fight the face

One week + two days and I’m already fighting the face.

It’s everywhere – on the subway, the sidewalks, the streets. Expressionless, the face often walks with headphones and looks most like aggressive stoicism. It says, “Don’t talk to me, don’t bother me, I’m important and confident and trying to play it NYC cool.”

I’m not good at the face. I smile too much and I think I come by that naturally – probably because there is always a conversation going on in my head worthy of laughter. The face says all things opposite to how I feel (please talk to me, I don’t mind being bothered, I’m not anything too special, and you and I both know I’m not NYC cool).

I’m not good at it, but I’ve still felt my eyebrows and cheekbones and jawline try to slide into this unhappy city facial posture.

I’m going to keep fighting it. Because joy is worth showing on your face.

So far, I’ve got only love for Brooklyn.

4 thoughts on “fight the face

  1. Do fight the face! Iowans choose the disgruntled & indignant martyrdom state, but at least they talk. Your joy is contagious.

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