Nothing But Sunshine

I get a text the other night from the new gothic girl neighbor. She reminds me of Violet from the Incredibles mixed with Daria and a hint of Charles Manson thrown in for good measure. I think it's the swatiska on her forehead or maybe the beard, I can't decide. So the text was, word for word, "Do you have any movies with violence and killing in them, that I can borrow?" Which wouldn't have been thaaat crazy but add the fact that as soon as I muttered to myself, "Yeah I actually do," she rolled out from underneath my bed on one of those mechanic's wheelie board thingys and said, "Excelllllllllent." I was a little startled, as people on rolling boards under my bed tend to do that to me. But I regained my composure, changed my pants and asked her to please stop rolling back and forth, "Can you just be stationary please?" It was a nice little contrast though a sad depressed gothic chick on a board wheeling around and smiling widely. Smiling with murderous intent or glee? Are they really that different in the mind of Violria hot topic consumer? I guess we will have to test that question at a later date. So, I show her to the movies and she starts talking about Patty Hearst and how she thinks she has Stockholm's syndrome. Which really came out of nowhere I believe that I was pontificating on whether crayon shaped hair barrettes were classy or trashy, a perfectly standard conversation topic that ties into any logical discussion, so I have no idea how she ended up going that route. Oh and just for the record, they are pure class. Anyway, back to her insane topic, "Ummm who has held you captive and who have you fallen in love with?" "It's just more the idea the freedom to give up your identity it just opens up so many possibilities." "You would be captive though and the possibilities of your new identity have to line up pretty close to what your captors envision. It's not like you are an independent contractor here, say you want to think you are now a well educated Nigerian banker, well your captors also have to A) believe in well educated Nigerian bankers B) want to live with a well educated Nigerian Banker C) I didn't get this far because she interrupted me with mock choking motions, it counts as "mock" if she stops right before you black out right? "Ok well maybe I meant that the idea of not choosing is a refreshing idea." "Umm yeah could you repeat that, sound doesn't carry so well through that cloud of self pity and emo depression you are stewing in...please don't stab me." Who knows what the hell she was talking about, she just wanted to be kidnapped or something and not have to decide what to do with her life, at least that's what I got out if. That and a trip to first base if you know what I'm saying, high five!!! Sad boobs are still boobs, it's just that sad boobs have a higher tendency to be attached to stabby hands. But I like to live in the moment, which did not help me as a child when I kept touching the stove, different moment!! Nope still burns, new moment!! Ouch...I don't like living in this moment it smells like burnt hotdogs and pain. So that was just one random tangent she went on, and as a master of random tangents I feel like I can judge them pretty well. The difference between hers and mine are that mine never really approach the seriousness or weirdness that she was displaying. I may joke about juggling hedgehogs and opening a barbershop for emus but we all know I will never get the permits approved so they are in essence wolf tickets, and I be selling a lot of them, naw mean? I f you don't know what that means then you should google the Click and up your early 90's bay area gangsta rap catalogue. So yeah she says shit that you just don't really bust out so early in the getting to know you phase. Stuff like, "Do you have protection, is that a birthmark, you do have the keys to these right?" It's like calm down crazy, "What is this an interrogation?" The response is usually no it's a lineup please face forward but in this case it was different, it was neither an interrogation nor a line up. Sort of new territory for me. Me and her are just very different people. While I prance around in my happy round sun costume, hopping from foot to foot and repeating, "Haaappy, haaappy." She just puts her hair in her eyes and talks about dark clouds that are blurring her vision and making the voices harder to quiet. Rumblings of depression seeping out through emotional scars that have failed to be exercised by the years of cutting and the words of her favorite band sad black cloud no happy, or something like that. I am just not that drenched in sadness. I might have been at one point after I lost my role in the Lizzie Maguire movie, but I got over it, I saw the logic. In reality 42 year old men do not look as realistic playing 14 year old girls as say a 14 year old girl would. I get you Sony, you still could have let me try out, but I understand. Casting despite what you may have been told is not a blind process, they actually look at you when they make their choices and they actually check to see if you are a convicted felon, lesson learned, and we moved on. You don't see me getting all angsty and self mutilating. At this point in my life I just don't get that riled up about anything, sure I get mad when my dvr doesn't record Matlock but I just breathe deeply, take a couple body shots of metamucil off of Edna and I sit back in my rocking chair and light a blunt. I would like to act like I have things to be angsty about but I just don't. I don't have parents that nag me to do my homework or telling me to stop sneaking into the neighbor's house and putting their ice cream on the counter to defrost. I clean my room all by myself now, I just don't have any real demons to battle with in my head. So it's a little strange to hang out with someone drenched in darkness, a person who not only thinks the cup is half empty, but that it has been thrown to the ground and crushed under tires of a mercilessly evil and vindictive driver named life. You maybe be asking yourself why I would want to hang out with such a person then. Well it's hard to not hang out with someone who rolls out from underneath your bed, but besides that issue there is also the nurturer in me. The one who mends the broken wings of sparrows and genetically modifies them to deliver bags of cornuts to disenfranchised inner city baseball players. It's just my nature, it's what I do, it's what I got my cornut attacher for in the first place. So have no fears you little emo, stabby Vioria, I will mend your wings, infuse you with some happy, and get you a sunshine costume so we may orbit the hallways joyously and then go shop together at Hot Topic..or I will be stabbed in my sleep and that would also be a mission accomplished in my eyes.