Tabula Rasa

For the past few days I've been having a crisis. Not a mid-life crisis because I can't afford a Porsche, but I guess it'd be considered something similar. It all started with the Dodgers game last week. The Dodgers game I went to and had a blast at. The Dodgers game where I was on the outset of celebrity.

It was a foul ball. Most people sitting in the area where foul balls are prone usually bring a glove. I didn't. First and foremost, because I don't own a glove. A close second is the fact that even if I did own one, I wouldn't catch the ball anyway. Whenever something scary is about to happen, I usually close my eyes and start humming. Trust me, it's hard to catch a ball when your eyes are closed and you're rocking. Its hard to catch anything besides weird stares.
But the section I was sitting in was behind a net, which serves the distinct purpose of ruining pictures and saving our lives from foul balls.

Except this one. It was in the latter half of the game, and the foul ball went up high and looked like it was coming down in my section. Fight or flight. What do I do? Grab my purse, stick it over my head and start chanting to myself. I know people have gotten hurt big time from attempting to catch a foul ball with their bare hands. I can't imagine the damage it'd inflict on a noggin. My noggin for that matter. And this being a baseball game? The seats are somewhat akin to an airplane. TIGHT FIT. There's no where to run. I can't dive onto the floor (I seriously contemplated that at the beginning of the game) because there's about 1.3 inches from my friend's knee to the back of the seat in front of him. So I shrivel up and chant underneath my purse.

Here's the thing: I always thought that in life or death situations, your life is supposed to flash before your very eyes. Trust me-I perceived this as one of those situations. HB and LG didn't think so. In fact, they were laughing at me. I was a one woman side show...
But anyway, so I was scared. Scared shitless. I DO NOT want to be beaned by a baseball. What if I go into a coma? I don't even know what kind of medical insurance I have. I assume I have medical insurance. Which hospitals are good? What if I get brain damage? So many questions so little answers. This I chalked up to a 'life or death' moment. What do I expect to be running through my head? Oh I dunno-maybe good memories? I'll even take some bad ones to mix things up. But NO. Nothing. No memories, no good throughts, no questions about the pearly gates (assuming I go up and not down). My mind was BLANK.

My conclusion: I haven't done anything worthwhile with my life. I'm almost 30, and I have a couple of degrees behind my name. I can't drive, don't know cardinal directions, and love ice cream. That about sums me up in one sentence. Hence, my crisis. As I was telling my coworkers, even Britney's done enough to last two or three lifetimes. I haven't done enough to fill up 10 seconds worth of time while I'm waiting to see if I'll get clocked with a baseball.

Sad.

I've done a ton of work with the Make A Wish Foundation of Greater Los Angeles. While that's fun and all, I think that that's basic. I firmly believe that everyone should do some kind of community service to make society a better place. So, I haven't done anything significant. Like cure AIDS. Or save someone from drowning. The only thing I've done is help an old lady across the street. And throw out the kitchen trash on a periodic basis...