Today I walked into a head shop to browse for supplies for my MFA program. I’m pretty sure the clerks knew I didn’t belong because I was holding my breath to avoid coughing on all the incense. I had a purpose, though, and headed for the rack of hippie skirts. I thought since I was going to reinvent myself as a writer, I’d also reinvent my wardrobe. For the past several weeks, from upstairs at my yoga studio across the street I’d been admiring the flowy, colorful skirts, sparkling in the sun. I thought maybe they’d say, “I am eco-conscious, natural, sparkly and intriguingly bohemian.” Up close they said, “trying too hard to reinvent myself as younger and cooler than I really am.” They also said “we’re not actually washable, and will always smell like incense and make you sneeze.”
Next I visited a hodge-podge store, filled with touristy junk like decorative shot glasses which either have horse designs or say Saratoga, or both. I was headed for their selection of art supplies and journals. Unfortunately all the blank books said either, “I take myself too seriously” or “Look at me not taking myself too seriously!” Soon I found myself in front of the posters musing, a 10 day residency is too short to decorate my dorm room. Or is it?