Why it takes two hours to dust my dresser.

begin by removing the endless amounts of crap from the top of the dresser.  You know what I mean…perfume bottles, empty sticks of deodorant, loose bobby pins.   Once all of the erroneous items have been removed, I decide that maybe this would be a good time to sort through the makeup.  So, I park myself on the floor and start testing the lipsticks…one tube at a time.  When I feel that I sufficiently look like a drunken circus clown, I decide to sort through the eyeliner and makeup brushes to see what else can be eliminated.

Wait, did I just find my pore extractor I thought had been lost in the depths of hell?  Why yes, yes I did.  What better time than now to get to work on those blackheads that have been wreaking havoc on my complexion.  Now keep in mind, I still have about 47 shades of lipstick on my mouth and the top of my hands…so why not add fuel to the fire and uproot some clogged pores?
Get out of here, cats!  Can’t you see I’m busy?

The cats looked at me as though I had hair of snakes.  I didn’t know they could run so fast.

By this time, I’m still wearing 47 shades of lipstick and my face is so red from the pore extractor that you’d think I dove headfirst into a 55 gallon drum of crimson Crayolas.  Now, back to the dresser.

Oh look, I found my old tongue ring.  I wonder if I can still…

Never mind.  I’d have a difficult time explaining that one to my doctor.  With a half bleeding tongue, 47 shades of lipstick and a beet red face, I’m fairly confident he’d have me committed.

Now it’s time to spray every bottle of perfume and see which scents pass the sniff test.

Cats, I told you to get out!  You have five seconds or you’re going to smell like Britney Spears on a Cheetos binge.

As I resume dusting, I begin thinking about what a funny story this would make.  So, instead of finishing the dresser, here I am writing about it.

Two hours later and I’m still not done.

Disappointment

Another hap-hap-happy title this morning.  I swear to you I'm not all doom and gloom.  Just lately, I suppose.

Throughout the course of life, it goes without saying that we encounter people who are bound to disappoint us at one time or another.  However, I was under the silly impression that as we aged, we (as people...humanity as a whole) matured with said age and began to (for the most part) make wiser decisions.  Don't get me wrong.  I'm known to do something royally stupid from time to time, but who isn't?  Anyhow...I'm beginning to think this whole "maturity with age" thing is a huge lie.

I'm not going to get into the impetus behind this post, but suffice it to say, disappointment is clearly the main idea here, kids.  In life we have certain expectations of our loved ones...obligations that are meant to be fulfilled simply because it's the right thing to do.  But what do we do when they throw you a huge curve ball and simply fail to pull their head out of their own ass and make the right choice?  Quite frankly, I think it's gotten to the point where I'm going to wash my hands of the entire situation and said person as a whole.  I mean honestly...how much time does one have to spend giving people the benefit of the doubt when they clearly don't care enough to correct their choices and actions?  (I really despise speaking so vaguely about the situation, but I'm not about to start a bunch of unnecessary drama. God knows that's what it would evolve into....and I'm just too old for that.) 

If I've learned anything in life over the course of the...oh....past nine years or so, it's that we must learn to forgive and forget.  Life is too short to hold a grudge and let things fester.  And believe me kids, this is a REALLY tough lesson for yours truly to learn and abide by.  I'm about as Irish stubborn as they come.  Alas, I suppose that's what I'll have to do with this current situation.  I have no other choice. 

I think that's all for today.  Or who know...perhaps just this morning.  I'm planning a stop at Costco later and I'm sure that'll spark some sort of rant.

I'm pretty convinced that if I wasn't able to complain, I wouldn't talk.

Loss

I have officially been unemployed for two months as of today.  This is the longest period of time I haven't worked since I was old enough to hold a job (with the exception of being in school, that is.)  The first week or so after my job ended, it was great.  Who wouldn't be celebrating new found freedom that comes with having each day to yourself?  However, that excitement quickly dissipated as I realized that spending hours upon end with nobody to converse with (except the cats....and believe me, they really don't have much to say) takes its toll.

