At least I don't have gum in my hair...

Today was not a good day. Don’t get me wrong; it wasn’t quite to the Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day catastrophic proportions, but I just wasn’t happy. There wasn’t one thing in particular that spoiled it, or someone who crossed me, but it definitely left something to be desired. And I believe that’s precisely what made today not so good. I’ve become so focused on my wants that I’ve forgotten how to get.

There’s a commercial out right now for some financial institution where a green arrow appears at your feet guiding you in the right direction to reach your goals. Unfortunately, in the reality I dwell in, no such arrow exists. Each path has it’s own advantages and consequences and each dream is undeniably surrounded by questions and doubts. That’s not to say dreams aren’t worth dreaming because they most certainly are, but every once in a while there comes a day when you question if the path you’re currently on has any chance of getting you where you want to be, or if you maybe took a wrong turn at Albuquerque a la Bugs Bunny. As positively as you try to think and as optimistic as you strive to be, some days hope just simply hides, and it takes everything in you to seek it out again.

I know the destination is ultimately not as important as the journey, or however that fortune cookie goes, but the destination I see is so incredible that some days the journey utterly fails in comparison. Doubt creeps in and you think, is this as far as I’ve come? You hit the point I did today when the tears start to creep in but you’re also just so pissed off at the world that you’re too angry to cry. And that’s when my pity party stops. I take a final brief moment to feel sorry for myself and then I remember that in so many ways I’m more fortunate than most. No matter how horrible my day was, I know that in a couple of hours my husband is going to walk through the front door and erase it all. He may make me laugh or he might hold my while I cry, but either way he’ll be here, which is all that matters at the end of the day. We’ll enjoy our evening and I’ll go to sleep content, knowing that with a new day brings new hope. And with any luck, along with that hope will come some sunshine after all this rain.

Dulcius ex aspirus

Craig Ferguson is a cheeky monkey, and he makes me want to throw poo.

Not literally of course, but as it is a common assumption that monkeys find joy in the art of poo-throwing, I too, am inspired to find my own joy. Hopefully in something not involving fecal matter. I just finished Craig’s autobiography, American On Purpose, and was inspired enough to develop my story. The following drivel is what spewed forth.

With only two days left in our current year, I find myself in the familiar task of self-evaluation and yearly reflection. I understand that a new year symbolizes a new beginning, but couldn’t this global decision to make life alterations just as easily come at the beginning of any month? Every flip of the calendar is an invitation for a fresh start, yet January 1^st has become our D-Day. Is it possibly that the hanging of a new calendar for the new year is so daunting a task that as we rest from the burden of the weight of that new calendar we have no choice but to reflect as our muscles heal? If this is the case, might I suggest buying lighter calendars?

I hope to unearth the forgotten paper with my resolutions from last year, which was undoubtedly cast aside January 2^nd. While it’s obviously too late to make any difference now, and I’m not disillusioned enough to try and repeat those vows, I would find it interesting to see just hope hopeful I was. And just how catastrophically I failed.

I have a stock answer for any question involving time of any sort (date, day, time, when something will transpire): Tuesday. I have no recollection of when this started but it’s long been my go-to and, while slightly immature, it makes me happy. Unfortunately it also makes my life seem to be simply a long series of Mondays. When Tuesday is always the future, Monday becomes your present. Everything else is later.

In the coming year my only goal is to eradicate the word later from my vocabulary. (And it wouldn’t kill me to use more words like eradicated.) I’ve always been a firm believer in “someday” because I have faith that someday things will be better. If only we had more space in our house it would always be clean. If only we had more money things would be easier. If only I was thirty because by then I’ll have my sh*t together. I know what I want for my future but have no feasible plan to bring these things to fruition, and am therefore completely in the hands of destiny. I am sure, however, that sitting around waiting for destiny to bring me success will surely only lead to a loser life of disaster. I’ve always had big plans but no blueprint, big dreams but no grasp of reality.

I draw inspiration from quotes. I grasp onto the eloquence of others when words fail me. Emerson wrote, “Most of the shadows of this life are caused by standing in one’s own shadow.” In my case, I believe my shadows are caused by sitting on my own ass. I know what’s out there and I know it can be great but because I don’t know where to start I stay put, locked in a cycle of if only. I know my problem is motivation, caused largely by my incredible talent for distraction. To even get all of this out I’ve had to remain silent so I could focus (which I’m sure made for a boring car ride home when I picked up my husband from work a while ago). As each new year begins I vow to make it better. That THIS is the year when I’ll really buckle down, and have that Ziggy moment of “Today is the first day of the rest of your life.” (Or, as my friend Kryz has corrected me, “Today is the first day of the rest of your Crown [Royal].”) Priorities must be shifted and plans put into action because the idleness with which I currently exist is becoming exhausting. I’m so desperate for the warmth of the fire, yet I’ve no idea how to light the spark.

On the way home this evening I passed a church sign that read: EVERY SAINT HAS A PAST, EVERY SINNER A FUTURE. While most church signs tend to read like fortune cookies, this one appealed to me as I raced home to capture these ramblings before something shiny caught my eye and my attention was swayed. The future is only bright for those willing to turn on the light, and I believe I may finally be ready to emerge from the darkness. The motto on the Ferguson family’s crest is Dulcius es aspiris, which means ”Sweeter after difficulty.” After reading American On Purpose it is obvious Craig Ferguson has realized such triumph. And while my difficulty hasn’t involved the scandals that his has, I’m still looking forward to my just desserts.