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Friday, Jan. 30, 2015

Ostrich

Thursday, August 2, 2007

At some point in time, when we were full of innocence and wonder, we all fantasized about being animals.

I did it when I was a child.

Somewhere around age 4, I developed a major thing for unicorns. So, through preschool, kindergarten and part of first grade I spent large portions of my free time with stickers and jewels stuck across my forehead and along the length of my arms, galloping around, flapping my arms (because I was a flying unicorn), neighing and balancing dolls and barbies on my back while crawling on all fours.

Luckily, I suppose, I grew out of that phase.

During my senior year in college, I worked at a day care and saw the same phenomenon occur.

Everyday I would be greeted by 2-year-old Gracie who would crawl to my feet, circle around me while rubbing her head against my shin and meow.

So, back in the day I was a unicorn. My little Gracie was a kitten and many others in my day care class would randomly morph into puppies, rabbits, tigers -- you name it.

Oddly, not once did I ever have a little ostrich running around. And come to think of it, I'm pretty sure none of my fellow animal wannabe friends had the ostrich desire either.

Ostrich -- what -- you might ask. Well, I know I said I supposedly grew out of the "want to be an animal phase," but here lately it seems that I've reverted to my old ways to cope with life.

No I don't run around pretending to be the world's largest flightless bird; I do however have the tendency to stick my head in the sand.

Yes, that's definitely how I've chosen to cope with the chaos and crap that has dictated my life lately:

I haven't been to Jonesboro in forever; thus, I haven't seen my Jonesboro friends -- who are my support system -- in forever.

My social/love life is comical. And that's all I care to comment because it's just too depressing.

My checking account is a black hole into which all money vanishes without a trace.

My family is moving to Jonesboro. How dare they impede on my territory?

And I often joke with friends about one day being an old maid with 60 cats, but I swear, everywhere I go there's a stray. I feel it might be a sign from God telling me to go ahead and get a jump start on my collection.

Now, if I was a smart girl, I could use this opportunity to exercise my adultness.

I could wake up and run every morning to get my endorphins pumping and prove how desirable I really am. I could get totally wrapped up in work and produce some grand award-winning piece of journalism. I could work to set up some sort of full proof budget. I could say 'I could' forever.

But, do I face my challenges and knock them down one by one? Of course not!

I bury my head underground in an attempt to ignore the life happening around me.

I've spent countless hours and gallons of gas driving around Fulton County's back roads complaining about life with my sisters in self pity (they know who they are).

I've gotten my nails and toenails manicured. I?got my hair done (and of course it's not as blond as I wanted).

I got a professional massage and bought new bras and panties from Victoria's Secret.

Yeah, this just totally helps with the black hole checking account issue.

I'm just hoping that when I finally grow up, put my head right-side-up and shake the dirt from my face, life will have worked itself out.

If not, I'm going right back in.

Brooke is a staff writer for Areawide Media. She can be contacted at newsopinion@yahoo.com.