Embrace Your "Thing"



Hello friends,

A lot of my posts are heavy, because I am a passionate person. This one, though, is taking a little turn. During my journey on finding my identity, I have been doing some self-reflecting. I've been thinking about my qualities, interests, and basically what makes me, me.

We all have our things right? I have my things. Anyone that knows me well knows I am not the best driver. And anyone that knows me knows my pattern with car troubles. It is also known that I am quite unlucky. If you don't believe in luck, I’m here as a living, breathing example that luck exists. I have witnesses that will testify. But yes, these are two of my things.

When I was 19 years old I was working at a tanning salon. I was working a lot and finally had a day off, so it felt great to have a day with nothing planned. I had so many opportunities and so many options, and the one thing I wanted most was to pay a visit to Fausto’s Mexican Grill and get a burrito. If you have ever been to Fausto's, you can understand why I wanted to carve out some of my day for this. A friend, and co-worker, of mine did not have the day off, and I thought maybe she'd like a nice surprise, so I decided to bring her some lunch.

As I drove to bring her lunch, the smell of the juicy, greasy burritos filled my car. Another one of my things: I love food. It is a joke in my family that I can eat more than a grown man. I couldn't resist the food any longer. I just couldn’t. So, I opened my burrito and ate it on the way. Eating and driving probably isn't the safest thing to do, but c'mon it was a Fausto's burrito. I took the freeway exit and slowed to a stop as I approached the red light. Once I was stopped, I opened my delicious burrito and took a bite.... then BAM!! A car crashed into my back bumper, sending me into a jerk, and sending my burrito flying. Imagine this in slow motion. My amazing, delicious, juicy burrito exploding, sending carne asada in every direction. I screamed, "NOOOO" as it fell down and splattered all over the beautiful interior of my car.

The lady that hit me got out of her car and apologized. I asked for her information, and she gave me her ID. Before I had the chance to do anything else she said, "I really have to go, my baby is in the hospital" and got in her car and drove away without giving me any more information. So, there I was, standing in the street, covered in carne asada and guacamole, with a damaged car and nothing to go forward with. And with all that being said, I can honestly say the thing I was the most upset about was that my dang burrito was ruined. I was more than disappointed.

As the story continues, my dad and I went to the address on her ID. It turned out to be her parents' house, where she was not staying, and they happened to have her baby with them (the one that was supposedly in the hospital). Who lies about their baby being in the hospital??? Anyways, her parents were very kind and offered to help pay for damages. This is just one of many tales like this that I have to tell.

One time I took a nap in my car on my lunch break. I was in the back seat and had the car running. I got out using the back door, closed it behind me, and locked myself out of my running car. Don’t even ask how I managed to do it, cause I don’t know. So I went back to work with my car running in the parking lot. Another time, I got stuck in the car wash and had to be rescued. Another time, I ran out of gas, UNDER THE AIRPORT TUNNEL. A police officer had to come direct traffic until someone brought me gas. Another time, I ran out of gas up the street from my house and had to push my car home. Another time, I heard a loud crash outside my window. I looked out only to see my car pushed back three parking spots into a neighbor's car. Someone hit my parked car outside my house, totaled it, and left the scene. The list goes on and on.

Now, I do believe in bad luck, but I have also contributed to these events. I think my gas tank is invincible and I push its limits until it's as dry as the Sahara Desert. But other times, I really am convinced it’s been bad luck. Either way, these are my things. It’s funny when you think about it. Terrible in the moment, but funny. Along with stress and panic, I laugh during these times. My things make me interesting, and they make me who I am. My things are my things; nobody else is ever gonna have my same experiences.

What is your thing? My mom's thing is that she is a terrible dancer. She knows it too, but it doesn't stop her. My Grandpa's thing is that he comes up with his own jokes, and even though they aren't always funny, he'll always tell them and laugh at himself. My brother's thing is that he has a knack for anything musical. He's taught himself how to play instruments, and only needs to hear a song to figure out how to play it. Your thing could be silly or serious, but whatever it is, totally embrace it. Own that thing. It makes you unique and fun and interesting. I'd love to hear about you, so leave a comment in the box below! Remember to keep gas in those cars, although I'm sure you're a little smarter than I am in that department.


Yours truly,

T