Hoping for the Best, Preparing for the Worst
If a majority of Americans vote for Donald Trump and he is our next president, I will not move to Canada because I don’t have any marketable skills or celebrity appeal so I probably wouldn’t be granted citizenship. Also I don’t think I have any friends there.
If Donald Trump wins the presidency I will dig my shame helmet out of the closet, draw a line through George W. Bush’s name with a Sharpie and write Trump’s name above it. Then I will try to re-create all the events of my life that occurred between 2000 and 2008 only this time around I’ll make better decisions because I’m older and feel more comfortable in my shame helmet.
If Donald Trump wins the presidency, I will greet each of the four riders of the apocalypse as brothers, bid them welcome in my home and offer them snacks of peanut butter, tuna, and fizzy water. Then we’ll probably just watch YouTubes and talk about our parents.
If Donald Trump wins the presidency I will send edible arrangements and Target gift cards to foreign leaders to let them know how much I appreciate their patience as we navigate this awkward phase at home.
If Donald Trump wins the presidency I think I’ll feel about it the way I feel when I look at my college transcript. Like, I’m disappointed, but if I’m being honest with myself, the numbers make sense.
There is a thing I say that comes across a little downer, but when I say it, what I’m really trying to do is secure a toe-hold against despair. I’ll say, “No matter how bad it is, it can always get worse.” And that’s what I'd remind myself every morning Donald Trump is president, should he win that office.
My Self Esteem (fun with new vocabulary words), Episodes 1-3
My Self-esteem, Part 1
His name is Maurice and I’m not exactly sure of his origins.
He’s tried to explain, but as much as I can understand and have observed, Maurice seems to come and go with the wind. And he is not exclusively mine.
“I am like a public defender,” he explained during our first conversation. “Wherever I sense a penury of confidence, I go!”
Maurice looks like a public defender. Or at least, like the ones I’ve seen on TV: Brown crumpled suit; simultaneously bald but in need of a haircut; constantly besieged by and suppressing gas.
“Dyspepsia. I’m afraid it’s a hazard of the trade. Work necessitates I travel a lot and I eat what my clients eat, you see. A peripatetic lifestyle compounded by the dietary habits of the chronically under-confident, well it can all wreak havoc on the digestive system. Don’t think for a moment I haven’t noticed that you are sometimes quite the trencherman of kale, young lady. It is much appreciated!”
From his briefcase, Maurice presented me with a framed certificate, which read, “Alice Sharp, Trencherman of Kale!”
“Let’s hang this up, shall we?”
I had not noticed before but the walls of the room in my brain in which we conferred were spotted with empty picture hooks.
Maurice honed in on one and placed the certificate on it.
“As good a place to start as any. And now I must go. My eolian chariot awaits. Until next time, my dear! Chins ever up!”
Part 2
“My kind are framers, traditionally,” Maurice told me when we were better acquainted. “My father specialized in paintings. His father did mirrors. My specialty is accolades.”
Each time we met, Maurice gave me a new framed certificate to hang. The walls in that room in my brain advertised divers examples of my better qualities and talents.
Alice Sharp, Can Catch & Throw a Football!
Alice Sharp, Walks Her Dog Almost Every Day!
Alice Sharp, Laughs Hard & Loud!
Alice Sharp, Avoids Passive Voice!
Alice Sharp, Loves Hard Work!
Alice Sharp, Maintains the Appearance of Calm in Stressful Situations!
Alice Sharp, Has Prodigious Sweat Glands
The frames were exquisite — every one different. Unless someone told you to notice them, though, you wouldn’t.
“A frame forfends the prize inside. Most importantly, it serves to protect. In the hands of a true master, ornamentation is commensurate to the gravity of the subject enclosed. Not always, of course, but often, the ostentatious – Rococo designs for example – betray a thrasonical quality within the craftsman.
“Anyway, come to this room when you need to. Should a saturnine mood grip your heart and I am unavailable, spend an hour here in this gallery. It should alleviate some of the gloom.”
Part 3
Maurice told me to make a list of all the things I’m afraid of.
At our next meeting he read my list aloud, mumbling the words quickly and softly under his breath.
“Well, I see nothing here that seems particularly insuperable, except perhaps ‘Death.’ There’s no getting around that,” he chuckled. “However, I will pass along to you a syllabus I’ve developed over the years on the topic of Thanatology. Many clients report that learning about death mitigates some of their anxieties. Now,” Maurice removed his glasses and stood up, “at the risk of sounding officious, by the power vested in me, I do hereby summon you, Alice Sharp, to face your fears! From this moment on, the document I hold in my hands possesses the gravity and authority of a subpoena. Your assignment is to confront each item printed here. The deadline to accomplish this is, of course, your natural life. However, as neither of us can be sure of how long that actually is, I suggest you start right away.”
I felt the color drain out of my face. I was not expecting this twist in the assignment.
“You are looking a little wan. Listen, you don’t have to wrestle the biggest lion first. Start small. Discounting the one in a million freak accident, nothing on your list is actually physically dangerous. The most obvious common thread in the tapestry of your insecurities is that you are afraid of being humiliated. Consider all of human history – no matter the outcome of any of your endeavors, could you possibly be the most humiliated person ever? There’s an ironic form of hubris for you. I have to go. Start small. But start. Until next time, dear, best feet forward.”
And then of course he was gone.