Wielding the Confetti Gun

by - 6:07 PM

You know what....my life is random.
You know what else?
I kind of like it that way.
I used to think that my life was an unfortunate series of divine jokes that I didn't get. Now I'm certain it's really more like an a confetti gun of unexpected miracles that's managed by someone seriously trigger happy.
That's okay. I like unexpected miracles. And I like confetti.

And let me tell you, this week had a forecast. It called for a freakin' thunderstorm of confetti.
Confetti Storm Numero Uno: My dogs absolutely freaking out when I came home after two days away. The way they bark and carry on and jump and lick my face and are basically like, Dude, Mom's home! We thought she was dead and like, never coming back!
Then they go back to thinking about food and sleeping on my bed and chasing cars and whatever else dogs think about.  

Next Confetti Storm: occured yesterday when I put on a pair of shorts that I haven't worn in a while. I felt something pleasantly papery in the pocket. You know where this is going, don't you?
I pulled out a crisp, freshly washed ten-dollar bill. Boom!
That kind of money is practically free money. It's from such a long time ago, you don't remember earning it and so it might as well have dropped from the sky. Or from a confetti gun.

Confetti Storm Three: the unexpected text invite to Taco Tuesday. Yes it's a real holiday and it happens once a week. Check the calendar.

CS4: Holy Mother of Mary, Joseph and Jesus, did you know about this stuff?

This will last about five minutes. Not a second more. Seriously.

CS5: This is exciting: I'm getting a new car.
I'm not really sentimental about cars or anything. My first car, for the few months that I drove it, was called "The Green Machine." It belonged to my favorite Mama-Bear and it was the car I learned to drive in. I very nearly left the transmission on the corner of 28th and Kraft at least a hundred times while learning to balance the clutch with the gas, all while yanking the always stuck gear shift into first. My Opa would sit just as calmly as you please next to me in the passenger seat, refusing to take over while the cars behind me wailed on their horns during rush hour. I thought he had no heart, but I'll tell you what, I learned to drive that sucker and I got pretty good at it too.
Still, I don't even think I waved goodbye when I traded the Green Machine in for a newer model.

Still unsentimental, I promptly named the new car The Blue Car. Unique, right? I've been driving it since I was a teenager and although I've thought often about getting ridiculously rich and buying a zippy car with a numerical name like, perhaps Z100Bazillion, I never really imagined actually handing over the keys to the Blue Car.

Well, the new job comes with a car and so it's time to say goodbye. Naturally I have decided to indulge in my final moments of being a Blue Car owner. I thought about driving it like a madwoman, and inflicting the kind of damage I'd never do to a car I planned to drive forever but the thought of crashing it into a tree and A.) dying and B.) not getting to sell it for as much, deterred me. Instead I yanked down the windows and blew the speakers listening to Ace of Base. Why A of B, you ask? Certainly. It reminds me of the summer of 2004 and helling around with big sister in her first car.

That was the summer we went to the beach every day and ate marshmallow puff out of the jar in her backseat. It was the summer that she became the owner of the world's largest collection of plastic spoons. It was the summer we learned our house was haunted.

It seems like the appropriate send-off.

The confetti gun is going and as it shoots, I see tiny pieces of glitter falling from the sky and some of them bear the shiny reminder that I am growing up. I said forever that I would get a new car when I graduated from college. That always seemed like such a long ways away, but it's already in my past and that promise I made to myself is just days away from coming true.

The confetti gun shoots. Ca-bluuu-ee
The sparkle...and a shiny reminder that gets caught in my eye:
The summer of 2004 was almost a decade ago. I'll never get that back. I'm left with the fading memories to which I grasp tightly, all the while knowing that I can't remember it all. There are moments in there, probably magical confettied moments, that are gone forever because I.Can't.Remember.

I drove through East Lansing last week and noted with a smile that students are slowly starting to pour back into town. It will soon be murder to take Grand River Dr or zip through E.L at all. It occured to me, though, that being a young student is part of my past. I don't belong to that group anymore and I never will again.

Ready. Aim. Fire.
I received business cards today. They have my name on them and I was so so so happy to see them. It's for real. I'm a grown up and it feels good.

It feels good, but I'm still processing my identity change. Every bit of me that's excited to grow up is equally matched to a bit that recognizes that I can never go backward. I'm different now and I can only grow more different.

Life is random like that. Confetti falls and it feels so good and it's so pretty to watch it sparkle in the sunlight, but eventually it will settle. I guess the moral of the story is to enjoy the sparkle while it lasts.

I like the confetti gun. There's showers and there's settle. I wondered it it might not be nicer to have a set of Christmas twinkle lights, but then I remembered what a Griswold family monster those things are. If one's out, they're all out.
Can you imagine? If one light is out, they're all out.

Nah. I'll take my shift and settle confetti gun every day of the week.

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