fromthemouthofmoi

I had been unhappy about the quality of people I have met here in Merida. I found them to be either raging alcoholics incapable of a decent conversation, uninteresting, not in their own right, but in terms of matching my interests, or from some place on the planet that infers that New Yorkers are obnoxious and to be avoided. There is truth in a language spoken and shared; being sometimes a relationship of immediate understanding. When I was introduced to C, a fellow New Yorker, I was made happy by her snide comments and fast clipped talking and constant interruptions. It made me feel 'at home'. And I knew that my reciprocation of equally snide remarks and interruptions were well received too. Try doing that with any other state member and you will see people flinch and look annoyed. As they wander away, you can hear them mutter things about your rudeness all with an air that is supposed to convince me they went to elocution school and graduated from Bryn Mawr. At anytime I ca...

I hold many secrets of those that I love and for those that I could care less about. I hold these secrets because half of them I have forgotten and the other half, I know, that should I reveal them in anger or flippancy, it will be me that stands alone looking ill-bred. Merida is run amok and rampant with Gringos that love to gossip. I always expect this behaviour from people who stand before hallway lockers, dialing combination numbers, while acne wreaks havoc upon their faces. I am never expecting this faux forte from people who are my age. Plainly spoken, I feel devastation when I witness gossip. When I am asked to participate by answering a question or when I find myself overhearing it, I can feel the blood rush to my face with anger. I knew my mother was a hypocrite when I sat in the kitchen of her Vancouver apartment and overheard her bad-mouth another woman, from the living room, with what was gossip. I felt so inflamed that I jumped from my seat and asked her how she coul...