High drama
I burnt my finger today.
I decided to have Vegetable and Chicken Couscous for dinner. It goes completely against my “no carbs after 3pm” rule, but I’ve eaten like a pig all day so what the hell. So anyway, I was pulling the tray of roasted vegies out of the oven with a folded tea-towel, unbeknownst to me, there was a little gap in the fold just big enough for my finger and WAMO! The searing pain shot through my finger and up to my hand. I swear I could small burning flesh.
I threw the tray across the kitchen in spectacular fashion, causing Fergus (the dog) to take off up the hall, and pieces of pumpkin to hit the ceiling. The hot tray clunked and clanged as it bounced off the bench top on to the wooden floor and I ran to the bathroom shoving my hand under the cold tap. I waited to welcome the relief of the cold water but December in Brisbane heats the pipes so much it came out tepid and didn’t help at all. I stormed back to the kitchen in a huff grabbing an ice pack to stop the 3rd degree burns affecting my finger.
It was as I applied the gigantic ice pack that I discovered the burning flesh and peeling skin were not quite as bad I had thought. There was, in fact, no burning flesh, no peeling skin; nor was there a blister, or even a pink mark. I had redecorated my kitchen with bits of roast vegetables because of nothing more than a light sting on the finger with a hot roasting tray.
4 hours after the finger burning incident, the ice pack has melted, the kitchen has been cleaned but my finger is still stings.
I continued to ice my finger (it was still hurting afterall!) contemplating my epic overreaction and found myself a little disappointed that my injuries weren’t more impressive. When did I become a drama queen? Have I always been one and just didn’t realise?
Yes… and no. I’ve always wanted a life less ordinary. As I little girl I desperately wanted to be someone special; an elite athlete, talented dancer, super smart… something. ANYTHING! But I was never any of those things. It depressed me and confused me. I mean, it happened all of the time in the movies and on TV, why didn’t it happen to me? Why couldn’t I be special?
Now as an adult, I still crave a life more interesting than the one I have. Fortunately, my goals are less about being revered and envied by my peers, and more about doing something that I love, surrounded by people that I care about and living a life I can feel proud of. To date, I am only somewhat happy with my choices and the path I have taken. It took me a very long time to choose the life I wanted to live.
Well… that’s not entirely true. I’ve always known what I wanted, but I was too scared, to go out and get it. And I didn’t know how; how to start, where to go, what to do. So I did nothing but feel sorry for myself, play the victim and blame the world for my short comings.
Age has provided me with a little wisdom; enough to snap me out of ‘poor-me-syndrome’ at least. I’m moving forward and reaching towards something kind-of-wonderful. It’s a little slow going. I take 2 steps forward, get nervous and while I don’t take a step back, I stand still, petrified at the thought of failure. But I’m getting there – this blog is a huge step forward.
