Friday

Today is Friday. To the untrained eye, this maiden sentence is completely straightforward. The phrase, “today is Friday” is not plain and candid, but complex and mosaic. What better way to inaugurate a new chapter than on Friday, the day of hope, the day of destiny? This strategically placed day marks the end of one era and the beginning of another. “Today is Friday,” optimistically shouts the possibility of life untainted by the past and illuminated by the endless possibilities of the future.

Thoughts

I am going to do something that I have never done before. I am going to refer to myself as a writer, a term that I have always shied away from and kept in reserve for those with superior talent such as Steinbeck, Dickens, DuBois, Hardy, Corimer, Bronte, Austen, and Fitzgerald. Recently I made an explanatory discovery in the dictionary, “writer- one who commits his or her thoughts to writing.” That is what I do, I may not do it as effectively as some, but I do it nonetheless. As a recently self-discovered author, I would like to “commit my thoughts to writing.”
I am not an old man. I am not of the depression era, or can I take claim to the title of “Baby-Boomer.” I do however have the same outlook on life that someone from a prior age would have. I love to work, and in my mind work is equivalent to manual labor. I find joy in my hands, in the ability to change my situation by hard work. As I type these phonemic symbols, and my fingers uncontrollably “twitch” to the wrong letters, I feel anger for those people who have in their wallet a monthly pass to an air-conditioned building full of exercise equipment, an d who find the need to hire a plumber, landscaper, gardener, trench digger, tree trimmer, house cleaner, dog walker, babysitter, or whatever else they need to eliminate from their busy, 21st century, self-serving schedules. I have the desire to work, help and serve, and the ability and talent of physical labor, so why in God’s infinite wisdom does my body not work the way that a 32 year old man’s body should work?

Life

“Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re going to get.” How profound. Why am I who I am? Why was I not born in a humble Haitian setting? Instead of comparing this life to a sweet piece of candy, I would like to parallel life to something a little more accurate, crap. Yes, it is true that we never know what we will get; however, the end result is rarely pleasant. If you happen to work in the medical field or another cushy, pointless occupation that provides an unwarranted, padded income, you will not understand the power in the eyes of this young lady, but for the rest of us these eyes speak to the heart and soul. Having lived in Europe without a car, I know that to walk in the streets of the cities is dangerous in that you are likely to step in some dog’s leftovers. So today I would like to change Forrest’s quote to, “Life is like taking a walk on a metropolitan, European sidewalk you never know what you are going to get.”

Last Night

Unfortunately I am extremely tired this morning due to a most unfortunate situation last night. As many people know, I have a swell wife with many talents. (The following sentence only works in this situation because of the amazing compliment which I just paid my wife.) Being tolerable while sick is sadly not one of my wife’s many abilities. Yesterday she was even more worn out by the time I got home after taking care of a bunch of sickly rug rats all day and making dinner. I finally got “mi princesa” (a phrase hear meaning I have a wonderful wife that is very forgiving) into bed and resting, however this is precisely when my nightmare began. During the night I woke up 16 times due to extreme snoring produced by congestion, 21 times due to an overheated body tossing and turning next to me, and 11 times due to a soggy, gooey tissue being stuck to one of my many body parts.

Little Things

Sometimes it is the little things that we are thankful for. May I take this opportunity to paint a picture in your mind of what I am trying so hard to refer to with the phrase, “sometimes it is the little things that we are thankful for.” This morning on my 27 ½ minute drive to work I experienced a truly humbling experience. I had just distilled a string of transparent drool off the edge of my chin; an unfortunate situation produced by a momentary loss of concentration. I looked down at my stained slacks to mop up the slobbery mess with my left hand; then with one continuous swipe I strategically placed the vile on the bottom side of my seat. My eyes couldn’t have been off to road for more than 30 seconds when I raised my head again to make sure that I was still headed in the correct direction. As my gaze met the horizon in the distance I briefly noticed out the corner of my eye a most amazing sight, and even though I only saw it for a split second, I knew that I had been blessed. On the side of the road I saw a metallic green sign bordered by white reflective paint that simply said in white letters, “Farmington Next 3 Exits.”

Happiness

Life is about living. Life is wonderful. Have a great attitude and keep smiling. Elder Maxwell refers to today as the "holy present.' Remember to live each life to the fullest and share a smile with somebody else. My blogs have always been stories, but lately I just don't have time for stories, so I figure that I should just be writing whatever is on my mind, and today it is happiness.

Synopsis

I have an extremely difficult life; in fact any other person in my situation would immediately jump off the nearest cliff screaming, “AHHHHHHHHH!” All the way down. I however am a trooper, in fact I am more than that, I am a hero. Currently I work as an assistant principal (I have been strategically placed in an assistant’s role to aide a “sweet,” but “aging” principal) and as an assistant principal my role is to listen to all of the whining that takes place at my elementary school. Just to give you a little taste of what I go through on a daily basis I will proceed in the next two sentences to provide you with a graphic picture of my daily torture with a specific dialogue I had with a subordinate employee just the other day:

“Bryan my feet hurt from standing out in the cold for 15 minutes,” complained the forty-five year old duty named Stacy as she sported her funny looking, florescent green lifejacket.
“Stacy why don’t you come inside and take a nap while I take your place for a while,” I valiantly replied.
The end.

As you wipe the tears of sadness away from your eyes I will give you a moment of silence to pay your respects to my goodness. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------.

My extraordinarily difficult life also includes a nagging wife and five semi-intelligent children who unfortunately take after my wife. Tiffany, my wife, is a short, skinny, dirty-dishwater blonde who looks exactly like Tom Petty. To this day she is not aware of the large sum her former boss paid me in order to take her off of his hands by marrying her. Tiffany is a nice enough person with low intelligence; however she comes with a lot of baggage. Unfortunately her mother is clinically insane and spends her days chasing geese and goats around her two acre lot. Nevertheless, as I reflect upon the fact, I also have a clinically insane mother, but my superior will-power and intelligence make up for my poor matronly genes. My mother eats all of her food with a straw, laughs at her own jokes, and reads poorly written romance novels.

Some of you may be asking yourselves at this point how a normal person can survive living day to day in such circumstances. The simple answer is that I spend much of my time teasing my inferiors as you will see displayed in my subsequent journal entries. It must also be remembered that I am not a normal person; I am a hero.