Music and Lyrics

Wouldn't it be lovely if life had a soundtrack? Think about it for a moment. Every memorable or powerful scene from any film you have ever seen has some sort of musical accompaniment to go along with it. Why can't life be like that too? I suspect even the more absurd moments of life would be rendered hilarious rather than potentially frustrating with an appropriate tune behind it.

Case in point - imagine standing on your back porch on a cold and windy spring day, clothed only in your bathrobe and dripping wet from having just jettisoned yourself from the shower in order to let the dog out to do what dogs do. While you stand there shivering, you are imploring said dog to do her business so you might return to the warmth of the house to regain what remains of your dignity. This experience along might not be enjoyable per se. But imagine going through it with the strains of the "Overture" from the Marriage of Figaro swirling about your convulsing self. It makes the entire experience seem almost funny. And what about the race to get two girls fed, dressed, and otherwise ready in time for preschool drop off with its inevitable lost shoes, spilled juice, and ill-timed bathroom breaks? The William Tell Overture or Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries would send the entire experience from just plain loony, to the ranks of Looney Tunes.

While we are at it, why don't we request sound effects as well? (I'm not certain to whom this request might be made, but I am making it nevertheless!) Even the most frustrating or embarrassing pratfalls and mishaps that invariably fill your day would lose their edge with a "wah-wah" or a "ba-dum-bum" going on behind the scenes. Again, think about the classic cartoons. The animators behind them could make corporal punishment seem funny with the right audio mix. I am simply suggesting that we add that audio mix to life.

Life is absurd. There is no getting around that. Even the most ordered and controlled environment cannot insulate one from the inherent chaos of it all. The beautiful thing about life, however, is that it is crazy, wacky, and, as a result, undeniably funny. Perhaps if we all had the appropriate soundtrack accompaniment, it would be easier for us all to enjoy the inescapable hilarity of our existence.

"BA-DUM-CHING!!!!"

Ladies and Gentlemen.....

I am a schmuck. I have heard it said that admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery. So I thought I would take this opportunity to do so. I am a schmuck. Please allow me to explain. I feel sorry for myself. Often. Way too often if we are to be honest. I struggle almost daily to maintain some semblance of a positive attitude as I attempt to live in and manage my life. Dave works full time and is pursuing his PhD in Chemical Engineering. I am a full time mom and trying to finish my PhD in History. Our girls are active, bright, and demand (and deserve!) a great deal of attention. Our church responsibilities often require a great deal of time and effort, sometimes taking away evenings we would otherwise spend on our family and/or our research. And then there's the dog. Did I mention we got a dog? Every day seems a gauntlet of things to do and not enough time in which to do them. And there are days when the pressure gets to me. A lot. I am embarrassed to admit that I strain under the weight of it all, sometimes to the point where I find myself sitting on the floor crying wishing I were stronger, smarter, or simply more capable of succeeding in the life I have been given.

I have been in one of those ruts lately as I have wrestled with my latest chapter while trying to maintain some semblance of balance with everything else. Needless to say it has been difficult to see the proverbial forest through the trees. But every once in a while I make the effort to climb above the timberline and look around me. Last night was one of those occasions. And that's when it hit me. I am a schmuck.

There are people - some who I know and love, some who I've never met but in whom I have become invested through the blogosphere - who are truly struggling. The difference between these resplendent people and myself? They They do it all with nary a complaint. The beautiful and talented Nie Nie was in a near fatal plane accident and now spends her days coping with the surgeries, therapies, and other traumatic challenges that go along with having severe burns over the majority of her body. Yet she soldiers on with amazing grace. My lovely uncle Bill is dying. He was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor not long after he married my Aunt Nancy and his health has been a slow descent my entire life. And yet he has always been the sweetest, kindest, and often funniest person I have known. His remarkable family is taking such great care of him in his final days and has faced the realities of his life with enviable courage and perspective. Every where I turn it seems I find more stories like these - of friends and family staring down the financial crises surrounding all of us while maintaining their faith and humor or facing familial crises with hope and optimism. I firmly believe that God gives the greatest challenges to the strongest souls. Just one look around me proves this to be true.

And so I arrived at the realization that the challenges in my life - you know, those under whose weight I regularly crumple - are not truly challenges at all. They really are opportunities that require an inordinate amount of effort and perspective. So what if Dave loses his job in the forthcoming layoffs announced by his company? He has a position waiting for him with his graduate advisor. He would have the luxury of taking a full load, and would have more academic options open to him when he's finished. Yes it would mean a huge cut in pay. But we would keep our house. That fact alone means we will be so much better off than so many. So what if my thesis has been held up again? This time it's the result of a potentially game-changing realization. Some things are more important that a deadline. And in the end, I will have a PhD. Neat. So what if I find it difficult to balance mom and grad student on a daily basis? I have kids - something for which many people ache desperately yet are never able to have. And not just any kids. The most amazing, talented, charming and otherwise adorable girls who have ever walked the face of the earth. I can deal with any amount of stress as long as I get them in the bargain. When all is said and done, being Ellie's buddy and Ginny's prince charming equates to a happy life. Period. As for my husband? With marriages falling apart all around us, I am profoundly grateful that Dave is my best friend. He is my refuge, my comic relief, and my sounding board. And he is a phenomenal dad. So what if our life feels like a pressure cooker sometimes? We are a team. That alone makes everything else okay.

And so I reiterate. I am a schmuck. But I hope that my willingness to admit to that fact will help me to appreciate everything I have and not let petty discouragements get me down. In the meantime, please allow me to send a virtual but sincere thank you to all of you who remind me of the kind of person I want to be - who exhibit kindness, hope, grace, compassion, consideration, generosity, and optimism. These have never been my strongest traits. I intend to make them stronger. And maybe, just maybe, one day I will be a little less of a schmuck and a little more like you.

A Word From the Void....

Yes, I am living in a thesis-induced stupor right now. Thank you very much for asking. I should be writing. Really. It is time. I went through all of my documents twice over and had a game plan. I even wrote it down. On paper. In outline form and everything. I was ready. But a funny thing happened on the way to my deadline. I made a discovery. Something cool. I even think it will make my project better. At the very least it will make the finished product a little more interesting. So herein lies the trouble. This thing that will improve my project is something that I had not noticed before. In any of my readings of my documents. At all. And so, once more into the breech I go. Hundreds of pages of barely legible documents captured in photograph upon photograph of marginal quality (I was pregnant and on the other side of the Atlantic for crying out loud!) have wriggled their way back into my life. And while I am excited about what this all might mean for the ultimate result, in the short term this means I will not have my chapter finished by my goal, the most hallowed of all hallowed days, Selection Sunday. I will not have the luxury of indiscriminately watching game after game for days on end. In short, basketball gluttony will have to wait until next year. Ah well. There's always the Masters.....

P.S. On a completely random and otherwise unrelated note, I am willing to offer a significant reward (payable in M&Ms) to anyone who can explain to me why "Blame it on the Bossanova" is going through my head incessantly and how I can get it to stop.