Levity and a Plastic Spoon

On My Own

Moving into a place on my own was (/is?) pretty terrifying. My mother still doesn’t really fully get what the hell I’m doing. Then again, I guess, neither do I. Last Halloween, I moved into a new apartment. It’s the first time I have ever moved into a place to live by myself. And if there’s one thing I’ve never been very good at, it’s by myself. I’m working on it, I have gotten better at it, and I am fully aware that I still have a very long way to go. Back then, my first several days in this apartment, was really tough. Money was tight so I couldn’t spend much. I was working two jobs and rehearsing for a show, so time was tight as well. Add to that a personal life in intense disrepair. My brain was fried and my heart was fractured. Life was topsy-turvy.

I also didn’t bring much with me to California, so moving into this new place left me short on supplies. I decided one day it was high time I pick myself up and buy some groceries. Just the staples though: lunchmeat, cheese, bread, cereal, milk, cottage cheese, and beer. You know, the essentials. I returned home proud of myself (yes, proud) for having bought some groceries. For having taken care of myself, even just a tiny bit. Then I realized I had no plates to eat off of, no silverware, no cups. Which of course signified my total failure as a functioning human, leaving me convinced I’d never amount to much of anything. So after about 20 minutes of dark, dramatic despair, I returned to Trader Joe’s. I decided I didn’t need a whole full-on set of silverware. Just a spoon. And you can’t buy a single spoon really anywhere. So, being frugal and clever (and desperate), I strolled over to the sampling booth, tasted the ceviche (meh), and pocketed the plastic spoon.

Take Care

I have a confession to make. For a long time now, I have held on tight to an irrational fear of being absolutely incapable of taking care of myself. There, I said it. I learned (or maybe just came to the conclusion) at an early age that I need someone else in order for me to be happy, healthy, successful, sane, normal, etc. That people need to be taken care of by other people. That they can’t do it by themselves. And without this special somebody, a person would surely be alone, lonely,weird, and probably die a horrible death in their kitchen and not be found until weeks or months later when the neighbors start complaining about a smell.

As a result, for most of my life, I have taken on the role of “caretaker” for other people, leaving myself in the lurch. I’ve also relied heavily (and unfairly) on other people to take care of me. It’s only been recently that I’ve confronted this ridiculous fear and made it a point to focus on taking care of myself (or at least trying to figure out how the hell to do that). I moved into my own place. I started going to movies by myself (gasp!). I take notice of the little things that I happen to love, like coffee and the beach, and try to devote time to these things when I can. I congratulate myself and celebrate even the smallest of victories, like when I pay off a long overdue parking ticket or actually fold a load of laundry.

This is where I live.

Me Time

One huge yet simple thing that I’ve found in this adventure is all of this alone time. I’ve never been a fan of spending much time by myself. The problem, I think, is that it’s spending time with myself. And for the most part, I haven’t been too fond of the company. But now I’m getting to know myself a little better, getting to like myself a little more, and getting to enjoy this brand new experience. This Me Time. It’s allowed me to learn a lot about how I operate, survive, view the world, etc. On the other hand, it has also provided plenty of trips down the self-loathing rabbit hole and countless lost hours drifting out into the furthest reaches of the Internet.

WARNING: Dead End

One night a couple weeks ago, I found myself in the pit. I was down. Way down. I was lamenting the fact that I had no money, that my career seemed to be going nowhere, that I’d made so many mistakes, that I was so alone, that I couldn’t take care of myself, that there were freaking SPIDERS EVERYWHERE. I was chugging wine and listening to really depressing music (like this, this, and this). It wasn’t pretty. Then I inhaled a half a pint of cottage cheese (which I fortunately happen to LOVE) and was washing off my spoon in the sink when it hit me.

