Musings of a Mermaid
1. Mer-Made
In an attempt to differentiate myself from mainstream trends I’ve created this blog to speak through the eyes of a true mermaid. Not to be confused as a hipster with an agenda (although, I’d make a damned cute one). I am not a human and wouldn’t openly associate myself with such an inferior. Although, when on land, I do acquire a nice set of legs.
The posts to follow are an assembly of thoughts and events that have occurred during my expedition on land. As it currently stands, mermaids are portrayed as ‘basic’. If you’re not familiar with today’s lingo, urban dictionary will soon become your best friend. Currently, the term “basic” is
“1. Used to describe someone devoid of defining characteristics that might make a person interesting, extraordinary, or just simply worth devoting time or attention to.
2. Lacking intelligence and unable to socialize on even an elementary level.
3. Annoyingly frustrating because of the above”
(courtesy of UrbanDictionary.com).
Also, another adjective associated with the term was “unsophisticated”. So you see the setback on the reputation of a mermaid? What is the cause of this undesirable misconception? I haven’t lined up any proven solutions just yet, although, I can’t help but to point fingers at the plethora of cheesy kids’ movies found on G-Rated channels, the omnipotent coffee franchise who so kindly chose a mermaid as her poster child (for those who believe it’s a siren, I dare you to try me), or maybe it’s because of the laughable amount of basic girls who wear mermaid tail blankets and claim to be the beautiful sea-dwelling beings, themselves. Just a hunch. Now, I’m covertly observing the human race, and using my everyday experiences to slowly clear the name of the mermaids for good (or at least for a century or so).
-Sea smooches, P
2. Dark Roast till Dawn
Humans are excruciating beings. Why are they so freaking terrible? I’m sure this question will resurface in my writing almost every day for the rest of the year because it has almost become a habit now. But, why?
Why do they appear to be so caring and sweet and inviting and harmless? Yet, my optimistic mind is always let down by their undeniably self-motivated or negligent behavior… Let me dive further into this (swimming pun-intended). An evening ago, I was attempting to indulge in a blueberry scone at a stellar café when my calm peace and quiet was intruded upon by…yes, humans. I had only a couple of bites of the delicacy, focusing my attention on positioning all of the crumbs in the center of my napkin, when my concentration was broken by a pack of teens. Yes. A pack. I feel that it is actually a compliment to even call them humans since they were really behaving like coyotes; acting as if they were big and bad when, in reality, they were just small-town kids trying to look cool. Except, they had posed a valid threat to my evening in solitude. A day full of humans and I can’t even claim nighttime for myself.
Seeing as how I was the only customer in the café at half-past ten, I knew that my cozy retreat would be closing shortly. The teens’ laughter thundered against the towering book shelves and obscure art (if that’s what you want to call it anyway) as they strolled to the counter. Immediately, they hassled the barista to concoct all of these drinks with extensive recipes… I was quite annoyed for him, actually. Who has time to remember this crap? He finished each drink one at a time, when the second kid received hers she spat it over the counter {insert eye roll here}. “This shit sucks! What even is this? I asked for a soy latte. Like, how hard is that to get?” The barista immediately halted his operation and ordered the pack out of the store. I sensed a dramatic scene about to unfold before me, but the appall was no match for my piquing interest {insert amused smirk here}.
The scene did erupt as I had suspected it would, but not to the extent that I’d thought… Both hands in his pockets, a husky guy threatened the barista, “We’ll leave when we want. She asked for a soy latte. We ain’t leaving till then.” He had a strong accent that said ‘I grew up in the ghettos of L.A.,’ but his prep school hoodie and Beats by Dre spoke for themselves about his true roots. His whiney, ‘I get what I want’ attitude devoid me of any and all present or future sympathy toward the crew. I remained silent, but internally I scoffed, “Chill out, Mac Miller.”
The self-absorbed group was too involved to have even noticed my presence, so I slipped on the other side of a bookshelf, hidden from view. As it turns out, this was a smart move. The shopkeeper rang out one last threat that he was going to call the cops, with intensifying anger visible in his uncanny eyes. Thirty seconds later, gunshots belted out followed by adolescent laughter and carefree footsteps filing through the door. They hadn’t bothered to so much as even dust the counter off with their fingerprints. “Punks,” I said aloud in my perceived loneliness.
Peeking toward the crime scene, I found that there was no blood anywhere… I stalked around the counter and checked the barista’s pulse. There was nothing but a cold, dead body lying on the ground. Dead indeed, but not from the cause that I’d thought. Stark laughter erupted from the eerie silence, “dumb ass kids couldn’t even hit me fatally.” Okay, this is where I was lost for a second, too. I forgot that I’m not the only outsider in these parts. “Besides, they’d need a silver bullet to kill a cold one,” he retorted with a grin that’d send shiver down a human’s spine. Letting out a giggle I offered a hand to the bloodsucker. He got up and chuckled, returning to his work. “Since when have vampires started getting involved in food business?” I sneer, raising an eyebrow. He smiles back, “We don’t have to taste the food to lure in humans.” We exchange a knowing grin. No wonder his coffee sucks.
-Smirking, P