda is still working. I have no desire to work. I’ll be gone until Sunday night. If I ever get outta here.

“These fickle fuddled words confuse me/
Like will it rain today…”
–Dave Matthews

“I’m not talking about a relationship. I’m talking about… evolving.”
–Troy, Reality Bites