I am a recent lessee of a very charming apartment. And I mean very charming. Psychopath charming. So charming it’s almost suspicious. I signed the lease a week ago, left work to do it and didn’t tell anyone there, too enchanted was I by Spanish arches and hardwood floors. I arrived in the foyer (foyer!) with my feet still catching up behind me. I beamed, twitched, and appeared responsibly normal. This measured up. I accepted the keys and handed over the deposit, carefully in control of my lips as they motioned “thank you, thank you, please, thank you.” The relator showed me the charming washer and dryer, the charming mailbox, the okay sink. Then he left, allowing me space to run through this charmed-up place, make another round, and then break into an ocean’s deep sweat, because, here it is: my very charming apartment has no A/C. I blindly leased an oven.
I am prone to this kind of blindness. I get very caught up. I am easily tangled. Lost in the dreaminess of things, rabbit-hole-oriented, I shutter from all possibilities except “this is meant to be.” And in that I am twisted. I am a thousand knots. I exhaust boy scouts.
But I know this, and because I know it I’ve developed incredible defense mechanisms for it. One is cynicism. Another is lying to myself. Then there’s sleeping. Also, pizza. In the direst cases I come up with intricate theories that use science to denounce my deepest wishes and dreams. Climate Change typically stars. Nothing better than Earth’s melting ice caps to ruin your day. Ask the polar bears. Ask Al Gore.
I haven’t decided if this flip-coined wildly pessimistic, blind optimism is a strength, or like my apartment, a charm. Am I better off in the land of 100% confidence, ne’er a negative thought in sight, only positivity to rake over my capabilities, my performance, my opportunities? What if, as I have before, decide to whole-heartedly attribute the rarity of an LA storm to something cosmic and personal and mine? What if I controlled the rain? Is that more or less mentally handicapped than believing all is for naught? That gloom rolls in on all parades. That I can’t and won’t have anything. That storms are just storms. That nothing is meant to be. It feels safe.
It also feels sad. And I’m trying to move past that part of me. Beat the inclination at the first sign of thunder. Look at lightning as what it is—light. Even though I love a storm. Even though I love the boom.
But, in any case, I am moving. Into a new apartment. A/C-less and mine. Moving to continue living my sweaty, charming life. Moving to move on. Tomorrow I'm moving on. Tomorrow I'm breaking a sweat.