Categories > Original > Humor1 Reviews
A journey of self discovery, and maybe a few other things.
I have decided that the section of my life that I'm going to rewrite my whole life. That's the only way to make it interesting. In this selection of pieces, you will see me do and say everything that I wish I could do but never would, and things I wish I could say but never would in real life.
"Mom, you are a bitch, and I don't want to be stuck under your thumb anymore." This is what I said to myself the day I took over my own life at twenty years old. All my life, I have been sheltered and protected. The favourite. The goody- goddy. Today is the day that stops.
My cellphone rings. It's Katie, my best friend and the only constant for most of my life.
"Hi Katie. How is the book I lent you?" We talk abou the book for a little while. "Katie, I booked an appointment to get a consultation on the tattoo I want to get. You are coming with me." She sounds pretty excited and asks what it's of. "It's a portion of lyrics of a Josh Groban song. It will say 'You are love, don't give up.' It'll be at the nape of my neck." She soundseven more excited and asks about the sudden "no fear" position I'm taking. I tell her my plan and she knows that I am serious. She also knows it's been seven years in the making and should have happened long ago.
At work, I decide that I am going to do my job and do it well. I am going to attend to my customers, and in between I am going to do my tasks and keep my order of priorities in check. Wow. As it turns out, by the end of the day, I felt pretty good. I had some pretty good sales, my units per hour were high, and so was my average sale. And I didn't have to clerk to get them. My customer fan base is growing. Next thing you know I will be handing out autographs.
After work, I bus to the Reh-Fit Centre on Taylor Avenue. I walk in with my “no fear/ don’t-be-a-shy-loser” attitude and ask to sign up. From now on, I refuse to get doubled over, gasping for air when running for the bus that’s passing me by.
That’s another thing I’m tired of. No more taking the bus. Today, a very high woman approached me and started up a conversation that I tried to shut down. Successful, yes, but a few minutes later she came back and asked me a “personal” question. You know...girl to girl. She asked me if her period had shown through her very out of style acid-washed, cheaply made jeans. I refuse to put up with it anymore. I do not have the words “IDIOT! TALK TO ME!” stamped on my forehead. I will book my appointment and pass my road test; regardless of whether I failed the first time before I left the parking lot or not. This is a new time. And a new trial. And I will pass. I will no longer take the bus with crazy people and crabby bus drivers, and I will no longer be a burden to anyone for a ride.
Next on my list of things to do: find myself a good boyfriend. Yes. I am twenty years old and have never had a boyfriend. Well...in grade six, but that never counts. Never in my life have I had a man tell me that I am beautiful. A straight guy anyway. (It’s still flattering when a gay guy says it, but I still wish a straight guy would say it.) Now that all of my (carefully chosen) friends have boyfriends that they are banging like the sluts and whores that they are (they were my friends because we all believed in NOT being whores and sluts. Shocking. I know) I have decided I need someone to spend my free time with. NOT banging, just cuddling. I’m not a slut. (Sorry to disappoint.) I also think I should find myself some new friends. It’s a thought anyway.
Okay. New friends and a new boyfriend. Hefty load, but with my new attitude, I can handle it. Up until now, I have been that annoying puppy thatfollows everyone around. You know, the one that everyone pities. We all know what that is like, whether you are the pity-er or the pity-ee. Nevertheless, NO MORE.
On the bus ride home from the Centre, Vanessa texts me. I text back.
“Let’s go to a bar tonight.” I know exactly what she will say back. “Um. Ok.” The hesitation is because she knows I don’t like bars. Well, I don’t. They give me anxiety attacks. They really just aren’t my forte. On the otherhand, I am writing this because we have all decided that my forte sucks like a vacuum.
Here is my idea: while at the bar, have a few drinks to loosen up (also not my forte) and go dance (again not my forte) with some guys (you guessed it. Not my forte). Now that we’ve established what ISN’T my forte, I just thought I would see how many times I could use the word “forte” in a paragraph. My count of the word “forte” is seven times. Oh yes. This is why I’m writing this. Because I think that’s amusing. Counting how many times I used the word “forte”. (It’s eight now if you lost track). Back to the idea now. If I actually do manage to find a guy- he has friends. My problem is like instant pudding. Add water (boyfriend) and get pudding (friends). Voila! Instand boyfriend/friend pudding. I think it will taste like chocolate.