Losing

I am told this helps, but I think for all purposes specific to this situation, it makes me feel worse. More than anything I hate two closely related things; losing things and losing at important stuff. The latter is not really important. The first however, is the reason I have chosen to write. I write to you all a man bent over in defeat. I hate losing things. It makes me feel seven years old in a far away boarding school again. Boy, did I lose lots of things back then.

Of all the things I did to get used to life living away from home, it took me such a long time before I could go to school and come back with all my stuff accounted for. My parents used to compile lists for my brother and I of all of our uniform and civvies clothes and I always lost a lot. James, of course, was perfect. It was so bad. The lists would be taped to the top of my trunk and before I got picked up for the holidays, my mother would have me take everything out of my trunk assure me that this would be no different from all the other last school days and that I shouldn't have bothered packing anyway. She would take a pen (usually red) and start down the list. I am not even going to discuss what happened if on one of those most auspicious days, the list was mysteriously missing from my trunk. Anyway, moving along, instead of 4 khaki shirts I would have 2, instead of six pairs of school socks I would have five socks period, instead of one Washington Redskin's sweater I would have none. After an hour or so of the embarrassing ritual, being forced to look longingly at the rest of my friends who would hug their parents at their arrival, wave nonchalant goodbyes to me and mine and disappear for the rest of that school year, my mother - being thoroughly disappointed with me - would then move on to inspect me. She's a nice woman but by then I had tried the last of her patience. I would average about twenty or so items unaccounted for before she turned to give me the inspection. According to her at these times, I was always dirty, had worn the wrong and torn shirt, had annoyingly managed to lose the garters to my socks (even though most of the time they were nothing more than mere elastic bands - you try keeping those from snapping daily for the next three months) or according to my father, I was just not looking "jacked up" enough. It was then she would notice that either the watch she had bought me at the beginning of term was missing or, depending on how foolishly I was trying to avoid an incident, it would be on my wrist but blank (damn "totally awesome" digital watches). My mom would just look, shake her head, consider asking me what happened, take it back because she sensed the tale would somehow involve water and a friend's name she hadn't heard of until then, promise to never buy me another watch, and say we should just get going. Shortly after all of this I got to go home every year.

I am not sure when I started coming back home with everything I left with. I am not even sure if this was long enough ago that my mother was still checking for the list at the beginning and end of each school term. Anyway, I hope all of this could start to explain why I feel dumb, not "jacked up" and certainly no older than seven years old when I lose something. Oh, and incidentally, I can't find my IPod as well as my phone.

Hurt...?

Well, the Johnny Cash song comes to mind.... Okay so it was not always or originally a Johnny Cash song. I have been listening to him a lot on my long drives for work lately and it's starting to show. Anyway, I chose this title because although I am not sure, I think that's the only way to describe how this day as been. Emotionally, I mean. I spent most of today, technically the previous day, thinking that I was starting to come down with something. Rather than doubt my superior African physiology, however, I ventured deeper into the way I was feeling the way only a Psychologist can and discovered that I think I was merely sick at heart with the turn the day had made. I started the day at a late morning hour and I felt good enough at the beginning, being a Friday and all, but as the day wore on and as the responsibilities of my job weighed in more and more, the more I began to realize how deep I was into the rabbit hole.

No doubt I have been "in a funk" all day. For those who have spoken to me at all, perhaps you noticed and perhaps you did not. The thing is, I did not really notice today until close to ten pm when I seriously recognized that I was actually trying to pick a fight with a roommate. I just wanted to scream at how wrong it all was - the dirty house, the boxing lashing I had just received on the xbox from another roommate, and the fact that I had not eaten and I still felt like peeing even though I had already gone three times in as many hours as I had been home. Even as I am writing this, I thought perhaps that it was work that's got me feeling this way, but I do not think so any more. Methinks 'tis something else. I think it is knowing that I did not really have any control over the day for the first time in a long time even though I had something to look forward to. For most of my life I have dealt with difficult or less-than-ideal portions of my life with a decent helping of "Find something this day/week/month/year/life that you are looking forward to and latch on to the idea of that thing so strongly that it will get you through the day. I realize now that for longer than I could possibly recall that has worked very well. I don't think it has worked so well today.

Do not misunderstand, I am happy. I have a blessed life and I provide for myself. I keep a healthy home and I have a job. There is something, however, I am striving for and the more years I spend away from boarding school the more apparent it becomes that this is my life now
and here not what I am waiting for in the next few months. The fact that my life now is kind of looked at as the interim period then isn't really healthy, because I find myself relying on my age old strategy far too many times than is healthy. I wake up everyday and will myself to wake up because I absolutely know that this day will be better because it brings me that much closer to my future goals. Sadly though, something always happens in the present of the day to bring me back to the fact that as much as I have been dreaming about my future self happy, today actually sucked and thank goodness its Friday because at least the weekend is here and I can find some way to regroup before the beginning of the week.

Now I am sure somewhere someone is saying "Well I could be worse. This man has not actually said something bad happened. Looks like all is still well in his life." And they would be right. I guess the point I am trying to make is that I feel like something bad is going to happen. Maybe to someone I know or with something important, maybe just with something inside me, something that is simply going to decide to snap. I know, I know, the ravings of a mad man, eh? Never mind. Never mind about this whole thing. Maybe I've had one too many and I am not making any sense right? I am not even about to suggest that I maybe have struck a cord with someone reading this and have begun to thus undo the very process I fear. This is a mouthful of rubbish is it not? Never mind. Carry on with your day, as I shall endeavor to do the same with mine. If our paths cross just smile at me and make small talk. We'll talk and we'll laugh and you will make me all better again. Thanks.