It's the universal question of the chronic complainer: 'Why me?'
I've never considered myself an overly upbeat person, much less a textbook example of a 'good' fellow. I've just thought I've been lucky to get my way most of the time and slide out of tricky situations with (most of) my ego and self-respect intact. In the end, it's a priority of mine to see the proverbial glass as half full.
That being said, my karma has been a little off kilter lately, in a plethora of ironic and hilarious ways.
This past Sunday, while on the train from downtown to North Campus, I realized at the stop that I had forgotten my monthly pass. Following the lead of countless friends and acquaintances on their constant skipping of paying their fare, I figured I was flying high just this once.
Imagine my surprise when the half-smiling face of the NFTA metro ticket inspector interrupted me while scribbling in my diary and rereading Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
A $50 citation later, I finally made my way to North Campus for a busy day of production at The Spectrum.
En route, I figured I should crawl over to the school bookstore to pick up a novel for my final required English course as an undergrad. Said course is taught by a professor I have been trying to win over from day one, and whose work I have fallen behind on.
What should have been an in-and-out operation was anything but.
Upon entering the bookstore, my bag set off the security alarm, an issue I have had since I purchased it a year-and-a-half ago.
Instead of allowing me to go about my business, the bookstore staff took it upon themselves to not only search my bag, but also scan every book in my possession (I'm an English major and a reader, so I have a lot of them) to verify as my own.
My property was then haphazardly and disrespectfully shoved back in my bag without the slightest consideration for order, then placed in the store's drop-off area without my knowledge. Anyone passing by who actually wanted to rob the university bookstore could easily have helped themselves to my possessions.
To add insult to injury, they were completely out of the title that I needed. So much for pleasing my professor with my knowledge and commitment to my passion.
Of course, these situations made me ticked off. Of course, there's plenty more complaints where those came from. I felt unwelcome and ostracized in the bookstore, yet I worked in Barnes & Noble for almost four years in high school, not to mention the fact that I'm an English major, a lifelong reader, and ideally a writer whose titles will one day be shelved in that place. But I'm jumping to conclusions.
It's true. My karma stinks. It's also true that I may or may not deserve it.
My response to the whole ordeal: So what?
Situations come along every day that irritate and flat-out annoy. What in the world is endlessly complaining going to do towards solving my problems?
The answer: absolutely nothing.
I try every day to simply go on living. It's the least I can do to solve my issues, and the littlest I can do to make my foes tick.
Last but not least, when the nonsense piles up, and I feel like I am drowning in absurdity, I do my best to remember that this too shall pass, and these situations are usually not something that will define my life.
I have so much to be thankful for. I have my independence, my health. A passion for Virginia Woolf and Jane Austen I hope will continue to flourish throughout my life. A brain chock full of ideas and potential stories I hope to turn into an awesome book very, very soon. A great family and good friends who provide support when I need it.
And very recently, a dark-haired, dark-eyed boy who makes me smile.
The glass looks pretty full from here.
E-mail: shane.fallon@ubspectrum.com
