I realize that I'm kind of a drama queen. Granted, I'm not a drama queen of the same magnitude as say, Lindsay Lohan (never done cocaine, not bulimic, don't hate my father, etc), but I tend to get pretty wrapped up in relatively minor shit and let it get me down.
I've had a bit of a lifechanging revelation in the last week. My mom was in a bad car accident and has suffered some temporary, albeit serious, injuries. She's been in the hospital nearly a week now and will remain at least a week more. Her short term memory is haywire, she can't walk unassisted, and is as weak, impatient, and stubborn as I've ever seen her. It's a weird combination.
As S knows very well, I need to find morals in things that happen. I can't take an event on its own and let it stand as a singular happening -- there has to be in a meaning and a purpose in it. So here's a look back at last week to find meaning and purpose:
Monday: Car accident. I flip out.
Tuesday-Thursday: Aftermath of car accident. Still flipping out. Worrying about that guy who never called when I have the energy. Also, fall ill and have to go to the doctor.
Friday: Take my car to get fixed, have to drive rental to fix a partner's friend's speeding ticket in traffic court, bill almost nothing, pick up car and fear I will miss my flight home in the process of fighting horrendous Miami rush hour traffic after hearing that MIA had put up counterterrorism roadblocks and was checking every car into the airport.
So here's what I didn't fill in:
My mom is going to be OK. She isn't now, but she will be.
Spoke to the mutual friend of the guy who never called. He apparently really likes me, has not gotten back together with his girlfriend, has not joined a cult, doesn't think I'm a slut, etc. He's just a flake. So while not great, not as bad as I thought.
I'm not as ill as I thought.
I made my flight. And the damn thing was even delayed.
And the moral?
CHILL OUT.
Have a little patience.
And most importantly, have a little perspective. Even when it seems like things can't get much worse, they often are not as bad as they seem.
With these lessons in mind, I've been tagged by E to list my five weird habits. So many to choose from, but I'll try these:
(1) I follow the same routine in the shower every time, though the products change. Shampoo, conditioner, face wash, (exfoliate if necessary), (shave if necessary), soap. As an added bonus, it's worth mentioning that I have, as present count, nine different kinds of shampoo and conditioner in my shower.
(2) I stalk people on Friendster. But you knew that.
(3) When most people meet someone they like romantically, they might try to find things wrong with them so they will like them less. I'm the opposite - after one good date I'll start planning our wedding and sometimes even speculate as to whether I'll take his name, have kids, drop everything and move across the country for him, etc.
(4) I collect busts of deposed communist leaders, Andy Warhol posters, old cameras that may or may not function, Barbie memorabilia, 1980s pop records, vintage Gucci bags. I own a cookie jar/bust of Carmen Miranda, a stuffed chicken named Bockleby, and a stuffed parrot named Fidel.
(5) Approximately three out of five workday mornings, I return to my apartment to make sure I have turned off the coffeemaker and/or locked the door. This even can happen on mornings where I say to myself in my head "you are locking your door." Doesn't matter. I'm nuts.
(6) Bonus: I eat sour cream with a spoon, without a potato or other food. It's just so fucking good.
