Just My (bad)Luck
So, for the past two weeks I’ve been having a lot of bad days, the kind so bad I made the insurance guy laugh and wish he was stuck in traffic with the windows shut in the sweltering heat. I’m serious – the old dude actually laughed at me and had this look full of pity on his face. As did the car guard, random guy parked next to me who got a ticket and security guys. I used to think that I was just born unlucky, unlike my silver-spoon sister, but now I really think that Murphy has it out for me. I was reading the book, “Jinx”, by Meg Cabot after the drama had died down a notch (let’s face it; my bad luck will never die down completely) and everything Meg had written in the book described me really well. Except for the part where the lead character thought she was a witch and that’s why bad things happened to her.
But then again, unlucky people such as me are useful for society. My friends and family (who sadly realised my lack of fortune instantly) use me to make decisions. For example, if people don’t know whether to take the left road or the right road, they ask me; if I say I think we should go left, that’s a clear indication we should go right. And not listening to me was a wise decision – going left was dead end. I use this fact on myself sometimes: If I don’t know which answer to pick in an exam, and I’m caught between picking option A or option D, I think of the first answer that comes to mind: Hmmm… Option A looks good… Right, that means option D is the correct one. And guessing like that helps me get marks in the multiple choice sections. Oh my god I have magical powers! Or using reverse psychology on my decisions is just amazing…
The only thing I am good at making decisions at is picking out food at a restaurant. I never ever end up with a dish that tastes horrible or bland. Maybe Murphy decided that after all the crappy luck he gave me I deserved a hearty meal in the end. So here’s where my history of bad luck begins, and I swear someone up there is laughing his head off at my misery. Let’s roll the cameras:
Exhibit A, it’s the Winter of 2009 and my current university is having a 5-day development week for prospective Grade 11 Science kids. See, I was a nerd even back then: At the residence we were staying at, they forgot to tell us that the doors locked from the inside. So on the night of just arriving, I got back to my room at about 11pm, and we were going to have breakfast at 6am. So, I set my alarm for 5am so that I could get ready early. 3am rolls around and the girls in the dormitory are running around making tons of noise. It’s 4am and people have already woken up to take advantage of the hot water. I fall asleep again. By ten-to-six the female leader on my floor is banging on my door to check if anyone is left behind. That would be a confused me, who is now upset that her alarm clock on her useless phone didn’t go off at 5am and is now really late and really frazzled. In my rush (and my silk PJs) I grab my toothbrush and toothpaste, and rush off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. When I get back, I realize my door won’t open. Oh snap, it locks from the inside and my key is in there. I find my leader, accompanied by a girl in a bathrobe who also locked herself out. It could have been worse; I could have had nothing but a towel on. And boy, is it freezing! So, we walk around the whole dormitory (in front of the boys too!) looking for the house mother who has the main keys. We end up walking around most of the university (and freezing our butts off) until finally we find the house mother, who has returned to her room in the dormitory. We had just missed her earlier. I’m late for breakfast and I gobble up everything in a frantic hurry. I get lost 4 times that day, because my nose bled every few minutes, and I kept getting separated from the group. Plus it was raining. I locked myself out of my room 3 times that week. Buy hey, how many of you can say you walked around campus in your winter pajamas at 6am?
Exhibit B, 2010, holiday in Thailand: I had to switch rooms 3 times in Phuket because my door cards stopped working by the second use. And then I ended up moving next door to a man I kept seeing randomly and whom I thought was a serial rapist. On the plane, every headphone I tried to use wasn’t working. All the TVs I tried to use stopped working. They had to reset the TVs on the plane because of me.
Moment C: My family doesn’t like to go to the arcade with me because all the machines stop working the minute I put my coins in. Even if someone has to play a team game with me, like Air Hockey or Bowling, the machines get broken. The security at the malls know me too well because I’m always calling them and saying the machine gobbled all my coins and is broken, or showing them that my winning tickets are stuck halfway in the mouth and now the game won’t work. When we played bowling, the balls only came up halfway.
