When I went to Papua New Guinea in 2009, I met a villager who asked me the name of my homeland. I told her the USA and she asked, “The United States of Africa?” Then she smiled and tried to sell me the head of a pig. A dead pig. It was on a platter. We were surrounded by shoeless people and fresh-really-fresh vegetables. I think about her all the time. And I think about who I was when I met her: dirty, curious, spontaneous, fearless (Okay, not totally fearless– there were warring tribes and machetes everywhere and maybe I slept with my flashlight). I vowed to always be at least a part of that girl no matter what. I came home convinced I’d never wear makeup again. I wanted to forever be a traveling hippie.
And then I hired a lady to clean my apartment.
I was okay with it for a while because, as I learned after I posted about her a few weeks ago, I joined a very large club of dirty Angelenos. I learned the rule that everyone in LA has a house cleaner but nobody in LA admits to having a house cleaner. I got plenty of emails saying, “Thank you for saying something. I’ve been feeling so guilty about it.”
I felt like a maid pioneer, like I was maid to have a maid (sorry).
But then she broke my toothbrush holder.
It was a very special toothbrush holder that sticks to the wall so that it doesn’t take up counter space. I bought it at CB2. I swear this will be important information if I haven’t lost you yet. The house cleaner didn’t say anything about it. She simply moved my toothbrush to my shower and pretended like it didn’t happen. I mean, she broke my toothbrush holder.
But this really wasn’t something I could tell anyone. I wanted to complain about the injustice! I wanted to tell people how rude it is for a maid to break something and not even apologize. But who goes to work and says, “Oh my god, you guys, my maid like totally broke my toothbrush holder.” I thought about that girl staring into the eyes of that pig head in Papua New Guinea and complaining to that villager that maids really shouldn’t break ceramic toothbrush holders because there are very few convenient CB2 locations, and….
WHO HAVE I BECOME!?
HELP!? I am an adult. A member of society. A member with a maid and an iPhone. I don’t wear the same clothes every day anymore (mostly), and I have brushed my hair within the last 72 hours. WHaAAAAaoooaaaaaa?! I am the person I was running away from when I left to travel.
I need to head out with a backpack. I need to stop painting my nails. I need to dance to some drums and eat something that could possibly give me diarrhea. STAT.
Once I realized that I’m a maid hirer with a broken toothbrush holder, it opened my eyes to who else I am. Here are some expressions I have uttered just this week, expressions that do not pass the Papua New Guinean test, expressions that would make me hate myself if I weren’t going to psychology school to learn how to not hate myself:
-I can’t believe Starbucks is out of Spinach/Feta wraps again.
-I have to call you back. I can’t concentrate at the self check-out while I’m on the phone.
-I can’t believe my favorite pop-up restaurant is closing.
-I’ll take the juevos rancheros with tofu instead of eggs. And can you put the sauce on the side?
-I’m not eating carbs until summer is over.
-Should I get my teeth whitened?
-I really think my hair should frame my face a little more
-Let’s sign up for a 10k
-I have such a craving for an oaky wine.
-I just can’t keep up with all my texts and emails.
-Pardon me, do you have any Grey Poupon?
I just want to apologize to that New Guinean villager for not keeping the promise I made to her as I stared into her dead pig’s eyes. I mean, I didn’t make a literal promise to her, but if we had been in a class together and she had been able to write English, she would have definitely written in my yearbook, “Don’t Change.” But I did change. I’m on the other side. I will come back, my friend. And I will be wearing my Barack Obama T-shirt for 8 days in a row like I was then. And I will have dreads in my hair after not moving it for nine months. And I will not care about the Starbucks’ menu or a dumb toothbrush holder. But I might bring up teeth whitening just so we can have a funny conversation. And I might also try to describe pizza to you once again, as that one was memorable. And I will eat that magic sauce you offer me, even though I know it’s just soy sauce and not magic at all. Or maybe totally magic.
It will happen again, as I am still that wandering, wondering girl. I’m just in a phase of the First World for a bit. But not for long. Now that I’ve tasted two personalities, I can walk the scraggly line in between them and one day hone in on a balance. Until then, I will continue to enjoy those spinach/feta wraps from Starbucks. Surprisingly good. Yep, still hate myself for writing that. I should quit that psychology school.
Comments
32 responses to “Who We, Like, Become”
I feel ya, girl. Was pissed off the Ritz Carlton in Laguna only offer single blade razors in the men’s spa. Weak. The lobster tacos were delicious, but entirely too small. AND I am fucking sunburnt. Assholes can’t put up more shade around the pool?!? Really?
NOT SINGLE BLADES?!
I can relate. My cleaning lady ruined the one decent maternity shirt that I owned that made me feel pretty and not like a frumpy whale. I whined about it and then remembered – I have a cleaning lady. And she does my laundry. I have little to complain about.
Also, there is a slight possibility that it was my husband who actually ruined my shirt.
Wait, you have a cleaning lady too?! The whole world must! Who knew? Mine doesn’t do my laundry. I lose.
You also said “I had this dream last night…” I would tell you what happened afterwards, but I fell asleep listening to someone talk about their dream.
Thanks for adding to the pile. I hate myself even more now.
These are the same kinds of things I too think about daily as I sit here with myokymia (a nasty eye twitch) from working at an office job. My Italian army back pack gathers dust and I can’t believe I just signed up for a monthly package at the spa.
