So last night as I was leaving the pottery studio, I had the following conversation:
Me: "Hi!"
Woman Carrying a Painting: "Hi! It's been a long time."
Me: "It has."
W.C.P.: "So it looks like you're taking a pottery class."
Me: "Yes..and you paint?"
W.C.P.: "I'm trying to learn. I'm starting with abstract because I can't draw."
Me: "Ha-ha! That's why I like the pottery wheel: it goes in a circle, so I don't
have to have any actual artistic skill."
W.C.P.: "Well, it's nice to see you!"
Me: "You, too! Good-night!"
So that's fairly normal, right? Even boring? But, gentle readers, you have only read the part of the conversation that took place aloud. Here's the full version, including the parts that occurred inside my head:
Me: [Wait. Do I know this person? She looks vaguely familiar. I'd better say,
"hello," so that if she knows me, she won't think I'm rude] "Hi!"
Woman Carrying a Painting: "Hi! It's been a long time."
Me: "It has." [Damn. She does know me. Who is she? I don't work with her, do
I? Why did I greet her?!]
W.C.P.: "So it looks like you're taking a pottery class."
Me: [Well, duh, I'm covered with clay. It's even in my hair. Dang, she doesn't
work for my doctor, does she? Or is she a neighbor?] "Yes..and you paint?"
W.C.P.: "I'm trying to learn. I'm starting with abstract because I can't draw."
Me: "Ha-ha! That's why I like the pottery wheel: it goes in a circle, so I don't
have to have any actual artistic skill." [I have nothing else to say to this person,
and I still don't remember her. But I remember that I should remember her.
Does that count at all? Am I incredibly narcissistic, or do I just have a bad
memory? Oh, no! What if I'm losing my memory?!]
W.C.P.: "Well, it's nice to see you!"
Me: [I'll bet it's not. I didn't call you by name, and now I'm panicking about
maybe losing my mind. This will teach me to greet vaguely familiar people; it
always leads to tears.] "You, too! Good-night!"
Now, again, some of you will find this sort of thing fairly normal, yes? You're nodding and saying to yourself, "Oh, yes, ha-ha! this has happened to me, and we're all getting older, but really this blog is better when her mom appears. There must be something more interesting on facebook..."
To which I say, do not exeunt so fast! For on the way home, it occurred to me that Woman-Carrying-a-Painting had not said my name either, so she might not have remembered me. That would be ironic, yes? But, no! Do not nod in acknowledgment of the strange twists and turns life takes outside a pottery studio. Because she actually said that it had been a long time since we had seen one another. Which implies, you see, that even if my name did not flow trippingly off of her tongue, she had some actual memory of me.
Thus, I conclude that the real conversation went something like this:
Me: [Wait. Do I know this person? She looks vaguely familiar. I'd better say,
"hello," so that if she knows me, she won't think I'm rude] "Hi!"
Woman Carrying a Painting: [Oh, no! What's she doing here? Is there
nowhere in this benighted town that I can escape the presence of this
objectionable person?!] "Hi! It's been a long time." [Would that it had been
longer!]
Me: "It has." [Damn. She does know me. Who is she? I don't work with her, do
I? Why did I greet her?!]
W.C.P.: "So it looks like you're taking a pottery class." [I certainly hope so,
though it's not beyond you to have just rolled in the mud for fun. Sheesh.]
Me: [Well, duh, I'm covered with clay. It's even in my hair. Dang, she doesn't
work for my doctor, does she? Or is she a neighbor?] "Yes..and you paint?"
W.C.P.: "I'm trying to learn. I'm starting with abstract because I can't draw."
[Actually, I'm quite skilled, and my last oeuvre sold for more than you make in
a month. I'm pretty darned deeply offended that you're not familiar with my
work.]
Me: "Ha-ha! That's why I like the pottery wheel: it goes in a circle, so I don't
have to have any actual artistic skill." [I have nothing else to say to this person,
and I still don't remember her. But I remember that I should remember her.
Does that count at all? Am I incredibly narcissistic, or do I just have a bad
memory? Oh, no! What if I'm losing my memory?!]
W.C.P.: [Right. I've seen your so-called pottery, and there's no wheel in the
world that's going to help you. At least, you're not in my painting class.] "Well,
it's nice to see you!"
Me: [I'll bet it's not. I didn't call you by name, and now I'm panicking about
maybe losing my mind. This will teach me to greet vaguely familiar people; it
always leads to tears.] "You, too! Good-night!"
See? You thought that conversation was boring, but it was actually a scene of bitter conflict, evoking anger, fear and disdain. Lo! I repeat, Lo! Beware casual encounters with clay-covered denizens of the arts center!
Especially if they've combined allergy meds with an over-active imagination.
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