The amusement park is open again after a long hiatus. I went alone and I decided to check out this formidable roller coaster, BY MY SELF. It is definitely what I asked for at the ticket booth. “Just one ticket please,” when the attendant offered a deal for two. Once I was on the ride, my feelings were so mixed that even a fine Vitamix would have trouble blending them well. How did it turn out? No smoothie here. It’s a bumpy and rough one. I reached the top and was then immediately thrown into a free fall followed by ziggy-zaggy turns and now my world is entirely flipped upside down.
What made me want to take this ride in the first place? Ignorance? Dramatization? Suicidal thoughts that turned into actions? Not sure. But part of what I know for sure is the experience. The experience that people dodge and run away from.
In the informed delivery system, I knew there was going to be a letter from the government. It felt like I was about to be charged with tax evasion. But let’s be real for a moment. After paying my monthly bills, I can’t even afford to pay for an unscheduled popsicle after a night jog, even if I wanted to.
Or like the other day, when the mailman was so engrossed in a conversation on his phone that he lost interest in delivering an immigration notice that might have the phrase “get out” on it. Even though nothing like that would be printed on an officious letter, paranoia has consistently been my best friend especially when the mail was just lost. Who took it? Was it the mail fairy? But there is no such a thing as a mail fairy if I remember correctly. Then I would have to chase this lost mail down to the mailman, the post office clerk, and then the manager. When I was there holding my temper playing the nice card, I only discovered that there was no way to get my mail back, just like the a high school girlfriend’s sex tape getting lost on the Internet when MySpace went “poof” and disappeared from the universe. Well, it would have been nice to have a high school girlfriend.
My worst moment was when I forced myself to study all the immigration laws in an attempt to expedite the process as much as possible. I became so frustrated that I couldn’t help but burst into tears in a meeting with my colleague, who by the way has crying kids to pamper. Who’s the kid now? I am definitely the giant baby weeping hard here.
Frustration? Depression? Exhaustion? Choose your own, or hey it’s Saturday, so why not grab our weekend special to get them all. Seriously. At the very last minute, before filing, I was chickened to take the risk of doing it as an individual. To me, there was just too much at stake to take any chances. After all, I had a plan, and I never wanted the plan to fall apart. The risk of jeopardizing my future happiness would not be fun, but the latest lesson I have learned is that I’m just a little fool trying to out-smart nothing.
Yet there is still life to live. Yet there is still no way to call in sick, as no one is willing to substitute for me. So what do I have to do? Clean it up and suck it up.