I’ve written this column for quite a while, and I rarely have problems coming up with material. There’s always something interesting.funny.annoying around here.Maybe I’m just tired. I feel for all of you who plug along year after year trying to breathe air into these walls.
I just can’t find the motivation to inspire or find any humor here today. I’m stuck in that murky place where disgust meets I-just-don’t-give-a-(insert your favorite unprofessional word here.)
See, like the rest of you, I have a life. Actually, I have several.
For example, I have a family life.
I have a husband who works 50 to 70 hours a week, so I can learn. He cooks and cleans and, every so often, he sleeps. But he keeps trying and trying and trying.
I have a 16-year-old whose nose I regularly check for that God-awful piercing she tries to hide up in there. But her paintings make me cry; she has my grandmother’s talent.
I have a 14-year-old who recently broke her hand trying to punch her little sister in the knee-and who also just broke the thumb of her other hand. Something to be said for justice, I suppose. She’ll be in Chicago for a choir concert by the end of the week if she can keep from breaking anything else.
I have a 12-year-old boy who just tested in the 70-something’th percentile for college-bound seniors on the ACT and is going to court for delinquency for playing with his air-soft toy gun outside. This same kid has me raising money for his Destination Imagination team’s global competition and getting up on weekends at 7 a.m. to take him to work as a caddie. Over-achieving little punk.
I’ve got a fifth grader who’s likely going to skip a grade; the kid scored in the 98th percentile on seventh grade achievement tests, yet she looks like she’s about eight. Next to her, I’m an idiot. She’s even smart enough to pretend I’m not.
And I have a new addition to my home-my half-daughter whose mother is not just your run-of-the-mill psycho ex. Court protection orders will be pending soon-finally.
But that’s just a few of my lives. I also have an extended family life.
My grandpa was recently diagnosed with four blocked arteries, and my 40-something sister just had her third baby in Florida. I have two pregnant cousins and a third about to be married. My mom’s reliving her teenaged irresponsible years with her boyfriend, and I could have a relationship with my dad if only I could find the time.
My family owns a lake cottage in Michigan that has been part of my existence since my great-grandmother was a little girl, and my uncle’s trying to yank it out from under three generations of us. Ashley’s latest painting was a lake sunset-still crying.
I have an academic life.
Last week, in between doctor’s appointments, court hearings, and school district meetings, I studied and learned and tested for five chapters of management, three chapters of accounting, and five chapters of finance. I eeked out two papers and ten pages of homework, four reports, an oral quiz, and an article.
I have a professional life.
I’ve had interview after interview after interview-even had to turn down my best offer last week because they wanted me to start right away.
Apparently, I have a political life.
If politics involved honesty and the ability to say it like it is, I’d be good at politics. Unfortunately, there is little room for truth, and I can’t feign respect, and I don’t coddle well. Thank you, Lord, for not making me a politician. Accounting is just fine with me.
I even have a spiritual life.
God and I have an understanding. It’s mostly one-sided, but we understand each other just the same. I have a feeling I’ve disrupted that balance of power lately. Otherwise, I’d have material that is interesting for people to read this week. Instead, I just have my many lives and a feeling like I just don’t give a (well, you know.)