The usually upbeat sky looked bleak and depressed. As tears fell from above, I was drinking too much Dunkin Donuts coffee. As a fan of shit weather (i.e. snow, rain, grey skies), that particular day just felt gloomy

I called my dad in California. He didn’t answer. I called again and he still didn’t answer. Even though we have a continent in between us, our phone calls always make him seem like he’s just around the corner.

In order to alleviate my nerves, I went for a walk in the East Village (O.K., I do that everyday). Rain poured on the Bowery, which was emptier than usual. My dad still didn’t pick up the phone. I grew more nervous, since I couldn’t fly to California to check up and feared something had happened.

Instead of playing in the sand box of neurotic thinking, I knew the one way to solve my problem was through art. So, I headed to one of my favorite art museums. Lucky for me, there was an exhibit on obscene art from New York in 1993. As I wondered into a world where breasts, graffiti, dildos, living rooms sets and arty videos equated art, I slowly felt better, but nerves persisted.

Then the unthinkable happen. Boom, shit, fuck, shit. I ran straight into a glass wall. The whole museum went silent. My first thought was “shit, I broke my nose.” As everyone looked at me with mouths open in shock.  I felt mortified. The following words came from my mouth “I am a genius.” I laughed then everyone laughed with me.

The museum curator walked up to me. “Excuse me sir, I have to take down your information,” he said. “Why?” I asked. “We have to take down the info of anyone who walks into that glass wall,” he replied, while taking out a notepad. “Could I get free tickets to your gorgeous, but edgy museum as compensation?” I asked with a smile. ” No, sir” he replied. “Oh,” l said, looking quite disappointed, I proceeded with giving him my information.

My dad finally called. “Where have you been? I was worried sick and I almost broke my nose,” utilizing guilt and a worried tone made him apologetic. So, I was worried for nothing. Therefore, I learned to say no to the neurotic voices in my head, since it only creates fear.  When they do make a comeback, I will delve into art instead.

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  1. ive walked through glass wall cut myself up pretty bad and then required 23 stitches on my leg. that was 28 years ago and scar remains. you are lucky.


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