I want to be Harley Quinn. I know she’s got more mental health issues than I could shake a stick at but she shakes a baseball bat so whatever. I have some mental health issues too, probably more than one would think. In my outer self I can keep them at bay but my inner self wants to be Harley Quinn. Here’s why, along with some random thoughts I had while walking Chester.
Harley wears her hair in pigtails. I love pigtails. Since the shutdown I decided to let my hair grow as long as it wants to, and turn grey. Part of it is turning grey, part is not. It looks like hell. It’s also hot as hell in August. I can’t handle hair on my neck in August. Usually a ponytail is OK but when it’s really hot nothing beats the pigtails. And, like Harley, my hair is multiple colors. I’m rocking it.
Harley enters new situations boldly with gusto. I don’t. I get very nervous about meeting people and invariably say something incredibly dumb or freeze. Even when I was little I was a shy kid. The first day of kindergarten was torture. I cried the whole half of a day we were there, even during the nap time. Yes, we had half day kindergarten AND nap time. The teacher had a magic wand, and each day someone would be chosen as the magic prince or princess. That lucky sprite was to gently tap each child to wake them. It was marvelous to walk among the children, most of whom were not sleeping and really wanted to get up, knowing that if you were the sprite you had the power to make the ones who were mean to you stay asleep longer. But I digress…
Harley is the life of the party. She’s popular, smart and beautiful. I was a little bit smart but that’s about it. I wasn’t fat but I was a little overweight. In about 5th grade I grew taller, and my dresses became a little short. I remember standing in line when two girls pointed at me and said “oooh, sexy” then exploded with giggles. I wanted to disappear and put on a robe. I never wore that dress again. A year later, some girls were talking in class. The teacher asked them what they were talking about and they said a birthday party they were going to. It was going to have horseback riding. To this day I don’t know why but the teacher turned to me in front of the class and asked me if I was going. I said no. She asked why and I said I wasn’t invited. My face turned red but I didn’t cry. That’s probably the only way I really am like Harley.
The guys love Harley and want her until she hits them with her baseball bat. As a young teen I was a comic book fan, especially Archie, and Betty and Veronica. Betty and Veronica were always competing for Archie’s attention. I remember being so excited to get a new comic book and find out what cool girls were doing to get a boy. My first date was fixed up by my mom and a teacher friend’s’ son. I had won tickets to Ice Capades on the radio call in and had nobody to go with. I think his name was Paul. I wore velvet bell bottoms. He was nice enough but halfway through he went down the rows to visit someone he knew. We spoke about 50 words the whole time and watched the Ice Capades. Our moms were in cahoots but we didn’t go out again. So, I decided to make myself a 15 year old version of sexy. I poured Sun In and lemon juice on my hair, baby oil on my skin and lay out in the sun with my sister for hours. She turned brown, I was a peeling lobster. I just knew that blonde hair was the way to get a boy. On me though, the blonde had this orange tint. Not what I planned.
Harley isn’t afraid of violence or hurting people. I am afraid of violence. If i wasn’t, I would have cracked those smirking girls’ heads together. But they wouldn’t have smirked at Harley. And if Harley wasn’t invited to a party, there would be no party. I would probably feel sorry for the stupid teacher or have empathy, my typical response. I can rationalize anything. Check this out…she probably grew up without friends and turned into this prunefaced simpering bully because she had a little power as a teacher and could make the popular girls talk to her when in her day they ignored her just like they ignored me. I’m pretty good at that, right? Truth is, I don’t really want to hurt anyone. I just want them to not hurt me.
Yes, I want to be Harley Quinn. But alas I am too old. Plus she isn’t real, but that’s a minor issue. Isn’t there something in us all though that wants to explode sometimes and just not care? Don’t we all want a bad ass moment or two? I think that’s why I like her; not because I really want to be her in real life, but I’m kind of tired of caring. Doesn’t that sound awful? Don’t worry, my inner Harley is staying in my imagination. Meanwhile…some random thoughts…
CVS was all out of hand soap except for this Yardley lavender kind. OMG it is phenominal. I love it! It’s smooth, silky, and smells divine. Try it!
Chester and I walked a long way this morning. We were able to watch the moon fade and the sun come up. The clouds were lit from the sides like waves. I always wish i had my phone/camera but I never do. It reminded me of a poem I memorized when I was obsessed with the book “The Outsiders” and still remember to this day. It’s called “Nothing Gold Can Stay” by Robert Frost. It goes like this:
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
but only so an hour.
then leaf subsides to leaf.
So, Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Have a beautiful week and here is a pic of Chester just because. He’s been a sort of bad boy because he went after Milo the cat. Milo pushed through the screen in the bedroom and escaped onto the roof. Chester is in the doghouse. But we still love him. He looks like he is sorry. Below that is a cruise in search of barn quilts and covered bridges we went on with our Model A group. We did not win the contest but had alot of (safe and social distancing) fun!