I've learned a lot of useful things in my life, like never putting my finger in a strange ferret's cage, how to pull my leg out of barbed wire and still keep my flesh attached, and how to extinguish fires on my body.
Some of these lessons came with pretty heavy price tags and were pretty immediate in their arrival, like the time I learned that tossing a gallon of gasoline onto a pile of trash from an open container and then taking my time getting the flame to it will result in a massive, rapidly expanding circle of blue flames. And some of them have crept in slowly, thieves in the night who have taken months and years to slip under the cracks in my doors and through quietly broken window panes. Their passing has left less obvious results than burnt eyebrows or broken bones but their importance and their impact on my life has been much more far-reaching than a little road rash or a strange swelling that just won't go away.
One of those lessons I've had taught to me for a very long time is that I'm not that important in the grand scheme of things. And before everyone jumps up and tries to tell me how important I am to them, which would be thoughtful but misplaced right now let me say this: "In the big picture." I'm thinking on a scale bigger than the 15 or so Gentle Readers that I entertain here several times a week, bigger than the admittedly small circle of my real-life friends and family. What I'm saying is what I have learned--if you expand the focus of my impact on Life to even a city-wide range I am not even a blip on the radar. Expanded to country-wide or stars forbid a world-wide view and I blend into the background noise along with billions of other people.
I'm angry to some extent at the very common and very vague attitude that anyone can become president. What no one is going to tell you that the chances of you having a snowball's chance in a torch of becoming president is about one in a billion. The chance is there, but it's a chance even smaller that you'll win the Powerball lottery AND have an airplane fall on you. We're raised as Americans to believe that we're glorious, we're important, and that one day we'll be President, and it doesn't happen that way.
And that's as far as I got with that post, several days ago. I had a small breakdown during lunch after writing that, but hey, we all have our moments, right?
So. A little 'splainin' is in order, I guess.
Stucco, et al, I took down Cheetah Balls because it was like a lot of my projects in the past--put up a little too fast and with little if any forethought. It sounded good at the time but it wasn't what I envisioned, and since it's digital and all that it's also very, very temporary. I had fun while it lasted, and thank you and Scott and VW for playing along so regularly, but I've not got the time to support THIS blog properly, much less a second one.
My lack of posting. Depression I think is the main reason. Depression over a lot of things, but nothing new, honestly. There is, after all, nothing new under the sun. I won't even go into the list, but right now at the top is the fact that my ex-wife The Goat (no relation to Jay at Kill The Goat) is coming down in about two weeks to bring our daughter back to Oregon with her for the summer.
Long story short, I'm parent of record so I get to keep my Wee'relephant here in my home for the school year but The Goat gets her for the summers, and she lives about as far from me as is possible without physically leaving the country. And every year about the time, even if I don't realise it the black edges start creeping in around me, swaddling my life in suffocating burnt wool. I start reliving all the anger and the embarrassment and the blindness that lead me to that marriage, and it makes me feel more a fool than I usually do. And I'll mope and sulk and be angry in general at the mistakes I've made in my life (my daughter is not a mistake, but the route I arrived at her is counted very high as one) and at the general unfairness of Stuff, and usually about two weeks after she's been gone and it's sunk in that she's not here, she's not at Grandma's house or Uncle B.'s house, she's actually GONE until mid-August I'll finally tear off the last of that black edge and get on with my life again.
I've also let my exercising fall by the wayside, and the same with my meditation, and I know that's had at least a small hand in letting my moods swing back to the grim. Granted the surgery had a big hand (ass?) in keeping me from walking the treadmill or lying back on the bench under my Soloflex thingie, but I'm healed, so no more excuses.
Tomorrow I start back.