A Bit More Seriouser, Now

It's four in the morning and I work in seven hours, but it's vitally important to toss something of myself into the abyss of the internet, lest my fragile ego starve to death.

So I decided to post my list of Remembers. Recently I was sitting in a restaurant, waiting for my waitressy sister to get off work, and all I had for entertainment was a notebook. So I wrote a long, sentimental list of reminders for myself, to keep me going and otherwise define my priorities.

I considered posting this to Effbook in note format, but that's just a bit too public and also kind of a dramatic thing to do. So I shall burden this blog with it, because that is a much smaller audience with much less "liking" potential.

It is a personal list that applies to me specifically, but I feel that a lot of the items could be good for anyone to consider. Here we go:

1. Life is short and fast
2. You don't really find permanence appealing
3. Good writing takes daily exercise
4. The internet is usually a waste of time
5. Don't value the opinions of dumb people
6. Act and dress cooler than you are
7. The useless crap in your room was once the only thing you wanted
8. Cooking makes you happy, never stop
9. Tragedy shouldn't be romantic
10. Keep your 12-year-old self proud
11. It IS important to feel thin and beautiful
12. Your happiness does not depend on anyone's unhappiness
13. An even temper is a gift
14. Criticize privately, praise openly
15. Money should never be your sole motivation
16. Obsession causes aging
17. Find another reason besides "because he likes me"
18. Wilderness reboots the soul
19. Avoid ruts
20. Educate yourself before declaring an opinion
21. Never remain in something unhappy out of fear
22. No one has time to be coy
23. Everything is uncertain, unstable, and temporary
24. Don't dwell on the obvious or irrelevant
25. The first mark of sophistication is good hygiene
26. Worth is subjective
27. Do not confuse femininity and weakness

There ya have it. Inspirations from a Perkins booth. Take it or leave it. I have to pee.

Ciao, bella!~ Ugh Stephenie Meyer ruined that phrase.

Lucky Things Happen to Dumb People

It is a warm September night. Our heroine, a mysterious brunette, pulls her sister's Ford Taurus into the neighborhood Mobile station for some much-needed petroleum. Alone and vulnerable, she distracts herself from the surrounding darkness by squeegeeing the gnat corpses off of the windshield. The pump finally pops off, and she pulls away from the station, full of pride in her generous spirit.

But alas! What is this? She has driven away from the station with her wallet sitting on the roof of the car! How could she be so thoughtless!

But she does not notice. She drives a few miles due west, into the cold remains of a long-dead sunset, without a care in the world. She makes a few break-neck turns that will cause much grief later. She picks up her sister, drives home, then drives into the next county to visit the farm. It is now midnight.

Finally home, nearly thirty minutes later, she places her treasured belongings on the kitchen table. She pulls some money out of her pocket to transfer to her wallet.

Her wallet! Blast! Where is her wallet? It isn't here, not in the giant purse, not on the table! She remembers, with pain, the moment that she placed her wallet on the roof of the car. She knows that is the only way it was lost. She knows she must backtrack and search.

And search she does. For more than an hour she scours her course, driving slowly through town, eyes strained to the dirty curbs and cobblestones. There are several cops parked, some pulled over and flashing already. Normally she would not worry, but she is driving suspiciously, circling slowly and methodically, and she does not have a driver's license with her.

The track seems endless. Back and forth, turn and check, cursing and lamenting. She calls two different police departments, considers calling the credit card company, all the while her gaze glued to the side of the road. She knows that any turn or bump could have jostled the wallet in any direction. Luckily she knows it could only be between the gas station and her sister's friend's house, so there is not much ground to cover.

And cover it she does. Occasionally, a lump of tar or a mangled jock strap will cause a leap of hope in her heart, but upon second perusal she is always disappointed. The night seems endless. She is beginning to think about the process of freezing accounts, reapplying for a license, acquiring a new social security card. She is suddenly very, very tired.

But then...
a glimmer...
a shadow...
something from the darkness reaches out and speaks to her. It might be nothing.
It might be a sock.
But something on the side of the road causes her to wonder...She cannot stop now. There is a car behind her. But she can turn and circle back around the block. This is too important to overlook.

She makes it around again and parks her car on a side road, door blatantly ajar and engine running. She trots to the curb. It seems so far away. She tries to look sober, sane, and unhookerish. She must only get to the curb.

There it is! Oh frabjous day! Forlornly propped on the cold concrete, there lies her black-and-white $10 clutch. It seems too good to be true.

But it is. Unsquashed, unlooted, and only 1/4 mile from the gas station, her wallet has been patiently waiting. A needle in a haystack, a dark smudge in a dark smudge.

She returns home, relieved and exhausted, and confident. She is confident that with obsession, diligent naivete, and sheer luck, even the biggest moron in the world can recover from the stupidest of blunders.