Misguided Angel

I sat outside my office today, drinking strong coffee and listening to the Cowboy Junkies on my IPOD. I like sitting there, watching the kids walk from the punk clothing store down to the vintage store, the same arrogance and confidence I had at 16 or 17. And it's funny how style hasn't really changed, especially with these kids, or maybe it's just returned to where I was when I was their age, I don't know. Funny though, that as I sat there, two guys walked by, and one said, "Mad flannel, man" to me. It caught me off guard and made me laugh. The really strange thing is that I really don't feel that I've grown up that much on the inside. Sometimes, laying there in bed in the morning, or afternoon as it usually is, I can imagine my mom calling up the stairs that I need to head out to school to pick up my friends Margaret and Licia. And I like that I don't feel thirty six. My friend MaryAnn, who is fifty eight going on twenty two, told me last year to ask myself on my birthday how old I'd be if I didn't know my birthday. I definitely wouldn't say 16, but I don't feel like I'm almost 40 either. But the really strange thing is that I kind of like getting older and still being a little bit adolescent or crazy in my behaviors and actions. It's sobering. And so I love that I wear "Mad Flannel" I guess. If that's even a compliment, I don't know. I like that I still listen to The Smiths, The Cure and New Order. And really, it doesn't really remind me of being 16, because I don't feel any different, and I think that's why I have such a difficult time with the corporate types who are married and have three kids. I'm sure they're happy, but man, they're speaking a different language. Last week in Denver, Paul took me to a great vegetarian restaurant, City O City. The food was amazing but the atmosphere was like I was catapulted back into high school. Loud, creative style blared from every booth, filled with political discussion and crushes pouring over hot tea and hummus. It makes me a little sad that I wasn't out in high school. But it would have been different anyway. The world wasn't ready for that yet. So maybe, even though I like getting older, I don't really like change. Maybe that's what I'm learning this year. Nine years ago, my father bought me a Jack Russell puppy, Griffin. Six months later, I had an extremely aggressive dog, who although absolutely adorable and intellectual, ruined everything I owned and bit me on regular occasions. He continues to bite me, as most of my friends and family know. But, I made a commitment to this little guy, and I don't think he knows better most of the time anyway. He just can't help it. He doesn't learn. And many vets, dog specialists and psychologists have told me to put him to sleep, but everyone knows, in my pursuit to start a true no kill animal shelter, that is just not an option. So he and I will be together, forever probably. Never learning, never really getting older, dancing around the house to The Smiths, both of us a little misguided. And that's ok. And I'll still shop at vintage clothing stores, and jam to old music that's becoming new again. And I'll still go out on a Sunday and do photo essays of graveyards or gas stations that are totally pointless. And I hope I become a little bit wiser through the years, but never trademarked. I don't want to lose my dreams. But I do want to achieve them. So, I'll keep sitting out in front of my office, and maybe someday, some cute guy, who's a little bit more my age, will walk up, and say, "Hey, mad flannel." And then I'll know. Yep, I'll know.