I enjoy simplicity. Things that are un-complicated. Non-dramatic. Yet I seem to have developed quite the talent for stumbling into craziness- situations that demand explanations which begin with, "It's a long story, but," and end with, "I guess I'll tell you the rest later."
So I feel as though I'm perceived as one of those people who constantly brings drama around herself, the kind who oh-so passive-agggressively creates "situations" and "scenes" out of an otherwise ordinary life. But you know what, people? It's not that- it's that I'm JUST that unlucky.
If you were to run into me out in the wild and ask me how I am, I'd likely state the apppropriate preamble, then launch into the latest cancer/dating/work/artistic "situation," and after a few minutes, you will look at your watch, or make eye contact with your next customer, and I will say, "I guess I'll tell you the rest later."
I don't mean to do it. I just know a lot of people, and am horrible at keeping in touch, so when I see you, I want to get it out. And oh, I forgot- I'll probably tell you I'll call you later to fill you in on the rest, and we'll catch up. I will then forget, think of it a few days later, and assume that you hate me now.
I'm no drama queen. Maybe I used to be, when I was very small, before the varitable cornucopia of drama that is cancer was heaved upon me by fate. (It won't help my argument when I tell you that my parents used to call me Little Sara Bernhardt.) I loved a good fight with my siblings, where I'd let them bully me, then I'd get to cry and play the victim. "Oh, fates! Why have you possessed them with such enending cruelty? My Barbies are headless! They'll NEVER see their dream house again, NEVER again experience the majesty of both working and being served at the Barbie McDonald's! Ohhhh!"
It went away.
The moment something truly, truly awful happened to me, the urge to create a scene, to cause worry to others for the sake of attention, evaporated from my mind. Now I say things like, "Please don't worry about me," and I actually mean it.
So you see, it's not that I'm overdramatic anymore, it's really just that I'm very unlucky and bad about keeping in touch. So humor me if I'm eager to tell you everything while I have your face in front of me.
Cause like, if you wanted to, you could call me too cause I don't get many phone calls these days and it kind of hurts me but not really you know, I GUESS I'll be all right...
In other news...
It's snowing here in Northampton, and it probably will continue all day. But it looks pretty, and light, and powdery, so I'm half-contemplating bundling myself up and making the trip downtown to get coffee anyways. I do have coffee in my house, but it's not the same. There's no paper cup with plastic lid, and no favorite seat at the Haymarket. Ah, well. It's already been a productive day, and it is barely past noon. I woke up, immediately wrote a new song, did my taxes, showered, and blogged. For real. I could drool on my futon and watch E! for the rest of the day, and still feel really accomplished. So maybe I'll save myself the potential frostbite.
Oh, New England winter, so pretty, yet so cruel...