Bad Day
Life is in indeed fragile. One day you're rockin'.. the next day the your not even Air Supply. Funny how the twists and turns of life make for a rich and tactile existence. How does one get past the junk? Go through it? Around it? Under it? I don't know. I have had maybe 10 really bad days in my life. 10. 10 out of 17,800 or so days, give or take. That's pretty good. I'd say that I have been extremely lucky on the bad day scale. Some people have the exact opposite experience. God Bless them. There were a lot of bad days in Jr. High. Jr. High was like 3 years of bad days. Except when I actually got to sing the solo in the choir concert and everyone started treating me like I was "someone". Ah the glory! I was suddenly noticed. Being noticed is a big deal. Some folks try to hide from the noticing. They do all they can to live in the background. We see you. Thanks for coming to our shows. We know you slip out the back door when the set ends, so you do not have to talk to anyone. That's ok. We get it. Hell, 1/2 of us on stage feel the same way. We feel strangely at home singing or playing in front of a crowd, but to actually talk to people, well that is an art.
So to experience the bad day in all it's badness, just plain bites. I wish I could drink it away, but that usually just makes me cry and write stupid things on Facebook. I try walking, yoga, not eating, eating everything, not bathing, bathing in excess, hiding it, letting it flow, talking to my dog, talking to my dog when he is running away. It's like he knows when to comfort you..he will come and put his paw on my leg, make me pet his head, lay his head on my lap and then when I start telling him my little problems, he suddenly hears something outside. Or has a hankering for a snack. Like, "Hey lady, too much information for a 4 legged creature like me. I have a small brain" But when I say, "Dog Park" he acts like he is Einstein's prize poodle. He heard me from the far end of the house, whispering it to my son. Suddenly there he is, standing with the leash in his mouth. He will never make it as a dog-life-coach. His listening skills are far too selective.
The weird thing is is that my bad day did not come from my own making. It happened TO me. Blind sided, if you will. I never played football in Jr. High. I could have, because I was a bit hefty and all, but fortunately, they did not allow girls. I don't know what it is like to be standing, ready for the action to begin and getting pummeled, knocked to the ground and seeing stars and tweety birds flying around my head. The closest thing to that was playing field hockey and having a more-than-healthy opponent smack you in the shins with a stick. Rarely would it bring me to my knees, but every so often, it would.
Well this one brought me to my knees. That is where I will be for awhile. Perhaps the reason is that maybe I might have gotten a bit too far away from God. Maybe this is a big reminder to hit my knees by my own will, or else it shall be done unto thee. God is funny. Not funny like Ellen funny, but more ironic funny, like Dennis Miller. Quippy and smart and lesson-y. Gives you the pebble, as Oprah would say, and then the brick. A big brick to my ever loving knees.
It is not a colossal bad day, like when I found out my dad was sick. Those days stand on their own. I don't believe God gives you those days. Those just appear from hell. Or Arkansas. I just lost a reader in Arkansas. Sorry. I'm on roll. I just chose the first A state I could think of.
So before the stick hits the shins, my friends and lost friend in Arkansas, hit your knees tonight. Pray for peace, pray for others, pray for yourself. Maybe by doing so you might avoid the next direct hit. You will be down on your knees and it will fly over you like a bat chasing a mosquito. Maybe it will hit the A- hole that didn't pick up his dog's deposit on your lawn. Hope so. Maybe it will just circulate around and disappear into the ether. Hope so.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
10:47 pm
for Roger.
So to experience the bad day in all it's badness, just plain bites. I wish I could drink it away, but that usually just makes me cry and write stupid things on Facebook. I try walking, yoga, not eating, eating everything, not bathing, bathing in excess, hiding it, letting it flow, talking to my dog, talking to my dog when he is running away. It's like he knows when to comfort you..he will come and put his paw on my leg, make me pet his head, lay his head on my lap and then when I start telling him my little problems, he suddenly hears something outside. Or has a hankering for a snack. Like, "Hey lady, too much information for a 4 legged creature like me. I have a small brain" But when I say, "Dog Park" he acts like he is Einstein's prize poodle. He heard me from the far end of the house, whispering it to my son. Suddenly there he is, standing with the leash in his mouth. He will never make it as a dog-life-coach. His listening skills are far too selective.
The weird thing is is that my bad day did not come from my own making. It happened TO me. Blind sided, if you will. I never played football in Jr. High. I could have, because I was a bit hefty and all, but fortunately, they did not allow girls. I don't know what it is like to be standing, ready for the action to begin and getting pummeled, knocked to the ground and seeing stars and tweety birds flying around my head. The closest thing to that was playing field hockey and having a more-than-healthy opponent smack you in the shins with a stick. Rarely would it bring me to my knees, but every so often, it would.
Well this one brought me to my knees. That is where I will be for awhile. Perhaps the reason is that maybe I might have gotten a bit too far away from God. Maybe this is a big reminder to hit my knees by my own will, or else it shall be done unto thee. God is funny. Not funny like Ellen funny, but more ironic funny, like Dennis Miller. Quippy and smart and lesson-y. Gives you the pebble, as Oprah would say, and then the brick. A big brick to my ever loving knees.
It is not a colossal bad day, like when I found out my dad was sick. Those days stand on their own. I don't believe God gives you those days. Those just appear from hell. Or Arkansas. I just lost a reader in Arkansas. Sorry. I'm on roll. I just chose the first A state I could think of.
So before the stick hits the shins, my friends and lost friend in Arkansas, hit your knees tonight. Pray for peace, pray for others, pray for yourself. Maybe by doing so you might avoid the next direct hit. You will be down on your knees and it will fly over you like a bat chasing a mosquito. Maybe it will hit the A- hole that didn't pick up his dog's deposit on your lawn. Hope so. Maybe it will just circulate around and disappear into the ether. Hope so.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
10:47 pm
for Roger.
Not often I feel like you're reading my mail, Tina, but I feel like you're reading my mail. The last three posts. Wow. I think I need sand. Sand and ooffee. Coming up.
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