Wow I can’t believe its February 2nd and this is my first post of 2010. I’ve been very busy with the writing job I referenced a couple posts ago. It takes up an awful lot more time than I imagined it would, and it makes me miss my blog ever so much. I’m thinking of going back in time and lobbying the Mayan’s for an eighth day of the week to be put on the calendar, and if it passes I think I’ll call it “Actuallydoaalltheshityousetouttodothisweekandnothatdoesnotmeanlieinbedandwatchlifetimemoviesallday” I think it has a nice ring, no?
Just to briefly catch you up, Matt and I just returned from visiting friends in California this past Sunday. Our trip was postponed a week due to the incessant rain and El Nino like, “only happens once every ten years” type weather patterns that were scheduled to begin the day we flew in - and of course - end the day we flew out. God hates me, obv, but I’ll get to that later. We had a great time out there, although one day spent ambling along Rodeo Drive amongst the beautiful people was all it took for me to anxiously come to the realization: "I don’t belong here." I felt like I walked into the prom naked (cue record scratch). I literally had to hold my hand over the top of my Starbucks coffee cup to prevent spare change being tossed in by the wealthy passerby taking pity on my (horror!) last season Banana Republic tee.
Oh and did I mention that there was a gaggle of 5’11”, chewed-up-ring-fingered, average-women-self-esteem-destroying, Brazilian supermodels on every corner? I couldn’t get out of there fast enough… eyes wide with fear, slowing backing away and making excuses for the sorry human being I was in comparison to their divinity. (The gym was closed! The burritos were 2 for 1!) I imagine it’s how the perps feel once the girl goes to get a drink and Chris Hansen walks into the room. The playing field had just drastically unleveled itself. As a matter of fact, I was kicked off the team for not making weight. Thank god we got out of there, before I contracted anorexia. Today is my second acai berry and wheat grass free day and I am starting to feel like my old fat kid self again. Instead of riding bikes around Venice Beach all I want to do is nap. It’s good to be home.
So lately I’ve been thinking about karma. Not in an ominously tacky, baby-mama, “you gon’ get yours” facebook status sort of way, but more about how the good that we do will affect us later on in life. It seems like in my case it’s the old adage “no good deed goes unpunished’. Like, I’ll let someone cut out in front of me in traffic, only to watch them sail through the next yellow light leaving me stuck at the red one. Or I’ll throw a dollar or some change into the tip jar at Dunkin’s only to find that later on I need that exact amount to complete a purchase later in the day. I will then use my debit card instead, only undoubtedly I will overdraw my account and get charged $33.00 in bank fees. Or you know, I’ll make a deal with Matt that in lieu of Christmas presents this year, we will instead buy each other plane tickets to California, only the exact week we plan to go, California will experience incessant rain and El Nino like, “only happens once every ten years” type weather patterns thus postponing our trip and costing us an additional $320 in change fees. You know, things like that.
Which segways me nicely into my next point. (Which it should. Because I wrote it that way.)
Yesterday I happened upon a lost wallet on the ground outside my local coffee shop. It was literally brimming with cash, overflowing and stuffed so tight it could barely close. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I looked around briefly before gently picking it up off the ground, fearing a tackle from behind with someone screaming “STOP THIEF!” in my ear. Once in hand, I then approached the only other person outside asking if it belonged to him. The man took it from my hand and started rifling through it, counting the cash, looking at the paystub inside etc. In the awkward minute or two that passed, I took notice of the man’s attire and nicotine stained fingers and realized I had just handed a cash stuffed wallet to a homeless man. So again, I asked… a bit more firmly this time: “Um sir, is this YOUR wallet?” His brain worked overtime as he contemplated his next move, and then honesty (I think he was too drunk to form a lie) got the better of him. He shook his head no, although he continued still to rifle through the wallet as he muttered to himself. Once I wrestled it from his sweaty hand, I brought it into the coffee shop and asked around if it belonged to anybody. Nobody claimed ownership, so I pulled out the ID card and found out that it belonged to a local fireman. I called the fire department and made arrangements to have it returned. I then went about my day and waited – positively giddy – for the heaven’s to shine down on me and for some form of positive karmic retribution of my good deed to come my way.
I quickly got tired of waiting for karma to come my way, and instead went looking for it. First I checked the “abandoned property” list online to see if maybe, just maybe, I had somehow forgotten about a bank account I had opened back when I was sixteen and earning a living wiping wrinkled, elderly ass at my local nursing home. Maybe I had forgotten about a $5.50 an hour deposit I made back then, and the interest had compounded over the years to a cool million or two. Nope, no such luck.
I checked for recently deceased wealthy relatives I didn't know I had, and found none. I inquired as to whether I was due for a raise and got laughed at. I checked my email to see if a book publisher had happened across this blog and wanted to advance me a million to pen my life story, and it hasn't happened yet. Then I started to get desperate. I bought a scratch ticket or two (or six) and lost on all of them. Hell, I even waited at home all night for the Publisher's Clearing House. They never came.
So I implore you karma, why must you toy with me?
A full 24 hours later and nothing good has happened to me. But then again, nothing bad has happened to me either. (Save for getting the finger from a 90 year old relic as she cut me off at the rotary at lunch.) So maybe my good deed was just SO good, that it sort of balanced out any of the bad that was destined to come my way. Maybe I just have to be happy in knowing I made someone else’s day a little better, and post my good deed all over my facebook so that everyone knows what a good person I am.?* Okay. I’ll take it. Works for me. God knows that if I had instead chosen to take the wallet and all the cash, I would have lost a limb in a freak tunnel mishap on the drive home. I’ll definitely take an un-bad day over that.
*At the time of press, Jennifer was up to 14 Facebook "likes", (the virtual form of pats on the back) for her good deed.