How Life Goes


Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about life courses.  No, not courses you take in college about Life. (I can see it now.  “First, open the box.  Pour in the bowl.  Add milk. Quiz tomorrow.  Next week, we move on to the game.”)  No, I was thinking about where people are and the path that they had to take to get there.  For all intestines and porpoises, there are any number of things that could be pointed to as the BIG thing that got me to where I am right now.  Seeing Star Wars when I was five.  Or, probably more importantly, two weeks later when Mom and Dad bought me the landspeeder and Luke without knowing what the hell they were or what they were about to start.  See, once I had them, I figured out that I could tell my own stories.  Doing the auditions for two or three years.  Meeting That Girl.  Wearing the Trek pin so That Girl would notice me. 

The Accident.  Yes, it deserves to be capitalized. That was one of the Big Things that determined where the couple years after would go, from my determination to prove those morons at rehab wrong to realizing that I had to live my life more for me, and finally getting out of computers.

Getting the job at Best.  Even though I knew they were in Chapter 11, I needed a job.  That Girl, now the Psycho Demon Bitch From Hell(Hint: never dump me if you don’t want a nickname like that.) had worked there, seemed like an okay place.  Met the Wonder Wench.  (If I dump you, you’ll get a slightly less mean nickname.)  Letting the Wonder Wench’s cousin’s boyfriend talk me into taking the corporate computer job.

“You’re the Nightblade, aren’t you?”  One of the weirder experiences of my life.  And THAT’s saying something.

Leaving Mike’s at ten after twelve that night.  Stopping for gas.  Hot blond asking if I could help her.  Something felt wrong. Saying no, I had to get home, but maybe someone inside could help.  Beating myself up all week over it.  Going to Mike’s a week later, telling the story when it was my turn.  Mike telling me, everyone else agreeing, that if something felt wrong, chances are something was wrong and to trust myself more. All things I’d told myself for a long time, but to have it said by someone else was the big cartoon mallet hitting me in the head.

“This TV has to be turned up, you know.”  Those nine words have become listed in gold leaf as the instigation for the most romantic things ever uttered by human, kissable lips.   Followed by 10 months of, “You know, there are other girls that would be happy to go out with you besides her.”  Cue big cartoon mallet again.

Mouthing off to the computer store GM too many times.  Getting the insurance job, making gobs and gobs of money, HATING 90% of it. 

Getting lost looking for the darn jewelry store where they made Stace’s engagement ring.  Pretending I didn’t have it, but showing her the engagement video anyway.  Not being able to breathe for five minutes from her arms around my neck after I gave it to her. 

Deciding I’d be better served to take my lunch hour in my car rather than at my desk.  Hearing the ad for CSB, remembering everyone always saying “You’ve got a great voice, you should be in radio!”  DING!  Major life event.

Being laid off when the insurance company downsized.  Moving my job 500 feet across the street.  Oh, and us getting pregnant in there right after getting downsized.

Captain Cloneboy being born.  Not murdering my mother-in-law right there.  That tends to be major on both counts.

Not being there for Mom.  Taking care of Dad, feeling just as helpless and useless.

The kid learning to talk.  To swim.  To read.  To make a snow fort.(That was yesterday.  Ziploc bowls are highly useful in this regard.)

All because of a landspeeder and Luke Skywalker.  

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~ by Sean on February 24, 2008.

2 Responses to “How Life Goes”

  1. And yes, I am aware, brain damage and all, that I’m a complete and total freak.

  2. No you’re not. That’s the nicest thing I ever read. Many years from now in your 8th birthday or something your son is going to repeat this story to a large audience.

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