One
“He who marches out of step hears another drum”
-Ken Kesey, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
When I think about some of the ridiculous things I’ve done over the years I cringe. I punched my summer camp director on the boob when I was seven years old because she referred to me as a loose cannon--- Ha, proved her wrong. Then there was the time I ran around the UC Berkeley campus in the buff with a band of protesting nudist. I think they were objecting to the dissolution of the redwoods, pollution, recycling or they could have been pissed about the recent band on campus nudity. I don’t know what set them off. I just saw a bunch of excited people running around, ass bare to the world and decided to peel off my clothes and join them--- probably not my finest moment. But the clincher and the main reason for my new lease on life was getting locked in jail for dropping a Molotov cocktail on someone’s lawn. I can’t explain the thought process behind my decision to torch the place. All I know is that I’ve unloaded a boat load of stupid on the world and it’s time for a change.
I’ve always been a little bit spirited--- which is a nice way of saying bonkers. My first psychiatrist said that I was bipolar and prescribed lithium. It put me in a catatonic state and caused me to lose twenty pounds in less than a month. The second brilliant doctor believed that I had a classic case of impulse control disorder. My parents ---- and I use the word parents loosely because my mother has always initiated the assaults on my character, spent a small fortune on aversive therapy, stimulus control and cognitive restructuring. When I still wasn’t the person they thought I should be they asked the doctor for medication. He prescribed Xanex and sent me on my way. My mother had this idea that a good daughter should be compliant, should date appropriate men and should not take her clothes off in public. So during my senior year in high school she sent me to see a third and final shrink who said that I had a simple all American case of ADHD. Much to my mother’s chagrin the good doctor said that most of my problems stemmed from a lack of acceptance. This didn’t mean that I was normal, but I finally began to believe that I wasn’t broken, that I was fine just the way I was. I enrolled in acting classes at the local community college. I even managed to get accepted to UC Berkeley. Which I thought was a huge accomplishment until I found out my father had pulled some strings with a few of his golfing buddies that sat on the Board of Regions. Despite my father’s highhandedness, I began to really enjoy my life for the first time. I said what I wanted and did what I pleased without reservation or any thoughts of repercussion.
But during my stint in Marin county jail for arson I had lots of time to contemplate the state of my life. Years of reckless behavior has forced me to set some boundaries. I decided to stop drinking. With the exception of the boob punching incident, my worst behaviors have been carried out while drunk. I’ve also decided to stop smoking pot. I’ve never committed a crime or assaulted anyone while high. I did however; hook up with a white Rastafarian named Steve who swore he was the reincarnation of Bob Marley. And the third rule, the one that defines the new and improved Sarah Goldman is written on a stone wall that sits in front of my heart. I am done with men!
Three months ago I went out with a guy that I thought could potentially be the one. He was a perfect gentleman at dinner. He opened the car door, placed a protective hand on the small of my back when we entered the restaurant and he didn’t ask me to pay for my own food--- which is always a plus. He wasn’t very handsome but he was tall and muscular and not in a freakish steroid induced way. He was an economics major that I met at a coffee bar near the UCB campus. His name was Andrew Sloan--- even his name was perfect. So naturally after dinner I invited him back to my room. I tried to make him care about me the way I always did, through sex. He wasn’t a very considerate lover. But he complemented me and made me feel special so I didn’t care.
