Providing Context – A Review

I’ve probably said it on here before, but it bears repeating. Everything is a story. Litter. A conversation. Overflowing mailboxes. Boarded up windows. That woman, riding her bike with a flat tire. And the man who is carrying a tea-cup and saucer while walking at a slow pace and humming a Jim Croce song to himself.

Each story begins and ends with your perception of it. When you first witness one of these stories, it starts in media res, which is just a fancy way to say in the middle. You don’t get the luxury of context, fine detail, or background information. You just get whatever you can glean from the page.

I stepped carefully over the cracks of the busy Bushwick sidewalk as I walked out of the delivery place that was playing the song: Operator (that’s not the way it feels), just a little too loud. On my way home, I found an open-air market selling antiques, jewelry, and succulents that were planted in various dishware.

Most of the succulents were decorated with small plastic animals. Dinosaurs, bunnies, frogs and cats. It was a very “New York” thing to do, said the lady who was “just window shopping” and who happened to be looking at them with me when I first saw them. I smiled at her and gave a small laugh.

I had picked one out for myself, half because I loved the plant and half because the lady who was selling them was so charismatic. I’ve heard sales pitches nearly every day since I got here, but hers was a lot more simple, “why not?”

Now that I’m home, and my new plant is sitting on my bookshelf, I can list tens of reasons why not. Because the succulents were quite expensive. Because it doesn’t really do anything. Because I don’t have a good place to put it.

But, at the same time, why not? It was cute. And my brother told me to name it “dog,” so I could tell people I had one. I’ve extended the name to be “my dog,” as to make constructing the sentences a bit easier. “Would you like to see my dog?” I asked my roommate. She said yes, and was really excited but also gave me the “you better not actually have a dog in your room” look, which strangely enough was one I was familiar with.

When she saw it she laughed a bit, not entirely understanding. Context, you see, this joke requires context. So now, I’m fashioning a small nametag that reads “my dog” to be taped to the saucer that came with the tea-cup and plant.

Well, now I am actually writing a blog. I’m writing it a day early just so I don’t have anything extra to worry about when I’m on my way to training tomorrow. I can stare blankly at the brick walls that line the guts of the NYC Train system without hauling around a laptop and its charger.

Once I’m done with the blog, then I will fashion the nametag, then I will take a picture of it and send it to myself via Email or Facebook. I’ll then upload that picture with this blog onto my website and set it to post at some ungodly early time tomorrow. Then, brain willing, I’ll sleep.

Now, you’ve got the context and the story of my Sunday. So, you can understand why there was a man, walking slow, carrying a tea-cup and humming a Jim Croce song.

Thanks for reading, and have a great day.