Aug
08
Hello! I'm going to die one day, and so are you! (Whitnicism: the Feel-Good Blog of 2011.)
For starters, here are the three main components to understanding me:
- I'm an incredibly anxious person.
- Anxiety causes me to over think everything. And I mean everything.
- Over thinking allows me to come to weird epiphanies, seemingly out of absolutely nowhere.
Last night there I was, rag curls in my hair, playing multiplayer iPod Touch Solitaire against a person who was too good at Solitaire to have any kind of social life. Then the thought came: 'Whitney. As far as anyone knows, you have one life to live on this Earth. And you're using this precious time tying rag curls and getting your ass handed to you on a platter via online Solitaire. Are these the moments you're going to tell your grandchildren about?'
Then I had an overwhelming urge to burst through the front door of my house and start living as much life as I could possibly find. I pondered everything from buying a plane ticket to Europe to finding a stranger to make out with. Unfortunately, it was midnight. I'm also broke, and throwing myself at the first attractive male I find while wearing rag curls isn't a much better story for the grandchildren.
As John Mayer put it in a song, I'm going through a "quarter-life crisis." Don't get me wrong. In my short life, I've gotten to do some pretty awesome things. I've been places. I've met people. I even fell in love that one time, even if it was with the undeniably wrong person. There are so many things left to be done, however, that I don't even know where to get started. I realized that the time to do these things is now, while I'm still young and fancy free.
I began to mentally compile my bucket list. It included what I considered to be the essentials: Figure out what I want to do with my life, and then go to school for that thing. Travel everywhere, a lot. Fall in love again, hopefully with the undeniably right person this time. Probably make him my husband. Have children with said husband that look vaguely like me, and hopefully act even more vaguely like me. You know, the basics.
However, there are a few things I've always wanted to do that are a bit...outlandish. As I daydreamed, each new bucket list item became more ludicrous than the last. Here are some examples. These are mostly unrealistic expectations that I've drawn from watching movies.
1. Be Involved in an Over-the-Top Introduction
I've always wanted to enter a room full of dozens, if not thousands, of people highly anticipating my arrival. My original plan that would have fulfilled this goal was to be a guest on Oprah. I'm not even a huge fan of Oprah. I just think I have a great Oprah announcing name. ("Whitneeeey HowAAAAAARD!")
With my Oprah dreams dashed, I must set my sights elsewhere. The current vision involves anything from a large gymnasium to a small stadium. My arrival will be announced via microphone, megaphone, or some other voice projecting device that more than likely starts with "m" and ends in "phone." There are balloons, metallic confetti, and/or streamers. There is either a marching band or that song they use to pump you up for basketball games is blaring through the speakers. I dance down the aisles toward a stage, and there are plenty of high fives to go around.
My only flaw with this plan is why I would be there in the first place, and how such a grand announcement for me of all people would be necessary. I'm an awkward public speaker (or public do anything-er) and I tend to avoid large crowds. As soon as the announcement is over, my mind draws a blank over what happens next. I assume I just stand there awkwardly for about thirty seconds and then leave the stage to an outro of "We Are the Champions" by Queen.
2. Have Many Excuses to Wear a Pretty Dress Somewhere
I don't know if this is to compensate for the few high school dances I went to, or if I've seen too many Disney movies, but I always welcome excuses to put on a dress and look pretty. I got to do that very thing just last weekend, as a matter of fact. I seem to lack the everyday opportunity to wear a formal, which is why I still feel unfulfilled in this aspect of my life.
I've imagined this scenario in several ways, but it always has these three elements in common: 1) I'm wearing a pretty dress, and I look smokin'. 2) There is a big ol' staircase. and 3) There is a really cute guy waiting somewhere along the stairs. He'll give me a look that says, "I had no idea how I subconsciously felt about you before this moment, but I'm pretty sure I want to marry you based solely on how you look in formal wear." Then we consummate our love in a huge room with a pool table in it. Because pool tables are classy.
For a film parallel, think a combination between Anastasia and Titanic. Mostly Anastasia.
3. Discover I Have Magical Powers
As many children do, I had imaginary friends. Their names were Jonathan, Missy, and Lou Lou, to be exact. Occasionally others made an appearance, such as Jessica (she was snooty, wore fur coats, and she was a major beeotch) and Reflection (who, as sad as it is to admit, was my freaking reflection.)
Instead of just materializing these imaginary friends from nowhere like a normal person, I had to create an elaborate back story in my seven year-old mind. Every once in a while, I would envision myself finding a pair of slightly rainbow tinted contact lenses. This is ironic because a) contact lenses are nearly impossible to find once dropped and b) I wear glasses just to avoid contacts. Rather than thinking, 'Gross. These contacts have been sitting on the ground for who knows how long. That's unsanitary,' I would put them on. They would enable me to see an entire world of Invisible People that secretly coexist with we Visible People. They rode on top of our cars. They sat in empty chairs and slept in unattended beds. They watched us do stupid things and wanted to offer their Invisible People wisdom, but they couldn't, because no one could see them but me with the magical contact lenses.
It's a good thing this was just my imagination, because this idea creeps me out nowadays. On the bright side, Jonathan and I fell in imaginary love. I think this is how my trend of fancying guys whose names start with J (especially guys named "Jonathan") found its origins.
Analyzing my younger self now, I think this reflected a desire to feel special, to do something that my peers couldn't. I still have this desire every once in a great while, although I cope now by trying to refine my talents and strengths rather than seeing invisible people. (I'm still a slightly lost cause, though, because I still yearn for a Hogwarts acceptance letter.) However, I haven't lost the opinion that having some sort of superhuman ability would still be awesome. I'd love to be able to read minds, or read lightning fast, or shoot spaghetti lasers out of my eyeballs, or something.
Yep. You're right. This entire spiel came quite literally from playing Solitaire. Welcome to my insane membrane.
...My imaginary friend who was actually my mirror reflection's name was Kat.
At least you were creative...?
I've told you before. My imaginary friend's name was Josh. He was Hispanic. That was probably where my love affinity for guys with the first letter J came from, and also my affinity for Hispanic men.
I made up this whole story between us, that he would climb up invisible stairs that led to an invisible door in my closet, and whenever we were in the car, he'd ride his motorcycle right alongside our car. We also had a daughter named Samantha and he had a sister named Maria. I stood by him and held his hand when his grandma Rosa died. It was tragic. I think we're imaginary friend soulmates.
The opening sentence of this may just be my 2nd favorite opening sentence of any blog, ever. (The favorite was "I hope that chicken sandwich keeps you warm in hell" - you understand).
I guess because - actually, I KNOW because - I've started donating and getting involved with The Liz Logelin Foundation and I've had a friend die recently, I'm CONSTANTLY thinking about my own mortality. I'm not sure it's healthy to do it to the extent I do, but reading your oh-so amusing 'bucket list' made me feel a little less like a weirdo (only a little - I'm really weird).
Also, I pick my contacts up off the ground. I have no shame. Or proper eye care.