On Bruises

Yesterday’s hacking cough has been replaced by today’s raspy voice. Between that and my mockery of “heat closings” (In my day schools didn’t have air conditioning! You went in your neighbor’s pool after school! And then you slept on the floor! You didn’t have air conditioning! Or your own pool! Uphill! Both ways!) I sound like a leathery retiree in Palm Beach. (Except it’s hot there, too, so no thanks.) So it’s nice to type instead of talk.

. . .

I post professional stuff a lot, and I like that. (Incidentally, I heard a commercial this morning in which they compared working at Wawa to social networking. I died a small, quiet, geeky death.) I’m very proud of what I do in that vein, but that doesn’t change that this still is a personal space. It’s a weird balancing act to maintain, but one I think is worth doing.

All of which to say, beware, personal post ahead.

. . .

“Not the pain of this but its unfairness was what dazed Peter. It made him quite helpless. He could only stare horrified. Every child is affected thus the first time he is treated unfairly. All he thinks he has a right to when he comes to you to be yours is fairness. After you have been unfair to him he will love you again, but he will never afterwards be quite the same boy. No one ever gets over the first unfairness; no one except Peter. He often met it, but he always forgot it.” – Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie

I have awfully high expectations. Of life. Of myself. Of other people. So you’d think I’d be accustomed to unending disappointment, not least in myself. But, like Peter Pan, I never seem to remember. (Peter had the excuse of being a fairy tale. What’s mine?)

Since I am only friends, conveniently, with amazing people (they’d agree), it’s easy to believe in them, think better of them, expect more of them. But I’ve had a few disappointments lately of both sorts – letting someone down, and the other way round.

They’re learning experiences. Or would be, except I don’t seem to learn a thing. And maybe it’s the stubbornness in me, but truly, I think I’d rather not. Why not expect the world? It might not feel great when you get proven wrong, but isn’t it worth it for the rest of the time?

. . .

However, in other and more important places, stories that are not mine to tell, and situations that I can’t imagine being in, are being gone through right now by people who don’t deserve a bit of it about and about whom I care tremendously. If you pray, if you believe in karma – heck, if you believe in fairies – say a few words, clap your hands, do whatever you do to send some good vibes out into the universe for them. Please.

. . .

So, this week is working hard to change what I can – my attitude, if nothing more is within my power. (And, more prosaically, to get out of my car. 500 miles this weekend was a bit extreme.) So far, it’s going swimmingly. Yesterday I had a fantastic lunch with the splendidly fun and smart new pharmaceutical reporter for PRWeek, and had an equally fantastic workout last night. My right toe is now an interesting shade of purple. (From tae kwon do, not lunch.)

And every time I wiggle it I remember that bruises are at least a sure sign that you’re moving. Maybe you did do something dumb to deserve them, but more likely it was just an accident.

So. Don’t be afraid to move – and think some good thoughts while you’re at it – and try not to focus on the bruises you get along the way. Not a bad goal for my day today.