A DAY IN MY LIFE - APRIL

I got angry.

Standing in line at the grocery store with all three of my children, I was surprisingly calm for having such noisy passengers. Leila's voice was the loudest - we had just passed a storm trooper and she was proudly singing Star Wars. People standing around us were smiling at her and giggling, all except one: a tall elderly man paying for his items. I was next in line. The cashier told me how adorable Leila was. I felt it was necessary to mention that Leila was too scared to watch Star Wars, but with me being such a fanatic, she learned the music.

"I can't stand that sci-fi shit." The man (I'll name him Adolf, you will see why) stared at me disgustedly.

If he had not been so emphatically irritated, I would not have asked, "Really? Why?"

He huffed, "You people just want to dream such unrealistic stories. All that sci-fi, fantasy crap is for degenerates. It's dangerous and it's stupid. It's so stupid."

My singing daughter heard the word "stupid" and immediately shushed. She looked expectantly at me. The man's views bothered me, but I didn't think it was crucial to engage.

"Well, to each his own," I replied, "Not everybody likes sci-fi. But I loved Star Wars, I love seeing what creative minds can do when we don't have limits. George Lucas is amazing, he's right up there with my favorite artists, like Tolkien and-"

Adolf had been grunting and shaking his head while I spoke. He interrupted me, avoiding my eyes: "Tolkien, there's another one. All of those artists can burn in hell."

SNAP.

(That's the sound of my Mama-Bear, or Katniss, or Tawanda, attitude bursting out of my skin.)

"You don't have to like them or participate," I said, all 5 feet, 1 inch of me, "But we would not be where we are today if it weren't for creative minds and creative advancement. So you can go crawl back into your hobbit hole and be a hermit there, meanwhile, the rest of us will be expanding our culture."

"I will happily be a hermit," he trumpeted, "away from all your bullshit."

"Good," I said, turning my back to him, "I'm glad that makes you happy. And I'll continue to accept change, along with other artists and creatives."

Adolf began to walk away with his cart, then turned around with a slight smile.

"I'm glad to see you've got some gumption," he said.

I looked at him, but did not return his smile.

"I don't let anyone talk down to me," I said.

I was probably a little abrasive. For one minute, I had turned into one of those political arguers that I absolutely cannot stand, but as a creative person, I'm glad I said something. He hadn't known that being artistic is everything to me, and all that I have. I thought of one hundred better things I should have said as I loaded my groceries, children, and pride, and drove home. This was the first time that I had come across anyone against creativity, with a strong hatred for artists. I knew those people existed - I never thought I would meet one. I don't care if you hate sci-fi, or if fantasy is not your thing, but that kind of communist, fascist, thinking was too much for me to brush off.

#sorrynotsorry.

SHARE IF YOU LOVE ART. Adolf will never know, he most likely doesn't read.