Thursday, November 8, 2012
How long is a 10 minute drive home? Long Enough!
Last night as I drove home from dropping my daughter off at school I began mentally recapping my day. After thinking through all I was able to accomplish (and still not accomplish anything of importance) I actually asked myself out loud if maybe I wasn't exaggerating just a little to justify feeling like I deserved to go home and just plop myself onto the living room sofa and stay there until the next day, if I so desired. Of course that thought led me thinking that I should also be hand fed grapes while being dowsed with exotic perfumes from around the world….and just let me stop here before I tell you more and you discover what a truly crazed individual I really am.
Back to the drive home, I made it through a red light by the skin of my teeth and popped out of Egypt and into reality just in time to discover that I was still here in Garden Grove; no grapes.
Anyway…I’m am here (in Garden Grove) and I've come to terms with my current sitchiation. That is to say, I’m living in a highly populated Asian community; approximately 31%. Of that 31%, I’ll exaggerate once again and say that at least 29% of them live at my apartment complex. And I exaggerate when telling you this to prove that I am aware I’m doing it, and I don’t exaggerate solely while talking to myself.
Still chit chatting with myself, I wonder how many people live in my complex?’ And there’s just no point in wondering on a 10 minute drive home without searching out answers, so I do a mental body count. I know the brain is a very strange thing but about now I’m realizing mine is particularly strange. How did I go from ‘bye honey, see you later’, to counting bodies? But, that’s where I am; I count 85 to 88 people (infants included).
As a manager you wear many hats; a counselor, a friend, a mean old broad, the grounds keeper, the parking police, the trash woman, enforcer of rules, the key keeper, a grouch, a translator, a peace keeper, a babysitter, a package delivery holder and a mom.
And if that weren't enough, I also work part-time for United Airlines, and to keep myself in this crazed mental state, I sell AVON...Ding, Dong!
Okay, now you know the percentage of Asians in my community, how many bodies live at my apartment complex and what I do with my time. You’d think that having thought all this, I’d be home, but I’m not. How my mind hasn't just shut down to put an end to this nonsensical thinking or better yet, how I haven’t crashed into another car due to my lack of focus, I don’t know but I’m not done yet.
Having realized that only 29% of the Asian community reside at my complex, curiosity begins to nudge at me asking who the heck the other 61% are. I argue with myself that it’s not important but the thought just won’t rest, so…there are Hispanics, Thai, Syrians, Egyptians, Italians, Vietnamese, Koreans and THANK YOU JESUS, Americans. This means that within the walls of 37 apartments, there are approximately 7 countries, besides the United States represented, with a good 7 languages being spoken here daily.
And that is how I stay awake while driving home after dropping my daughter off for her night class. And don’t think I didn't eat those grapes. I did. They were red, seedless, frozen grapes and I’m not sure, but I could have sworn I could hear Arabic music playing somewhere off in the distance…..now, just where are those perfumes...