You know the drill, of how, someone, from afar, looks at someone else (usually a famous person), and has them instantly pegged, not just as a certain type, not as a simple category, but an entire life-story, expecting them from that moment on to fulfill the narrative and live up to expectations...The story somehow in our hands, somehow confirming our best worst suspicions...This celeb, from afar, this instantly recognizable, handsome, beautifully relaxed, confident, down-to-earth, elevated version of ourselves, living out the dream...We bump into them despite ourselves, reminded of their youthful looks, their perfect face and hair, the clothes, the house, the dog, their inimitable speech patterns, their quotable quotes, their video appearances, their travel destinations...So much imposed upon this constructed image, not allowing it to be other than it seems....
I have spent much of my early life in the suburbs and after a brief stint in the big city - with its noise, crowding and cramped spaces, I find myself immersed again in this familiar realm - an environment that seems part of my destiny. I've always thoughts of the suburbs as a place meant for children - where children can feel safe and protected - with non-busy streets and clean sidewalks - room to ride one's bike or go door-to-door selling cookies. To consider how many of our early impressions and sensations were spawned by this largely artificial world...How different such a milieu is from other places on earth, war zones, rain forests, Siberian outposts, tiny mountaintop villages or large sprawling mazes of high rise apartments in vertically-inclined mega metropolises...The suburbs are a place where a definite order and routine can be imposed...where regularity is king... lawns get mowed on time, shrubs are trimmed, garbage bins are placed at the curb and returned to thei...
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