The view from atop Mt. Thirty-Something can be serene, beautiful, awe inspiring, and nauseating all in the same breath. I personally wonder how I got here, and where exactly is the way down? Come with me on my journey into the everyday thoughts and questions of another Gen X-er on her way to The Promised Land.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

The Beast that Dwells Within.

In a pleasant turn of events, my field of vision has been filled as of late with "alternate opportunities". I was accepted into a really cool study field at a prestigious institution. San Diego is calling. I may dedicate my life to The Lord (just kidding...too parochial.) I have reached a point where I finally opened up my eyes to the perspective that life is not a guarantee. I must take the hand fate has dealt me, and make it work. Truly make the best of life. It is an unexpected development I have come to relish.

Today at job #1, we had a special product training day. There were many speakers. You can only hear so much about custom interior window fashions before you begin to drift off. I was half asleep. I'm sure because I had difficulty sleeping last night. I'm blaming the Diet Coke I had at 9pm as the culprit.

Out of nowhere, this voice boomed from the speaker overhead. I spun to look for the source of the Voice of the Hereafter, and noticed it was coming from the co-owner of the company standing in the back corner of the enormous conference room. The source of the power was immediately obvious to me. His right hand was grasping a cordless microphone.

It was as though there was an awakening of my very essence...something crawled off of the chain of my double helix...the entirety of all that is Mollie sat alert, aware, and rigid. A part of myself I had tried to oppress for some time uttered one powerful phrase into my brain. "Oh, HELL no."

There was nothing I could do to control the entity within. I stared at the mic, wishing I could will it across the room. I could feel the weight of it in my palm. The smooth black plastic base warm from the batteries contained within. The mesh of the diaphragm housing cool against my lips. I wanted it. I wanted it in my hand. I wanted right then, and right there, to bust into song. There...at one o'clock in the afternoon. There...surrounded by middle-aged moms in blue jeans. There...under the washout cold of the blue fluorescent lighting. The Diva, who had for some time now lain dormant in my soul, had been rudely awakened from her slumber, and she was PISSED. I knew instantly that she would need a stiff dose of sequins, feathers, and loud bass...STAT!!!

I fidgeted in my seat, drank my Diet Rock Star energy drink (an omen?), and tried to think of something...anything...else. After minutes that seemed like years of staring at the embodied symbol of my had-been dreams, we finally took a break. As I walked to the bathroom, I felt myself pulled to the device as it sat on the table. I just needed to.
You know, "get a better look". Just check it out. I can only describe this experience by equating it to taking someone on the 12th step of AA to a wedding reception with an open bar and screaming..."OH, c'mon, just this once." I felt The Diva quip inside my ear, "Ohh...look at that baby. It's a Schure..." This animal was meant for much greater things. Suddenly the voice began to scream, "GRAB IT! C'mon a quick "Amazing Grace", or "Mercedes Benz". Something acapella. You know they would all freak. Remember when that was what you lived for??? Remember??? Before you decided to be 'realistic about your future...'. Go on, you pussy." (The Inner Diva can be quite the bitch when she feels she is unsatisfied.) I turned, and walked toward the bathroom.

As I was crossing the conference room to escape the voice of The Beast, I made another crucial mistake. In the conference room, they had set up a projection screen. This way we could all share in the joys and wonders of Power Point Presenting. In my haste to escape, I crossed in front of the path of the projector. The light blinded me. The rest of the washed out room went an ecliptic black. Pieces of fuzz drifted through the stream of light swirling from the heat. In an instant I was transported back in time to the Xanadu of the alternate universe.

The instant I passed in front of that light, a red velvet curtain fell behind me. My hair multiplied in volume, and a rainbow of colors painted my face. My track pants and hoodie melded into a blue velvet dress with matching ostrich feather boa. Blue satin gloves crawled up my forearms like sweet silvery serpents. A disco ball of thunder fell from the ceiling with a torrential rain of glitter and confetti. I eyed the pools of glitter gathering on the floor. As I knelt to dip into the slivery perfection, a pair of twinkling rhinestone platforms appeared. I slipped into them to feel they were like treading upon clouds of light.

I waived the glowing microphone like a scepter over the middle aged masses, and watched as the light bounced around the room. Before my eyes, the working moms and house fraus' became Uber Club Hotties. They were clad in vintage Halston, and body glitter. Their bodies throbbed to the pulsing beat of the bass. Gay boys in painted on Speedo's twirled across the room. Straight boys stood lined up at the bar made of ice ordering endless drinks for all the Beautiful Babies. My Inner Diva smiled, took a breath, and prepared for the wailing of the virgin note in her bad ass version of Anita Ward's cover of "Knock on Wood".

"EXCUSE ME!!!" In an instant, it had all disappeared. The magic dissipated in a breath. “I want to get to the vending machine..." I stepped aside, my Inner Diva swiftly deflating back to the dark place where she had come to reside. I pulled my ponytail tight against my head, and silently took my seat.

As I sat there, I knew where I had been...what I had seen...was as real as the power point presentation on decorative window valances flashing across the screen in front of me. I heard a small huge voice from within. It whispered, "You can't hide me in this box forever. I'll eat you from the inside out. You know it's true. Try me." She was right. I took out my pen and paper, and began to write…"Singer seeks musicians..." I heard a small laugh. "Damn right she does." A stiff injection of pretty poison. She lives.