The Sofa
2014 thus far has kinda been a ¡Qué perra vida!-themed affair (I'm learning español. Duolingo, holmes!). The sofa was not in and of itself a spirit-breaker. It was sort of the penultimate straw on this camel's back.
Roommate Allison and I moved into our new apartment Friday, January 4th, 2014, the day after The Blizzard of 2014. I don't wanna talk about it, except that I found this steal of a sofa on craigslist 30 minutes after it had been posted, and as we own no things, I was going to make this happen. What ensued thereafter involved hunger, exhaustion, a rented conversion van, un-plowed roads, darkness, premature elation when Allison and I perfectly execute couch-retrieval, snow banks, spinning wheels, darkness, resourcefulness, cardboard boxes, premature pride when I find broken-down boxes, darkness, dumpster, blunt force trauma, my head, rivers of blood, darkness. And then of course one still has to return the rental van.
I packed snow into my pre-frontal lobe until the gushing subsided, and Allison sacrificed her scarf to turn me into a fashionable Rambo. We were in Williamsburg so I may have unintentionally started a new trend. I'll have to go back and check how the ladies are wearing their scarves these days.
Post-victory, exhausted, un-showered (day three), and ready for that Oreo. The next day I had a nice canyon forming from the gash and a forehead that resembled that one dinosaur in Jurassic Park with the - hold on I'll google it, brb - pachycephalosaurus. Kassycephalosaurus.
I was going to have my picture taken for an acting thing two days later. This is what I worried about almost immediately. What an idiot. I should have gone as Kassycephalosaurus. It made my face so much more interesting. The things I choose to focus on ughghghgh. Vanity, ladies. It's not just a river in Egypt. Speaking of Egypt...
"The Square"
NPR gave me a head's up about this documentary that was filmed in the trenches of the revolution happening in Egypt. It was released on Netflix yesterday and today it crashed my pity party and burned it to the ground. I would gladly give everyone in this documentary an opportunity to punch me right in the face. I don't have the right to utter ¡Qué perra vida! - not only because I am not cool, but because I live ¡La dulce vida! ¡INDEED!
I'm annoyed that I get so self-involved. I'm annoyed that I just made this about me again. I'm also annoyed that I can't help my humans in other parts of the world. I can't fight the regimes, I can't save the dolphins, I can't stop the bullies. I guess I can just spread the word within my little circle of influence. That's how the revolution started in the first place, right?
Watch the film. Everything will be ok. Scars are cool.
Kassie
