Dealing With Mortality and Department Stores

Oh the bitter sweetness!  Oh LIFE!  God, this life is such the Ultimate Poem!!!  Do I need to explain, or do you just GET it???  Well… I will explain…

A couple of months ago, I was on the phone with my dad and I was feeling frustrated about being in this [all too familiar] survival loop where I was just barely making it.  (My M.O.)  You know, that feeling of perpetual survival mode.  I started to express how uninspired I was every time I went to get dressed and I started to cry.  Shrug.  What can I say?  It sounds shallow… but it builds up and every once in a while the frustration of not feeling capable of creating abundance bursts like an undercover dam in me.  Here’s something I learned in the moments that followed.  I honestly did not realize this before, but daddies hate for their daughters to cry.  Is that true?  At least MOST daddies with even half a heart.  I didn’t know because I had rarely allowed myself to be that open with my dad in the past.  It was a new technology in my scope of emotional expression!

So what did he do, he bought me a gift card at his FAVORITE store!!!!  Kohl’s…

Yeah, that cheapo central, where everything is made in China by precious, tender humans all under the age of ten.  The store where Britney Spears is one of the main junior department models and Paris Hilton has her own perfume!  And the BEST part is that he explicitly directed me to shop on the SALE racks!  Now please understand, I AM entirely poking fun at this situation, AND… and I feel SO loved by my dad and appreciative of his generosity.  Come on, given his reference points and orientation to life, he offered me a gift from his heart.  His miserly jewish father’s heart, the heart that deals craps in Reno, Nevada (and has been for like forty years) and supports a family including a wife and twin eleven year olds.  It tickled me to get this intimate glimpse into his universe, where the sale racks at Kohl’s reign supreme and line his family’s closets with cheaply made junk turned regal robes.

I hate shopping.  And worse, I hate shopping under fluorescent lights with noisy pop music blaring in my head and air conditioning freezing me out of my own skin bag.  But there comes a time in every American woman’s life when she must face this Beast.  Maybe.  At least the majority of us.  Thank God, Mykael accompanied me.  Can we have a round of applause for the man?  No seriously.  Give him a round of applause.

Thank you.  I mean how many men do you know who not only accompany their girlfriends shopping, but also are PROACTIVE participants.  I don’t know none. (That grammar would make my dad turn in his grave, if he HAD one…)  Yeah, Mykey even picks stuff out that he thinks would look hot on me and gives me very useful feedback, which I need, because my brain turns to mush inside these treacherous, soulless realms otherwise known as department stores.  I’m pretty sure they’re designed that way… by… who?  Ummm, the Powers that Be, I guess.  The ones that want to manage and restrict the human vibration so that we can more easily be manipulated and controlled and kept in a holding pattern, unaware of our true power, potential and infinite creative potential.  Really.  I am NOT a conspiracy theorist, but I know this to be true.  I know because I FELT the life get sucked out of me in a matter of minutes.

My saving grace though?  I felt my father loving me as I shopped.  And that is a beautiful feeling.  I worked so hard to remain peaceful as I shopped… and I did a great job.  The worst of it was a moment in the dressing room when Mykael started talking like Kevin, from my *favorite* (and only) TV show, The Office.  Kevin’s the big, fat, sorta slow and highly adorable character.  The Office.  Wonder Woman!  That show has seriously carried me through some dark times.  A few years ago, I spent an entire winter in bed, so bereft by this confusing thing called life… watching the entire first two seasons of The Office.  And no matter how dark it got inside me… no matter how dark… The Office managed to make me laugh, bring me joy.  It’s strange.  I never thought TV would be medicine for me… but it was the only thing that seemed to help me cope with the thick, engulfing darkness.

It is summer time now, so there are no new episodes.  Generally I don’t even think about it… since I’m rarely in the watch TV via the internet mode.  But hearing Kevin come so clearly through Mykael as I zipped up a scandalously teensy pair of denim shorts, I felt a wave of longing.  That’s when Mykael broke the horrifying news that Steve Carell (who plays the Michael Scott character, the boss/mother hen of the office) is resigning from the show!  THIS IS NOT OKAY.  I repeat, THIS IS NOT OKAY.  I repeat… oh, okay, I will spare you… but…

THE OFFICE IS NOTHING WITHOUT STEVE CARELL.  He is the epicenter, the heart and soul of the show.  Even in such a rigid, corporate environment as a paper company in Scranton, Pennsylvania, he transcends all odds through his child-like spirit and makes the work environment a sweeping act of beauty.  He generates a family.  He erects a playground where any other would see merely desks and chairs and computers.  You could NEVER plug up the holes where vibrant life gushes from him, because they are infinite as the pores of the universe, Itself.

And now he’s leaving.

And someday I will die.

And I just supported child labor in China.

But at least my daddy loves me!

Amen.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Errol Strider
    Jul 19, 2010 @ 00:26:28

    Athena…Boy can I feel you through your words, darlin’…you’re family…I was there with you and mykael trying on clothes…you’ve got a gift…keep writing…and plan on coming over to see us soon.
    In the meantime, check out my blog…I’m sure you’ll relate…find a topic that’s sounds interesting…let’s keep the poetrilogue going.
    LovInYou,
    Errol
    http://www.insightoutwitherrol.blogspot.com
    PS. Tonight’s radio show is on the them “Two-gether.” How it’s the inevitable next stage of evolution, oh, and thanks to you and your dad for giving employment to those 3 year Chines kids.

    Reply

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