Drunk Octopus

This is why I know we're all going to be okay. This very thing is evidence to me that we're going to weather whatever comes our way-- Armageddon, big brother, or slow and sloppy self-induced decay-- we are going to make it though to the other side. Why am I so sure? Because a drunk octopus wants to fight me.

The way I look at it, this kid didn't just look at a coat hook and see an octopus, she saw an octopus with his dukes up. (I'm deciding the mind in this case belongs to a female because it's something I would have done had I thought of it-- were I a steely-minded genius-- alas.) And she didn't just see an octopus itching for a fight, she saw nuance. She saw that the octopus isn't just hopping mad with crossed out eyes, but is also wasted, which anyone can plainly see because his eyeballs are askew.

That is what I find so extraordinary. We didn't see it plainly and she did. I've been looking at coat hooks my entire life and never saw what she did. I'm sure there are scads of industrial designers, architects, scientists and comedy writers who've been looking at coat hooks their entire lives, too, and never for a moment saw what she saw. But she did. And then she did something about it. Did she tell a friend? Did she write a note? No she bucked authority and proclaimed it in sharpie, there for all the world to see. She had a brilliant thought then made a mark and stood her ground. I want to kiss her. I want to hire her. I want her to rule my world.

She's got the combination of what I revere most in any person; imagination, a sense of humor and moxie. One's of little use without the other and to have all three will get you far. Well, maybe not far in our society, but far in her heart, I hope, and far in mine. Yes, she's a little impertinent to be sure, but so were Einstein, Julia Child and Joan Jett. As long as minds such as hers keep seeing things that no one else can see and inventing creepy vacuum cleaners that vaporize dirt into nothingness and hum-a-little-tune apps for cameras that are phones, hilarious websites like “Regretsy” and goofy noses on the sides of paper cups, we will have the necessary tools to get by and perhaps, yes, even thrive.

Because of all the joy that keeps coming my way like an IV drip—just enough to keep me going-- in bits and pieces and tiny morsels, I can’t fight you Drunk Octopus, even though I see that you’re hopping mad and at any given moment could surely come up with plenty of reasons to take you on. But I won’t, because I see your pain and in yours I recognize mine. Plus, I don’t want you throwing up on me. So, sleep it off, Drunk Octopus, and in the morning I’ll make you some eggs.