sardine -- pre-9/26 -- PoMo'ed & PO'ed Soccermom

I believe I must have a sign on my forehead that says, “Tell me what you told your therapist last week. Tell me about any Schedule II drugs you are taking. Then tell me who you know.”

At a recent Soccermom waiting event, another mom came up to me and told me how she and her son had recently been diagnosed with ADD or ADHD. She said she was taking Blah Blah drug, and she never felt better or more focused. I swear she was flying. She sat down next to me uninvited (I was trying to take advantage of the waiting experience and catch up on PoMo readings), and she proceeded to show me her photo album of all the intricate sugar frosted cakes she had designed. Another mom came along wearing huge Channel sunglasses and a Prada handbag, and she oohed and aahed over photos of cakes. Then, she switched the topic to her recent trip to Hawaii, her husband’s career, and who she and/or her husband knew.

Why me?! It was useless trying to read. The conversations were surrounding me. And it centered on shopping for Labels and knowing someone. Personally, I don’t know someone. I only know people who know the someones. My sister’s neighbor used to date a guy who used to be a rock star. My son had a teacher who is the sister of a dead rock star. My ex’s ex-wife used to teach the son of a still famous movie star. A former room-mate once spent the night with a former British rock star. And I once knew a guy who did Nureyev in a sauna. Or did Nureyev do him?

Now that I know you know someone, will I become a real if I touch you? Will I become real if I find myself a label of an advertised diagnosis, in initials only? Will I become real when I get the prescribed medicine for that diagnosis that they advertise on television during the news? Will I become real when I buy the designer handbag to bring to soccer practices and talk to moms who are trying to read?

I am so behind in this week’s readings. Benjamin, Horkheimer, & Adorno are haunting me. My head is spinning almost as fast as Suzie Cakemaker’s eyes. I think I’ll find myself a diagnosis. IH (Itchy Hemorrhoid) sounds good considering my considerable experience sitting on my ass, waiting. I think I’ll find myself a lot of non-generic, synapse skewing drugs for my new label. I think I’ll find myself. Oh, somewhere in that store over there, and there, and there. I think I’ll find myself someone authentic to touch and become a celebrity stalker. Forget the readings…. Instead, I think I’ll find myself someone who used to do Fou….