(Postmodern, bossa nova, middle eastern cuisine, laissez-faire, nubilous. Fighting or conflict.)
Sitting here sweating in robes, drinking mint tea and trying to discuss the nubilous issues surrounding the most recent movie I have seen....I find my self at odds with Cheryl. She is a little Dutch mod girl, with Chinese friends. I am American, child of the seventies, a free-Tibet fair trade fan, a post modern chica.
"How can you say their ways are outdated? Where does your certainty that industrialism is the superior way to live come from anyway?" Did I say this out loud?
I am responding to her statement that the way village people live in Nepal and Tibet, with their dirt floors and religious beliefs, is simply an outdated way of life, and that Tibet is China, absolutely, and that they will simply have to conform to "modern life" in the present day.
Before meeting her here I was in a cinema seeing "10 Questions For the Dali Lama" and was virtually looking into the man's face for almost two hours. I went into it with a Lama-positive outlook, and all those beliefs were confirmed for me in watching the movie. Who am I, who is anyone to say this man is not a god on Earth? I suppress my redneck outrage and remember that this is my friend and that I am civilized. Also that I am far too enlightened to resort to anger, and should instead persuade. I try to contemplate her point of view.....
But let's be honest. Cheryl is a very young, multi-degreed, about-to-be married woman. Her hair is blond and her skin is freckleless and perfect. Her tall, slim frame has never worn the hunched shoulders of a conflicted conscience. Her job is to learn, on behalf of the government, how to overcome the negative stigma associated with something like, say, nuclear power plants, how to make such a thing more appealing to the public.
Where do I start?
Ten years ago I would probably never have a friend like Cheryl. She is dear to me. She asked me to meet her here, I have discovered, so that she can relate to me the almost affair she could have had when a colleague confessed his feelings to her over a very platonic dinner on a business trip in a very exotic city (with her approaching wedding but a month away!), and also to confess that it made her ego feel good. I feel pretty charmed by her in this. So I tread lightly and mentally map out a plan to change her mind over time about what she probably considers a very small thing. No need to throw things. Yet.
Another friend, Tara, a very smart friend, told me she believes there is no reason to make a bed. That it is a waste of time since you are just going to get right back in it. My husband has the very same opinion. I smile at this and wonder how she must regard me, and my ever increasing domesticity, how much of my world revolves around such rituals, and why I do it. I find value in the ritual of it. I do it because it means I have a bed, and time and energy. Why do the dishes? Why make house at all? Why pray? Why wear clothes? Why do anything?
In his fantasy-bachelor-life my husband would find a way to end up working at his company's branch in Brazil. I will see every samba show that comes to town with him, and wiggle my ass off with him, and mean it, but when it comes right down to it, so far, I say no to the idea of anything more involved than a vacation in Brazil. And I know that it will never happen unless I change my mind. He will have to make do with the same old bossa he knows and loves..this may be the reason I make the bed.
My cousin Jenna chats with me long distance about trying to find a gift for her friend's wedding. "I've got the registry list, but tell me, does anyone ever use the crap they are given? And really, for a couple getting married at thirty-five, do they really need a crystal flower vase? Or candy dish? Or any other thing more to dust?!"
I understand what she is saying. But I also recall a different world, a different life, a million years ago, another me. I recall the daily morning sweeping of the previous night's broken glass. I explain to her, "A glass whatever on a shelf in a home tells everyone that fragile things can survive there."
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On wedding registries for married couples: I love to view these lists and it's something I often do. Some people bite their nails, I view the Target wedding registries. It always seems that the newlyweds are planning to bake up a storm. Everyone has that Kitchenaid mixer. Sometimes they are the type that are into barware and I can't help but think they think it will be soiree after soiree. Still, that Kitchenaid mixer. Once I found these weird plastic and cork things in our kitchen misc drawer when I was seven. I asked my mom what they were. She said they were wine bottle stoppers and a wedding gift. She then told me told me my father told her before they got married they would listen to music and drink wine every evening. I was born ten months later and they never did that.
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