This Is What I Get

Remember that self-indulgent whine from the other day?  You know, the “wah-I don’t feel like I belong” navel gazing, pretentious emo tripe?

Well, the universe reminded me why you should never give in to the urge to mope so unabashedly.     Nothing good can come of it.

There I was, Wednesday morning, trolling along, minding my own business, and on my way to the shop with my car for regular maintenance type crap.   Halfway up a hill,  momentum suddenly stopped.   My foot was still on the gas.   The engine was still spinning.   The car was slowing down.

The transmission on my car blew out around the corner from the shop I was taking it to for an oil change and a tire rotation.    Beautiful.

Do you have any idea how much a new transmission costs?   Well, decidedly less than a whole new car, so I’m going to have to figure out a way to pay for it.    And the extra fun is that I have to wait for it to get here.   I shouldn’t get my car back for another week.

Balls!

Just sayin’

I Love You All Very Much, But

You ever felt like you can’t seem to fit into any particular space?   Yeah, I’m having that day.   And I should have known.   I mean, I literally got into a little bit of a fender bender this morning trying to fit into a parking space.   Universe, you may now stop the interpretive dance of my emotions.   M’kay!  Thanks.

Ok, so it wasn’t exactly a fender bender.  More like a bump.   But I scuffed the paint on the other car.  And yes, I left a note.   Why?  Because I fucking hate coming out of someplace and finding a scuff or notch or dent on my car, so why would I do that to anyone else.

I’ve been wandering around all day feeling awkward and like I just don’t belong.  Not much of a stretch for a gigantic nerd-face such as myself, but it’s still not the most comfortable feeling in the world.   It’s kind of like being Chapped, with a side of I Just Said the Wrong Thing for the Fiftieth Time.   Maybe with a dash of Why Can’t I Do This?

So, anyway, I’m sort of in quiet, I have my headphones on so you can’t see me, hidey kind of headspace.

And of course, I don’t know what to say, other than it’s not you; it’s most definitely me.   I just . . .

Don’t belong here.