So Mara is living testament that true hippies and happiness still exist despite the cynical lens through which I and so many others choose to view the world. This girl. Mara is unlike any of my other friends. Having grown up attending the most painfully anal and elite of schools has generated a shamelessly homogenous friend pool. And I'm not just talking Jewish and white. Like myself. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Obviously. But just the culture. The preppiness. The Vineyard Vines slash J. Crew, Dave Matthews, O.A.R-loving bros. Academia as the ultimate measure of self-worth. Then there is Mara. House filled with pez dispensers. Plastic Gumby's. A colored pencil drawing of The Yellow Submarine complete with a Blue Meanie. A coffee table book filled with pictures of naked women and French photographers. A cat named Indica. (Indica = weed.) A life-sized Austin Powers cardboard cutout in the stairwell. A wall filled with Polaroid pictures of friends in parks and in costumes. Customized dirty magnet words on the fridge where guests have inventively if not explicitly exercised their creative skills. A snake named Maynard in the bathroom. (Mara has reassured me on previous occasions that Maynard doesn't mind the consistent stream of house and techno rave beats of her various DJ friends and friends of friends.) Colored beads for making 'candy' to exchange at raves. Peace signs- in every possible color. There is a teepee in the backyard. Everything is chill with Mara. Mara lives in a world free from the dictates of numbers. Numbers pertaining to academic standing, numbers pertaining to weight, or any other numerical indication of status. Life just happens and everything just is.
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