And now I get to the past two weeks of campus: I drove to campus one Thursday, forgot my student card at home and they wouldn’t let me in. I was stressing on how to get in and forgot to turn my lights off. I rushed through my practical in the afternoon so that I could get home early and beat the traffic, but then my car wouldn’t start. Another boy and myself were the only ones to get parking tickets, out of all the other 100 cars parked by the university. The tickets were issued around 10am, which meant that all the other lucky cars pulled in after the fines were written. The insurance guy was stuck in traffic and came an hour late. My car got stuck twice, and it was an extremely hot day to wait for the insurance dude. Murphy’s Law states that he who leaves early to beat traffic will get stuck in traffic, and that’s exactly what happened to me. I finished campus at 3pm but I only reached home at 6pm. And a guy skipped a red robot and almost hit me on the way home. Peachy. And then in the past week somebody scratched the back of my car, and whacked it on the left side.
But that’s not all, I have more stories to tell, I just don’t have the time to repeat them all! However, I have learnt through all these experiences. I’ve pretty much had rotten luck my whole life (seeing that all the computers on the Economics floor stop working when I try to log on. I don’t use my floor, the Science floor, because there are hardly enough computers available for us to use, due to it being shared by the Engineering guys too), so I’m used to things not going my way. That is good, because that means I’m generally happy. Wait; let me explain before you think I’m a nut job: I always expect the worst, so when something slightly bad happens or something good happens I get happy and relieved. At least the worst didn’t happen, phew!
And hey, maybe Murphy does have it in for me – Trust me, I almost wasn’t born, came near death twice when I was a baby, almost got kidnapped and many would-be car accidents – or maybe he’s just toying with me, messing around and waiting for me to finally crack. Well, listen up you jealous gods of misfortune: I’ve had 19 years to prepare myself, hardly any hope and I’m still here, with the bruises and scratches and tears to prove it.
Me having little luck has taught me to never take things for granted, always have a back up plan, learn to be more patient, be more prepared, work a little harder and move on when things don’t go as planned (which happens 85% of the time with me).
I pity the rest of you victims of society; when you have a fight with your parents or you lose your favourite earring it’s the end of the world. I’ve lost tons of jewellery, bags, stationary, money, toys, CDs, movies, books, clothes and much more. I think I like having bad luck, because as much as it causes me some misery and stress, and makes me paranoid and skeptical, it gives me a story to tell and I always cherish the moments when things go perfectly.
So you can suck it Murphy, fate and destiny: By giving me the worst gift you’ve given me a head start.
Thank you for preparing me for life.
But then again, unlucky people such as me are useful for society. My friends and family (who sadly realised my lack of fortune instantly) use me to make decisions. For example, if people don’t know whether to take the left road or the right road, they ask me; if I say I think we should go left, that’s a clear indication we should go right. And not listening to me was a wise decision – going left was dead end. I use this fact on myself sometimes: If I don’t know which answer to pick in an exam, and I’m caught between picking option A or option D, I think of the first answer that comes to mind: Hmmm… Option A looks good… Right, that means option D is the correct one. And guessing like that helps me get marks in the multiple choice sections. Oh my god I have magical powers! Or using reverse psychology on my decisions is just amazing…
The only thing I am good at making decisions at is picking out food at a restaurant. I never ever end up with a dish that tastes horrible or bland. Maybe Murphy decided that after all the crappy luck he gave me I deserved a hearty meal in the end. So here’s where my history of bad luck begins, and I swear someone up there is laughing his head off at my misery. Let’s roll the cameras:
Exhibit A, it’s the Winter of 2009 and my current university is having a 5-day development week for prospective Grade 11 Science kids. See, I was a nerd even back then: At the residence we were staying at, they forgot to tell us that the doors locked from the inside. So on the night of just arriving, I got back to my room at about 11pm, and we were going to have breakfast at 6am. So, I set my alarm for 5am so that I could get ready early. 3am rolls around and the girls in the dormitory are running around making tons of noise. It’s 4am and people have already woken up to take advantage of the hot water. I fall asleep again. By ten-to-six the female leader on my floor is banging on my door to check if anyone is left behind. That would be a confused me, who is now upset that her alarm clock on her useless phone didn’t go off at 5am and is now really late and really frazzled. In my rush (and my silk PJs) I grab my toothbrush and toothpaste, and rush off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. When I get back, I realize my door won’t open. Oh snap, it locks from the inside and my key is in there. I find my leader, accompanied by a girl in a bathrobe who also locked herself out. It could have been worse; I could have had nothing but a towel on. And boy, is it freezing! So, we walk around the whole dormitory (in front of the boys too!) looking for the house mother who has the main keys. We end up walking around most of the university (and freezing our butts off) until finally we find the house mother, who has returned to her room in the dormitory. We had just missed her earlier. I’m late for breakfast and I gobble up everything in a frantic hurry. I get lost 4 times that day, because my nose bled every few minutes, and I kept getting separated from the group. Plus it was raining. I locked myself out of my room 3 times that week. Buy hey, how many of you can say you walked around campus in your winter pajamas at 6am?
