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Complaints About Urban Pigeons

“They fuck on the AC units,” my dad said. I thought it was both hilarious and true. Still, no matter what activities they’re engaged in, I love the cooing of urban pigeons near my window. I also love the sound of the streetcar. I awoke to it this morning, and half asleep, confused about where I was, I thought it was the doorbell.

This pretty much describes my day. Much like the city, which is at once light-hearted and neurotic, I was caught somewhere between laughter and a temper tantrum. I had a fit over the same old stuff, stuff that always makes me angry, having my wishes overlooked, my feelings invalidated, simply not being understood or taken into account.Sometimes I think family can piss us off the most because they’ve been doing it in exactly the same way for such a long time, and the anger compounds. Why can’t people learn? I’m not just talking about those who constantly hurt my feelings. I’m talking about myself too. Why can’t I learn not to have hurt feelings over the same old stuff, not to expect anything different from people who keep behaving in the same old ways?

But I don’t mean to suggest I had a bad day. It was nice, full of sunshine, my outburst of anger like a thunderstorm on a sunny day. I also had a very special meal. My cousin and I went to a place called Mahala, where the decor was very cool and the food very good. My favorite? Coliva ice cream. Coliva, by the way, is a type of sweet people make for the dead.