The First Line of Defense

When most people are confronted with an unpleasant situation, mainly socially, I think it's pretty typical for people's first line of defense to be a reaction. Right? I mean, you hear something unpleasant, and you scrunch up your face, and "ewwww." Or, say for example, the guy you are dating breaks up with you, you laugh, "HA! His loss. He was an asshole anyways."

I've recently realized that at the first hint of things going in a direction any which way other than exactly the way I planned things to go (I'm a planner. Way in advance. Deal with it.), my first line of defense is what I like to call "The Emotional Potato Bug." Catchy, no? The Potato Bug - I think that's the scientific classification for those little bugs that look similar to insectual armadillos that when anything goes near it they curl up into balls and roll away (genus: hideawayous fromeverythingy). My M.O: if I feel like I'm putting myself on the line in any way, and the receiving end of it starts to backpeddle, I completely ball up.

Picture two trains running on two parallel tracks, both going the same place (listen i dont know why they wouldnt just load all the passengers on one train either; just play along). One train will be in the "lead" for a while, and just when the other train catches up and is going the same pace, train A hits the brakes and slows its roll. If I were train B and this happened, I would just hit the brakes til the thing stopped completely, wait for the train A to keep chugging along until it realizes train B is nowhere to be seen and start looking for it. Train station hide and seek, if you will.

Why do we do this (I will speak of "us" collectively to give myself some peace of mind that I am not the only person that is emotionally insectual)? Is it because somewhere along those tracks we see a reminder of what we have crashed into before, and we arent ready to take another head on, full speed hit? Or is it because we don't see something so painfully familiar, and that might end up being worse than what we've already dealt with? I can't quite remember, but I think that as a child, if you mess with a potato bug long enough, it stops balling up. It's like, oh, this person really isnt going squash me, they're just passing time. So, eventually, after the slow-speed-stop-go train fiasco goes on long enough, do we give up on tapping the breaks and just go? Do we hop off the track and roll down the mountain until we land on another track that's running on it's own line? Is it not until we actual become aware of what we are doing?

At What Age Do We Become Adults?

27. Is that a reasonable "adult" age? I still don't know. I think that a large part of people around this age range (give or take a few years either way) are suffering from this "I am not sure if I am an adult or still kind-of-a-kid" blues. I'm neither including or discluding myself in the group suffering from those blues. In the corporate world, I think this is an age where you struggle to be taken seriously and treated as any other "adult" employee.

So what qualifies us into entry of adulthood? Is it when we leave the nest? Can't be. I surely havent been an adult since I was 18. Is it when we graduate from college? That can't be it. Again, because I surely havent been an adult since I was 22. And I know plenty of middle aged folks that never went to college, and they aren't still "kinda" kids. Is it when we can agree that sometimes a weekend of sleeping a lot and cleaning is just as satisfying as binge drinking, waking up on a friends couch with fast food wrappers covering you? Maybe. That sounds more right than any of my other options.

Anyways, AT&T screwed up... something... and called me to tell me the mail they sent me got returned to them. This "mail" was my cell phone bill, which, of course, was conveniently due the day before they called me to tell me that they got the bill back. We had a little disagreement on whether or not I'd be paying late fees and I ended up winning (duh) and receiving a $5 credit for the inconvenience (double win). I haven't changed addresses in almost a year, and for the last 10 months my mail has made it to me, so what went wrong this month? Not sure. However, the woman on the phone asked how old I was. Really?? Perhaps she figured I was young, and instead of paying my bills squandered the money away for Natty Lite and late night runs to Taco Bell.

Oh, and the President of the company I work at just told me all the coffee I drink was going to stunt my growth.

Perhaps 27 isn't the age where you morph into a grown up.

Sisters & the City

My sister is Uh-Maze-Ing.

Perhaps inspired by my previous post about my lackluster financial situation, I will now be spending Labor Day weekend in New York City with my snizzle. Excellent. Even better? She's already booked us trips to the salon for organic facials. Win!

This trip to NYC, I am going to try to avoid the Meat-Packing District, which not only disturbs me because it sounds like it should be a filthy warehouse, not the "fancy" part of town, but also because it's WAY out of tune with my checking account.

So far on the agenda is the facial (I can't say that without giggling (organic facial is even worse... I'm not sure I want to know what's going to happen to us at this "salon") - I swear I'm in my late 20s, not early teens), going for a bike ride, maybe seeing ole Lady Liberty, and whatever else might strike our fancies. Too bad the McQueen exhibit has left the Met, because I would have liked to see that. Rembrandt? Nah.

Oh, your glass is completely empty? Cool...

Negative Nancy, nobody asked for you to come and rain on our parade.

Have you ever met somebody who is so toxic that when they walk into a room it feels like all positive energy is sucked out with the efficiency of a Dyson Ball? Seriously, these types make the hairs on my neck stand up (which are delicate and feminine hairs, of course), and I have no tolerance for them. I made a very concious decision to start downgrading the importance of said emotional black holes a few months back, and really my outlook on life has increased exponentially ever since.

But really, what's the deal? I understand that we all have our off days, and can occasionally be a little down in the dumps (with good reason). Some people just seem to lack the ability to accept that we choose our own paths. If you want to have a sourpuss outlook on everything you do, chances are you won't appreciate anything you get in return. So get over it, slap a smile on your face, and keep it moving. I don't want to hear about how you are certain the entire world is out to get you, because honestly speaking, most of the world doesn't know you exist. And the world that is aware of you is tired of listening to your incessant bitching.

...so, I'm starting a blog...

Last night as I was at home, trying to fight the urge to go to bed at 7:00pm, I had a lot of thoughts that I wanted to share with... anyone. There are way too many perks to living alone than I can even begin to articulate, but unfortunately, on days where I feel like talking to someone, but still hate talking on the phone, and am actually too lazy-slash-exhausted to leave my apartment, I don't really have an outlet (such as a roommate). So - this is my solution. For now. I make no promises on how often this will be updated, or what the content will be.

Things I promise not to discuss? Politics. I've always wished to be more concerned with the political state of our nation, but to be honest and blunt, it just doesn't interest me at all. I see a lot of Facebook statuses or tweets regarding how outraged young-middle aged America is in regards to debt ceilings and things like that, but who am I to judge decisions made by a group of people on our country's debt, when I can't even manage my own finances? I can only imagine how much harder it is to deal with all of Americas.

That being said - finances. Yuck. My sister emailed me on Monday asking me to join her on a trip to St. Marten over the Labor Day long weekend. She even offered to give me a "I'm-the-high-rolling-older-sibling" credit on the cost of what would be my half of the package, and I could pay her in monthly installments after the fact. It's all very tempting, and considering I've never left the continental US of A, let alone gone to the Caribbean for a girls trip with my best friend, I am still trying to do the right thing (financially) and not go. Everytime I take a sharp turn in my car, I'm worried at least two (if not all four) wheels are going to fly off. Shouldn't I really consider replacing the Silver Bullet soon? Yes. Have I been saying that since I started working a big-girl job nearly five years ago? Yes. Sigh. I'm sorry, sister. I wish I could be as good at being an adult as you, and afford fun things like this.