There’s an e-card out there right now that says:
“I’m well-aware I’m not everyone’s cup of tea … I’d rather be someone’s shot of tequila anyway.”
And after this week, which was A WEEK, I am feeling just a little bit fra-gee-lay because I can try to be tea all I want, but I’m neither sweet nor strong enough. Nor can I seem to make myself “just right” to fit all tastes. And the end result is that everyone thinks I’m just too bitter for their personal preference.
Another quote of the day:
“No wind favors him who has no destined port.” — Michel de Montaigne
I really thought things were going well. Busy as hell, yes, but making progress nonetheless. My personal life is nothing to write home about, so I’ve thrown myself into my work, as I tend to do.
I made an appointment with a famous medical person in my area for mom, and he agreed to cut me a break on services since she has no coverage and I have to pay cash. This week was set to be stellar.
I was just musing to myself how glad I was that I hadn’t bought my dream car, so I could use the downpayment to help mom, when the phone rang and changed my week.
Here’s a little tip: When you pray for something to be like something else — say a boy to be like another boy or for a friend to be as good a friend as another or a job to be like another job — do yourself a big fat fucking favor and qualify which characteristics you DON’T want to carry over to the next round, mmmkay?
Not only did this week end up with me in excruciating mental agony and a pile of frustrated tears to surround it like an alligator-filled moat, but I kind of stayed the (albeit unchartered) course just so I could get to a point where I could say I felt good, even if it didn’t matter to anyone else.
Oh, and thanks to whomever used my bank account to fund their online shopping spree. I haven’t had a debit card in days and today I have to dispute the pile of charges. I hope the banks are even open today so I can go out tonight!
Actually, amid all the BULLSHIT of this week, I experienced a stroke of grace.
It was Wednesday when my bank alerted me to the fraudulent charges. (I love my bank.) And I had maybe an eighth of a tank of gas for my 30-mile commute home, so I was counting on stopping at my favorite BP to fuel up and buy smokes.
Well.
Canceled debit card and enough fuel to go 15 miles? Yeah.
I’ve been driving mom’s car since mine is a piece of unrepaired shit right now. Normally I have a few dollar bills in my car — she likes those $1 drinks from McDonald’s so I usually keep small bills handy so I can buy them for her.
Well, in her car, I don’t keep anything personal. I have my SunPass and my iPhone charger and two pairs of glasses and other shit in my purse so I don’t have to keep cleaning out cars every time I switch.
Plus, I liked leaving my dollar bills in my car since she borrows it every once in a while and I want her to have that cash if she needs it.
Anyway, as I was wondering how to not just get home, but also BACK TO THE OFFICE the next day on nothing but fumes, mom texted me that she’d left an emergency $20 in the console.
God bless her. That half-tank lasted me till I got home last night.
And in that, I realize boys don’t matter. Jobs don’t matter. Having someone who loves you and can take over for you when everything else falls apart … that matters.
I’m so off-course right now. I thought I had it all. And I may very well still. But before I continue beating myself up because I’m not someone else’s dream, I have to wonder whether I’m even on the right path. I will bust my ass and fight like hell and give my heart to these boys and jobs and friends because that’s what I do.
But like one of those boys — and I will die trying to figure out why he doesn’t love me enough/back/anymore/who knows — keeps telling me, I need to “bento box” my life. Seize my nights back. Don’t take things personally. Have more “me” time and “me” activities that no one else can touch from other parts of the bento box.
And he says to buy the car. Because really, isn’t it nice to have some symbol that ALL THE BULLSHIT is worth it?
He’s right. He’s usually right. And I don’t know how he can’t love a girl who tells him he’s right all the time. 🙂
Of course, the good thing about being busy is that I don’t have time to wonder about that anymore!
I’m going to take one last look at the car tomorrow. (Don’t need a debit card to buy a car!) I think they’re crooks and mom (remember, she’s psychic) is convinced they are the ones who used my personal information to go shopping. Anyway, I think the sinking feeling in my gut every time I go to sign the paperwork is a tremendous sign.
But as for my life plan, I need one. This isn’t working.
If things were great … nay, if SOMETHING were great … then I wouldn’t have been in absolute tears yesterday, confessing that I not only couldn’t keep the plates spinning in the air but that I was standing knee-deep in a pile of broken China and couldn’t get out.
In other words, before I fight to reclaim my rightful “goddess” title that other people are challenging (THE NERVE), should they have the importance I give them so much so that they take up my whole bento box and there’s no space for a sweet treat that I can enjoy far, far away from them?
In other words, is this the life I want? Then make it better. Bento box this bitch up and do it right. And if it’s not, it’s time to draft up a whole new diet and live by it instead. Either way, there has to be room for fun and love and joy.
And unfortunately, those are the first things I’ve sacrificed to have enough energy to get through the here and now. And guess what? It still isn’t enough. Time to grab control … and keep it. And to not box people out of my bento (cough cough *boy*) if they’d make it better.
GET IN MAH BENTO!