March 4: Day One, Spring Break, Walter Mitty, "Rye" Dip

Welcome to Day One of Spring Break.  I have twelve hours of work ahead of me, so it doesn't seem like too much of a vacation at the moment.  Granted, I don't have to leave my medical office job in order to teach at the university.  That is a break from my usual daily routine.  But, as you are all well aware, I'm, generally, a glass-half-empty kind of person.  What is going through my mind right now is this:  if I were full-time professor at the university, I would still be in bed, under my quilt, dreaming sweet dreams without care (to borrow a phrase from Dr. Seuss).  Instead, I'm up at 4 a.m., as usual, preparing for a long day of human interaction.

If it sounds like I'm feeling sorry for myself, I'm not.  Well, not too much.  I'm just fantasizing about the good life.  A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a post on a Friday in which I exaggerated a great deal.  OK, I lied unashamedly.  It was quite liberating.  For a few blogging minutes, I was able to pretend I had the life I've always wanted.  I felt like Walter Mitty with his ta-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa.

I don't think I'm unusual in my Mittyesque musings.  Most people dream during their days.  About winning the lottery or starring in movies or writing bestselling books or winning the Nobel Prize in Literature or finding an intelligent/compassionate Republican.  Some of those fantasies are attainable (writing a book, even if it doesn't hit the bestseller lists).  Other fantasies are just that--pure, unadulterated make-believe (the intelligent/compassionate Republican).  However, human beings need to dream, because, without dreams, life seems pretty hopeless.

As a Christian, I have an edge in the hope department.  I know that hope exists.  There is always light in the darkness.  While I have struggled at times to find that light, I always have.  Of course, in the darkness, I have prayed for unrealistic things sometimes, such as a distant rich relative dying and leaving me a multimillion dollar estate or the MacArthur Foundation awarding me a genius grant.  In my most desperate moments, my prayer always boils down, becomes distilled, simpler:  God, help me, help me, help me, help me.

You may be wondering what all this has to do with  Rye Dip Monday.  Well, I think the questions I ask in my posts on Monday mornings are, sort of, a form of prayer.  They voice my worries and hopes and dreams.  The answers I get from The Catcher in the Rye are just a way of focusing the thoughts and feelings that already exist within me, put there by a Higher Power.

Today, I'm going to keep my question simple:

Will I have a good day?

And the answer from the gospel of Salinger is:

...One of my troubles is, I never care too much when I lose something--it used to drive my mother crazy when I was a kid.  Some guys spend days looking for something they lost.  I never seem to have anything that if I lost it I'd care too much...

That answer seems pretty obvious.  I need to stop worrying, because worry doesn't accomplish anything.  It just makes the worrier feel lousy.  Give all my concerns up to God, and I will have a good day.

The universe is working for Saint Marty's happiness right now.  He can hear its engine running:  ta-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa...