Confession time: I sometimes think I'm more important than I actually am. Like when I'm driving, and I slow down and let a pedestrian cross at the crosswalk, I think I should get the I'm-not-a-jerk-so-I'll-wave-a-thank-you-to-you-for-not-mowing-me-down wave from said pedestrian. I mean, it should be required. Same goes for merging. Hmmm...I'm noticing a theme here... There's this spot on my way home from work that always gets congested because people need to merge left and right. And I feel as though I'm important enough to be given a turn signal indication that the car in front of me would like to merge. Or, if you're in the car next to me, I feel as though you should get my attention, smile, and make the Can-I-get-in-there? motion with your hand. And then, when you actually do merge (thanks to my benevolence), I believe it's only proper for you to give me the courtesy wave in your rearview mirror. Yes. Be nice to me. I am that important.
When I send you an email, I expect you to respond. Quickly. With details. Lots of them.
When I have to call my agency and re-schedule an audition, I always think that as soon as they hang up the phone with me, they turn to whoever is around and say, "Sheesh! That Laura...she's always being an inconvenience." As if they think about me that often. Or that centrally. Because why wouldn't they? I am important. Aren't I the first thing they think about when they get to the office in the morning? What time is Laura coming in? Is she going to re-schedule like she always does? Gah! I hate that!
When I studied and lived in London somanyearsagoI'vepracticallylostcount, a friend of mine back here in the States said to me, "Laurita," (he was originally from South America) "your way is not the way." I was flabbergasted. It's NOT?! I thought.
Huh. Apparently it's not.
And now, here I am in my thirties, and I'm all what do you mean you don't like my idea or think about me all the time or do what I think you should do? Don't you care that your shoelaces are all wrong and that the font you chose is atrocious and that you're committing a crime by wearing white after Labor Day? How can you cross the street and not bow to my compact car in grateful acknowledgement and why on earth would you think that the decision you made last week about that thing was a good one and what do you mean we're having that for dinner?
I am a control freak. A daughter + a schizophrenic mother = I have to rule the world and make sure everyone knows that I make the rules and that my way is the way.
And I have a lot to learn. Because my way can't be the way. Well, at least not all the time.
with love from Pittsburgh,