wash your hands

i've been feeling sorry for myself a lot lately.

it happens to everyone; you get that mountain of "little things" stacked so high that you can no longer see that view you're walking toward. so you cry. or you yell. you do whatever it is that you do to remind yourself that this is just the way things work.

so, saturday was my breaking point. i cried, but not enough. i drank, but too much. i yelled...probably not enough. so things are still lingering. the clouds dissipate, but i'm still chilly from the mist. obviously i did not plan properly for this journey.

inevitably, things happen or you talk with someone and you realize that you're being a complete schmuck by being down. over the past few days, someone has been ringing a gigantic fucking gong over my head with these not-so-little signs that i need to wake up.

1. my students are working on an assignment that i call their "personal statement." kind of a gerneric thing that is similar to the kind of BS you write for college admissions. maybe 10 or 15 out of my 100 have finished so i was reading them over during lunch on Monday. out of that small percentage, one wrote about having a child that was quite possibly the result of rape. two wrote about watching their mothers die of either cancer or AIDS. two more discussed dealing with having a parent deported for criminal activity. and no, i don't teach in the ghetto. farms surround my campus.

2. i met with a personal trainer the other evening as part of my new membership package at the local gym. she was nice enough and seemed to know what she was talking about. as i whined to her that i'd already done 60 minutes of cardio that day, she cheerfully acknowledged, appropriately pitied, and warmly encouraged me to continue my weight training. later in our session, when we were discussing how we typically only know our weight after a doctor's visit, she revealed that she is scheduled to have a hysterectomy--at age 23.

3. yesterday afternoon we were dismissed early due to some inclimate weather. i naviagted the Interstate smoothly in my 4x4 until about two exits from my home. i hit a patch of ice and fishtailed for some time before quietly coming to a rest on a perfectly located exit ramp. i pulled over, started to cry, and shook for the rest of the ride home, traveling at no more than 25 mph.

i guess that's it. i mean, i see others around me with their problems and i really am looking for someone to blame. i'm looking for a free pass here. but yeah, there are none. those little games that used to bring relief are no longer working. no more whining, no more grudges, no more self pity masked with beer or excessive eating. life is hard. i'm realizing it's time to clean up my own mess.

(still, the urge...just to grab him by the shoulders or shirt...or maybe a firm shove. Don't you realize you're ruining me? Can you not fucking see this with those eyes? Why aren't you crying for me? I am screaming for you, shaking you, hating and loving you...I need you to break down just a fucking little here! I am in torment from you...you....fucking you....)

today is my birthday.
they say that you should wash your hands and brush your teeth for the duration of time it takes to sing Happy Birthday.