THE ELEPHANT CURSE! Part 4: When Someone Else's Elephant Totally and Utterly Fails Them

Have you ever been mistaken for someone else?

It happened to me in front of the library once. A girl approached me, ready to give me a full on hug, exclaiming, "Samantha! It is sooooo good to see you, girl!"

"Sorry!" I said as she got closer. "I'm not Samantha!"

"Girl, stop teasing me! Of course you are!"

*awkward pause*

"My name's Mikayla. I can show you my driver's license even, if you want!"

*I stumble away as she looks at me with this mixed expression of hurt and confusion*

Two years later, I'm cleaning up after dinner with my husband when I get this knock on the door.
I answer the door, and two young women just step right into my apartment uninvited.

"Can I help you?" I ask.

"So, we're here to see the apartment. We're going to buy the contract," they say.

"I'm sorry, but my husband and I live here and we're planning to live here for some time!"

*look of disgust from the girls as if to judge me for being married or something*

"Wait, but aren't you Samantha?"

"Nope, I'm Mikayla, this is my husband Kevin." Kevin starts to head from the kitchen to the front door to join me.

"Oh... this isn't the Loft apartment for single women?"

"Nope..."

*they leave, and we can't wipe the confused look from our faces for a solid minute*

Last month. I'm walking down a busy street with my cute little munchkin baby boy in tow. From across the way, I hear this shout from an enthusiastic young lady yelling at me and waving emphatically, "HEY, SAMANTHA! HOW ARE YOU?!?!?"

*Not knowing what else to do, I just keep walking*

Okay, so some people's elephants fail them.
But the question I keep asking after all these years...
Um, so like, who's Samantha?

And why do so many people's elephants think that I'm her?

Comments

The Problem with Chick Flicks.

I really, really, really enjoy a select few movies that I willingly watch over and over again. Pride and Prejudice is one of them. You see, Elizabeth's defense of her family, her sense of self respect, her ability to admit that she was wrong and to appreciate Darcy despite all his quirks, and quizzical brow-ness... it's marvelous. My husband doesn't share the sentiment, could you tell? ... and that's okay. There's rare a chick flick I enjoy near as much as I enjoy Pride and Prejudice or A Walk To Remember , and I wanted to explain why. You see, there's more than just a few problems with (many, not all) chick flicks: (and if you have a chick flick that escapes many of these pitfalls then please oh please leave it's title in the comment section!) The heroine (or suitor) is less than honorable. I have a hard time rooting for a girl to get a gentleman when she's spending her time being scandalously loose with other men ( #thenotebook) . An...

Where's Number Three

A neighbor in her mid-thirties. A woman in her seventies. Their single commonality? They both asked me: Where's number three? I have a son, his name Charlie And then McKay, he's not quite three In my heart, both fit perfectly Yet others ask: Where's number three? Perhaps it's that I miscarried, My spouse's infidelity, The ache of infertility, A battle raging mentally, Illness on a crippling spree, Our family is complete, maybe. The reason's one or more of these, Yet you dare ask: Where's number three? In this question, running free Are judgements, jeering icily "You're not enough, Mik, can't you see? Buck up and give us number three!" I used to flounder, squirm, agree Or curl up small, cry, and plead. With time, I've seen things differently. I won't explain for number three. The questions of maternity Are just between my spouse and me And Parents, guiding Heavenly So please don't ask: Where's number three? Artwork Credit: Be...

A Year and 10 Days Ago

Dear Friends, Family, Acquaintances, and you lovely random passerby of the Blogosphere-- A year and 10 days ago I set out on a journey to write a blog post a day, for two months straight. I did that successfully, and then decided to extend my challenge to a one-year challenge. My report? I wrote 317 blog posts in a 365-day period. And I think that's pretty rad. A few reflections on this experience: Firstly, I started this blog not just because I love writing, but because I needed help. I was suffering from some intense postpartum anxiety, but I didn't know that's what it was at the time. Every moment of every day I felt like I was under severe stress and pressure, even when there were no evident triggers for such. The feeling in my gut on an almost constant basis felt like the queasy stomach, racing heartbeat, and unsettled mind that greeted me before every math test and job interview I've had growing up. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know how...

God is Good to the Johnsons

Search This Blog