If you knew me and my struggles with my previous job, you'd think I'd continue the celebrations each and everyday.  And I do, to an extent.  I was absolutely miserable in that prison.  I was a first year teacher in a setting completely foreign to me.  From day one I was set up for failure, and that unfortunately continued throughout the duration of the school year.  I received such little support that it's no wonder I struggled to the extent that I did.  I'm not going to say I was perfect and that I "did" everything by the book, because I didn't.  However, I tried.  I really and truly attempted everything within my power to be successful and assure that my students learned from me.  And they did.  Unfortunately, in this day and age of mindless, pointless high stakes testing, they weren't able to show it where it mattered.  (In my book, they did.  I'm not going to delve into the ridiculousness that is standardized testing and why basing well over 50% of a teacher's evaluation on an 8-year-old's ability to focus on some lame-o test at 2:00pm when they haven't even been allotted recess in four months is all kinds of ludicrous, but suffice it to say, that's what happened.)  According to those in power, I failed miserably, and here I am...sitting on my front porch bitching about it. 

The reason I titled this post "Loss" is because that's what I'm going through.  For the most part, I've been able to bounce back from the blows I've encountered in life in a fairly reasonable time frame (with the exception of my mother's passing, which is to be expected).  I have been what most would consider"depressed" for some time now, and I never could quite put my finger on why.  And then it hit me:  as much as I loathed that hell hole with every fiber of my being, I'm mourning the loss of something that was a big part of my life. As truly miserable as I was, it's no longer part of my daily routine and I've found myself really struggling.

Many have said to me "enjoy the time while you have it" and things of the sort.  At times, it's nice, I'll admit.  However, I don't receive any sense of fulfillment from the daily grind of doing laundry and grocery shopping. I've realized that I need a purpose in life solely for a reason to get out of bed in the morning.  I feel bad for feeling bad about my situation, but I suppose you can't help how you feel about things in life.  If we could, I'm sure the world would be a different place.

I'm getting married in 54 days and should be a lot more excited than I am about that.  Don't get me wrong, I'm really looking forward to everything, but I don't have that "butterflies in my stomach" feeling that you would think one would have this close to the big day.  I really need to get myself out of this slump...perhaps someday soon I'll figure out how.  I don't want to waste anymore time feeling like crap...and especially not enjoying the little bit of time I have leading up to the wedding.

Speaking of wasting time, I've done enough of that complaining throughout the entire duration of this post. 

Off I go to clean something.

 

You just never know

I just learned of some terribly sad news today.  A good friend's husband who has been battling cancer for quite a few months was just informed that it is terminal and was given a year to live.

This is one of those moments you are only supposed to see in movies and feel momentarily bad for the characters involved.  Things like this aren't supposed to happen in real life.  

In addition to this friend's husband, my aunt and a close friend's mother were both diagnosed with breast cancer in the past few months and have recently begun various treatments in an attempt to beat it.  This is the first time I'm aware of that The Big C has hit so close to home.  

Nonetheless, it doesn't matter who is suffering from this horrible disease.  Cancer is so unbelievably evil in every aspect of the word.  It attacks those whom you'd least expect...those who lead a near pristine lifestyle (speaking from a health standpoint, that is) as well as those whose daily diet consists of a pack of Lucky Strikes, whiskey and beer.     

I really don't know where I'm going with this.  I just felt compelled to write about it after hearing this news.  I'm not sure if this is going to turn into a "You never know what life has in store for you" or a "Live life to the fullest" post or what.  But I simply need to get this out before I explode.

On a semi-related note, I've been meaning to talk about this one: prayer.  If you know anything about me, you know that I've never really been a religious person.  On occasion you might have heard me jokingly say "I pray to God that I win the lottery" or something of the like.  However, I've never been a devout anything, let alone somebody who prayed.  To this day there are still many things in that department I question, and wonder if I'll truly understand or believe.  With that said, let me regale you with this tale:

Last weekend Patrick's parents made a trip to Chicago to meet my family.  For three straight days prior to their visit I stalked the weather as if I were Tom Skilling himself.  And for those days leading up to the gathering, the weather report looked bleak: cloudy and rainy with increasing chances of thunderstorms with each passing day.  Normally this wouldn't be a huge issue, but we were planning on hosting a BBQ.  When the day arrived, the weather was just as predicted: gray and rainy.  All morning I watched the radar as the green and yellow patches on the map drew ever closer to our area.  When we were within an hour of our guests arrival, I recall sitting on the porch half thinking aloud, half praying (if you could call it that) saying "Hey God.  I'm not sure if this will do much good...if you're listening...or what...but it would be really appreciated if these thunderstorms could come and go quickly, or pass over us entirely."  I did what I could and that was that.

