Soup Can

One hundred and fifty posts (but only 135 actually published, if you look at the post count), and it only took two years. I suppose there should be a better way to commemorate such a "momentous" occasion. Really, it's more or less a testament to my ability to not being able to hold my tongue. So, please read this post that I wrote roughly three weeks ago.

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Sometimes I am too stupid to be depressed. [And sometimes I am too depressed to be stupid. -K] As of late, there have been a few instances where I did not realize how bad thing were in my life until someone spelled it out for me. And it wasn't an actively cruel act on their part, they were just putting in plain view what I should have already known. Most of these incidences involve post-work happy hour, a dangerous proposition. Is it my dream job to be a technical writer? Far from it. Is it closer to my dream job than attorney-at-law? Yeah.

Then there's all the other stuff. My apartment lies next to the laundry room. The laundry room sprung a leak, so my carpet got soaked with water. Not just any water, waste laundry water. By no means did the hallway smell like a port-a-potty, but neither did it smell of sweet fragrance. The Lady Surfer is also leaky, due to the "nor'easter" passing through as of late. She has begun to mildew, and will not smell any better until summertime, when I can leave the windows open and actually dry her out. Yay standing water. It's annoying, but the rental company is sending carpet cleaners, and I can always buy an air freshener for Lady Surfer.

Ever since moving down to Virginia, I've discovered that for half the year, I'll be self-medicating in order to get around the pollen. Yes, the plants are making love to my nose, and I am not reacting well to their hot and heavy loving. Yes, it makes things like being outside more of an adventure than I'd hoped for. Yes, sometimes the medicine isn't strong enough to withstand the pollen. I just keep on hacking away and snorting the Astelin.

A year ago, these bugs would have been enough to make me flip out. Hey, a year ago, I probably did flip out over much less. A few upcoming finals for classes that didn't really matter. It's not that I don't care. I am annoyed that the Lady Surfer's brakes are wonky, and she needs another checkup. I am annoyed that it smells fun-kay up in my crib. It's just not enough to bother me to the extent it would have.

This is the power of perspective. A year ago, my life was l-school. It consumed me whole like a non-sexual succubus. All I knew, all I had, was l-school. Thus, the tests were everything to my life, because if I failed, that was it for me. I was done. And I didn't even give a crap about l-school or becoming a lawyer. Imagine what the truly obsessive were, are, going through.

Now, my life is more, oh, so much more than just l-school. OK, that's a lie, there's really not that much more. Run when possible, write when possible, read, when possible, see friends when possible, work cause I like to eat. Sing when no one can hear me. Sing when everyone can hear me. Whistle because I can. Smile at the world, especially when no one is looking. I used to never smile, even when around people, even when I thought it was expected. And now, I can smile just for the hell of smiling.

The point is, compared to the rest of my life, these issues are so minor, they're hardly worth wasting the effort to worry about them. Take care of them, yes, but do not obsess. It has helped so much to stop painting my world in an abstract style (think Picasso), and to start rendering it in a heavily ironic, realistic style (think Warhol). Besides, I'd rather think of the world as a can of chicken noodle soup than a blocky naked woman going down the stairs. And if I didn't have a can opener, hey, that's what rocks are for.