Moose in the Kitchen

My thought processes are an ever-shifting harmonic convergence of festering doubt and mewling anxiety. The human brain is a wonder, marvelous in its ability to twist events into something so far removed from reality as to be unrecognizable. (Or to qualify, in certain notable and best forgotten incidences, as certifiably insane.) Since there is no Designated Arbiter of Reality – we all have our own separate brains and therefore our own version of events that look completely different from anyone else’s version – it’s up to each of us to reign in the chaos with an ever-expanding repertoire of soothing thoughts and perspective-inspiring devices. And when the occasion requires, physically twist ourselves into gravity- and ligament-defying positions so we can kick our own ass.

Now, I’m not certain I’ve ever actually done a meme. Because 1) I’m not sure how to pronounce the word and that makes me twitchy and 2) they tend to feel like homework and my guilt levels are elevated enough as it is. But when Jen – the very first blogger I ever met in an unforgettable weekend of aprons, melting cheese, and the sudden betrayal of a seemingly innocent pineapple – devised a meme where you share your coping mechanisms honed via years of Thinking Too Much With The Thinking, it was so in keeping with my own personal brand of crazy that I had to participate. And here it is. Welcome to the inside of my brain.

When there’s yet another very nice man sitting across the table from me and the chemistry is so decidedly lacking that I find myself counting the number of times he uses the word “dude” in his story about a tennis match. Or maybe it’s a squash game. Or maybe he’s talking about his cat.

At least you get to go home soon to a blissfully quiet apartment and read your book. Thank god for fiction. At least you don’t live in Bangladesh where marriages are arranged and you’d be meeting this guy at the altar. And, hey, this lends further credence to your theory that the little gnomes responsible for Romantic Prospects send exciting men your way only when your own life is exciting and so all you have to do now is make your life exciting by going to Timbuktu. Excellent. A factor you can control. You will now make mental lists for your trip to Timbuktu. Is he still talking about his cat?

When there’s another dating disappointment in what feels like a string of dating disappointments.

Four doesn’t really count as a string. A string needs at least six. More like nine. So stop dating now and there will be no string.

When the dreaded gray, creeping anxiety invades.

Time to do something. Anything. Engage in some task that will make you feel useful. Down with the futile stewing and on to rearranging the yarn collection.

I’m a failure, I will never do anything right, ever, and surely this is the way it is and the way it must be until the end of time and clearly I’m such a failure that I will never die, I will wallow in immortality, knowing that all the time in the world will not make a difference and when humans are swept from the earth by a tsunami or eaten by the Large Flesh Eating Lizards resulting from either climate change or nuclear waste, I will still be around to feel like a failure, and that failure will be no less epic for not having any other humans left to witness….

Take a breath. Good. Now take another one. Good. Now a third. Good. Keep going. But the looming failure! It continues with the looming! I SAID BREATHE.

I haven’t written a book yet.

Hey, guess what! You’re only 31! You still have time.

When I’m irritated by passing cars or people in line next to me or having any inappropriate emotional response for no apparent reason.

Ah, the classic three-year-old regression. Are you tired? Are you hungry? Are you thirsty? Do you need to run around the block until your reason-free rage subsides? A good 80 percent of your problems will be solved this way so, for god’s sake, get your eight hours and don’t forget the protein.

When a stranger is ever-so-slightly unfriendly or a friend doesn’t return an email or something else happens that is entirely normal in the course of day-to-day existence on this planet where people have lives.

Don’t take things personally and don’t make assumptions. How many times have you given off unfriendly vibes simply because you spend a lot of time alone and so were somewhat unprepared for civil interaction with another homo sapien while reaching for a packet of sugar? How many times have you taken three weeks to return an email? And in every single instance, was it ever about the other person? No. It was always entirely about you and your dread of sharing personal space or staring down an inbox choking on 17,000 messages.

When I get concerned or frightened by the state of the world or massively upset by some tragedy, large or small.

You are not God. You have the power of your checkbook and time you can volunteer, and that’s about it. So wield them judiciously and send your good thoughts to the people who need them and then step back. That’s right, you’re still not God.

When I have a zit and am convinced the populace will flee in fear – maybe to fetch pitchforks and torches – before exiling me to a leper colony where I can wait in peace for my left arm to fall off.

Nobody cares about that zit but you. Promise.

I don’t have a fiance, husband, or boyfriend and everyone else around me apparently does.

This is a situation. It is not a problem, it is a situation. A situation that will resolve itself in due time, especially if you just keep living your life and enjoying it, especially that part where you don’t have to pick up anyone else’s socks and retain complete and utter control over the calendar and the symbolic remote control. And are you really that concerned with what everyone else is doing? WELL, YOU SHOULDN’T BE. By the way, did you notice your phrasing? Do you really want a relationship where you can learn about and support and love another person, or are you just upset because you think there’s something wrong with you since you haven’t yet found this sublime, obviously-going-to-solve-all-your-problems partner? Maybe you should stop kvetching and ponder that for awhile.

I’ve pondered and yes, I really do want a partner and yes, for the right reasons.

When the time is right, it will work out. Until then, relax.

I don’t actually have a job and my freelance work is not yet enough to support me and checking my bank balance sometimes sends me into a state of low-grade terror.

You have always had enough money. Always. In fact, it’s kind of astonishing how your bank account magically refills itself and you always seem to have more cash than you should. You don’t quite know how that works – maybe it was the chapter you missed as you napped peacefully through 10th grade geometry – but you certainly appreciate it. This time is no different. The problem will resolve itself, these things always do, and guess what! If you relinquish your need to fret and start working instead, it will resolve itself THAT MUCH FASTER. Welcome to the ever-predictable world of cause and effect.

All of the above.

You have an amazing life, buffered by all the conveniences and luxuries that modern technology, medicine, and social conventions can offer. You have this fun human body to play around in and more opportunities than you know what to do with. So knock it off and go have some fun.