I got pulled over tonight. Well, not pulled over, exactly, but stopped at a sobriety/security checkpoint. Sobriety-- no problem. Obviously. Like always, I handed over my documentation as I proudly told the officer, "I'm a Mormon. I've never even had a drink." Usually they smile and tell me how good I am. But tonight, the security was the issue, because apparently my proof of insurance was expired (by about a week, actually). Even though we pay for insurance in my family, I guess I didn't think to check for a new card (really, is this at the top of anyone's list of things to do?) and so I got a "citation." Which means there's no fine, but I have two weeks to take my current proof of insurance (which is probably floating around somewhere on my mom's desk) to the Bosque Farms Police Department so it doesn't show up on my very clean driving record.
And you know, I get it. I appreciate the police trying to keep us safe and all. And I hope they found any drunk drivers who were out on the road. And I hope they got the real deadbeats who DON'T have insurance. I know they were just doing their job, but I'm still just a little annoyed. I'M A GOOD PERSON! I DRIVE THE SPEED LIMIT! I DON'T LITTER! But it is technically my fault that I didn't have the new proof of insurance card, so there you have it.
Of course, I can't help thinking that somehow this is karma and I must have done some bad things in my day because things are coming back to bite me in the butt. And even though I've spent HOURS this week doing service projects (I was on my way home from one tonight, ironically), something I've done in my past is catching up. Well, the police thing is obvious-- my own stupidity, I guess. But for example, having someone tell me I'm physically unattractive probably is a punishment for me yelling and freaking out at my friends when they suggested I date another friend... the pressure was too great, and I regretably said something to the tune of, "NOOOOOO! That will NEVER happen." It wasn't because I didn't adore the guy, it was just too much pressure at the time. So maybe that whole thing a while back was payback. I don't know.
Or maybe it's because things just aren't fair sometimes. If things WERE, then I'd be head-over-heels in love with the nicest boy in the world, who happens to feel that way about me. It's strange. I don't think anyone has ever liked me this much before, and I question his judgment. Yeah, this is probably way too personal and I shouldn't be sharing this with the whole world, but I don't know how to be anyone but myself, and in a kind of public way. So basically, I'm feeling like the devil right now because I've got this great person in my life who wants to be a bigger part of my life, and I just don't know if I can let him in. And I don't know if it's because I'm just a wuss and freak out when anyone shows any interest (which seems like something I ought to be able to overcome), or if my greater fear is true and he and I just don't have enough in common to merit this whole charade continuing for a moment more. It isn't fair that someone as nice as this guy should have anything but happiness, but I can see some hurt coming.
When I was a little girl, I remember watching Geraldo or Phil Donaghue or Sally Jessy Raphael or someone talk to people who had near-death experiences. This man said that as he was "walking toward the light" he was watching this movie of his life and saw every moment. But it was completely interactive and he FELT everything he'd ever made someone else feel. Joy and pain. I would really prefer my life movie to be a story of someone who made people happy, not someone who inflicted pain... even unintentionally.
Add to this frustration the fact that I think all the people in my life believe I'm a touch on the crazy side. My dad's convinced that I have a chemical imbalance, my aunt thinks I'm an actress and not showing people my true colors, and my mom blames it on my high IQ. I'm at a loss, though, because I'm honestly just being myself-- and really the best self I can manage right now. Truly. I don't act as a cry for attention. I don't write to satisfy anyone but myself. I do my best to adapt and fit in, but there are just things about me that make up who I am. Hmm. I don't think I'm describing this well. I wish I had Nate Thomas' way with words.
It's like this. I don't have a way of dressing that would put me in a category, unless it was "ecclectic." My only true loves are everyone. I'm taking a step into the dark, hoping to be brought further into the light, but grasping for goodness wherever I can find it, and then telling everyone all about it-- the good, the bad, the ugly. I'm shouting all my secrets from the rooftops. I know mystery is good, but I can't keep a secret about myself. I'm too loud, I'm too unsure, I'm too confident, I'm too proud. And it all comes together in this synergystic ball of something you know as Rachel. I don't know if I'm crazy or just a fool.