Get In Where You Fit In

Last Saturday, I took Barbarella and her wife and another friend to a fashioney thing at 111 Minna. I could hardly walk two feet without seeing two people I hadn't seen in two years. By the time we left I felt like a bottle of social moisturizer:

Directions for use:

1. Air kiss (for best results, apply to both cheeks)

2. Hug (use equal parts flirtatiousness and awkwardness - WARNING obliviousness to gender may occur)

3. Comment on the fabulousness of each others appearance (wait at least 30 secs.)

4. After applying social moisturizer, nothing of substance may appear. If so, excuse yourself, and re-apply to someone else.

I'm not implying that these were vapid people, more that when I knew them...

...we didn't know each other. I had just moved to SF, was unemployed, and lived in a breakfast room that was only big enough for a ratty futon and about 10 inches to stand on either side of it. They were designers, musicians, writers, travelers, and flush with cash that was still seeping out from under the dot.com bust. Admittedly, I was intimidated, and rather than spew BS about who I was, I just let it remain a mystery. The side effect of that, is that none of us really got to know each other.

I think this is why I've been reconnecting with the punk rawk side of myself. There isn't necessarily an imbalance of "power" (I'm leery of using the word 'power,' in that no one had any power per se, more that my self perception was such that I didn't feel like I was bringing much to the table, so I felt guilty sitting down to dinner). With the punks and too-cool-to-be-hipsters, I didn't worry about what was being brought to the table, because we all felt good just having a table to begin with. I'm sure the whole dialectic is all in my head, because the world surrounding me is all in my head, too.

I think I might want to check out the cool kids table at the cafeteria again...