Ugh

I often wake up in the morning, brush my teeth and think, “Ugh.”

I know exactly what’s coming: I’ll wake up my two kids, walk the dog, make breakfast, pack two lunchboxes, get in the car, drive the tykes to school, return home, shower, procrastinate, pack up my stuff, go to Starbucks, write/research, pick up the kids, take the daughter to piano, etc … etc.

It’s a good life. No, a great life. I am blessed beyond blessed beyond blessed, and were I to die tomorrow I couldn’t complain about how things have gone.

And yet …

Sometimes I can’t help but think, “Is this as good as it gets?” By this, I mean—literally—life. It can all seem so … inane. And trite. And repetitive. And meaningless. Here in suburbia, all the parents are overly intense about making certain their kids get into the “special” program for “advanced” students. Then they’ll get into the program. Then, instead of going to Hartford, they’ll go to Harvard. They’ll study, drink, get laid, graduate—and enter the world. And, inevitably, at age 39, stare into the mirror, thinking, “Ugh.”

Why? Because we’re damned by limitations. Life can only be so great. I think that’s why people turn to drugs and affairs and insane, inane material possessions. Truth be told, I also think that’s why we turn to sports. They’re escapes from the boring-as-dirt realities many of us face. The bright uniforms. The muscles. The speed. The power. The cheerleaders. Like pornography, they’re vacations from the norm. But they end with a Click!, and then we’re back.

Here.

4 thoughts on “Ugh”

  1. Unless you believe there is more to this life. More than living and dying. Like maybe you were created by God with a purpose. And nothing is meaningless. And maybe you can find meaning even in the mundane. Still not perfect, but fulfilled. And peace. Peace in the midst of chaos and suffering and even boredom.

    I love that you still even think about and wrestle with the supernatural. Even though Christians often make Christianity really unappealing … Jesus is the real deal.

    1. Thanks, Wendy. Believe me, I wish I shared your faith, because it seems very comforting. But, even with Jesus, a brotha’s still gotta wake up day after day after day and brush his teeth.

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