"In vacant or in pensive mood..." I am: Bekah; 24; Law Student / Favorite Things: Carbs (so there!), Johnny Damon, Smiling at babies, Grilled cheese, Comfortable silence / Favorite Supreme Court Justice: Brennan / Favorite Wilson: Owen by an inch / Today's Special: Song: Elliott Smith, "Bled White"; Quote: "You know, there's like a butt-load of gangs at this school. This one gang kept wanting me to join because I'm pretty good with a bowstaff." Please love me: mmbekah@yahoo.com


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Rose Colored Glasses

So, hypothetically, if I were to travel far, far away from where I go to law school to a magical place where they hypothetically hold a mythical festival called “Mardi Gras” for over two weeks and where there are constant hypothetical parades and parties going on during the hypothetical month of February, I could, hypothetically, write about the experiences I have in such a fictional, hypothetical location, correct? Good. Now, everyone get ready for some totally made-up hypothetical fun!

Mardi Gras is upon us, and, although I started out this year as a little bit of a curmudgeon, I think I may be coming around. In general, I don't enjoy any event that involves mindless masses of people milling around like cattle lumbering to the slaughter. To give you a particularly vivid example, I hate Disney World. It is not a happy place for me; it is a place that makes me feel alienated. And when I feel alienated, I start getting all existential on people’s asses, and it’s not pretty. Like Disney World, Mardi Gras parades usually fall into my category of the dehumanizing and the profane. Oooh, beads. Oooh, unfortunate body parts on display. Oooh, some guy’s puke on my shoe. Now that's a party!

That said, I went to a parade with J a few days ago (who, incidentally, looks and acts like a little boy on Christmas morning when he catches good beads), and I actually enjoyed myself. J saw me smiling and being (gasp) somewhat pleasant and involved, and said, “I thought you hated parades!” I held up my Hurricane (a famous drink of the rum + red stuff variety) and said, “Rose colored glasses, my friend.” And it was true. It’s all in the way you look at things. I guess sometimes even a confirmed Mardi Gras scrooge can lighten up and don a few stupid plastic necklaces once in a while...and actually have a good time doing it. Totally unbelievable, I know. But this is a completely fictional story, and it doesn’t have to make sense. As if I would really live somewhere where this type of nonsense goes on…

Unrelated Note: Go here. I am laughing out loud right now. Thanks to Scott. Grimace Palm! is my favorite.

posted by Bekah at 3:27 PM :: |