I sit in the corner of my office out of view of most people. Sometimes I just want them to know I am here, so I type with extra ferocity, making me feel like the Whos in Horton Hears A Who. Yes. Dr. Seuss reference. Handle it.
Artscape is this weekend in Baltimore. If you don’t know, it’s a huge arts festival in the city, with all sorts of art mediums, food, bands, etc. I used to go as a 20-something, but I am a) not a hipster, and b) not a fan of crowds. I want to want to go, I just don’t know if I care enough about seeing weird, old cars decked out in toys from the 70s, paintings that looks like someone sneezed paint onto a canvas, super expensive hemp / lilac / dandylion soap that most likely doesn’t clean you, so many beards, hula hoops, fried food everywhere… nope nope nope, I just can’t. There was a time when I thought off beat / weird stuff was cool and fun, and now I think it’s annoying and self important. So no. I cannot make it. I have books to read, hikes to hike, wine to drink, naps to snooze.
(See, I wasn’t kidding about the goofy shit on the cars…. WTH is the point of this….)
Also, can we go back to that beard thing for a second? I am not a huge fan of facial hair. (Yes, my new husband promptly shaved his head and grew a goatee right after our honeymoon, but he looks more like a pirate. And he was going bald anyway, so it was a pre-emptive strike.) I know some guys look good with TRIMMED beards, but some look like bushmen, other like pervs. Mustaches look good on no one! Unless you are an old British professor. But here’s the thing, never again will I be ok with a beard. Poop in beards. It’s official. Nope.