September 6: How Many Roads, Long Week, Faking It

Frankie and Benjy mouse are trying to come up with the Ultimate Question about life, the universe, and everything (they already have the answer--42) . . .

"Difficult," said Frankie.  He thought.  "How about What's yellow and dangerous?"

Benjy considered this for a moment.

"No, no good," he said.  "Doesn't fit the answer."

They sank into silence for a few seconds.

"All right," said Benjy.  "What do you get if you multiply six by seven?"

"No, no, too literal, too factual," said Frankie, "wouldn't sustain the punters' interest."

Again they thought.

Then Frankie said, "Here's a thought.  How many roads must a man walk down?"

"Ah, said Benjy.  "Aha, now that does sound promising!"  He rolled the phrase around a little.  "Yes," he said, "that's excellent!  Sounds very significant without actually tying you down to meaning anything at all.  How many roads must a man walk down?  Forty-two   Excellent, excellent, that'll fox 'em.  Frankie, baby, we are made!"

They performed a scampering dance in their excitement.

Searching for answers in life is difficult.  Questions are a little easier.  I'm sure that, if I put my mind to work, I would be able to come up with a list of questions that plague most people, starting with Why do good people have to suffer? to How do I live a meaningful life? to What happens to all the matching socks that I put in the dryer?  Frankie and Benjy don't really care about the Ultimate Question or its answer.  They care about themselves.  That's it.  Their happiness is about becoming rich and famous.

It has been a very long week.  I'm plain exhausted right now.  Today, I worked about ten hours, came home, and then cleaned at church for a few hours (another job I have now).   My feet are sore.  My eyes are burning.  And my mind is Jell-O.  I'm too tired to get much deeper than that. 

Despite working 16 or 17 hours, however, I've had a good day.  It wasn't complicated or stressful.  Sure, I'm tired, but that's a cumulative tiredness that comes from the week's activities.  Right now, I'm sitting in my living room, typing this blog post (something I love to do), and I don't have a deadline.  Don't have any lessons to plan or quizzes to worry about.  I even get to sleep late tomorrow.

So, my answer tonight to What makes you happy? is pretty simple:  Friday night.  I am more relaxed than I've been in days.  Of course, there are worries still hovering around my head like hummingbirds, but I'm not letting them take over.  Not tonight.  Instead, I'm going to pretend that I'm completely content and happy.  My therapist friend has a saying for this:  "Fake it 'til you make it."  It's pretty simple advice.  Sometimes, when your life is falling apart, you just have to act as though everything is okay.  You keep doing that, over and over.  It's called survival.

So, for the next ten or eleven hours, my life is going to be perfect.  I'm going to eat well.  Write well.  Love well.  Sleep well.

Who knows?  Maybe Saint Marty's life will be perfect when he wakes up tomorrow morning.

Some perfect reading to end the night with . . .