Saturday, August 22, 2009

Becoming Awesome
Partying Like It's 1959

Let's rewind and review a bit in the last thing I wrote (oh trust me the Guatemala story is over so bear with).

"she was also being the best person she could be under every circumstance thrown at her in life."

This is in reference to my recently deceased grandmother who had suffered from dementia and Alzheimers in her early 60s. I knew she had an illness the morning I woke up for school and found that she had tied a butcher knife to the end of a curtain rod. The makeshift spear was resting against a wall over my young cousin who was calmly eating Fruit Loops. When I asked my grandma why she made this weapon she replied, "it's for the neighbors, they are trying to get into our house from the vents."

I then hid all the knives in our house.

BEFORE this event happened, my grandma was something special. Life did not hand her a lemon, it handed her a turd, and she polished it and made a lemonade stand out of it using tools that existed in the past that I have no clue about. The story of how you and I became functioning adults is a mystery second only to "how did the holocaust happen?" My granny found a way to create a family in another world that did not speak her language.

My guess at what her secret was? She winged it...and she was awesome.

I can wing it with the best of them. I was an english major, which means I specialize at bullshit. I was, however, not awesome.

I suspected I wasn't awesome when I would drink and not remember what I did, who I talked to, or what I said. It had become a joke amongst friends but then I started to worry; "this sounds sad, it is sad that I am going out and not remembering things. That I am acting like an asshole for no reason. That I want to shock, but because I'm drunk, I'm just annoying."

We all do that though right? That isn't enough to realize you aren't awesome!

My grandma's death or life was not the real catalyst of my conscious decision to become awesome. No, that was going to happen one night at a party.

You see, I had found a new job before the recession hit throughout the country. And almost immediately I was invited to a party that my new boss was throwing. I had accepted the invitation and would go despite the fact that I was not awesome.

For you see, at this party two things would happen that would dictate the course of the next year of my life. Drinks would be thrown at people's faces, and I called someone a cunt.

Not in that order, the second thing happened first.

(to be cont.)

1 comment:

im'mature said...

What is this, Rushdie?


Yours in suspense,