Get it?

I like to think I operate on a totally transparent level with the universe. I fantasize that my actions perfectly reflect my thoughts and values. I like to think I hold this principle among the highest.

It is the Mother-Teresa-method in action. She puts forth an altruistic agenda for the world to embrace. And the world responds accordingly. She is a chick you can really understand. Now, I don’t know about the follow part, but the general idea of her is pretty straightforward. Your standard saint, no tricks up her sleeve. Love her or leave her. Now, I am no MT. And consequently, it seems, I am totally fooling myself in regards to my public identity.

I am not gotten. I am not understood. I am not easily readable. And why I think I am, or more importantly, why I think I should be “gotten’ is a small, meaningless mystery.

I suppose we all operate at some level of secrecy or personal encryption. I just read “Dear Pussycat” Gurley-Brown’s letters to the world. And in one of them she shamelessly begs for movie passes. I thought, “The nerve of her!” “What a scam!” But maybe I just don’t “get’ her. Maybe I envy her gall. Maybe I am embarrassed for her. Maybe I think she could afford a movie all by herself with her Cosmo-editor paycheck. As I read her letters, I thought, “Yes, it is noble to send such an impressive amount of correspondence.” But, I didn’t think the content was altogether inspiring. Maybe that is why “Dear Pussycat” is currently on sale at Barnes & Noble for $1.

And the odd part of my dislike of the letters, possibly the author, was that she is pretty much a privileged bitch. And at the end of the day, if anyone asked me—I would probably say a privileged bitch was exactly the company I would want for margaritas. She is the gal you would find me with at the mall. I don’t go to the mall, but that is how I imagine our first date. So, go figure.

I will also fess up that I am a little starry-eyed for all things fashion, so why don’t I gel with the queen of couture? I suppose we just don’t “get’ each other.

It’s a shame that one of people in the universe I really thought I would click with, seriously annoys me.

And I guess I am still trying to impress the cool kids at school by listening to their stories and pretending to feel the same way. That is not altogether saint-like, much less honest. So, if people don’t “get” me, I suppose the sad truth is that I have not introduced myself.

And realizing that I hate Gurley-Brown for being a snobby-upscale-cheap-movie-ticket-grubbing-bitch is probably a good start at knowing who I am. It is not always pretty to reveal the true you. A deep breath is required before an honest showing.

I admire G-H for exposing her true colors, I am not nearly so bold. And truth-be-told, I shudder to think that her courage was met with a big, red, ONE dollar sticker on the summer sale rack. I guess, I prefer to be un-gotten (and with that, I prefer to be free).