That’s what you’re supposed to say at the beginning of each month for good luck: “rabbit rabbit.” This is especially true in September, I’m told, which is supposed to be an extra lucky month as it it. I’ve said it three times today. If writing it counts, by the end of this post you are probably going to want my help picking lottery numbers…maybe I should go play it myself.
Like I’ve said: I’m a luck person. If I hear from a reliable enough source (it could be somebody’s grandma, old wives tales websites, anything an Irishman says to me, twitter…), I will attempt to abide by the rule of luck. I’m not intense about it, I’m not obsessive. Often I forget. “Oh, I guess I should have held my breath as we drove past that cemetery. Oops.” But, if I remember and it does not derail my productivity too much—I like to do what’s lucky, I like to avoid things considered unlucky.
Some of these things are cultural common practices, whether a person is superstitious or not. For instance, walking under a ladder is said to be unlucky. I don’t walk underneath ladders because it’s unlucky…also, it doesn’t seem like a generally safe thing to do. Not walking under ladders is really just self-preservation in a dangerous world—if it’s going to help my luck on top of keep me safe, well, that’s just the extra milkshake that doesn’t fit in the glass. Slurp.
When I was growing up, my parents told us it was bad luck to put shoes on the table. I forget precisely what terrible things would come to you were you to put shoes on the table, but it wasn’t good. And, boy, did I adhere. If someone set shoes on a table, or looked like he might set shoes on a table—I panicked. However, this may not be a surprise to you, as we’ve already previously discussed what an obsessive, anxious child I was.
(Incidentally, I remember hearing on the radio once that a man had violent reactions whenever anyone said the words New Jersey, Snickers, or balloons. He shot a woman in the face because he THOUGHT she was going to say New Jersey. She did not say New Jersey. As it turned out, she had no plans to say New Jersey whatsoever in the conversation. I don’t know what that has to do with anything, but I remembered and wanted to tell you.)
Anyway, maybe other people believe putting shoes on tables is an unlucky practice. Maybe household the world over have strict policies about putting shoes on tables based on luckiness. Maybe there is something to it. Maybe my parents just wanted to keep things straightened up and didn’t want shoes on tables all over the house.
Honestly, even be the “luck person” that I am, I’m still fairly sure many superstitious and dogmatic practices are routed in wanting to keep things on the up-and-up—keep things tidy, keep everybody in line, keep folks safe. It’s why we don’t walk under ladders. It’s why religious texts tell is not to eat pork. (I’m not the only one thinking this, right? And believe me, I of all people am not telling you to eschew your religious observances. Part of me just thinks that because pork spoils at a lower temperature than some of its dinner counterparts, and because these texts were written at a time waaaaaaay before refrigeration when a whole mess o’ people were getting sick from no buenos pork…maybe, possibly there’s an argument to be made. Yes? I’m not saying I know this for certain. I’m saying it’s something to chew on. Yeah… yucky choice of words, Laura.)
Also, I realized much of the superstition I participate in is highly psychosematic. But, I’m OK with this. You’re saying getting out of bed on the same side I got in, but never walking back on a path exactly the way I came has absolutely no scientific bearing on my life or luck? No! Blasphemy! Irish Blasphemy! Sarcastic Irish Blasphemy!
I am well-aware—with all my useless education—that these actions are, on their own, doing nothing for me. However, I do think my belief in them is helpful to me. I think the sheer belief that an action will make me happier, healthier, luckier, more successful, etc. probably has a significant positive outcome in any situation. And I am OK with that. I don’t know that wearing amber beads actually, scientifically, biologically helps me ward off or recover from illness. It probably doesn’t. I don’t know that it doesn’t. I do so anyway. And I probably feel more healthful when I believe I’m doing something good for me.
So I will say “rabbit rabbit” as many times as I can today without looking like a lunatic—or at least like the queen of lunatics. BecauseI believe saying “rabbit rabbit” today will make this a good and lucky month, I suspect my positive mindset will ensure post-rabbiting that it is so.
