This morning I was sitting in front of the fire thinking about what, if anything at all, I had to write about, which of course caused me to ponder my overall value as a human being and question if my life was really worth all the trouble it took to exist, you know, all the trials and tribulations, the trauma of being born and growing up - all the pain, all the struggles, all the humiliation, the pills, the booze, the whatever-that-stuff-was-in-the-hooka, the dangerous liaisons, alliances forged with so many so-called friends, the kind that live in box cars and are wearing the same pants they've worn for three months. All this, just to live? Really, is this worth the bother?
When this musing still didn't prompt a topic I decided to look at my old posts, studying them carefully to find clues to their brilliance. It was then that I noticed the time of each posting and it was then that I realized The Great Truth, the kind that only the greatest truth-seekers realize eventually.
I'm not worth shit after 11:05 am.
And this previously unknown fact has been responsible for many things in my life that I took the blame for. Let's face it, you can't live most of your prime life time sleeping and expect great things to happen. Basically, on any day from midnight to 11:05 am I can do anything. The sky's the limit. So what am I doing during most of this time? Yeah, sleeping, that's what. That's just so like me to waste prime time like that. I am such a screw up. I hate me so much.
Of course, now that I am aware of this, I know that there is a chance that if I start getting up earlier I can get some good stuff in before the deadline. But - you know, it's early, man. C'mon.
So let's not dwell on the negative for once, ok? Let's look for the silver lining to my nocturnally limited brilliance, shall we? Hold on, I am still looking.......
Right! Brilliant! I can use this handicap as an excuse to absolve myself from any responsibility I might have in my life's
February, 1958, 10:53 PM - entered life the wrong way. It's head first, idiot, not butt first! causing my mother to hold a grudge forever. Good one, Einstein. This could have been avoided if I had stayed put for a few hours longer, but at 10:53PM, I was obviously not capable of making wise decisions.
June, 1963, 1:45 PM - (5 years old) I got mad after being kissed by a boy. A boy named Renee was pushing me on a swing and took this opportunity to kiss me on the cheek. I promptly jumped off the swing and ran away. This was a mistake, of course, because I suspect Renee would have been one of the better relationship choices I could have made in life, however, since this happened after 11:05 AM, I was not capable of realizing that this one mistake would leave me open for many more.
September 1969, 3:30 PM: Went shopping for back-to-school shoes, the only "individual" item of clothing allowed in Catholic school, (and how I learned this very important fact - shoes say everything about who you are.) I selected The Wrong Shoes, of course, and as a result, was ridiculed relentlessly by John and Nathaniel, the bucked-toothed, horse-faced identical twins, for the entire school year. Or maybe only one of them ridiculed me. I don't know, they were identical, down to the clothes and yes, the shoes. People like that should have to wear name tags or muzzles. Anyway, I got even by cutting their photos out of each and every class picture for the next 7 years. But again, if stores had been open during my prime time, that mistake would never have been made.
August 1971, 4:45 pm: After "designing" a tire swing using rope the strength of decorative ribbon, I boldly volunteered to take the test drive, falling several feet through the trees to the ground, hitting my ear on a rock, resulting in 5 stitches and a lecture from my father in which he spoke loudly. Around that same time, my friend and I decided to hang out with some boys, not realizing the truth about the kind of boys who just like to hang out with girls. If my parents had allowed me to socialize after midnight these mistakes would not have happened, although other, undoubtedly bigger mistakes would have.
June 1977, 10:00 AM. I got married the first time. (AUTHOR'S NOTE : My Catholic upbringing always makes me think of the stations of the cross when people talk about their marriages this way. When people say "I got married the first time" it's so much like "Jesus falls the first time" in many ways, really. Either way, the story usually ends the same - someone is eventually screwed. )
Now, note that I claim I was married at 10:00 AM. If that were true, I wouldn't have been married that day because I still had another hour and change before my ignorance would set in, but here's why it DID happen - The invitation stated that the wedding would take place at 10:00 am but the thing is, a Catholic wedding ceremony takes so damned long. You see, you have to include Mass. Mass is mandatory. Nothing happens in a Catholic church without Mass. So by the time everyone was ready and a FULL MASS was performed, the official time of marriage was 11:32, which means that I was 27 minutes too late to make a good decision and a clean getaway. However, and this is important, resulting children were not mistakes, so that Mass may have helped after all. Yes, I did it for you, kids and don't you dare forget it. God wanted you bad.
Well, my goodness, where DID the time go? You know, there are so many mistakes I cannot be held responsible for, way too many to illustrate, so I'll leave you with just these few, because let's face it - the others are just too embarrassing. But the point is, I just can't be held responsible because I am not very smart until after 11:05 AM and I have a note from my psychologist to prove it.
PS: all those jobs I was fired from started too early. That's all.