I'm not sure if almost being attacked by a goose counts as bad luck. It does look like, however, that it's a part of a series of unfortunate events, because I hear that bad things come in threes.
For one, our garage is having issues again. Whenever I try to get the door to come down, it stops partway and then tries to go back up again. I have to keep clicking the button on my garage door opening device until it finally manages to get all the way down. ...And even then, the garage door still tries to go back up. I'm thinking that the Rin/Len Kagamine song called "Remote Control" should have its lyrics rewritten to complain about my struggles with the garage door. I've even taken to going out through the front door (gasp! I pretty much never use the front door unless guests are over) just to avoid dealing with it. I'm worried that someday the garage will try to open on its own while I'm not around, and someone will come in and steal my bike. (This has happened before. My dad had his bike stolen many years ago, only it wasn't from the garage)
As for the other bad thing, it happened to my mother. We've always had issues with chairs and the legs of the beds in our house. Many times I've gotten up at night to use the bathroom and ended up stubbing my toe against a chair leg. It's happened so much that I suggested getting a bed with special legs so that you won't kick it (I saw an ad for it in a magazine), though as usual my parents weren't paying attention. Well, now my mother was walking to the bathroom at night and her toes hit a chair leg really hard. She didn't think it was a problem that night, but the next morning it hurt a lot and she couldn't walk properly. Turns out that she's fractured a bone (or bones) in her pinky toe. It'll take six weeks or so for her to recover.
What a bummer. Just the previous night we were thinking about going swimming sometime soon. Looks like I'll be swimming solo. There's practically no chance that my dad would ever agree to go swimming. When we were in Hawaii a couple years back, my mom and I were drifting out in the ocean...My dad, on the other hand, paced back and forth on the beach, an angry expression on his face. Barely got his feet wet and had only a sunburn to show for it.
But I guess it'd still be nice to go to the beach sometime. I'd like to go swimming in the ocean again. It's really salty and makes the undersides of my arms sting, but it's still...both relaxing and strenuous at the same time. A vacation-y sort of exercise.
I suppose in the end I can't enjoy it as completely as I used to be able to. At this age there's too much to worry about. I have to study to take my SATs, and these days it seems colleges expect you to get really serious about some extracurricular, and spend your summers on a job or internship or volunteering or something...It takes the fun out of the things I enjoy, being told by college prep people that I have to go make money or enter competitions with my hobbies. I never should've written Stanford and Harvard down as colleges I want to go to, because it's not true...Sure I'd like to go there, but that's not my goal.
Then I end up wondering why I'm so afraid to aim high. Maybe it's fear of failure; that has always worried me. Maybe I'm trying not to do whatever everyone else is doing again. I know it's silly of me to do - just because something is popular doesn't make it bad. But I feel like I can't just go along with the flow without thinking it through first. I think that I'll lose what makes me unique if I follow what other people are doing. Sometimes I don't want to be like other people and sometimes I do. I don't really know who I want to be anymore.