shit happens

‘Shit happens,’ they say… true enough it always does.

I’m not likely to come in regular terms with neither Luck nor Wellness. I am more attached to Luck’s wicked brother Calamity.

The truth of the matter is I’ve subliminally been a living example of Murphy’s Law for almost all, if not all, my life: What can go wrong, will go wrong.

It has only been recently that I have finally affirmed this… or, say, accepted. It didn’t really occur to me that I was jinxed… and if, by chance, it did, it eventually landed up being tossed at the ‘stupid-idea’ box and shelved at the ‘crazy-speculation’ ledge. I always found ways to dismiss any thoughts, suggesting that I had badluck written all over me.

I assumed that getting lost at church at the age of 6, which almost got me adopted, was only a life-spicing encounter;
I assumed that falling down the stairs during 4th grade was just a call by science to prove ‘gravity’ to me;
I assumed that damaging or losing 15 cellphones by unnatural cause was an opportunity of having a new one every now and then;
I assumed that entering a classroom by mistake, thinking it was my subject room assignment, was a way of meeting new people (regardless of the humiliation of being acknowledged for not being on the class list);
I assumed that destroying 2 dvd players, 2 desktops, 1 laptop, 1 mp3 and 2 mp4 players(1 of which is not even mine), 2 headphones and 2 inkjet printers was just a matter of faulty gadget purchase;
I assumed that my failure to take a picture of Chito Miranda at the Boracay airport even though he was literally sitting right next to me was because it would’ve made me appear like a pathetic fanatic (though I have nightmares about that meeting every night since then).

I have had myriad assumptions that got me off the hook from being called ill-fated. To some, those were lame excuses; to me, those were justifying reasons.

But it took me only one head-knocking incident to jolt me back to sentience:
Getting my hair stuck at the vent of my hair blower was the last straw.

I could still feel pain at the area where the blower bestowed its hot kisses the other day… its really HOT kisses. It was so hot; I think it fried my mind to ultimately conclude that I am indeed a mistress of calamity.

I don’t really know why life has chosen to torment me out of a billion other people. I mean, I’m good. I’m so good I could be Mother Theresa incarnate…

So how come bad things happen to me?