2014 is scaring me.
I know that there have been parts of 2013 that we haven't talked about and also parts that haven't even happened yet, but right now, today, alone in the kitchen, I'm eating macaroni and cheese and thinking about 2014.
Not only does the number 14 just seem so ominous to me, but there is this very specific visual image that pops into my head every time I think about this coming year. I picture me (in illustrated, cartoon version-- for some reason, any visual in my head is always illustrated. My brain default is in drawings apparently) standing on a big white room with nothing around me except for my two, blue and yellow, rolling, Costco suitcases that I've used my entire collegiate career and I'm just waiting. For what, I don't know. Seconds later, a big dump truck comes and drops tons of heavy sand on my suitcases and me. The weird part is that I'm not really mad or scared about it. I just kind of stand there half confused, half expecting it. And then when that truck is finished dumping everything, another one is right behind it. And then another one and another one and another one.
Thankfully because the visual in my head isn't the most realistic, It's not like I have to watch myself get suffocated like that scene with the corn in that movie with Harrison Ford. I think it's called Witness… Anyway. I'm fine. I just am constantly being dumped on. And that is 2014 so far. Which doesn't make 2014 sound very fun.
This post is meant to be a very rare and very special peak into the very rare and very special mind of Julia Patton.
