I dream of a world where we are judged by the character of our content

I haven't been blogging much lately. It's not that I've been depressed about being unemployed because we aren't in danger of starving or losing our house and I really don't miss corporate America. Or the back-biting and nepotism (assuming the word "nepotism" applies to people who aren't related but are scratching each other's backs and other parts). 

I miss my friends, though. And I really miss the wealth of material. I've got nothing to write about nowadays. 

The 12 years I spent working and taking smoke breaks outside on Fayetteville Street in downtown Raleigh when it was still a pedestrian mall provided a constant source of entertainment every day. I miss coming back up the elevator to the office and telling stories that began with, "I was outside minding my own business..."

* My office was directly across the street from the courthouse. I always enjoyed watching the "bird man" feed the pigeons and koi in the fountain and scream obscenities at passersby. Even when I accidentally made eye contact with him once and he bellowed, "Hey, mother-----, what time is it?" I have never worn a watch, and when I told him that, he let loose the most creative string of curses I have ever heard in my life, and I know a lot of English people.

* One of my friends, a very white hipster girl, observed a homeless man washing his feet in the same fountain. "Who was the guy in the bible who washed feet?" she asked. "You mean Jesus?" I replied.

* The Sir Walter, once the most opulent art deco hotel in downtown Raleigh, is now a subsidized elderly people's home. I spent a lot of time talking to the residents when they approached me, often returning to my office in tears because I felt so bad for them.

One day, I was sitting on a bench, indulging my bad habit and minding my own business. I heard a "draaag, click, draaag, click" sound getting closer to me. An elderly lady dressed in a muu-muu was approaching me, leaning on her walker that had tennis balls on the front legs to prevent slippage. 

She came and sat next to me and asked, "Have you seen my cat? I can't find her." She went on to tell me how she and her husband had been married for 50 years, but he'd died without leaving her with anything, so she and her 14-year-old cat had moved into the Sir Walter.

"Are you in high school?" she asked me. "No, ma'am, I'm 34," I replied. "I can't see very well," she said, "I didn't realize you were so old."

"Good luck with your cat," I DID NOT ACTUALLY say, though I thought it before excusing myself to go back to work in tears.

* I got to know all the street preachers. My favorite was the toothless, elderly African-American gentleman who was always dressed to the nines in a three-piece, 70s polyester suit. That is, until he informed me one day out of the blue that I was going to hell for committing suicide by smoking.

Then there was the "Jesus Saves" tee-shirt guy who screamed at people in front of the courthouse while passing out scary tracts. I managed to dodge him for 10 years, but one day, he caught me off guard and said, "Was that you in the paper?" "Yes, sir," I replied. And we became friendly after that.

* Speaking of religion, I was just minding my own business one day when a normal, office-worker-looking lady told me that Jesus loves me. "Thanks!" I said, bewildered. Then I realized I was wearing bondage clothes and had blue hair, so she probably assumed I was a godless heathen.

* And the homeless people, bless their hearts. They always talked to me. I always talked back, because I have never had "there but for the grace..." more than a beat away from my thoughts. Of them all, "the soul is like a hot dog" lady is my favorite sage. I really do hate bluetooths for making it harder to tell who's talking to themselves.

* Then there was the time I was outside at the right time and saw my future president. And he smiled at me.

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So nowadays, I really have nothing. I'm happy as a clam, but "I was outside minding my own business and saw a squirrel frolicking in the tree" just doesn't have the same impact as "I was outside minding my own business and a man who claimed to be the emperor of Raleigh got down on his knee, kissed my hand and asked me to be his empress."

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"Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it," I told Steve as we watched a :90 spot for Sundowner retractable awnings during a commercial break on We or Discovery Health or Investigation Discovery or one of the other old-people networks I've begun watching before going to bed a few nights ago.

"There it is!" "It" being the very bad voiceover dub listing the new price being advertised since the spot was originally shot.

"I'm concerned about your relationship with the television," Steve said.

"It's my only friend!," I shot back.

And we laughed.