Despertar

desert island

You say she'd be a good mother, just not to your children specifically.

I wonder whether you thought I was a terrible mom, too, for, among other things, putting the baby in probable danger of drowning to prevent her from wandering off and doing it accidentally while I saved you from a riptide.

For that matter, I should have also suggested some sort of guardrails, to put up around the shelter every night. We really should have slept in shifts, because toddlers aren't predictable sleepers, especially when they're cranky or sick or not-quite-pottytrained. She could or would have drowned on any of the eight hundred-some nights after she started crawling.

We should have taught her to climb trees, in case she ever came across a wild pig she couldn't outrun.

And, come on, we were masters of ingenuity, of R&D; between the two of us, we should have been able to manufacture some type of reliable makeshift prophylactics. The rhythm method, as we've learned, does not work.

*

My mother admires me because, she says, I'm not materialistic. I guess she means compared to her--she likes jewelry and purses; she spent two weeks choosing a color for her new car's exterior paint. I'm the exact opposite: I hate shopping, I pretty much refuse to do it except under duress, and I just, don't, get, shoes. I don't understand them. They're mostly ugly, and even when they're not, they're still going to go on feet. I hear they can do wonders for a ho-hum outfit, but I've never seen them make an unattractive person better-looking, or vice versa.

My mother's high opinion of me as above materialism is flattering, so I accepted it for a long time--until, actually, my first semester in law school, when I had to go without a cell phone for three weeks. That's when I really evaluated my daily routine for what it is, and this is what I came up with:

1. Without my alarm clock, I would never make it to any class but Criminal Justice. I don't wake up naturally before ten-thirty. Or, without my alarm clock, I would have no social life, because I would have to go to bed around eight to ensure that I woke up in time for Property/Constitutional Law.

2. Without my cell phone, I would have no friends outside of Georgetown, and I would lose touch with everyone in my immediate family. Because cell phones are so common among people my age, they don't even wire the housing complex for landlines anymore. I could email people (Meg is in China, so that's the only way I can talk to her for the next six months), but most of my friends don't express themselves well in writing, and my dad comes across as an asshole through email because he knows nothing about the etiquette involved. Without my cell phone, I would also never know what time it was, because I gave up wearing watches once I realized i was only ever going to lose all of them, one by one.

3. Without my Heart of Philadelphia necklace and at least one pair of earrings, I would feel naked and unconfident in public all the time. I believe in natural beauty, but I'm also a product of my mom, who is very conscientous about her appearance, who never leaves the house in less than full makeup, who accents every outfit with a different combination and permutation of moderate to fine jewelry, who always looks extremely beautiful and warrants my imitation.

4. Without my computer, I couldn't be a law student. My daily notes, outlines, syllabi and reading assignments are all stored on my hard drive. Two of my class require periodic uploads to the school network, and my professors' lectures are paced based on the assumption that everyone is typing, rather than handwriting, their notes. More importantly, though, nothing sucks worse than trying to listen to a lecture with no distractions. I listen in class, but I also play Scrabulous, check email, draft stories, stalk Brangelina, iChat my classmates, flirt with Justin, diddle around on here and on Facebook and co-maintain, with Tina, a running commentary on the day. A student's time is very structured; having a wireless-enabled laptop with me at all times is tantamount to being able to be in a million places that aren't the classroom, all at once.

5. Without my iPods, I would either be constantly bored, or I'd be that-girl-who-doesn't-know-it's-no-longer-culturally-acceptable-to-carry-around-a-Discman.

6. Without The Sims, I would very, very rarely visit my parents at home.

Without any one of those six material objects, my life would be substantially different from what it is right now. Equals, I am very, very reliant on the material. I don't love any of my things, except my first iPod, and to an extent my backpack, but I'm definitely markedly happier with them than I would be were someone to take them away.

*

That said, Aaron raises a good point, that all those things would be useless on a desert island. No power source, nothing to wake up for, and even a couple thousand songs would ALL get old, eventually.

I guess Justin would be my answer to the who-would-I-take question. It would be interesting to see how he functions away from social dynamics and alcohol. Probably, also, a huge turn-on to watch him get all lean and brown in the sun and go hunting and stuff. But that's only assuming we would never have the ability to leave the island, because I'm sure that kind of forced togetherness would wreck our chances of having a healthy relationship under freer mainland circumstances. But, if we got tired of each other while we were on the island, he could snap my neck with one bare hand, which in itself is a turn-on, but only because I know he wouldn't do it, that he purposely tempers that strength so he doesn't hurt or scare me.

Digression.

Sorry, anyway, I don't know what I'd take, if the basics were already provided. Pen and paper, but everyone said that already. Rum, arrrrr. Sterilization agents and surgical instruments, so I wouldn't ever have to pull a Chuck Noland with an ice skate, because, Jesus.