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Scarlett O'Hara in a Past Life
Mar. 14th, 2014 11:26 amNeither of the two swains is available this weekend, which is too bad because this is a weekend where I could really benefit from distraction.
I have Major Life Decisions to make, but I really can't make them while I'm feeling sad and... Well. Disappointed. It's like even when I try to be a good person -- and what could be gooder than working with badass teens in a shithole like Poughkeepsie? -- the Universe just won't let me do it.
M___ K_____ and I did major phonage and textage throughout the day yesterday. M___ K_____ is my one pal whose life is even more chaotic and drama-prone than my own. It's not surprising that we share many of the same biographical details.
Anyway, at one point she was confiding her backup plan to me -- "I've stockpiled these massive amounts of drugs! The good stuff! Percocet, oxycodone. If the shit ever hits the fan -- if they ever tell me I have an incurable wasting disease or I'm gonna be a cripple -- I'm so-o outa here --"
"K_____, you can't do that!" I said, vaguely shocked.
"Why not?"
"Well... It's like every life is a class in the curriculum," I said. "If you off yourself, you're gonna have to repeat the class. Seriously."
"Yeah, I know," she said. "What the fuck did I do in my last life to end up in this shitstorm?"
"Hitler," I said. "You had to have been Hitler. Or maybe Stalin."
I don't know who I was in my last life.
And I never get the sense I'm being punished exactly because the Universe always dangles lifelines whatever the crisis. I don't think it's a coincidence, for example, that I acquired an automobile the weekend before the Pollyanna shit hit the fan. I also don't think it's a coincidence that this Pollyanna gig has taken me straight through to April where financial independence of a small but doable sort could be mine merely by signing on the right dotted line.
It's kind of as though I'm in a maze and there are clues all around me, but I'm not deciphering them correctly.
Anyway. In times like these, a girl channels her inner Scarlett O'Hara: I'll think about this tomorrow.
I have Major Life Decisions to make, but I really can't make them while I'm feeling sad and... Well. Disappointed. It's like even when I try to be a good person -- and what could be gooder than working with badass teens in a shithole like Poughkeepsie? -- the Universe just won't let me do it.
M___ K_____ and I did major phonage and textage throughout the day yesterday. M___ K_____ is my one pal whose life is even more chaotic and drama-prone than my own. It's not surprising that we share many of the same biographical details.
Anyway, at one point she was confiding her backup plan to me -- "I've stockpiled these massive amounts of drugs! The good stuff! Percocet, oxycodone. If the shit ever hits the fan -- if they ever tell me I have an incurable wasting disease or I'm gonna be a cripple -- I'm so-o outa here --"
"K_____, you can't do that!" I said, vaguely shocked.
"Why not?"
"Well... It's like every life is a class in the curriculum," I said. "If you off yourself, you're gonna have to repeat the class. Seriously."
"Yeah, I know," she said. "What the fuck did I do in my last life to end up in this shitstorm?"
"Hitler," I said. "You had to have been Hitler. Or maybe Stalin."
I don't know who I was in my last life.
And I never get the sense I'm being punished exactly because the Universe always dangles lifelines whatever the crisis. I don't think it's a coincidence, for example, that I acquired an automobile the weekend before the Pollyanna shit hit the fan. I also don't think it's a coincidence that this Pollyanna gig has taken me straight through to April where financial independence of a small but doable sort could be mine merely by signing on the right dotted line.
It's kind of as though I'm in a maze and there are clues all around me, but I'm not deciphering them correctly.
Anyway. In times like these, a girl channels her inner Scarlett O'Hara: I'll think about this tomorrow.
