Life is full of interruptions and complications; little hiccups in my day that remind me that I don’t have control. I may be sitting in the driver’s seat, but it turns out I’m driving a bumper car. Those things are so freaking hard to control in the first place, let alone when the little pre-pubescent, freckle-faced germ monkey keeps blind-siding you.
Speaking of being blind-sided, the new Pedigree Adoption Drive commercial with all of the dogs behind cages and fences gets me all emotional every time I see it. It’s like they made it just to remind me that I have a weakness. I keep rationalizing myself out actually going through with adopting a dog (all while EB talks about adopting children…). The top excuses usually center around the cost to care for a dog, the lack of time to spend with it, the burden on my roommate, and of course the ethics behind housing a dog in an apartment in a city.
But look at those faces… 25 pages of adoptable dogs in Chicago with dogs ranging in age, size, and personality. If you could see my face right now… ARGHHHHH! I think I want this one (his name is Bubba):
But back to life… I think it is the times when I’ve deluded myself to believe I finally found that magical wheel position that allows me to reclaim control of my bumper car that leaves me in the most vulnerable positions. It doesn’t feel natural admitting any vulnerability. As a society we are raised to do whatever we can as males to mask vulnerability. It’s a weakness and a chip in the false masculinity that we somehow buy into from an incredibly young age. I wish I could say that eventually we can reach some enlightened stage where false masculinity is somehow chipped away completely, but I’m afraid that’s not something even I can do (and my only weakness involves dogs).
Of course, not all of these vulnerabilities and blind-sided shots are negative. Sometimes, another bumper car driver, without reason, ends up in your path and the two of you team up for a while to work over the rest of the field. It’s not something you expect necessarily, and you are left planning on the fly, but you know that it’s worth it. There’s no way to know how long the new bond will last, and there’s always the fear of a much larger plot being formed to set you up, but if you can allow yourself to trust and make the best decisions possible as you ride together, it could work out pretty well.
So anyway, somehow I’ve equated life to a carnival ride. I just hope I didn’t hop in the broken car.