Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Bitter? Happy?

Mom assures me that I would be happier if I weren't bitter. She says others would, too.

I can't say on others, though I will say I don't think I exude bitterness, certainly not in public. I may give into funks more frequently when I am home, but for the most part when home, I am alone in my room, reading, writing, watching TV or napping.

I am unsure if I would be happier.

I do not expect God to come a-knockin' and say: "I am so sorry for the unfairness present in this world I created. I totally could have done better. And all that stuff about 'ask and it shall be given,' that was just stupid. Surely I am not going to answer every prayer as people want."

However, I do not feel like letting God off the hook either, even if it doesn't matter to him.

I am not alone in hating unfairness. I am not anywhere near the most put-upon person I know. But God has to know that I am not happy with him. And bitterness is a way to show him.

Monday, April 24, 2017


I was reading the remembrances of a woman who was friends with a guy I knew in college. From what I could tell he had cancer, but it didn't just kill him. It took his eyesight and other things.

The woman said that he did not complain about the unfairness of it all, just sought to deal with it.

What, I wondered, is that like?

I'm not sure that I'd want to not be bitter. I mean, I'm not mad about it all day, every day. And I don't talk about fairness to friends a lot, but I suspect most of my friends know.

Thursday, April 20, 2017

Uh ... nevermind

I fell today -- nothing major -- but I am surprisingly disappointed.

I hadn't said anything, but I hadn't fallen in a while, like maybe 10 days.  (I thought it was longer when I started to write this; 10 days is not too impressive.)

Monday, April 17, 2017

What Have I Done to Deserve This?

Once during my career as a Pet Shop Boy (really, I was a boy who worked in a local pet shop), I lost the key to the cash register. I felt sick, not just because it was on an awesome Fender Stratocaster keychain. I know people lose things, but I had betrayed a trust.

I told my boss, who must have seen how bad I felt. His response: He put one arm around my neck, said "OK" and pretended to punch me in the stomach with the other arm.

He then told me it was OK, blah, blah, blah.

Now, close to 30 years later, I feel the same way for losing a remote control to a door and my key card. Worse, their lose was a result of my bad wheelchair driving and the "Unsafe at any speed" issue I had recently pointed out.

I was trying to find the elevator that had binged, so I was driving around with my eyes on the elevator lights when BAM. I hit a wall.

I suspect my stuff fell off my lap then, but I did not notice and it wasn't there when I returned. But I re-walked my trip twice and didn't find it.

I hate being disabled.

The title is a real Pet Shop Boys' song.

Saturday, April 15, 2017


As any Catholic school veteran, Holy Week makes me think. It does not make me think good things, though.

How could God allow that to happen to his son?

What hope to any of us have in light of that? Maybe we'll be fine when we die, but we need help now.

Why are those of us who suffer told that one day (in some vague distant future) we'll be happy?

Why do we have to rely on other people, not an all-powerful God who supposedly loves us enough to  sacrifice his own son, which leads back to the first question?

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