I sit in my bed and, through a window, have a view of trees off in the distance. They are swaying in the strong wind. The evening darkness and movement of the branches makes me uncomfortable and sad. It reminds me of the month of October. I think back to childhood and growing up in a good household but nights with weather like this always felt business-like. It would be the school year and Dad came home from work and we sat at the table for dinner and then did some homework and watched sports on TV. Mom probably ran out to the store and I hoped she would make it back alright. I don’t know why I had anxiety growing up but I did and still do. Lighting and weather go far in determining the mood of the world and I am sensitive to that. The month leading up to Halloween is the true death of summer without the cheerful snow of winter. That’s why I don’t like Halloween. It’s a nasty time of angst and anxiety and I can’t help but associate the crappy weather with the holiday that so many love. I didn’t think I would write about Halloween on January 12th but regardless of time of year, when inspired, I can find a way to throw shade at that holiday.
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It’s mid-afternoon on January 10th. The walls of my living room are painted a subtle off-white, it’s gloomy outside, and I have no lights on inside. Everything inside and outside appears gray. It’s not inspiring. It feels rather sad. Tonight, some members of my family are going out for my mother’s birthday. It is a social event that causes me stress because of the lack of emotional connection I have with many of these people. I will try to swallow my pride and get through the small talk and bland conversations. It is not about me today. I will need to remind myself of that.
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My current job wears me out. Thursdays have the Friday fatigue without the Friday ecstasy. However, there isn’t heavy breathing and sweating and back-breaking work. It is a mental fatigue. It is listening, and checking, and re-checking, and walking over here, and watching a clock, and waiting. Most of the conversation kills me. As I listen to my boss speak, I say to myself “This is exhausting.” The stress isn’t high, but the energy needed to get through the day is. I get home and think, “We hardly did anything today but I desperately need a nap.”
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The NFL playoffs are here. Life might be good this time next week as the Bills look forward to their next opponent or we might be in the gutter, yelling at each other about why Coach McDermott should be fired. It feels like life or death. I heard someone say once that part of the thrill of being a sports fan is that sports can bring great emotions out of us while not actually meaning anything. After all, they are just numbers on a scoreboard. We do risk things though, because people love making simple things complicated. We put money on the line, our personal relationships get strained, and our livers get tested. Maybe one February day it will all come together for the Bills and the suffering will be rewarded with a life-altering Super Bowl championship, which will swiftly be forgotten about the following autumn after a few bad plays and we will settle into our suffering once again. Go Bills.
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Driving a deteriorating car through slushy winter weather as night time creeps in is emotional. I don’t feel ready to pay big money for car repairs and every time the thoughts of breaking down and being foisted upon a mechanic shop flow through my mind, another pothole appears in my path. I drive tensely, with windshield wipers that do eighty-five percent of their job but leave streaks of moisture at my eye’s level. I listen for noise from underneath my car and bemoan other drivers who break for no reason or who get all up in my business from behind.
Having a car is such an important factor in one’s life, depending on where you live. I am extremely privileged to have a car, but sometimes I think of a carless existence and how peaceful that could be. Of course, a carless existence probably means I would be living in a big, expensive city so one way or another, my money would be flowing out of my pocket constantly.
Another pain point for me is my lack of knowledge about cars. Not knowing what’s happening in the engine brings me fear. Anything happens and I think the worst, which is foolish but it is the reality for now. Knowledge is power and I need some car knowledge.
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I have a thought about professional sports: the teams take themselves too seriously. “Professional” is a rotten word. It means “no fun”, “lame”, and “obsessed with protecting oneself”. The Buffalo Bills sat Josh Allen after one play yesterday while I was in attendance. I knew it was coming, but it still stung. I wanted to see the exciting superstar play in person again (I’ve seen him in person before, so I’m just being greedy), but they didn’t think risking an injury or further injury was wise with the playoffs approaching. Rational thought is lame sometimes. Life is drudgery and disappointment.
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I didn’t mean to make a series out of this, but I am back in Tim Hortons writing on my laptop. The short kid from yesterday took my order (medium coffee, one cream) with a snarl and I almost apologized for my presence. Now, I sit in the corner as this other customer speaking in Arabic wheels and deals in his phone conversations. I think he’s told people to hold and has switched calls. This guy is popular! Making some deals, mediating a conflict perhaps? Who knows. For me, its nice to hear a foreign language. It makes my hometown feel international.
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I am the only person sitting inside a Tim Hortons café as the two angry workers get bombarded by the drive-thru line. “We’re too short-staffed for this shit” says the shorter confident one as the bagel and iced cappuccino orders pour in like waves. The tall anxious kid takes the orders and the shorter one hustles to fulfill them. It’s an interesting environment to work in. They are, thankfully, separated from the drive-thru customers so they are free to talk all the noise they want. I think short guy just took a phone call while toasting and buttering bagels. I applaud them for being able to do this kind of work. I would fail due to my lack of patience and composure under pressure from annoying customers with obnoxious orders. It especially sucks when you know everyone is happy and refreshed after the New Year. Plus, it’s Friday evening and you are working like a dog while the rest of the world laughs and wonders what your problem is when you don’t laugh along with them.
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January 1st: the beginning. The time of lofty goals and delusions of grandeur. Many of the things we plan this day do not last a week. It is sad and true. Hope springs eternal though, like the beginning of a new school year or sports season. It always comes back, this feeling of hope and renewal. It’s special in and of itself. We think highly of ourselves, we want the best for ourselves, we get swept up in, like I said before, delusions. What are my delusions this year? I want to write a blog post every day. Think I can? I know I can.
Dog Bites and Bee Stings 