You know, people (i.e. my parents) tell me that I sound incredibly adolescent when I say that the world presents me with things I hate just to spite me, but I think it's true. I mean, I don't really believe in an all-powerful deity or even a controlling spirit outside of Karma, but if there is some sort of guy up there controlling the world, he's gotta have a rotten sense of humor. And when bored, I am almost positive he sits around presenting me with rotten situations. And laughs.
Well, Karma Guy, I just think you should know that I hate you. No, more than that. I absolutely detest, I despise, I loathe you. I mean, this guy could have stopped at saddling me with a mind that keeps me wide awake until the wee hours of the morning. He could have quit at the washing machine across the hall from my room, the one that beeps every thirty seconds when it's finished washing clothes. He could have stopped at a family whose definition of "on time" means "within the hour of whatever appointment we happen to have." But no. Because, Karma Guy (and this is why I loathe you so much), you had to stop at the worst thing of all--the fact that I live in New England, the place where we have 20-degree cold spells in the winters and deceitfully chilly mornings in the falls, the place where we don't turn our heat on until late November--and you placed my school here.
The worst part of this might be that I love New England. Boston is my favorite place in the world. Yet, somehow, I can love it and despise it (nearly as much as I despise you, Karma Guy, which is saying something) simultaneously. Because having a school in the middle of New England's own (more than occasional) Siberia means that I get to get up in the freezing cold every day, get to wake up and find as many layers as I can every single day, get to go to school in five layers of clothing (still not enough) every single freaking day, and I get to try and learn there. In the cold. In the snow. Often with a runny nose (commonly chronic for me, no thanks to this guy), or while incredibly overtired because of the benevolent Karma Guy's gift of an overly active mind, sitting in a room shivering and attempting to listen to my teachers drone on and on while trying not to catch pneumonia in our supposedly heated classrooms, every single day. And these are the academic memories I have of my childhood. Memories of sitting hunched over in a hard plastic chair (if only to worsen my already horrible posture, another blessing from that considerate Karma Guy) and of attempting to concentrate while positive I can see my breath in front of me.
So, Karma Guy, I hope you're happy. I hope that, for all of my trouble, it amuses you to watch me try to concentrate each day while worrying about having a limb or two freeze off. Come to think of it, I hope you're happy that it is now eleven P.M. and I have spent half an hour that I could have spent trying to catch up on the five hours of sleep I got last night writing this rant about you. I hope you're happy I drag myself up and out of bed every day just to see what new and exciting surprises you have in store for me. I hope that, for all the stuff you send my way each day, my life is amusing to you. Really, Karma Guy. I honestly do.