My nine year-old niece, the Paranoid Princess. When I took her out to the mall (with my mom in tow), you won’t see her walking around without holding on to either me or my mom. Sometimes, she’ll hold us both. And when she realizes that both her left and right hands are free? She would exclaim in a tone of voice that’s about one stop short from panic. sheer panic, “Hold my hand! HOLD MY HAND!” And if we don’t comply? The sky would drop from above, elephants would come waltzing in, right along with the lions and hyenas (all in a synchronized ballet movement), and the world will just come to an end. At least, that’s what you’d think would happen if we don’t grab her hands fast enough.
I was willing to write that one off as one of her many silliness because she is a child who indulges in laughter and sarcasm. I was proved to be wrong hours later, when we were about to go home. We were about to get in the cab. She was supposed to stay in the middle part of the backseat. My mom on one end and I on the other. I told her to go ahead and go inside but she stopped halfway. With half of her butt inside the cab, the stopped all of a sudden. I told her again to get inside. She told me to wait… So I waited, expecting her to look around, thinking she dropped something. But no. Oh no. What she was waiting for was my mother to get inside the cab first. She said she was afraid of getting kidnapped, that the cab would drive off with just her in the backseat.
Paranoia is in the genes. She just displayed it at such an early age. When I was her age, what I would do was make sure I locked the door for sure. And then, even though I’ve seen with my own two eyes that the door was indeed locked, I would still lock it. Not once, not twice but several times. Just to be really sure. And know for certain that burglars or zombies or murderers won’t be able to go in.
But that is not paranoia. That is obsessive-compulsive disorder, as I’ve learned later in life. All those glitches in the gene pool. *shakes head*
I didn’t know what possessed me, striking this big fat straw on the cover of the roasted milk tea I bought for lunch. I was on the escalator and, believing that sometimes time is gold, I thought to seize every second. So while on the oh-so-slow escalator, I sliced the straw through the plastic cover. Only to find out that the straw didn’t actually make it. The milk tea did, though. It oozed out from the small hole I managed to idiotically make on its thin plastic cover. It dripped down my left foot. FAIL. I had to go to the nearest restroom just to wipe the mess I made. Is this what seven hours’ worth of sleep do to you?
And then. AND THEN. A few hours later after that, I accidentally clicked the “call” button found in my office’s private messaging system. And guess who I just called? One of the bosses. I wanted to:
a) run around the room , jump up and down and tear my hair out from embarrassment
b) make the ground beneath me just open up and swallow me whole… without a trace
But of course this is reality. So What happened was this: I just stared at the screen as the monitor indicated “calling [insert name of boss]” because really, it was all I can do at that moment of sheer panic and pure embarrassment. Luckily, my fingers had more sense than my brain. It hit the cancel button while I sat there, frozen.
Moral of the story: Seven hours’ worth of sleep is not enough. Go for seven hours and a half, just to be safe.
So! Christmas is nearing, 2012 is nearing and I still haven’t done anything worth noting as my “Claim to Fame.” However, I never run out of not-so-stellar moments. Allow me to embarrass myself:
1. I have been walking along the office hallway half-asleep because I absolutely cannot help it. I am such a sleepyhead this week. And yes, my eyes were closed while walking. And I damn near collided with this guy who was turning round the corner. My eyes flew open only because I heard him make this sound that was somewhere between surprise and panic and laughter.
2. The seemingly neverending search for My Perfect Coffee can now be juxtaposed with my love life: They are both pretty much something to be dismayed about.
3. I know I’m supposed to know a lot about websites and coding and all that stuff but sometimes, I have no clue what I’m supposed to do. It takes me a couple of tries before grasping the concept. I get blindsided and feel along the walls and then fall flat on my face.
4. It was only quite recently that I found out I accidentally added in Twitter one of the company’s bosses. Back then, I thought I was adding one of my many crushes. The Twitter user had the same name as my crush and I thought those three letters in his username meant a state in America. Said crush had just left for America. Thinking I put two and two together, I started to follow the Twitter user. Then it turns out he is someone else and he’s a boss in the same company I work for! The world. It shrinks every second.
That being said and changing topic: You guys! I found a new upcoming horror film which I will blog about soon. Yay!
I’m sure that before you got to where you are right now – all steady and wise or maybe just plain at ease and confident about yourself and your life in general – you got yourself into all sorts of nonsense and idiocy. This post is a salute to those moments.
I was never a headache to my parents. The angst of my teenage years were spent on silent fury and emo-like writings and musings. And let’s not forget the angry, bitter music. When I waved good bye to my teen age years, that fact remained and so had earned me the golden ticket to the fact that my parents didn’t question me as much as they should. (Little did they know that what they never knew won’t hurt them!) When I was in my early twenties I happened to enjoy staying out too late one night…
It was summer that time and I didn’t know where time went when I was out but it definitely wasn’t with me. I was out of the house and enjoyed myself too much. Soon enough, two a.m. found me still out in the streets. By the time I got back home, the gates were locked. I had to scale the wall and jump over the gate, all five feet and 1.5 inches of me. I brushed all the debris from my shorts and shirt and walked stealthily to the front door. Only to find it locked. Lights were turned off and I knew that waking anyone up would be the end of my golden ticket to freedom. So I did the only rational thing I could think of at two in the morning: I went around the house. That’s because I remembered that there was one window at the back of my house. With any luck, I could open it and sneak inside.
Not a few minutes later, I found myself climbing this huge jar which was standing by the windowsill. I concentrated on keeping my balance while sliding the window open and was rewarded with me being able to open it. Another round of a circus-worthy act getting myself inside. A couple of bumps and “Ouch!” and mild swear words. And when I finally managed to get more than half of my little body inside, my other leg managed to get caught behind. I yanked it out of impatience. My hands pinwheeled crazily as I hurtled inside the house, nearly knocking over the antique desk lamp (there was a table filled with antique baubles of fragility and worth that’s more that I can pay for if ever I destroyed them). I caught myself just in time before I hit the ground. I took my sweet time picking myself up from the floor. My heart was banging crazily against my chest, afraid I was going to get caught at any moment. Thankfully, no one seemed to hear the racket I have created. I went back to my room limping but relieved.