Two weeks and one day ago I was skipping happily down the hall like a blissful school girl. Just because. And I tore my calf muscle. Twelve days later, due to my awkward limp, I trip and fall, scoring myself an enormous shiner that I hope evolves into « tough and hot » but for now is « gruesome and scary. »
Someone told me that I should « be more careful. » I disagree. Falling was not a result of carelessness but rather to my calf injury. My calf injury was due to an expression of joy and a freak accident that might have to do with age. I refuse to stop expressing my joy and goddamnit I refuse to stop ageing.
If anyone dares to say that I have bad luck, like someone did when I got mugged in Paris two years ago, my head will explode. When you go out and grab life by the balls like I do (this is what Good Friend John says about me) then in the natural equilibrium of life, a few mishaps and downfalls MUST occur. Anything else would be a perfect life and we all know that it is absolutely allowed to hate people with those.
That’s all these things are, my bum leg, my battered face; life’s natural price for not locking yourself up in the safe haven of staying home and doing nothing. This isn’t bad luck. This is proof I am living. This is the yin to the yang of my summers in Paris and vacations in Cuba and fifty-one marathons and getaways to New York and all of the mini, daily adventures, too. It is the richness of my life that allows me to accurately view my leg and my face as the minor setbacks that they are.
My friend Colin said the best thing on Facebook when I, of course, posted these latest exciting events of my life. When he saw that I had gone into work on Sunday, despite my leg, despite my face, he wrote: “I have to respect how unstoppable you are, Christina. Mend well.” THAT is my kind of thinking.
Have a great day, all! I know I shall. :)