carpe diem for only 48 hours

So, apparently I'm one of those people who lives for the weekends. Or, I'm bipolar. I had been in a rotten mood for the past 96 hours, exhausted to the point of tears (and doubly upset that the fatigue was taking a toll on my skin), but I woke up Friday and was exuberant. My mom was not sure how to greet me this morning since I had been a cranky brat (why will no one take my purple pony request seriously?) the last week, but I giggled as I brushed my teeth, skipped rope down the stairs, pranced into the kitchen, and started making inappropriate jokes in my characteristically (genetically) audible voice, shattering the tranquility of 6:30 in the morning. I had two pieces of toast instead of one, and even had milk. I read the news on the bus. I had a free latte from Oren's. There was no line at Port Authority on the way home. Life suddenly worked itself out.

My mother always says it's a matter of perception. She tells me I have a choice of being either one of two men: one is overwhelmed by a promotion, a new baby in the house, and a sailboat, for the upkeep of all of these aspects of his life exhaust him; the other is excited by a lay off, a broken leg, and a flat tire, for the prospect of new discoveries and adventures, even if only to the emergency room or to the gas station, excite him.

She always tells me to be the second man.

Given that I'm a woman, it's inherently impossible (well, I'll say difficult; never say never) for me to be that second man. Aside from that minor setback, I would say I have complied to that rule pretty well. Sometimes, I'm a little sleepy (to the point of tears), and I'm a little frustrated and confused (to the point of clenched fists), and I'm a little short on time (to the point of shopping online while I pee), but I think I generally stay positive about the way my life is going, because just like the second man, I'm excited about the possibility of meeting someone new or doing something new every day.

Well, on Friday, Saturdays, and Sundays. Positivity is a 72 hour stint. Perspective is even shorter. I'll be the second man when I'm rested. It's true that it's my choice to be happy or not, but I choose the two days and one evening when I can walk around barefoot, eating prunes and writing nonsensical epiphanies into this blog. The rest of the week is for existential melt downs.

That second man clearly has issues.