ROACH BACK

Leif is a fat caterpillar today for his school play.

Leif:  The problem is, mom, that when I say the line "i want fried chicken and jello' i get so hungry.  

Mom: Method acting, son. You are really getting into character.  Just roll with it. Say it like you mean it, cause you mean it.

If he comes to breakfast as a roach, though, I may have to throw an apple at his back. "Wake up, son! Come back to this table when you can act like a boy." And when he comes back acting like a boy, I 'll shout "stop smacking. the table is no place to act like a boy?" the heirarchy of table creatures...roach-->monkey--->boy---->diplomat--->president. (women have a different heirarchy...maybe...ladybug-->kitty cat--->princess--->unemployed diplomat--->vice presidential hopeful)

I am being the "unemployed" at a coffee shop, wearing a wool cap, searching the inter webs for jobs, writing some shitty poems, hacking out a blog entry, reading some self help literature.  Self help to teach me how to over analyze myself and every word that comes out of my mouth and the other person's mouth and draw large expansive conclusions about the world and the inner workings of self and soul and mind and the interconnectedness of the breeze and the trees and my chakras, how to be aware of every noise, sound, thought, word....It's working. It's really working.   I don't need to read self help, I need to get a job. No. I need an eye patch to see less, bind my left leg and add a peg to walk gimpily, get there slower. Dull the senses so to speak.  Awareness is a bad idea. 7 self help books means 7 more miles of distance between you and the nearest person, especially if you don't watch television and have lost all ability to small talk.  Especially if you don't have a job.  I left the house to save my mind. The coffee house owner is handsome and smiles a lot. At least there's that.

"what do you have planned today?" he asks.

"EEERRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...write a blog, overexposing myself making everyone worry about my mental health,  then maybe sabotage my pretty good relationship with a sweet fella by picking apart every word starting with the latin root, ending with my feelings (hey lady--drop blogs not bombs!), mostly and consistently all day no matter what, i'm going to avoid all the laundry and dishes at the house and instead maybe research tiny homes since that makes perfect sense as my boys hit growth spurts requiring 12 ft ceilings and 4 chickens each per supper, also i think i'll research jobs overseas maybe in Costa Rica, since childhood was so idyllic and at any given point we should all misguidedly try miserably to recreate childhood..." smiling knowing my audience "all this while drinking  lots and lots of coffee, and only talk about drinking gin." 

Mostly, just passing the time til my favorite fat caterpillar, in the spotlight of childhood bliss, nails his special lines.