This spoon. This same plastic sample spoon that I nabbed from Trader Joe’s almost FIVE MONTHS AGO. This same spoon. I have since acquired a full set of silverware and a silverware holder. I use the forks and the knives. The spoons however stay in the drawer, because for some reason, I only use this one ridiculous, piece-of-crap, plastic spoon for everything. I eat, wash it, and leave it on the rack for later use. This one spoon. Seriously. I just started laughing. Standing there at the sink, spoon in hand, I laughed, kiiiiiindof like a mad man. There may be some profound, revealing, symbolic reason for my insistence on using just this one spoon, but at that particular moment, I had to laugh at myself. And that may have just been reason enough.

Levity

I needed some lightness. It is downright absurd that I would still be using this spoon after five months. And laughing at my own ridiculousness, as opposed to beating myself up over it, felt great. It reminded me that things are okay. That I’m human, and I fail sometimes, make mistakes, can be a total weirdo. But who cares? I’m alive and I have food to eat with my stupid spoon. I can take care of myself. And sometimes it requires laughing at myself.

Since then, I’ve spent a lot of my Me Time discovering and considering other quirks specific to me. I decided to share a few here for two reasons: a) maybe you’ll get a laugh, and b) maybe it’ll help you find some of your own. And maybe laughing with me at ourselves and our own silliness will help make our hearts a little lighter on the darker days to come. So without further ado, here’s a bit of a confession:

1. I take my watch off every time I eat. I’m pretty sure it started when I was a kid, not wanting to get my watch dirty with a taco or something. But now it’s just plain habit. I’ve lost many watches in this lifetime.

2. Sometimes I get in the shower and have no recollection of how long it’s been since the last time I was there.

3. I do not have a mind for Chess. I know how all the pieces move and the rules of the game and everything. And I like to play, but I don’t think about strategy or putting your king in checkmate. I play like it’s Checkers. Mostly I just try to kill all your guys. It kinda frustrates people.

4. I can’t get enough olives. I love them. I’ll eat them like popcorn. I’ve often been caught, when out at bars, stealing from the little olive compartment next to the napkins. Hot damn, they’re like ambrosia. Olives and garlic. Ohmygod, so good. Buy me a thing of garlic-stuffed olives and I might just drive you to the airport. Throw in a jar of Nutella and I’ll help you move.

5. I think Words With Friends ruined all the fun of Scrabble, which was once my favorite board game. Now I don’t have a favorite.

6. When watching an under-water scene in a movie, I often catch myself holding my breath.

7. I own a pair of Heelys. And I know how to use them.

8. I can get by when trying to speak Spanish with other people, as long as they talk really slow and don’t mind repeating themselves. But when I’m drunk, I’m on point. Seriously. I could debate gay marriage and gun control all in Spanish after a six-pack of beer.

9. I love painting pottery (like at those kid places). It can sometimes be like therapy for me. But I worry that the home-made presents I keep giving to people are getting old.

10. Oftentimes, when I change my mind about something that I’m doing or thinking, I will say the word “actually” out loud.

11. I have never had good taste in music.

12. When I was a kid, I imagined that the birthmark on my right arm (pictured below) was really a treasure map. And that one day, destiny would lead me to the person with the rest of the map, and then the treasure.

13. I like orange-flavored almost-anything. But I can not stand mint and chocolate together.

14. My absolute favorite TV show of all time is Six Feet Under. Closely behind would be LOST, though I completely despise the last episode of the show and will outline for you an indisputably FAR-better finale.

15. I often find myself in sometimes the most-serious situations just trying not to laugh, or fart.

16. I have signed my autograph six times. And while I acted like it was silly on each occasion, I honestly LOVED IT.

17. I still use my grocery cart like it’s a scooter.

18. I secretly really like the smell of skunks and just pretend like it’s gross when I’m in the car with other people.

Behold the Spoon!

So laugh at yourself some. Or cry. If you want to, love somebody a lot. If it hurts, let yourself feel it. And never be embarrassed of being human.

Take good care.

Please feel free to leave a comment. And feel free to confess your own goofy quirks.