While I was in line I was eavesdropping on a conversation taking place between two American men about Phoenix, where I’m from. They were obviously both from there, talking about streets and places I knew.
And I didn’t even say hello.
Because if I have to withstand one more conversation that resembles this, someone´s gonna have to put my ass down:
"Wow, you live in Spain???? Wow, HOW NEAT. You must love it! So what brought you here? Oh, that is a DREAM. That is so AMAAAAZING."
These are the same conversations my mother gets me into when I’m home and we are at the sushi bar or at the supermarket when she starts bragging about her daughter right here that LIVES IN SPAIN, OH MY GOD, I´M GONNA CUM. And then the person says,
"Spain, WOW. You must just LOVE IT! What a life, what a DREAM! Do you__________________(complete the question with any one of the following phrases that make me want to head-butt any hard object within the vicinity):
- go to bull fights?
- go to the running of the bulls?
- speak the language?
- get homesick?
- just love it there?
Why do these conversations bother me so much? I guess because for a few moments my life becomes a caricaturized version of itself, an abstraction of itself, and it implodes in its own simulacrum.
And that’s annoying.
-Bluestreak, sometimes I’m a scarecrow of myself.