"You'll appreciate this." She said to me. "My mantra while I'm on the floor if something (or someone) is challenging me is 'I'm a happy girl and I like people. I'm a happy girl and I like people', but today, somehow, I realized I was walking around the store saying 'I'm a happy girl, and I like pizza' over and over again. I changed it in my head without even realizing it. I'm a happy girl, and I like pizza."
So, I failed my road test. Failed so hard, it will go on record as a warning to other drivers of the future, like the severed heads placed upon pikes of old; beware, this is how hard one can fail this particular test in this particular way. What followed after the immediate failing was me, driving the car back to allston and crying silent tears, because that's the kind of mature, safety-first attitude that potentially licensed drivers have. Oh wait, nnnnnot. I got out of the car and my Dad said a few more words of encouragment to try and make me feel better, but I was already comfortably wrapped in my cape of despair, so the only thing to do was the climb the four floors to my apartment and cry openly in my overheated, tepid room about the grave injustices of the world.
Which is exactly what I did. Then, later, I cracked open a bottle of white wine (and pointedly did not turn on my air conditioning, because air conditioning is for winners and winners only) and read Mary Karr poetry for four hours while continuing to feel a profound and moving pity for myself.
Of course I rescheduled the test, and of course, since the DMV books road tests a month in advance, it's not till August, but looking back on the whole situation now, I guess I have to take a certain pride in myself for even having tried. I mean, I'm not trying to get trite on you all, but my situation is such that I don't have to learn how to drive for my survival. I work a 20 minute walk away from my apartment, and until recently, I went to a university accessible by public transportation, so my whole life here is set up on a strict no-vehicle philosophy. Besides the tragic fact that I can't get to Ikea whenever I want to, (the eternal sadness of which, believe me, drags the corners of my soul downwards into itself like a dark, feeding mouth) and a few awkward emergency room visits over the years, I don't have wheels, I don't need wheels. It's only a desire to change my life and my priorities that inspired me to even try to get my license. Making changes is good, even if you don't know where they'll lead. So I should probably be proud of that, if nothing else, if not the fact that I cried all the way home from the DMV and my Dad tried to offer to take me out to lunch but I couldn't because I was so overwhelmed with emotion because I failed my drivers test.
But anyway. Books, right? Am I right, guys? Books.
This whole idea of the road not taken (DO YOU SEE WHAT I DID THERE WITH THAT PUN DO YOU GET IT) is a massive concept, and one not undertaken by the flimsy of aorta. I was thinking about it as I closed the book store last night, and, while straightening the photography section, stumbled across this:
A collection of essays by photographers, presumably on the images they missed capturing, edited by Will Steacy. For a photographer, life is about documenting the present, an exact moment. It's not about painting a moment, or impressionism; photography is about pristine detail. There is some artistic wiggle room, but for the most part, what photographers hope for are perfect conditions and the right equipment. However, you can't always have a camera or be available to snap a photo. These essays are about those missed opportunities. Some of them are quite moving, especially if you're into photography at all. I particularly liked this entry, by Kelli Connell.
Kelli Connell:
- West Texas storm rolling in, July, on way to Colorado.
- Christine smiling, face up, eyes closed, soaking up the sun.
- Thomas in red chair. Light from apartment window enveloping him. His blue eyes intense.
- Thomas, wild-gray sky behing him, standing outside of car. CLose up, his eyes after crying. Gaze like last scene in Orlando.
- White sheet hovering, falling on bed.
- Sunnye with her dogs, in bed, watching TV at night.
- Jacinda in new house in new town.
- Plaza Donuts on Belmont Avenue at sunset, the tennis courts (what's left of them) on Todd Lane, the drawing room on the fourth floor.
- Peter, close-up, office window light, with glasses and without.
- Brad floating/standing next to pool after working out.
- Joe, in basement, piles of laundry, pounds of coins.
- Marni knitting in winter, Barkley, her dog, nearby.
- Darby in the snow.
-Icebergs.
-Denton twins.
- Softball girls.
- That hot girl drummer.
- Ligt moving along the bottom of the pool.
Pretty cool stuff, right? The collection is $14. 95 in our photography section. Quit contemplating your own hazardous position in the universe for one hot second and come check it out, you introspective ninnies. Just kidding. You know me. I'm a happy girl, and I like pizza.
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