As our guests arrived, the sky was still gloomy and we were dealing with a bit of drizzle.  And then the craziest thing happened:  though the weather report called for a 75% chance of thunderstorms, the rain hit the road and the sun broke through.  The temperature increased and it was suddenly a gorgeous summer's afternoon.  I swear to you when I say this...it was as if somebody flipped a switch and we went from the inevitable crappy Chicago day to one that was picture perfect.

With that said, I honestly don't know what caused such a rapid and drastic weather change.  I certainly don't put it past typical Chicago weather; it is, after all, a city in which you can experience all four seasons in one day.  However, a part of me still has to wonder...could my little pseudo-prayer, or whatever you want to call it have had some impact?  It's certainly nice to believe that anyway.

So, back to my original reason for this post.  There is no crystal ball in life.  We can never simply take a gander and see what's written in the cards for us. With that said, I almost feel as though I need to bust out the ever-so-cliched use of "live each day as if it were your last."  But I won't.  I guess I simply just want to say this:  there are very few things about life that are definitive. We have little control over the ultimate outcomes.  I suppose we simply need to make the most of the time we have here on this earth.  

And if you're a person who believes in the power of prayer, please do so.  In all honesty, I'm still unsure where I stand on the whole thing, but I do know that I'm more than willing to keep an open mind to it.  Just like that crazy weather day last weekend, you simply never know. 

 

It looks like rain

Earlier this afternoon I was leaving a restaurant with my fiancee.  As we made our journey to the car we noticed an elderly woman crossing a major road.  Her body bent at a 90 degree angle, she shuffled across, gripping her walker for dear life.  The fiancee and I just stopped and watched in horror as car after car came to abrupt stops to avoid hitting this woman.  We were frozen with fear, curiosity, and an inability to know what to do.  A moment later a patron of the restaurant, dressed in his Sunday best, ran out into the street (from his booth in the restaurant, mind you) and helped this woman make it across the road safely.  Once the hero and the elderly woman were out of harm's way, we watched as they exchanged a few words, she thanking him for his kind action.  This man then went on to place what appeared to be a few twenty dollar bills into her withered hand.  She thanked him repeatedly and they both went about their business.

Forty-five minutes before this heroic scene, I sat in a sticky booth in that restaurant complaining about my "terrible life."  I carried on about how I feel like such a failure because I wasn't asked back to my teaching position and will be subsequently unemployed in ten days.  I also made it a point to mention my inability to lose weight, how repulsive I felt, and that I'd never lose enough weight to fit into my dress for our upcoming wedding.

I've got problems.

I will never be able to grasp the concept of self-pity when there are people in the world like that elderly woman.  And I'm guilty beyond words.  This woman clearly has some sort of debilitating condition that leaves her body in a near non-functioning state.  Yet she continues on with her life and does what she needs to survive.  And here I am, acting as if my life is ending.  I will still have food to eat, a warm bed in which to sleep, and a vehicle at my disposal to transport me anywhere I need.  It just doesn't make sense.

I wonder why it's so difficult to be truly thankful for what we have in life?  Why does it require seeing events like I witnessed today to make you take a step back and realize things in your life are pretty damned good compared to many in this world?  Is our superficial, materialistic culture so accustomed to always wanting and needing more that we never realize we already have more than enough and we're fine just the way we are? 

Looking back and reflecting on the day's events, I'm terribly ashamed of my behavior.  I wish it didn't take seeing this woman to make me understand that my life is pretty damned good, but it did.  I sincerely hope that from each day forward I'm able to be nothing but grateful for the blessings in my life and be thankful that I have yet another day to awaken in a warm bed and not worry about securing my next meal. 

Food for thought.