Goldilocks: Brief Encounters of the Third Kind

Part I
One needn't be blond to suffer from Goldilocks Syndrome:

The indefatigable quest to find your niche (notch) in the world: to find a place where you fit in, where you are comfortable.

And I need that now more than ever — to feel that at least one fleeting aspect of my life is "just right."

And yet:

I am too liberal for conservatives; too conservative for liberals.

Too tall for petites; too short for regulars.

Too hippie for squares; too square for hippies.

Rich enough for expensive tastes; too poor to accommodate them.

Base enough for certain instincts; too moral (or uptight, depending on your interpretation) to act on them.

Full of words without the means to organize them.

Obsessed with photography without genuine ability.

Exhausted in the mornings; unable to sleep at night.

Too rural for the city, too urban for the country.

Part II
And I feel as though — no matter where I am, and no matter the crowd — I fail, and desperately so, to belong.

Like last night, sitting next to the only empty seat in the house: my presence noted by conspicuous absence, and so diminished when the show was over and I attempted to work my way through a crowd of people that never saw me coming.

"Excuse me," I would say. "Excuse me."

But I was invisible again — a blurred face among many — a reality which transformed my solitude into an ineffable queasiness in the pit of my stomach.

Once again, though, the train ride offered the mostly unlikely sort of contrast: my seat was "just right" until the car started to fill and a newcomer sat down beside me.

I shifted my bag and my book to give him ample room, but felt his eyes wandering to my pages as we shuffled on towards our many stops.

"What do you think of that book?" he asked, the alcohol on his breath and the redness of his eyes unmistakable signs of the evening.

From there we conversed, talking about literature and film — an oddly decent single-serve conversation — before he nudged my leg with the back of his hand and said, "Well, this is my stop."

In that instant I offered a hurried goodbye, marveling at how the only people who have seen me in the past two weeks would most assuredly not remember our encounter by morning.

And that, I suppose, is where I fit in.

Somewhere between the stops — the spaces. Somewhere between two chords in a piece of music, or the background to a painting noted for its foreground.

It is there, nestled between the gin and the tonic, that I reflect again on those words spoken to me by the man who sideswiped my vehicle earlier this month:

"I'm sorry," he said to me then. "I just didn't see you there."

All Roads Lead to Suck

In the past six months, the number of routes I take to work has grown from three to nearly a dozen.

I've learned all variety of side roads (large and small), all in an effort to hit as little traffic as is humanly possible.

And yet: now every route is under construction, some more heavily than others. And the roads that are under "light" construction are so clogged with people searching for a means to avoid the heavy construction (who am I to blame them), that of all the routes I can take to and from work, I haven't the patience for any of them.

I now dread my commute with such intensity that promptness has entirely ceased to be a concern, and if I don't leave work by 4, I'd prefer to stick around until almost 6... just to avoid the headache.

And so, in honor of the highway that is my ever-clogged life, I present to you these entirely unrelated photographs:

Pimp My Ride

I know this post is long. Ninety-percent of my posts have been a tad verbose as of late. But paying attention to this one could win you a prize!

---

I need to buy a car.

I know what you're all saying: Hasn't she needed a new car for, like, half a decade now?

This is true. My car was a junker even when it should've been in its prime, and time hasn't been too kind on the ol' street beast. But after pumping loads of money into it year after year, these past few months have been without incident. I mean, it's actually running quite well. Aside from gasoline and oil changes, I've only spent about $400 on it in the past six months.

[Not to mention every time I've attempted to car shop in the past three years, I've been annoyed by how the salesmen — and their managers — have treated me.]

But also within the past six months, my driver's seat was broken (it's now almost fully reclined, so I literally have to hold myself up by gripping on to the steering wheel); the passenger side window hasn't successfully rolled down and back up in over a year; and the A/C hasn't worked in about four years (I've had countless mechanics look at it, all of them repairing everything short of some weird device they'd have to remove my dashboard — very expensive – to get to).

Suffice it to say I was hoping to get something new by late-May, thereby delaying the stress until after the move, but still saving myself from the onslaught of summer heat.

But the good state I live in has other plans.

You see, they require random emission tests (based on what I've seen of their practices in general — not to mention the puff of smoke that trails every public bus — I suspect this is purely for financial and not environmental reasons). You have no idea when they'll call you up for a test, but if you don't do it within a month of receiving the notice, you could lose your license.

I know of some people who've lived in the state for years before they're actually called in for a test. And I only just registered my car here a few months ago.

But when, do you think, they've scheduled my test?

The end of April.

What else am I doing at the end of April?

That's right. I'm moving.

Why not just suck it up, take my car in, and get back to the moving process?

Because I know my car won't pass. The engine light has been on since before I titled my plate here, and I've been told I need a $600 repair. At the time of the quote, it was a repair that I was told wasn't necessary unless I noticed a sizeable dip in my gas mileage (I didn't). I also didn't live in this state at the time, where that repair is required if you fail an emission test.

Now, before you think I'm not eco-friendly, you should know when I was first quoted on the repair, $600 wasn't easy to come by (not that it is now, but I'm certainly a tad more comfortable). Add to that I still get OK gas mileage, I recycle, and I often take my own (canvas) bags to the market... and I like to think I'm still doing more for the environment than does the average commuter.

That being said, I simply don't have the time to car shop right now. It's not possible. I leave work too late in the evenings, and weekends for the rest of the month include Easter, out-of-town visitors, packing and moving.

So I've decided to let you all find the perfect car for me.
I'm serious. Consult this site if you need to, or visit your local automotive dealer.

Here's what I want in my next vehicle:

• Big enough for road trips, but small enough for city-parking
• Good gas mileage (I'm thinking hybrid, but I also think the Civic Sedan hybrid and the Toyota Prius both leave a lot to be desired, aesthetically)
• I'm willing to lease, but only if the lease allows for 15,000 miles per year (versus the standard 12,000)
• Sunroof
• Automatic
• CD player (iPod jack a plus)
• 2007 model with a handsome warranty
• Low-interest rate (under 3%)
• Cars I Like and Can Possibly Afford: Honda Civic Coupe; Honda Fit; VW Golf (I'm open to anything else; this list is just to give you an idea of what I like); VW Rabbit
  
• I also like the Cooper Mini, but it may be out of my price range
  

Anyway. I expect a full report in a week or so. If the information you dig up for me significantly cuts down on the time I spend car shopping, you WILL win a prize. Bonus points will be given to anyone who delivers the vehicle directly to me.

And if you actually buy the car for me, I'll be your best friend forever.*

Thanks! And... have fun with this.

*Stalker ex-boyfriends need not apply