yesterday, i had, for the second time in recent months, a unique experience for me (i realize two instances makes it less unique, but bear with me here). i was forgotten, despite my presence. me. it was quite a shock. if there's one thing i've never been, it's forgettable. i tend to be one of those all or nothing, love or hate her kind of people. but forgettable? no way. never. i tend to fill up my space and then some and have rarely experienced that anyone forgets me (perhaps once a busy flight attendant on a plane, who couldn't remember where she left off with the drinks cart).
it is a more than slightly disheartening event, coming as it does in this middle age of my life, when i may already be beginning to suspect that i'm fading away, growing older, facing the prospect that there's an old greek woman inside me, trying desperately to get out (apparently via persistent small black hairs on my chin), looming menopause, a general loss of sparkle and a fading into invisibility. and a nagging feeling that i never really found out what i should be when i grew up.
so being forgotten, for the second time in as many months, hit me rather hard. i can't help but take it a little bit personally. especially since it's the same person who forgot me in both instances.
it makes me want to wear more colorful clothes and stand up a bit taller the next time. i shall not fade into the background. not yet.
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on a happier note, this luscious article makes me want to book a table at NOMA immediately.
fascinated by the notion of the green man.
still reading roger deakin's wildwood - it's nature writing as philosophy. beautiful and fascinating.
