I realize this sounds very pretentious, but I have the
answers. All of them. And if I don’t have the answers, I will find
them, and get back to you and tell you how to apply those answers in order to
make them benefit you. When people are
looking for answers, they call me. It
pisses a lot of people off. But it’s
legit. Some days, I feel like a fucking
oracle. “Uh…Ms. Angela do you know the
number to the hospital in Novato?”
Sure. “Hey lady, who’s working in
supply right now?” Ashley. “Do you know anyone at the Academy?” Of course I do. “Miss A.
Can you get me the link for the print shop?” You know it.
“Hey. When did my guy pass the
color vision test?” March 2012. “You know that guy down at…?” Yep.
Mark. “Do you have a copy of my
lab work?” Duh. Right here on my desk. “Angela.
Who’s gonna inspect my EMT bags?”
Probably your EMT. “Can you get
me the number to those girls over in TRICARE?”
Real funny, asshole. Ok. That’s the one answer I don’t have. But the rest of the answers, I have
those. All of them. It’s not just work either
Sometimes, my girlfriends will say “why are people so
lame?” I’ll say “because they’re
dicks. Ignore them. Other times, I will tell Radley “Stop jumping
on the couch.” He’ll look at me, real
indignant and ask “Why mommy?” Because I
said so, little boy. Occasionally, my
friends will ask for advice about their relationships. I’ll say things like “make sure you know what
you are getting into.” Or “chose your
battles wisely.” Those are always the
right responses. Never mind my failed
marriage and all of my other unsuccessful relationships give me zero authority
to weigh in on relational concerns. But,
I do have a degree in communication. So,
I must have all of the answers. All of
them. People recognize it, too. They know that they should heed my
advice. Even as recently as last week,
one of my little brothers said to me “You were totally right about that!!! I don’t know why I don’t listen to you more
often. You always see what’s really
going on.” Let this be a lesson to you, baby
bro. I have answers. I’ve been around for a very LONG time. I know things!
I’m not gonna lie. I
revel in it. I LOVE it when people think
they know more things than I actually do.
I love when they think they have the answers. Even more, I love when those same people come
back to me, and say “you were right.” I
love that shit. Knowing stuff validates
my entire existence. Futher, it makes me
an asset. Anyway, point being, I’m
pretty good at answers. And stuff. Unless….It’s answers to my own questions and
solutions to my own conundrums. Then,
I’ve got nothing. Hell, most days I
don’t even eat breakfast because I don’t have the foresight to make time in the
morning to grab a fucking banana. The
bananas are in the fruit basket next to the coffee pot. Where I pour my coffee. Every morning. But still no breakfast. I always think “eh. I’ll just get some wine after work.” That’s kind of like a banana, right?
A lot of days, I get frustrated with myself; with my
life. It all seems so simple. Get up.
Go to work. Pay the bills. Raise a little boy. It seems like those are things that should
all come so naturally. There shouldn’t
be any thought, and certainly, those things shouldn’t require answers. The answers should all be there. You get up to go to work. You go to work to pay the bills. You pay the bills so that you can raise a
little boy. Comfortably. It all makes sense, until people start asking
me questions about me.
A few weeks ago, at the smoke pit, I sat crying. One of my nearest and dearest was walking her
pooch and saw me sitting, with my head in my hands. After
a short interaction, she said “this job brings you so much turmoil. Why are you still here?” Uh…..Nothing.
A few months ago when my soul was devastated with the prospect of
orphaning my child as a result of breast cancer, my mom called me and lit me
up. My own mother, after a very heated
interaction about responsibility, screamed into the phone at me
“ANGELA!!!! Why can’t you accept help
from anyone? What’s wrong with you????”
Eh. I don’t really need any
help. Then, recently, my sweet Charity
felt my heart hurting from three thousand miles away. She texted me and asked “why do you love so
deeply and unconditionally?” All I could
say was “why doesn’t everyone else?” To
myself, however, I thought “I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!” Because I don’t have those answers.
If you need directory assistance, call me. If you need turn-by-turn directions to the
nearest grocery store, I’m your girl. If
you need to know the name of your neighborhood pharmacist, I’ve got him in my contacts. If you need to know why you
shouldn’t jump on the couch, I’ll tell you. If you have a question that I don't immediately have a response to, I have wine. For both of us. We'll figure it out. But if you want know what’s going to save my soul. Don’t ask me.
I don’t know.
-Inner Peas
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