4 reasons why today is dumb and 4 reasons why it's pretty okay
WHY IT SUCKS
1. Everybody is bumping into me! Stop bumping into me! I feel like Patrick Swayze in Ghost except I am actually a real life person and not the victim of a mugging gone wrong who is trying to reach back out to his wife via pottery. Stop. bumping. into. me. I am 5’10” and I am not that hard to spot. COME ON.
2. I got the buffalo chicken wrap at Pret a Manger, and it is 95% hot lettuce. Both temperature-wise and spice-wise. Hot lettuce is the antithesis of everything that is holy. Please stop cooking lettuce. It is terrible.
3. Work is dumb.
4. My coffee place only had the shitty coffee lids this morning.
WHY IT’S PRETTY OKAY
1. When I was at Pret, I got to spin the wheel just for wearing army green and I won a free brownie.
2. I saw The Hunger Games this week and I LOVED IT. So now I’m writing about it.
3. I entered a lotto pool today and I am definitely going to win, so I’ve got that going for me.
4. Playing trivia tonight and I am going to CRUSH EVERYBODY. Good luck everybody else. You’ll need it hard.
The elevators in the building where I work are slow and small. Usually we all huddle in awkward silence and stare ahead — if we can. We’re usually so cramped that the angles we somehow cram into resemble more Picasso than Mondrian. This includes everybody in our building — from the fashion-types that work for John Varvatos on 12 to the real estate company suits on 7 to the make-up happy girls on 3 who work for Temptu. But what’s really wonderful about this situation are the delivery guys.
New York has always been notorious for its delivery-happy nature. What with walk-up buildings, no cars, and no time, businesses compete to be the ones to get it to you the fastest. The delivery guys—I have never in my two-and-a-half years of living here had a delivery gal—come in all shapes and sizes. Once I ordered a delivery of cheddar macaroni and cheese from an English pub because it was raining and I was on a deadline. I got a call from a man with a heavy Northern English accent on a bad line. He was double-parked on his motorcycle outside and needed me to come down and retrieve it from him so he couldn’t get a ticket. I thought this defeated the purpose of ordering from a place to avoid the rain, but whatever.
Most delivery men in New York are on bikes. Including the man who I rode in our tiny elevator last week. He was outfitted in proper bike regalia, complete with shorts that accentuated every muscle in his tremendous thighs and a folded up bike that he was cradling under his arm. He was on the phone. In a heavy Staten Island accent, he yelled: “Mustafa said that I could do the drop tomorrow, so I figured—” without waiting to finish he screamed, “Well why don’t you just tell him to tell you the truth of it, you moron?” And then he slammed his phone together—a flip phone! a flip phone in 2012!—and started muttering, well, no, not muttering because he was so very loud, so I guess he started loudly grumbling, “I ain’t never gonna be a millionaire. I ain’t never gonna be a millionaire!” And then he screamed into the small space of the elevator, “I AIN’T NEVER GONNA BE A MILLIONAIRE!”
He looked back at the rest of us, who were quietly trying to both avoid staring at him and look like we were avoiding staring at him, which resulted in a lot of meaningful stares four inches above his left shoulder.
He left the elevator with his folded up bike, still muttering. I wanted to tell him about the power of positive thinking, but I don’t think he would have appreciated it.
“There are so few people given us to love. I want to tell my daughters this, that each time you fall in love it is important, even at nineteen. Especially at nineteen. And if you can, at nineteen, count the people you love on one hand, you will not, at forty, have run out of fingers on the other. There are so few people given us to love and they all stick.”—
“The whole terrible fight occurred in the area of imagination. That is the precise location of our battlefield. It is there that we experience our victories and our defeats. Each and every one of us is a being of limited duration: all of us eventually go down to defeat. But as Ernest Hemingway saw so clearly, the ultimate value of our lives is decided not by how we win but by how we lose.”—Haruki Murakami - Super Frog Saves Tokyo