Life.
And so it goes. I find it interesting that I’ve somehow got it into my head that if I can find the perfect mug, my life will be a little bit better. Or infinitely better. It sort of depends on how perfect the mug really is. And why do I need a mug at all, you might wonder? I don’t even drink coffee. Tea though, I do drink tea. Anyways, I need a mug because it is more sustainable, and owning such a thing would not only make me feel like I’m on O.K. terms with the planet, I would look like a tree-hugger earth-lover. And mugs just keep the contents warmer longer. I should clarify, what I need is a “to-go” mug. This means it would have a lid. With a suitable drinking contraption area thing. And a handle. A handle would be ideal. Then, this cannot be any old handled to-go mug. It must be steel, because plastic may or may not one day kill me (#7 plastic, beware of it) and steel is sturdier and superior to plastic… but not as pretty. My cup must also say something about me, and because steel is not especially attractive in its normal state, it would be my greatest hope that the manufacturer would have punched it up a little by tinting it pink or giving it an emblem of some sort.
If I were to own this mug, my life would be greatly improved. But I don’t think it exists. (But searching for it, continuously, obsessively, does give my life a little more purpose to it.)
Hygiene.
Ever go into a public bathroom and wonder to yourself which stall has been the least used? I am horribly unable to “hover” above the toilet seat – thus, I am obviously in search of the seat least contaminated by human bum germs. I walk into the public restroom, and analyze the stalls: front, middle – always a poor choice. It is the easy access stall probably most used for purposes of expediency/dire need. I also think that the very end stalls, on the left or the right, are greatly used as well, for the simple reason that people like me that are concerned with over-used stalls would probably aim for the supposedly least used stall (hence, the furthest away, hardest to get to). This means that the stalls in between the middle stall(s) and the end stall(s) are probably (hopefully) the least used because of the aforementioned reasons.
This suggests that there are no people as obsessively identical in my thought-processes, and that they do not aim for the middle-left or middle-right stalls. Sadly, I eventually come to the conclusion that in large public places thousands of people will use the stalls in their entirety, and there is really no safe way to avoid bum-germs. So I wipe the seat with toilet paper and assuage my fears that way.
Compliments.
Maybe I over-think things, or maybe I’m just really insightful. I haven’t figured that out yet. Regardless, I hate complimenting people. Well actually, I love complimenting people. When I’m at work serving fifty billion nice customers all I want to do is compliment every single one of them. But if I were to do that, if I were to mention to each individual their greatest attribute, feature, or quality – it would lose its weight as a great event. It would be, “Oh. The girl that compliments everyone just paid me a compliment.” The individual would not feel as special, and I would not feel as satisfied.
There are more problems with compliments. There is the chance that they will not take you seriously. To the man who was washing the walls at the hotel, I said (in my head), “You’re doing a really good job with that!” I wished to tell him that in order to encourage him, or make him hate his job less. Because really, how much fun could it be to wash the walls? I myself have had to wash walls, and it sucks. I wanted to sympathize with him. But probably he would’ve taken the comment as facetious and hated me for it. So I refrain.
There’s also the worry that your compliment will not be fully accepted. A friend shows me a work of art and I tell them it’s beautiful, wonderful, inspired! But since I’m their friend and not an impartial stranger, there is no way my compliment will really sink in unless I find a unique and meaningful way of expressing it. This puts a lot of pressure on me. Similar to the pressure one suffers with while trying to express gratitude after receiving a thoughtful gift. With gift-giving, it’s all about the reaction.
I don’t give compliments anymore.
Technology.
I hate my phone. And facebook. And the TV. I hate all technology because it takes me further and further away from the real-life wonders that we could experience if we weren’t too wrapped up in our gameboy, our ipod, our PVR. But I’m addicted. I have to check my e-mail, just in case a professor, a love-interest, or something else equally important shows up.
And I bet you do too.
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