Sidenote: September is also Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month. I would like some luck here in not developing ovarian cancer—I would like the same for you. But since, like I implied, wishing, hoping, walking in particular patterns might now be enough to save us—I would like you to become educated about Ovarian Cancer, its preventions, its warning signs.
September is also Skincare Month. So, I wish you a month without pimples or dry skin. Please use all skincare products as recommended.
Happy September: I hope it is a lucky, productive, beautiful month.
This morning I had a particular shirt in mind that I wanted to wear (navy blue silk button down with white dots), and realized it is at the dry cleaners. I thought, “Pshaw, this is the kind of thing that happens to adults, not me…wait…” Then I started thinking…uh oh… more than just my constant wearing of cardigans are making me an old lady. Symptoms include:
1) New contacts in my cell phone contacts list are entered by full name. No more nicknames. No more “Lauren S.” or “Tom B.” or person-plus-door-room-number (a very popular practice my Freshman year of college). And thankfully, no more “Guy From Bar X.” Nope: first name, last name, sometimes email. Every once in a while additional, pertinent info. Where has my creativity gone? Am I doomed to never again list someone in my cell phone as “Hot Runningback’?
2) I’m starting to sincerely question the decision most states make—including my very own Commonwealth of Pennsylvania—in giving out driving privileges (it’s a PRIVILEDGE, not a RIGHT!) to sixteen-year-olds. 98% of them make me very nervous.
3) Are people consistently having better looking babies? Because it sure seems that way.
4) I’m starting to do “preventative” things. On my 25th birthday I celebrated in grand fashion by beginning to use eye cream. I have moisturizer with sunscreen now, and I use it every day. If there is any sun at all, I wear sunglasses. I don’t do this because I think I look cool. And I don’t do it for the fashion, though I am admittedly a glutton for accessories. I do it for two reasons—1: apparently beautiful sunshine fades the color of your iris. I’m sorta fond of my blueish eyes. 2: like I said: eyecream. Diligent skincare. If I’m spending all this time and money preventing wrinkles and the look of again, what kind of sense does it make to go squinting into the sun, creating wrinkles. Like I don’t already get enough of that by laughing. One of ‘em gotta go. It’s not gonna be the laughing. Also—heart disease prevention. Realizing that I come from a family with spotty heart health history, I’m doing everything I can. There’s probably more to this story; that’s enough for now.
5) I have become very concerned with things like fuel mileage and tire pressure—I don’t understand them, I’m just concerned over them.
6) When I see kids around during the daytime on Monday through Friday I wonder why the heck they aren’t in school. (I did this a few times over the summer too, forgetting my calendar does not sync with a school girl or boy’s, but it’s more since fall started that I’m sure they should all be inhaling chalk dust.) I’m sure all teenagers are skipping. I’m highly suspicious of young people…err, well, people younger than I am.
7) Whenever someone mentions something about the 24th of any given month, my resounding thought it that’s the day I have to pay my credit cards and student loans.
8) I might be too old for techno. The very family-friendly, workplace-perfect Top 40 (featuring Ryan Seacrest in the afternoons) radio station we play in my office has, for surely unknown reasons, has been playing little blocks of techno around 3:30. I keep yelling, “What IS this?” and trying to crawl under my desk. My high school bf played techno constantly, and it never bothered me. However, he also just recently turned 28, while he is always eternally 17 in my head. So there’s that.
9) I like buying work clothes now. Yikes. At department stores. Double yikes.
10) I’m giving in on things that once felt absolute. I guess there’s wriggle room. This probably stems from two very new ways I’m living my life—1: sometimes the expenditure of energy to fight in not worth being right; pick your battles, don’t argue with fools who don’t matter to you much anyway. 2: life is never going to be the way you had it on paper—sometimes it’s worse, more often it’s better.