Birds Fly In the Eye Of A Painter’s Daughter

This week, I worked too much and too many hours and life was too eventful and I magically transformed from a generally happy person with a fulfilling life back into a Pie-Spinning, Lightning-Bolt-Throwing, Snake-Scaring Bitch. So it was just like old times. Last night, the only person who had the nerve to confront me about my bad behavior asked if I were done disrupting the power grid and would I please quit fogging up mirrors for five miles in every direction?

Let’s not make too much of this: yesterday and the day before, my apartment complex was infested with chainsaw-wielding freaks on a mission. I blew a gasket. Today it rained a lot. This afternoon: no chainsaw-wielding freaks. Perhaps everyone took a long weekend. Perhaps the imminent local threat of floral devastation has passed. Let’s hope so. I can’t turn gawkers to stone forever!

I’m exhausted. Yesterday, Lupe and I got into it.

Lupe: Come to the meeting. It’s ten to noon.
Tata: I’m not going! Two hours is too long.
Lupe: We need your input. You’re an important judge of people.
Tata: I’m a terrible judge of character. I love my exes but are you kidding me? And two hours is too long.
Lupe: We talked about this. I need your help.
Tata: We talked about this and I’m not going! Two hours is too long!
Lupe: Well, be like that and don’t go.
Tata: I’m not going!
Lupe: So you’ll go?
Tata: I’m very unhappy!

By this time, we were standing face to face and snorting and I wish I had been a third person so I could play Point & Laugh because we don’t argue like co-workers; no, we argue like we’re slamming bedroom doors and stealing each other’s clothes. Daria and I used to fight like professional wrestlers, complete with improbable stunts and unlikely props. As a young actress, I once went after her with a baseball bat but I hadn’t yet learned to commit to a character and follow through with organic behaviors so I let her call Mom’s best friend who told me in no uncertain terms over the phone that bashing holes in the walls with a bat was droll but bashing my siblings was not part of the curriculum at the High School of Performing Arts where she had gone and I longed to be because it was 1980, and I should quit it. Fame! So Lupe and I are having a teenage sister fight and the Referree appears.

Gianna: Lupe tells me you’re not going to the meeting. You’re very important. We need your help deciding…

It is not actually true anyone needs my help with anything. I serve as the Rorschach test for people who don’t know me, and Gianna observes, and everyone benefits. For instance, once the CEO of a major North American book service vendor approached me with wet hands and said they were wet because he washed them in the men’s room. I am the person for him to have said this to. Without introducing myself, I stuck out my hand, and we shook while I laughed maniacally. He did not flinch. He gave a speech and I wondered what we’d argue about in the shower because I sensed he’d spent his life developing a public personna even he might not see through. Gianna, however, sees none of this when she sits down in my cubicle. She moves papers off an extra chair. My defenses fold because there is never any need for defenses with my boss and the truth serves. Damn it!

Tata: When I talk people aren’t listening and two hours is too long for me to sit still and haven’t you noticed me limping around the office for months and I can’t believe I have to say this out loud and –
Gianna: How about you sit as long as you can and then you don’t?
Tata: Okay.

Damn it! If I had started out rational I might feel less stupid. I went to that meeting, disappeared for a while, returned later in different clothes because I do that.

Gianna: Glad you’re still here.
Tata: I am?

This morning, I called Lupe’s office on the other side of the river.

Tata: I’m sorry I expected you to be my Psychic Friend and when I said something I expected you to know I meant something else and that’s not sane.
Lupe: Okay. See you after lunch.
Tata: What, you’re not telling Mom?

I have got to calm down!

This afternoon, we had a meeting at which I articulated everything that’s bothered me all week –

Tata: Hmina hmina hmina they brought their board but left at home the people we’d contact every day. Where’s the balance? Who cares if they stand like Mount Rushmore and have some big old vision? Are they going to answer the phone and give me what I want?
Co-Workers: …What?…Did she say?…Yeah!
Tata: Is it my nap time? That’s the real question.

Happy Weekend, Poor Impulsives. I will now become One with my couch.

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