Generic Traffic Light |
While the first three lessons stuck (what's that look for? I know how to share...I just don't like to), my sixteen-year old self decided to redefine the red-yellow-green traffic light sequence (in a way that mirrors my reactions to potential opportunities in life).
Green: It's going to change to yellow soon - I'll slow down just in case.
Yellow: It's going to turn red ANY SECOND! Hit the brakes!!
Red: Oh thank goodness, I won't get honked at this time.
I'm the girl who made notecards for the learner's permit test (which was a carbon copy of practice exam #7 online). I'm the girl who practiced backing into the same parking space for 2 hours just to be sure. I'm the girl who counts one mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi at every stop sign. I'm the girl who starts sweating when someone in a caravan starts going 10 mph over the speed limit. I'm the girl who hates to drive on anything but a full tank. I'm the girl with an emergency blanket in the trunk. I'm the girl who gets passed on a one-lane bridge. I'm the girl who makes the "minimum mph" speed limit on the highway necessary (but don't worry - Pops and Brothers #1-3 taught me never to sit in the left lane).
A Not-So-Subtle Reminder |
Confession: On the rare occasion that I do cross the dashed white line to pass someone, it never fails to feel absolutely exhilarating. And I've decided I need more such moments in my life. Moments where green means GO, yellow means think about it, and red means stop for now.
On the Other Side of the Dotted White Line |
I want to quiet that voice in my head that can drum up 50 bullet points for the figurative con column as fast as Kara Goucher can run a mile.
I'm tired of having hesitation, resistance, and good-girl written all over me. Being such-a-straight-arrow-that-it's-charming has an expiration date. And if I don't hurry up, I'll be chucked aside into the boring pile, right next to the compost bin and the recycling stack. I'd like to try something completely out of character, risky, and maybe even against the rules. Any ideas?
Alcohol seems like a good place to start...
ReplyDeleteCome visit me in New York!
ReplyDeleteBut seriously, I remember 6 year old Hannah telling her mom to "just blink on over!" to change lanes and get around a slow car. She's still in you somewhere, I bet.