Thursday, January 31, 2008

What, me worry?

wor-ry: (verb) to torment with cares, anxieties, etc.; trouble; plague.

Yes, me worry. Me worry a lot. About everything. Seriously, EVERYTHING. Past, present, future, me, my family, my friends, everything.

Sure, some stuff is pretty standard: money, job security, debt, my health. The funny thing is that I have probably the most worry- and stress-free life one could have. I not only have a good job, but I actually like it; I make good money for where I am in my career; I'm slowly but surely paying off everything I owe; and I'm relatively healthy. But being carefree is for chumps.

But I can't just leave it at worrying over non-worriable things. Nope, I worry about the future, too. Specific things about the future. Like what school I'll send my kids to. And what neighbourhood I should raise my kids in. And whether or not I should get married in the church my mom wants me to get married in. And who in my family I should invite to my wedding. (It should be noted here that I have no children, am not with child, am not married or engaged or even in a serious relationship and I am really not anywhere near achieving any of these things.)

I worry about things long gone by, like the time in grade four I accidentally swung my arm around and punched this kid, Michael, in the neck and he started crying and told me he had tubes in his ears and me punching him could do something to them and I was so upset and afraid to get in trouble, even though it was an accident and I worried about what he thought of me then and if he still feels that way today. Seriously. This was 17 years ago.

And I worry about my mom and my dad and my brother and all the rest of my family and all my friends. I worry that I said the wrong thing to this person and that I wasn't friendly enough to that person and that I overstepped with another person. I worry about the environment and the Middle East and if I coloured my hair evenly and that the Conservatives will win another term federally and that I don't have enough black socks and that I don't read enough. It really is exhausting.

So I think I'm a little crazy. Something else to worry about.

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