There is this Rilo Kiley song and I’m not entirely sure what it is about. It sounds like it is mostly about being a F***-up but it could also be in part about being manic-depressive. Either way it is totally about me right now. There is a part where she is telling hereslef how things will be in the morning and it says “You’ll fight and you will make it through. You’ll fake it if you have to and you’ll show up for work with a smile. You’ll be better, you’ll be smarter, more grown up and a better daughter or son and a real good friend.”
My parents’ wedding anniversary is next month. My whole life my mother has made a big deal out of her 25th wedding anniversary. What I mean by that is that she haws made it 100% undeniably clear that I have to plan it and it has to be good. So I was thinking that since they are having their 24th this year I should get started planning the big 25. Good plan right? Yes that would have been a fine plan if I could count. It’s just that I figured it this way, I’m 23. They were married one year and one month before I was born. That makes them 24, right? No, you can see the logical flaw here because you, reader, are not a brainless, worthless excuse for a daughter. If I turn 24 this year then they turn 25 and thus I’m screwed. This realization came to me last night by means of my boyfriend, who can do complicated math (Read “count correctly”).
Since then I have gone into panic mode. I have picked a date, planned a tentative menu, and enlisted the help of my sister (the artist) who will do invitations and decorations. I have even found a few halls that I can afford if any of them are available. Things are going as well as one could imagine. Somehow I just keep hearing that song and thinking “am I destined to never, ever have it together?”
I was reading about etiquette for this and it is the first anniversary party that is supposed to be thrown by one’s “adult children.” While technically I’m an adult I wonder sometimes. Like when I decide to have a malt for dinner or spend all my money on pretty shoes. I always think that I will make better choices tomorrow or get more work done next week or finish my novel this year but in reality I can’t even make it to the gym enough. I sit around wondering if the chicken in my freezer has freezer burn. I ponder the pros and cons of Dryel. I have been considering changing my voice mail message at work for a whole month now. After all this, I find my self wondering. . . Am I really wasting my potential?
I have thought I was spending all my time wasting these mounds and mountains of potential. Throwing it away like a beer bellied, truck driving, lottery winner on Vegas strippers. Piddling it away like an apathetic, trust-funded, college drop out trying to “find himself” in some warm, southern European place. I’m starting to question that I really have that much. What if I’m living up to my potential right now? What if this is all I have and I’m givin’ it all I got? How pathetic would I be then? Then again, its not out of the question that I’m sabotaging myself so that I can be more lazy. Being a loser is the best excuse for acting like one. Sadly I have no time for a self esteem crisis today. I have caterers to interview.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I love you in so many ways.
Post a Comment