Eight months after being mugged for my iPod, I am back to wearing an earbud in both ears when I walk around town. I still don’t walk home down Franklin Street, but there is no need to revisit the location and bring the incident to mind regularly. This will be another bonus of quitting my job. It will become infrequent that I walk near that intersection (now I walk within a block at least once a day, and while I don't spend much time thinking about it, it does often bring it to mind, if only for a few seconds or minutes). I think being away from the area will keep it out of my mind entirely, and in the future I will think of it less and less... and then never.
Recently, I met a woman who was mugged a couple of years ago. Because of it she wouldn't take the bus with me at 10pm, even though the neighborhood she was heading to is pretty nice and fairly populated at night. She said she won't take the bus at night, just cabs. I noticed when someone yelled on the street she seemed a bit flustered. I don't know if I'm older, used to the crappy parts of city living, less prone to PTSD, or what, but I guess one or all of those must be true. While I hope that she (and anyone who has been attacked) will again feel secure in the world, it made me feel good about myself that I have, for the most part, overcome that experience without lasting damage. Sure, I still get overly anxious once in a while when I'm stressed out, but even that continues to fade with time.
So, good job, brain. Thanks for adapting and going with the flow.
Monday I gave notice at my job. Tuesday, I saw this written on the sidewalk of 14th Street in chalk:
Happy the man, and happy he alone,
he who can call today his own:
he who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.
I thought that after I gave notice I would feel light and unencumbered. I had this idea that I would feel a sudden lifting of all anxiety. But, I really just felt the same. As time passes I feel a little more relaxed. I just really want to be able to sleep for a few days and not have to be anywhere... and to live every day as my own day.
Today I got on MUNI to head over to the chiropractor. The previous bus had pulled away just as I ran up to the door, as they like to do, and I’d waited around for another bus. I figured I wouldn’t be that late. At Division I saw a crazy bum at the bus stop. He had a bone tied to his head. A sinewy dirty animal bone streaked with the remnants of meat and blood. It was tied to his head. I would guess it was a pig femur.
My first thought when I saw this guy was to beg the universe not to let him get on the bus I was on. No luck. He was getting on. I moved back and tried to look away. He pushed his way through the crowd with his sign and his meaty bone. It was tied to the right side of his head in the style a flapper might wear a feather. Except instead of a feather, it was a MEATY SINEWY BONE… and it was TIED TO HIS HEAD.
I closed my eyes and held my breath and let him squeeze past behind me. Then I moved the other direction. Everyone near the man with the bone tied to his head pretended they didn’t see the bone and after a group eyebrow raise and revulsion shiver, just ignored him with all of their might. Everyone that was at least half a bus away however, was craning their necks and bugging their eyes at the man with the bone tied to his head.
I got off the bus and took a cab.
For an update... Haven't you?
Or you haven't even looked, so you didnt notice I haven't said anything.
Last week I had another strange dream.
I dreamt it was my wedding day. Some friends of mine, Rocky and Kristie, and someone else who I can't remember, were driving me around to do last minute errands in a big 70s convertible. It was nearing time for the ceremony, so they brought me to a special make up store. It wasn’t exactly a store, but a place where you rented a spot at a table and put on stage make up that they provided. My area was dimly lit and had a small crappy mirror. The front wall to the street was open air, and the only furniture were banquet tables draped with white clothes, folding chairs, and a counter with a cash register along the back.
Rocky insisted that he do my make up. I just wanted to go home and use my usual stuff, but they all thought it would be more special to use this place. He chose a color that was too pink, and smeared the thick oil base stage make up over my face with a sponge. It took ages to blend it smooth, and then longer to find a more yellow color to blend into the edges so it would match my neck. Finally, I asked the time. It was 7:30! A half hour after the start time of my ceremony, and I didn't even have blush on yet! Not to mention my dress, or that I was nowhere near the wedding location. They all acted like it was no big deal and kept trying to blend the colors to match my skin tone. I was increasingly irritated at having to miss my own wedding and thought the make up store was a real rip off.