I guess this is for me. Ultimately it has to be. Not because I am selfish (although true) but because I have no expectation of others reading this. I have no platform to express my thoughts and this seems as good a place as any. So here we are dear imaginary reader....here we are.
I want to say that I have known disappointment but I can't. Not in any true or significant sense of the word. Let me give you some context.
I love to play football, or as the heathens know it- Soccer. Soccer...such a bastardization of language. Strangely intense opinions on small matters aside, I have been playing in goals of late. It is actually quite fun and I had a really good game two weeks ago. In saying this I did have one significant problem. I pulled a tendon off the back of my finger (middle left in case you are wondering) and ended up with what is commonly called a mallet finger. The end of this story is that my finger is in a splint for the next 8 weeks and I couldn't play in goals anymore.
Next week I played on the field. This was fine as I was once a very good outfield player and I enjoyed the chance to get out and run around. The irony, however, was that my finger was going to become the least of my worries. In a twist of Shakespearian qualities (I'm exaggerating but it helps my desire to be somewhat dramatic) my knee and I had a falling out. My knee wanted to settle down, establish itself and maybe one day have kids but I wanted to move on, explore life and extend myself. Needless to say I moved to the left, it moved to the right and as in any relationship breakdown somebody gets caught in the middle. That was my ACL which I tore the right off the bone.
This is disappointing. It marks the final nail in the coffin of my youth. This last year has seen a few nails get driven in. The first was my thinning hair line, the second the absence of any desire to leave my home on a Saturday night and the third was noticing all of my friends now listen to AM talk back radio. Next will be my ever increasing waist line followed by an astounding urge to watch Matlock. Dick Van Dyke's appeal grows ever ominously upon the horizon. It haunts my dreams...
Disappointment...that's right. I was complaining about how I have suffered my share of disappointment and how life is hard as a result. Then the people I talked with opened their mouths. One was homeless due to a falling out with family. Another was experiencing the reality of losing someone through cancer. Yet another knew only what life was like when viewed through the lens of anxiety and depression. I just needed crutches to walk and had a hand that was permanently flipping people off. I'm fortunate when you think about it- one of my afflictions at least expressed how I felt. Yeah I have faced disappointment and yes disappointment is a personal thing based upon hopes, dreams and expectations for life. But I have not known great disappointment. At least not through the overt passing of my youth or the physical breakdown of my body.
My disappointment is real but it is not significant. I have faced much more significant disappointment in my life but that's a story for another day. So what is the point or moral of this story?
I guess it is that this is the standard you can expect from my blog. A poorly written, slightly rambling piece of literature that attempts but never reaches the height of what it means to be insightful or a good writer. But damn am I good at self-deprecation.
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