Life Tests

I generally have pretty mixed feelings on the whole "God" issue... I often subscribe to the Angels in America school of thought: "If God comes back, take him to court. He walked out, and he outta pay." Today is one of those days where I just feel like a dose of bad karma or something is messing with me. The universe is out of wack. If it is God... that bitch is testing me.

This morning when I went for my run I was harassed by every low life that lives in Dublin city. Seriously considered punching one of said scumbags in the face, but decided breaking my hand would not be good for the track career I hope to resume once I go home. Then it was back to the flat where I proceeded to work myself into a full-fledged panic over my dissertation, my career, MY LIFE. I know, I know, being a drama queen is exhausting.

Then I had bad hummus for lunch. That made me ill. No more elaboration needed.

I left the house this afternoon with just enough change for the bus and a latte and left my cards at home (to avoid being tempted by any sales on Grafton street). On my way to school a guy my age comes up to me in tears. "I'm so sorry to bother you- I've lost my car keys- they had my work keys on them- I'm going to be fired- I just need enough money to get the Dart (train) back home to get a spare key..." You get the drift. So in hopes that if I was in a bind a stranger would be kind to me, I gave him the money I had and like an idiot walked clear to town before realizing now I didnt have any money to get where I needed to go. On the way home to get my credit cards, I was caught in a downpour so mighty it could've been potentially mistaken for the apocalypse.

When I finally made it to school I had a completely useless dissertation seminar where my classmates suggested I basically write an entirely different essay. "Wouldnt it be interesting to look at the psychology behind rapists during wartime?" ... "Yes it would, but thats not what I'm writing on." Siiigh.

In hopes of reclaiming my bad day, the girls and I went to Nugie's house for some Sex and the City. Half way through the series finale, I look down and realize my Grammy's ring is missing-- the ring I wear every day of my life is missing! So SATC is interrupted and my friends and I spend the rest of the evening combing Nugie's apartment while I mutter, "I could have sworn I was playing with it in the episode when Mr. Big..." I leave Nugie's and proceed to sob my way home.

Back at the flat I change into pajamas and leopard print slippers (because leopard print slippers make everyone feel better) and make popcorn. I place the bag in the microwave and while I run to my room to begin going through my school bag in search of the ring for the 485th time, the popcorn bag catches fire-- literally (there must be a lawsuit in there somewhere). Popcorn destroyed, evening sufficiently ruined.

As I contemplated throwing myself into the Liffey, I searched through my bag one last time for the ring, and as I rifled hopelessly through my research, lip gloss, and spare change-- it appeared. My bloody ring appeared. I burst into tears all over again- overcome with relief and cursing this entire day.

It certainly felt like a test... and I always do better on essays.

NOTE: Birthday photos coming soon!