Thursday, August 27, 2009

True life: I used to be your mailman

I think it's kind of obvious that it doesn't take much to get my all uppity. This is a blessing and a curse. When I'm excited for something, it's like I have on those little horse blinders and all I can see is that really exciting thing that's about to happen and gah almighty this is gonna be the best thing ever and excuse me were you talking to me because I was just daydreaming about how this is going to blow my mind.

And whereas most people would often tell themselves not to hype it up -- whatever it may be -- too much, because then you'll be disappointed if it doesn't live up to the expectations of face-melting awesomeoness, I say poo poo to that. I'm usually so stoked by the time said event occurs that I'm high from the excitement and absolutely nothing can bring me down.

Like the first time I went to Bonnaroo. I looked forward to that festival for a good six months. I was obsessed. So when we got there and it rained for three days and flooded our tent and we had no dry clothes and nowhere to sleep and we all smelled like soggy mold and horse shit, I thought it was one of the most incredible, authentic experiences of my life and I couldn't wait to see what happened the next year. Maybe someone would get trampled to death. Or eat a batch of bad mushrooms. Or get lost and wake up in a bathtub of ice in a Nashville motel room. The possibilities are endless.

The danger of this extreme uppity-ness however, is that the opposite is usually true. If things even have a smidgen of potential to be bad, in my mind, they have the potential to be earth-shatteringly cataclysmic. Car crash bad. House fire bad. Fupa bad.

Like right now. I'm sipping on the most insane milkshake of emotions that I can barely remember how to spell my name. Yesterday marked exactly one month to the wedding. HOLYFECKINGSHEETTIMSOEXCITED.

But following the wedding comes the eventual move. And as you know, the mere idea of moving to a different city is turning me into a loon. The closer we get, the more I see myself morphing into Britney Spears circa 2007. I am THIS CLOSE to shaving my head and letting a small child ride in my car without a seat belt.

I am becoming obsessed. How often will I see my family? I'm going to miss my mommy. What if I can't make friends? What if the Massachusetts winter makes me want to stab myself in the eyeballs with a screwdriver? And the current flip-out flavor of the week: What if I can't find a job?

Let's be honest. Things are a bit dismal out there. That's strike one against me. When it comes to job hunting, I'm emotionally charged and manically indecisive and I have no idea what my next career step should be. Strike two. Conclusion: I am frighteningly close to being stuck in the dugout (in a straightjacket).

Things were so much simpler when I was a mailman. I'm sorry, mail WOman. Postal carrier. Whatever. The summers in between college I worked for the United States Post Office and it was the best job I've ever had. I was outside all day. When my route was done, it was done; there's no taking work home when you work at the post office. There was no stress. Zero. And I had a kickass tan and was in great shape.


Everyone's happy to see the mailman. We come bearing gifts. Postcards and birthday cards and packages from the Home Shopping Network. The senior citizens wait all day for the mailman. I would hang around and chat with them just because they wanted someone to talk to. Every day I hoped I had something good for them. A "Thinking of You" Hallmark card or a letter from an old friend. They'd invite me in for lemonade. They were the best.

Now, I do butt clenches at my desk to try to keep the circulation going. People in PR don't have the best reputation. But I DO get to write. I love writing. Maybe someone will hire me to write letters to senior citizens all day so they always have something good to get in the mail. I'd slip in pictures of big-eyed puppies and rolly kittens and we'd eventually have world peace.

World peace. I would do it. You're welcome, people.

7 comments:

Bradford Pearson said...

How did you land the gig with USPS?

Bridget said...

They had a "help wanted" sign hanging up in my local post office looking for college kids, with the pay laid right out there. It was all too good to be true.

Sole Matters said...

OMG, you still wear the hat? lol thats awesome! i think you should post a pic!!!

um, i went to bonnaroo in '05! when were you there?

rory said...

What?
Massachusetts don't need mailWOmen?
Do it.

Deidre said...

A. I would totally write letters to anyone - if it put smiles on faces. Let's start that business!

B. Boston is fun! and it is really hard to move away from The Safe. I feel ya. One more item on the pro column - we could totally meet up if you're in boston :) - you know when leave Oz for visits to the Homeland.

Skippy said...

I bet you are adorable with the cap on. I think you should wear it at the wedding reception.

Meg said...

that's so awesome that you were a mailperson! i'm always jealous when I see the mailman walking around and i'm stuck sitting at my desk...

LinkWithin

Blog Widget by LinkWithin