A Little Rough Patch

I hit a little rough patch recently. Meaning I got twisted around an axle or I took a short ride on the crazy train or I could not get my act together. So many ways to say I lost it. Yep. I lost it and told everyone. Yep. Told everyone and resigned from a thing or two and talked with someone which is different from telling someone. Talking with someone means I actually listened to them talk back to me and I felt better so I have regained my balance, untwisted, jumped off the train and gotten my act together in so much as that can take place. Whew! Being colorful or a character or given to histrionics (my least favorite descriptive term for it) is exhausting. To be fair I have been and still am in an extremely stressful situation and was knocked off my game by the stress. I was, like the infamous weeble, wobbling but I did not fall down. ( Google it. Weebils wobble but they do not fall down.) So, this is short and sweet but meant as an encouragement to anyone reading it which is, admittedly, a short list of people. The encouragement is that most of us will live to fight another day, the sun will come out tomorrow and all that happy stuff. Problems may not fade or even dim. It seems that perception and attitude are the two component parts that, when plugged into faith, can affect a change in me and in you even if the problem remains the same. The lesson for me is that I am not bad or wrong for being knocked off my game. Nor is it wrong that the problem did not change. I am able to accept the opportunity for change and apply it. This, my friends, is no small grace of God. I seem incapable of lingering for long in the mire of misery even when many understand the misery given the circumstances. I make a lousy cynic and would fail completely at being a curmudgeon. In contrast to that statement, I enjoy the company of curmudgeons so much. They are funny and determined to keep a stiff upper lip. Underneath the crusty old so and so's sullen look lurks a heart of gold. Don't let on that you see it though. Bad form. Very bad form. If it is true that poets are born out of deep melancholy and depression I am destined to fail at rhyming. I may dash off a few lines while in one of my frequent pity pots but nothing more and what's the point? I can, however, conversate on almost any side of any argument with an equal passion. I am particularly good at this if I have very little knowledge of the topic. This would mean that I do have an advanced degree in slinging the bull. Americans are overrun with expressions in statements to indicate a state of mind or a character trait. Of course, I cannot literally sling a bull. Slinging the bull verbally? Yes. Yes, I can sling the bull verbally. Sling, slam dunk and over and out. I need to eat something. I am off on a tangent. Oops. Sorry. Another expression of statement to describe a mood. They are literally everywhere.