• “We always thought she was a witch”
• “She was the meanest lady in town”
• “She was bat-shit crazy”
• “I remember one time she chased us around in her car because she thought we egged her house”
• “She sure cussed a lot”

These words were usually followed by something like:

• “She always had the coolest cars”
• “She was the most interesting person in town.”
• “After I grew up, she was really great to talk to.”

And then, I heard the same thing over and over again; she was the most exciting thing to talk about in town. She knew that and loved it. Sometimes she would tell me the latest stories going around town about her and laugh. Henry stories weren’t limited to Indiana. My friends who met her all had their own stories of their own. She loved being the center of attention and thrived on the fact that even in her old age, she still had it. There are 38 mirrors hanging on the walls in her house. This does not include all of the random hand mirrors that were lying on various dressers. She was a very beautiful woman and knew it. All of her idiosyncrasies made her one of the most unique individuals I will probably ever meet. One of my friends told me that he didn’t think that anyone would ever be able to overshadow the living legend that was my grandmother. I think he’s right.

• I love when there’s an empty Einstein’s box sitting on a table in the Green Lounge. Starving law students approach it and they look so eager and excited at the prospect of free food. But, alas, the box is empty! I see the glee turn to disappointment. I always find myself laughing at them.
• I’m a terrible singer. Sometimes I’ll go to karaoke and sing. I then like to approach someone who doesn’t know me and ask them in my most eager voice, “how was I? I’ve been practicing.” People become very uncomfortable. This has taught me a valuable lesson however. The lesson is that most people will not give you their honest opinion when asked for it.
• Res ipsa. Nuff said.
• Sometimes, if the conversation seems to be getting dull, I try to figure out a way to work in “when I had THE CANCER.” Wow, this one really gets to people. They immediately become apologetic, asking me if I’m okay. Then, I think they feel a little bit guilty for being put off by me and my lack of self control. It’s glorious.
• I also just generally lack any internal censor. This one always keeps things lively. I’ve also found that most people have no idea when I’m being serious or when I’m joking. I’ll let you in a little secret. Very rarely do I lie. If you’re hearing an “Alia Story,” it’s all true. That being said, most people don’t know if they should laugh, be angry, or sympathize with me. This tends to cause confusion, discomfort, and awkward silences. I love it.

I never pull punches. I’ve given it a try here and there, but it makes me feel all icky inside. I know that many find this behavior not socially acceptable but I seem to do just fine. I laugh when people trip. I tease my children. In fact, I’ve been known to go to school assemblies and laugh at other people’s children. Now, I have encountered some folks who are equally mean spirited and they seem to be very sensitive. This is where I think I win. I laugh at myself when I fall down. When I get called out on a fashion faux pas, I own it. I actually appreciate criticism. I welcome it. This doesn’t mean I’ll change. I kind of like the way I am. I do wonder sometimes about my outbursts. I wonder if I developed this sense of humor because I lack any censor or if I don’t censor because of the sense of humor. Interesting question, at least to me anyway and that’s all that really matters, right?

The train was pretty crowded with a variety of different people from clearly different cultural backgrounds.  Now, I hate to stereotype (not really), but people follow predictable patterns.  The white folks on the train tried their hardest not to stare or act as if they even noticed the click click talk.  That’s what they do best.  They don’t want anyone to think they’re judgmental or, God forbid, racist!

But, black folks, my people, why oh why must you clown?  Sadly, the black folks on my car took this opportunity to laugh, point and mimic the click talk.  It was… well, it was something.  The click talkers looked slightly annoyed but chose to ignore the mockery and continue their conversation.  They got off the train at Sox 35th.  Maybe they were going to IIT; who knows.

I guess I was kind of sad.  No one really wants to be stereotyped, I thought.  But to behave in such a ridiculous manner in mixed company lends itself to judgment.  I mentioned this incident to someone and this person said that maybe those people on the train weren’t the ones who cared about stereotypes.  While that may be true, what about the people who do?