The Effective Platitudes

My blog posts are generic to promote relatable stories. If I were specific, the reader would not be able to place themselves in my story as a character. It's my style.

In the fall, I actively look on the interwebs and sports channels for a football game where a "Hail Mary" saved a football game. I hate navigating complicated playbook with an algorithm that looks like a game theory illustration that has only one node. That one mutually beneficial node is somewhere in an obscure scenario that will actually benefit everyone involved. I like everyone to be happy. I hate mental math in words.

Since February, I have had a stacked with to do list before I could even blink as I woke. I plan well in advance and then...surprise. I shift things around, convince myself that I can bump an appointment that I previously planned, and it all works out.

Then, in one day, on a hot day in Texas: my AC went out, something else breaks, and my garage door lasers aren't aligned, causing the garage door to tease me and sorta close, but then re-open. My garage door is heavier than I'd like it to be. I must manually close it and re-open it. With a pulley system and a track, it's not that bad. (I digress into high school physics. If I go any farther, I might get sick at my stomach and have visions of those magnets and filings. I am incapable of any more metaphors as I am fresh out of clever.)

With all of those things on Tuesday, I am pretty sure that I'd gone to first world Hell and met a multi-faced Medusa like antichrist. If I were to fully illustrate the spread of my week, it would appear to be a rotten Thanksgiving dinner, when a perfect cornucopia of still life quality was the expectation.

When it rains, it pours and I keep going. Why? I had an unexpected pep talk earlier this week. I had a mid-afternoon appointment where I needed a solution. Platitudes are nice but do not solve problems. Diversions are my specialty, when I don't have priorities. Fluff like bows, sparkles, Poppies, my sketchbook, flowers, sunshine and the color pink? Perfect.

Anything that involves a pep talk usually forces me to stop any expression on my face, and try to contain my straightforward eye contact. Ultimately, I resist the urge to exercise my pupils in circular motion-which is usually perceived as impolite. In this evolved pep talk, there was a lot of serious content. I was driving toward a solution. I thought I had everything set into motion. Unbeknownst to me, I would still be stuck with the problem. I had eight hours to solve a problem on two hours of sleep. "Adulting" on a stringent time frame is an overrated sport. I gulped, left the conversation with the parting words, "I am extremely tough. I will handle this."

My response revealed defensive posturing and cranking my adrenaline up to make my brain work. I gave the pep talk to myself after a long day. Someone else validated what I said and provided grounds for my claim of toughness. Someone I had an hour of professional experience with validated something I didn't realize about myself. How does someone, like me, get to 40 and not recognize capability? I was faking it until I made it. In my semi-impaired sleepless state, I refused to cry. I am allergic to my own tears and if I were to start the water works, the faucet would have flowed like a scene in Disney's Alice in Wonderland's meltdown.

In the end game, the person absolutely could not help me. In a typical set of options, there must be a plan B. Plan B fell through. Plan C relied solely on any prior experience I'd had. I'm not the most confident in the particular boxing ring I entered, but I put my gloves on and tried my hand at a skill that was rusty. To my surprise, the results were far better than I previously thought they might be. It's a good thing I pray a lot and practice a faith that puts life in my veins. I see truth in this entire week. A tapestry of mysteries were revealed.

This week did not end with an "F" or "Fffffff". The reader is left to openly interpret that letter for whatever it might stand for other than an Academic grade of failure.


This message was crafted from my iPhone. Please excuse any typos.