I am a sad girl right now. Lots of reasons. I’m in the library downtown. Not feeling inspired or communicative enough to go downstairs to the Media Democracy Day event, and it seems like the same old, same old, and I’m sick of conferences anyway. We can’t get past fighting ourselves or each other to challenge anyone or anything else substanially. There is a snotty cow stroking her ponytail two desks away from mine. It must be a curse to have a face like that. Pretty and snotty. What am I saying, I can do it too, anyone can do snotty, but some peoples faces are better equipped for it. It makes me feel better to mock others. Sad, but true.
The other thing that gives me comfort when I am sad is going to the drug store. I noticed it last night when I walked through the automatic doors into Shopper’s Drug Mart. I’ve been doing it for years, wasting away hours in the drug store. Looking at all the hand and face creams, magazines, blenders, vitamins and the different kinds of chocolate. It’s so calm in there, and you can get almost everything you need. I prefer London Drugs, more options and they carry more of what I need like blank dvd’s and tapes. I guess it’s the grown up version of my teenage mall escapes. It is disturbing though, a little. Mostly I don’t care. Whatever works right now. Swimming, reading, mocking people, crying, watching crap TV, and the rare decent show, and writing.
I have been reading ‘The Diary of Anne Frank”. Thought I would cheer myself up. I have never read it, not terribly good jewish girl of me, but I’m not. I found a hard cover copy in the thrift store in Grand Forks. I can see why so many people have identified with her. She doubts herself, as do most thirteen year olds and average humans, but she is also funny, a bit goofy, old-soul smart, occasionally annoying, but very lovable and so brave. I wish I had the drive to write when I was young, when secrets were killing me and my family, a book of my own, where I could say everything. I have it now, her name is Hanna. I am only on page 65 and we all know how it ends, even without reading it. She left the world a great gift. I know it’s probably a very tired cliche, jewish girls wanting to be like Anne, any girls or boys wanting to be like Anne. I aspire to be like anyone who is brave, funny, loving, wise and smart. Sometimes, but not at the moment, I can be.
