Sunday, July 06, 2008

A Euro for my Thoughts

I've had one of those weeks where every time I look at the clock it's 11:11, or 12:34, or some other time when you're supposed to hold your breath and make a wish, which I do, and it's always: Let my life work out. I think I'm probably just glancing at the time more frequently because I've been getting more texts than usual, but all this wishing makes everything feel very significant. Or maybe, like, dire. I don't know. Shit has been weird.

I spent most of last week in Germany on business and, while walking along a river on a cobblestone street late at night in a strange town in the mountains, I had to stop and think, "Well. Look where I am." Because really, what was I doing there? How do you wake up one day in your house and eat remnants of hummus on a pita you have decided is not moldy even though it's really kind of a crapshoot, and then wake up the next in Europe in a hotel room filled with fancy towels, with a pocketful of strange currency and the ability to eat at a real restaurant and get a beer instead of deciding between them? I'm 25, I own two pairs of pants, I still get nervous during take-offs, I forget to pack conditioner and walk around with hair that just screams I like Ratt. Who would send me to Europe? It seems like a big mistake.

But that's the whole thing. It's not just the random Europe trip, it's everything; it's seventeen weird situations I'm not sure what to do about, because they're cribbed from a different movie plot. I feel like I've wound up in someone else's shoes. Someone far cooler and more successful and definitely hotter, and I've risen to these strange, serendipitious opportunities by being trashy and belligerent and weirded out and, on one particular (non-work-related) night, DRUNK. I'm totally okay with my slightly weird girl niche, but when you send the weird girl to Grownup-Effing-Business-World or, worse yet, Some-Dude-Is-Weirdly-Into-It-Right-Off-the-Bat-ville, things get kinda fucked. At least in my head.


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