I tell myself that everything happens in cycles and that this (office jobby job thing) will once again pass and THEN I’ll be free again!! Free – I tell you, free to don the same corduroy pants til the ass wears out. Then I’ll continue to wear them, ass-less, through some hot, dusty street in a third world country as amused brown men lick their ice cream cones and watch me walk past in utter amazement. But it *ain’t* happening fast enough. I tease my boss, who totally believes that 12/21/12 is the end of the world, by saying “What the hell are we doing here every day, then?” Only I’m not kidding.
I have a feeling you could still get those stares of utter amazement here right now if you wear ass-less pants!
I can relate to everything you have written with one exception: Why did you include the word ‘like’ in the title and several other times through the missive? Completely unnecessary and redundant. While in Starbucks!! just yesterday, I listened to a conversation between two young ladies (well, they were under 40). I determined to count the number of times I heard the word ‘like’ in a minute. I lost count at 32, because I couldn’t keep up.
You are a writer, and a damned fine one. Please refrain from dumbing it down :)
Just sayin’ – feel free to ignore.
R
xxx
Sadly, it’s part of who I have become toooooo! Like, you know what I mean?
Let’s run away together…only I aint wearing dreds.
okay! this would be super romantic if it wasn’t my mom.
OMG is Wolf in Sheeps closing? I need to have some more of their biscuits but I’m still on my cleanse!……shoot me. just shoot me now.
May 28 is the last day! WHAT WILL WE DO?
I too have a cleaning lady, and by now, after twenty-five years she’s “family” and breaks my things once a year, and pretends it never happened, because that’s what all the cleaning ladies in the world are taught in cleaning-lady school: plausible deniability…without the plausible part.
Over the past six months, I’ve been wearing the same things everyday wondering if anyone notices, and I don’t think they do cuz I don’t notice what they wear. In my business, we don’t look at each other’s clothes…or faces. We look at computer screens.
Here’s a secret of mine, since you share yours. I want to be better than I am. Every time I get close, I let myself down.
Irv
But if you were better than you are, how would you know?
How would I know if I improve? I watch myself interact with others now and I remember how I did that in the past. I watch my behavior regarding tolerance and confidence. With more practice I can remain cool, calm and collected with others and myself. But it’s still not enough. I just got fired from a project because I exposed my stress to the client who was more stressed than me.
Most of this inadequacy is about diminishing fears. Shedding fear is a big goal, and when I still feel threatened by fears (mostly illusions) I become disappointed with myself.
I know a lot about getting caught in psychological traps. Yet, that continues to happen. Less and less, but it still happens. I just don’t want to worry so much!
Irv
I totally agree with you! Fuck fear.
Just remember to be gentle with yourself. You are doing the best you can at any given moment! It’s not like you planned to show your stress to a client. My teacher always says, “Nobody wakes up and plans to be an asshole that day.”
So, give yourself a break. You’re super aware of your actions, and that can only mean that the risk of stress and fear getting to you lessens every day!
This week I said to myself “Coinstar charges 9.8 cents per dollar ?!?! That’s a 9.8% interest rate!!! That is ridiculous.” I still did it.
I find those damn spinach wraps surprisingly good as well. Weird.
Surprisingly good– which is why it’s so annoying when they run out! I would have said the same thing: 9.8% is ridiculous!
Funny Laurenne but you know you can be both that woman and you!!! My housekeeper breaks things all the time and never tells me. I have had her for over 20 years you’d think she would say something by now.
All righty. I’ve learned a lot today. Housekeepers break shit and we’re all rich.
You don’t have to stop wearing making up. That dude in the first photo is totally wearing yellow foundation.
I regularly contemplate the reason for my savings account. My heart says TRAVEL! GO! SEE! DO! but my head says BUY A HOUSE ONE DAY AND DECORATE IT LIKE AN HGTV SHOW OR A PINTEREST BOARD!
(Note to self: Colorful outdoor rugs are cheaper in third world countries)
Later I will deny it was me who wrote this post.
Thanks for the reminder to make the old usses proud! And I have totally been thinking about the Facebook stock too! So cosmically connected. <3!
“And I think about who I was when I met her: dirty, curious, spontaneous, and fearless”.
You still ARE that person, just less dirty, y’know, because you hired a maid.
human beings have always strived to achieve a more convenient lifestyle. those tribal New Guineans? they’d have maids and starbucks and toothbrush holders, too. well, once they were done with the machetes and pig heads and stuff….
I found this post really touching… there is so much in your words that my language fails to grasp words to tell you what I feel… and I am sure that I am not the only one, but maybe I am the only one who is not afraid to tell you how deeply you have touch them and I am too old and too secure to duck and dodge what I feel with other smart-alecky, I am too-cool-for-school comments…
You should be lauded for whatever you do in life… that much I know!
you’re the most beautiful hippie wondering wandering in the world.
also, those damn spinach feta things are pretty spectacular.
and i overheard myself say, “I’m going on a juice cleanse for a week.”
for the record, i didn’t, i just ate more and now everything is too tight. and for once in my life that is okay. sort of. well, for me anyway.
Spain is gonna LOVE you.
i’m pretty sure i spelled wanderer incorrectly in that first comment. i was thinking about the spinach feta wrap… and donuts.
i’m pretty sure i spelled wanderer incorrectly in that first comment. i was thinking about the spinach feta wrap… and donuts.
p.s. is wanderer even word?
p.s.s. i’m not going to wear makeup anymore. or jeans.
oh my god. sorry – but i cannot believe i didn’t address that whore maid of yours. this is why i refuse to let a stranger into my home. a toothbrush holder is hard to come by.
okay, that’s it from me. see you in TWO DAYS for Tabooooooooo!!!