#129. The Ridiculous Genre

Every so often when I am feeling particularly tortured by my ex, I retreat into a state of self-pity for a day or two.  This phase used to be a lot longer and far more pathetic.  It was about an eight year long phase if memory serves.  The main course of this Buffet-Of-Fun was Self-Pity with a side of Helplessness sprinkled with Hopelessness.  A highly dramatic restaurant.  It was like being in a black hole where everything appeared pointless, illogical, dark and meaningless.  I believe my therapist called it Depression.  I called it Divorcing An Asshole.  Tomato, tomahto… 

I’ve come a really long way since the big ole Depression had me in its clutches a few years ago.  My days while in the hole were spent drinking, smoking, eating and squeezing in a little drug abuse while I hid from the world.  Good times.  Now when I feel like life isn’t fair and things will never get better, I do yoga, listen to Ethel Merman (hard to stay pissed off with that voice yelling at you), walk my dog, watch TV or Movies, and keep to myself. 

I can’t brood very long anymore as the very nature of being out in the world is so ridiculous that it’s hard not to laugh at it all.  Interacting with society at large seems to always remind me that life, if nothing else, is too absurd to take seriously.

I went to my beloved yoga studio for my daily class.  Workout all of my fear and frustration.  ‘It’s my space.  It’s my time.  Everything will be fine’, I thought to myself as I walked into the peaceful class.  As I looked up there was a little strange man with his eyes locked on me.  He looked familiar.  Then I saw his crossed eyes and realized that it was Columbo!  (Columbo from my bad date who made me pay for both our coffees and public transit! SEE POST: #121. Online Dating Neanderthals)

Our eyes met.  I ignored him and went to lie down on a mat.  My mind began to race.  What was he doing in my yoga class?  Maybe he read what I wrote about him and his crossed eyes…  Did he remember that this was my yoga studio?  Could he be stalking me?  No!  That’s crazy.  For God’s sake it’s a yoga studio!  Not everything is about me! Holy self-centered… BUT what if he did read my post and became infuriated.  What if he is here because of me???  What if he wants to confront me?

For the duration of the class I remained in a state of paranoia as I transitioned into the various poses while glancing at Columbo as if he may stab me at any moment.  He was clearly new to yoga so it wasn’t like he was just trying a class at a new studio.  Please God let me live!  I devised a plan to escape the class as quickly and efficiently as possible to avoid any contact.  I had to get all of the props to their stations, roll up my mat, grab my purse, put on my shoes and jacket in record time without looking like I am panicking. 

When the final ‘Namaste’ was uttered, I went into evacuation mode as I executed ‘Operation Exit Storm’.  My plan was indeed efficient.  I flew out of there, slid down the stairwell banister, (as walking down the stairs would have taken too long), and left the building in one piece without incident.  Phew. Crisis averted.

The next day I had to make the dreaded call to Toronto Rentbank to see how my loan was doing.  Assigned to my application was a woman with probably the thickest Asian accent I have ever heard.  In fact, she may have been speaking Cantonese as I had no idea what she was saying.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to beg someone for a loan when you have no idea what they are saying, yet you have to avoid insulting them at all cost?  It was an impossible situation.  Here’s how the conversation began with my simultaneous thoughts in brackets (You may want to take a listen to the recording at the bottom of this post to get the full experience – this piece is at 4:20):

Her:       Harrow. Dississing.

Me:        Sorry…your name is Ing?

Her:       Ang.

Me:        Ang?

Her:       Ann.

Me:        (Deep Breath) Ann?

Her:       Ring.

Me.        OK…umm…How does my application look?

Her:       Ahhhh. You have hum note spent?

Me:        Excuse me?

Her:       You have hum note spent?

Me.        (Oh my God.) I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you are asking me.

Her:       You have hum note spent?

Me:        (FUCK!!!)  You want to know how much my rent is?

Her:       Ahhh. No. Hum note spent?

Me:        (What the fuck is ‘hum note spent’?!?) You need to know something is spent?

Her:       No. Spent note.

Me:        OK.  Ah… No.  No note spent.  (What am I saying?!?)

Clearly this conversation was not working.  It just kept going on like some Abbot and Costello sketch and there was nothing I could do about it.  The only thing I did interpret correctly was that I getting rejected from the loan.  As shitty as that reality was, I couldn’t help but laugh.  This was insane.  The whole episode was insane.

Look, I may not get Child Support, am working like a workaholic and things are far from easy. But life is so funny!  Like Ha-Ha-Laugh-Out-Loud-Funny!!!  It’s all so stupid and silly.  Whenever I open my eyes, stop feeling sorry for myself and look around, I can’t help but find the humour in life.  Makes it almost fun to suffer through!

I know things are less than desirable.  Far from it.  But what a trip!  Next time I get frazzled I have to remember just how ridiculous this world is because it sure ain’t worth losing any sleep over.  Instead, best to get a good night’s sleep to get ready for the next day’s episode of “WTF”.  Maybe that’s what life is and we are all the stars of our own TV shows.  Perhaps all of our human tragic-comedies fall into ‘The Ridiculous’ genre.  I know mine does…  Thanks again Aliens! Hope you’re enjoying the show!