Frustration is all around us. Today more than ever, I think. I’m choosing to use frustration to my benefit and if I can’t do that, I won’t let it get in my way. I refuse to let it get me down or take over my life. And in today’s social and political climates, that’s tough to do. Even with my watermelon/grape Ritas. Trust me. I’ve tried. (And Budweiser is thanking me profusely for my efforts.)
I’ll start with the political to get it out of the way as quickly and as painlessly as I can. I am frustrated with our apparent inability to speak to each other about political differences with true civility and tolerance. Both sides of this issue accuse the other of being horrible and of possessing a lack of civility and both are correct and are equally as guilty. How’s that working out for us? Being mean to one another and refusing to hear another person’s opinion does nothing good. Nothing. You can’t learn. You can’t understand. You can’t empathize. Plus it makes you look like a blockhead. So why not just listen and HEAR? I’m working on this and trying to calm my initial inclination to beat the opposing opinion over the head until submission occurs.
My next frustration is this stupid Match.com thing. I get no results, despite having trying all the “tricks” they suggest, up to and including putting myself out there and making actual effort with men I don’t know. If you know me at all, you know this is definitely out of my comfort zone and not something I’m happy doing. So, I’ll ride out my 6 month membership and move on with my life. I’m not upset by this at all. It’s apparently just not my gig. I’m happy being by myself and happy with my life as it is.
My last “frustration” for this week isn’t really a frustration, per se. But an inability to help when I wanted to. Some/many of you may have seen my post on Facebook about my trip home from Connecticut this weekend. In NJ, on I95 (worst.highway.ever), I drove by what I initially thought was a brown paper bag blowing in the wind. As I passed it, I found it to actually be a mama duck and a few babies zipping along, up close to the jersey barrier, clearly terrified. I couldn’t safely pull over so I continued driving, starting to cry. Yep. Cry. How insane and ridiculous is that? So, after a minute or so of completely uncharacteristic tears, I came to the conclusion that I couldn’t let it go. I woke a sleeping Rachel up and made her call the state police to come get the ducks off that horrific road. I don’t know what happened or if they are ok, but I feel like I did what I could, which wasn’t much. That frustrates me. But I did the best I could and I need to accept that and not beat myself up. Won’t help, now will it?
So, that’s all I got for this week, my dudes. No more frustration allowed to enter. I’m going to focus on the stellar review I got at work this week and my upcoming adventure to California.
Peace, my peeps!!
(Don’t do this. It hurts. Unless you have a plethora of ‘Ritas to aid with the pain.)