Stealth operations

For the whole of my life I have preferred to accomplish tasks in secret. I’m not really sure why this is, though I suspect it has something to do with the element of surprise. The funny thing is I’m not talking about monumental feats of strength or cunning, but simple things like assembling bookcases and washing dishes. Having someone see me in the process of doing something ruins the impact of the final result, cheapening my efforts. I guess I also feel a greater sense of accomplishment if I can keep it all under wraps until I finish, at which point I can say, “Surprise! Look what I did!” to which my audience will respond with, “Wow, Diana, that’s amazing! We had no idea you were even doing that!” I take whatever measures necessary to make myself appear that much more awesome. There’s a good chance that I do this to avoid the pressure of others’ expectations of me, but whatever. We all do what we have to in life.

The rush of sudden success is quickly followed by a sense of emptiness and a “what should I do now?” moment. The finest example is from my childhood. When we moved to Brandon, FL we got an apartment with a really great layout. When you entered you found yourself in the middle of a long hallway. To the left was a bathroom and my bedroom. To the right you found the kitchen, and further toward the back of the building was the living room, and just beyond that was my parents’ bedroom. Having your own wing is great at any age, especially for an introverted child who enjoyed spending time by herself just drawing and playing in peace. One night, when I was supposed to be blissfully asleep, I decided it would be fun to sneak into my parents’ room. I have no idea why this appealed to me, but I fully dedicated myself to the mission anyway. I silently crept down the hall, crawled through the living room, and scooted along on my stomach through their door and ended up in their walk-in closet. Maybe this was my tribute to ‘Nam, or maybe I was pretending to be a world-class jewel thief. Either way, I was supremely proud of myself, but somewhat unsure of what to do next. I wanted my deeds to be noticed, so I decided to spend the rest of the night there so that I’d be found in the morning and one of my parents would exclaim, “Oh my goodness! What a surprise!”

I should take this opportunity to tell you that I have always treasured the element of surprise. As a toddler, my mom would prop me up in the grocery cart and little old women would approach me with intentions of pinching my cheeks and pawing all over me. When they got close enough I would let out a huge roar, as I fancied myself a lion back then, and the horrified old biddies would scurry away. So I settled in among the shoes and eventually nodded off. Children sleep like wild monkeys, though, and at some point one of my feet shot out and kicked the closet door with amazing force, scaring my parents half to death. Upon discovering me they asked why I was there, and I had no answer, and was sent back to bed. Mission somewhat accomplished, but not how I had hoped. They weren’t impressed at all!

Not long after my exit from the working world in my early twenties, I found myself in an insane cleaning phase. I call it insane because this wasn’t just a little dusting, I was breaking down old furniture and scrubbing entire rooms at an alarming rate. This is weird for anyone, but even more so for me because I’m actually a really messy person. I can’t explain it, it just happened. Back then the ‘rents would go out every Sunday evening for their pseudo date nights, though really this was a gift from my mother to myself in the form of keeping my step-dad out of my hair for a couple of hours. The things parents do for their children. Anyway, I would calmly sit on the couch, staring at the TV with a sense of boredom and lethargy while they got ready. Once they would leave I’d launch into action, and they would later return to an immaculate kitchen, a totally vacuumed house, and one year I even put up all of the Christmas decorations by myself. These things truly drew gasps of awe and amazement, finally rewarding me with the respect and adoration I’d always craved. Sadly, this phase only lasted for a couple of months, and I have never been able to regain that kind of work ethic. The best I can manage is doing a load of dishes, but even that is taxing.

I find it difficult to write out in the open. I’m currently in the living room, where absolutely anyone can see me, and it’s freaking me out. I’ve tried telling everyone that I was writing in order to get some peace and quiet, but then everyone KNOWS I’m writing and it’s too much pressure and I can’t get any work done. My solution today has been to don a pair of headphones and blast some Adam Lambert through my eardrums, and when someone makes an attempt at conversation I simply ignore them. This makes me seem like a huge bitch, but at least I’m retaining a small sense of secrecy. I considered wearing a pair of sunglasses, but this seemed like overkill. Who knows, I may end up typing in the closet, but so far so good.

I don’t even plan on telling anyone about this blog until I have a few posts under my belt, which is stupid because I want readers, and keeping secrets from you is counterproductive, but that’s how I roll. I won’t even tell you when to expect another update. It’ll be a surprise!!!!