Crazy Talk

sometimes, i'll be walking down the street and think, i love los angeles. the weather is good. the people (most of them) in my neighborhood are nice. i don't go to the boring west side of l.a. very often, and i avoid hollywood as much as possible; so i really don't have to deal with some of the stereo-typical los angeles crap. you know, the stuff jay leno likes to talk about. until yesterday...

at work, i was minding my own business. this well-dressed woman came up to me and said she liked my haircut and she wishes she could have a haircut like mine. i agreed with her. i like my hair. so i said to the well-dressed lady, "you could cut your hair like mine, you have a long face too. we have the same shaped face". this was not good of me to say if i was looking for a normal conversation. no, this was the wrong thing for me to say. after i made this comment, the well-dressed, long-faced lady started rambling about what shape her face used to be. Apparently, it was not so long ago that her face was not long. she had her face "fixed" with implants (lots of implants). also, her eyes used to be sunken. she said she was tired of everyone always asking if she was drunk or stoned; "and you can just imagine what my eyes looked like when i was drunk and stoned--really, really drunk and stoned." this went on and on. she listed every procedure. the implants, the lifts, the liposuction, the botox. it was incredible. she was amazing me.

have you ever had the experience when someone is talking crazy to you, and the whole time they're talking you're thinking, holycowholyshitthispersonissocrazyican'tbelieveiamhearingwhatiamhearingican'twaittotellsomeoneaboutthis?
usually, i have these type moments when a homeless person is talking crazy to me. when i went to therapy, i had moments like these all the time. i had this one therapist who was really nuts. she would play movie sound tracks,put a blanket over my lap and ask me to close my eyes. she would say in a low, soothing tone,

"now, emily, do you hear the violins?"
"yes."
"listen to the violins. imagine the violins carrying your anxiety out of this office, outside, and over the treetops."
(trying really hard not to laugh) "okay."

this therapist did a lot for me. her look, her gestures and voice were so over the top, i was able to construct a pretty good character study. that's really why i kept going to therapy. she was an outrages character and i wanted to study her. oh, she also made me wear a rubber band on my wrist. the idea was, every time i had a bad thought, i was to snap the rubber band against my wrist. wearing the rubber band reminded me that i don't accessorize enough and i bought more bracelets.

anyway, my conversation with the crazy plastic surgery lady was kind of like that. here she was, assuming that i didn't think less of her for changing the way she looked with knives. she even said, "this is not anything out of the ordinary, right? i mean, this is l.a., right?" truth is, all i really felt was sorry for her. not only has she cut up her face, but she probably tells everyone; even the girl who sells her pe'tit basque.

while she listed her "procedures", i couldn't help but vacillate between concentrating on memorizing what she was saying, and making sure my face wasn't matching my thoughts. this was hard-- memorizing, keeping a still face (which would've been easier if i had her face), while in my head i was thinking, holycowwhatthehellthisisweirdiammovingfarawaydontforgettowritethisdownwhenyougethome.

i feel guilty. every time someone is talking crazy, i love it and i stick around because i love crazy talk. that's largely why i like to talk to mom. i like to notice new things about her...to mimic later. same with my mother-in-law; same with this guy at church who always has strange prayer requests; same with just about everyone. it's a sickness. it's bad and i know it. i'm sick, but thinking about walking down the street to the dry cleaner's today because the guy there is really weird. ughhh.