Exhibit B, 2010, holiday in Thailand: I had to switch rooms 3 times in Phuket because my door cards stopped working by the second use. And then I ended up moving next door to a man I kept seeing randomly and whom I thought was a serial rapist. On the plane, every headphone I tried to use wasn’t working. All the TVs I tried to use stopped working. They had to reset the TVs on the plane because of me.
Moment C: My family doesn’t like to go to the arcade with me because all the machines stop working the minute I put my coins in. Even if someone has to play a team game with me, like Air Hockey or Bowling, the machines get broken. The security at the malls know me too well because I’m always calling them and saying the machine gobbled all my coins and is broken, or showing them that my winning tickets are stuck halfway in the mouth and now the game won’t work. When we played bowling, the balls only came up halfway.
And now I get to the past two weeks of campus: I drove to campus one Thursday, forgot my student card at home and they wouldn’t let me in. I was stressing on how to get in and forgot to turn my lights off. I rushed through my practical in the afternoon so that I could get home early and beat the traffic, but then my car wouldn’t start. Another boy and myself were the only ones to get parking tickets, out of all the other 100 cars parked by the university. The tickets were issued around 10am, which meant that all the other lucky cars pulled in after the fines were written. The insurance guy was stuck in traffic and came an hour late. My car got stuck twice, and it was an extremely hot day to wait for the insurance dude. Murphy’s Law states that he who leaves early to beat traffic will get stuck in traffic, and that’s exactly what happened to me. I finished campus at 3pm but I only reached home at 6pm. And a guy skipped a red robot and almost hit me on the way home. Peachy. And then in the past week somebody scratched the back of my car, and whacked it on the left side.
But that’s not all, I have more stories to tell, I just don’t have the time to repeat them all! However, I have learnt through all these experiences. I’ve pretty much had rotten luck my whole life (seeing that all the computers on the Economics floor stop working when I try to log on. I don’t use my floor, the Science floor, because there are hardly enough computers available for us to use, due to it being shared by the Engineering guys too), so I’m used to things not going my way. That is good, because that means I’m generally happy. Wait; let me explain before you think I’m a nut job: I always expect the worst, so when something slightly bad happens or something good happens I get happy and relieved. At least the worst didn’t happen, phew!
And hey, maybe Murphy does have it in for me – Trust me, I almost wasn’t born, came near death twice when I was a baby, almost got kidnapped and many would-be car accidents – or maybe he’s just toying with me, messing around and waiting for me to finally crack. Well, listen up you jealous gods of misfortune: I’ve had 19 years to prepare myself, hardly any hope and I’m still here, with the bruises and scratches and tears to prove it.
Me having little luck has taught me to never take things for granted, always have a back up plan, learn to be more patient, be more prepared, work a little harder and move on when things don’t go as planned (which happens 85% of the time with me).
I pity the rest of you victims of society; when you have a fight with your parents or you lose your favourite earring it’s the end of the world. I’ve lost tons of jewellery, bags, stationary, money, toys, CDs, movies, books, clothes and much more. I think I like having bad luck, because as much as it causes me some misery and stress, and makes me paranoid and skeptical, it gives me a story to tell and I always cherish the moments when things go perfectly.
So you can suck it Murphy, fate and destiny: By giving me the worst gift you’ve given me a head start.
Thank you for preparing me for life.