I keep hearing “You’re so lucky” and “I wish I could do what you have done” and other things that make me sound like less of a coward than I am. While I absolutely agree that I am incredibly fortunate, I think it is important to paint an accurate portrait of what “being lucky” looks like.
Firstly, lady luck has a favorite color. It is Parking Ticket Yellow. I have received 4 parking tickets in 3 and a half months, with a running tab of $125 sent to the Denver Parking Violations Bureau PO Box 46500 Denver, CO 80201. I am lucky.
I have had to call a locksmith twice since my return, setting me back over $200. Luck.
I fell into a job as soon as I needed it and it turned out to be a bit of a clock-watcher. I’m so lucky.
My state flooded. (Confession time; I have said the words “I wish we had monsoon in Colorado.” That one may have been my doing.)
I am perpetually being overcharged on my phone bill, including a $100 bill for an entire month in Asia when I didn’t turn on my cell phone EVER.
Kaiser told me that a well woman’s checkup is “specialty care” and would cost “$800 because of the effects of Obamacare” (which hadn’t even taken effect yet. Fuck you Kaiser. Fuck. You.) I’m a lucky gal.
I found a way to make my brother and sister-in-law, or as I call them; my American Host Family’s clothes dryer make a sound that “they’ve never heard before. Ever.” because I don’t understand fancy washers and dryers. Pure luck.
That dude from The Big Bang Theory beat Luis C.K. at something. Beyond that, that something happened to be EMMY FOR BEST ACTOR IN A COMEDY. That’s not lucky. That’s shit.
I signed up to take a class and was kicked out hours later because I wasn’t registered properly. More luck.
I’m not writing this to convince you that I’m unlucky. I am, actually, incredibly fortunate. I live in a country where my currency carries me far around the world and speak the international language of tourism. I have family that doesn’t live like I do, but they don’t shoot me for being a drifter. I took what was seen as a huge risk (and maybe isn’t) and it…worked…whatever that means. I am happier and older and I have happy eye wrinkles to show both of those things.
It’s hard to remember how lucky I am here. It’s hard to remember that I’m riding a wave of luck as I wait for a shady lock smith at 8:30 pm on a Sunday. Based on the above list, it would be a far stretch of the imagination to say that I am “so lucky” but perspective can change in an instant. Today, I feel like the luckiest person in the world. I started this blog hoping that it would spark a revolution. Hoping that I wouldn’t get eaten by a tiger or die of malaria and that at least one person would recognize that they aren’t happy and that they have options. With or without luck. Today I got a message from a friend I met in Peru 7 years ago. She is quitting her job, figuring out what comes next and rereading my blog. She doesn’t know what comes next and I can’t tell her. Keara, if you happen to blog your way through, you have one avid reader lined up already and may you become (with fewer parking infractions) the new face of fortune!