tiny little mishaps

When and where do people find time for this day in and day out? Don't get me wrong, the mere idea of consecutive sentences consistently complaining about the vices and annoyances of the world sounds more satisfying than the majority of the 8oz. steak cooked to medium rare perfection and the baked potato smothered in butter in sour cream practically melting at the tip of my anxiously awaiting tongue that I just minutes ago enjoyed to the very possible extent of enjoyment. But, much like every positive thing in life (or at least my life), those mouthwatering leftovers were left alone and growing cold at the end of the dimly lit table where it has by now faced its unfortunate fate of the dumpster rather than the less unfortunate fate of my belly. So much for a breakfast feast of steak and eggs.

Anyways, no sense whining about the missed opportunity of a second good meal. If complaining were to again be the purpose of my #unknown rant I'd much rather complain about a separate series of unfortunate events, like perhaps 12 hours of academy award winning drug seekers and ill-mannered coughers spewing their symptomatic germs all over my counter space while I can't even enjoy a half hour lunch break. Or maybe the drive back form South Carolina that took an extra 4 1/2 hours because, well, because the horse and buggy system my boyfriend currently bitches about in the Amish town where he resides doesn't always seem that terrible of an alternative in comparison to leaking breaklines.

I'm not exactly sure whether everything happens to me or just appears to happen to me, but even my bunny expectations have fallen through the cracks of my hopeful fingers. All I wanted was to fill those cracks with the warm fuzziness of a furry friend whose utter cuteness would make me "oooooo" and "awwwwwe" like most people do at the sight of a new born baby where as I'd much rather prefer the company of friend who I can buy (or in this case simply take) rather than incubate for nine months and then force out of a part of my body that should never be forced to expand that large. It's gross, I know.

Point is, my expectations lately have been much too high, with the exception of my cake however, a cake that took 25 years to finally be taught to make by my reluctant mother. No, she's not a greedy hoarder of cake recipes, but it has taken being away for months at a time for her to show the nurture side of herself. (she's a softie with a tough exterior, wonder where I get it from).
The thing is, at some point you have to wonder why things fall apart and why these tiny little mishaps carry so much more weight in my head than the successes, like my cake, or the fact that even almost five hours behind schedule, we still made it home safely. Perhaps it's the fault of my parents themselves, who taught me to want it all but didn't follow it up with a lecture on what to do when you don't get it all. Maybe this is why I cried for days the first time I failed a test in college. It's self-efficacy and when you're an intrinsic person, you blame yourself and take responsibility for these so called mishaps and failures. Somewhere along the lines though, I became a bit extrinsic, blaming everything to the fault of luck followed by several moments of "things couldn't get any worse! And then the clouds opened up and God said, 'I hate you Steph Aponte'". I'm not sure what it will take to find my old self, the girl who laughed when things didn't go her way or who never stressed. That girl didn't flip out on Pittburgh Police Officers and spend the worst night of her life in a holding cell with two heroine addicts who in a building full of people she would have previously respected and admired found herself at a level closer to the jailbirds. I wasn't quite at the level to actually partake in the brown bag breakfast they supplied of milk and apple slices; It seemed more than obvious to me that I clearly didn't belong there when I was the only one not moaning in pain and begging for detox medication. But if I have ever in my life had an epiphany, I had one at the moment, realizing that the little mishaps turn into real life nightmares when you let them.

For now, I'll just enjoy the company of the sweet Italian sitting next to me, considering that my time to enjoy this moment is rapidly ticking away and especially because for this one moment, the last thing I want is to be told that it's over.

-Stephanie