This week I’ve been feeling a little burnt out. Seriously, I’m starting to feel like the kid in Jumanji as he’s being sucked into the board game.
Stretched too thin and unsure of what the heck is going to happen next.
Also, if I wake up tomorrow morning looking like Robin Williams, there is going to be hell to pay.
It’ll be a drive by fruiting!
Even though I thoroughly enjoy my work, and all my volunteer commitments, my training sessions (I take the good with the bad, and even the ugly), and my creative pursuits (nay, passions), I kind of feel like I have too many fingers, in too many pies, and they are all being burned to a crisp by a blisteringly hot blueberry filling.
And I bloody well LOVE blueberry filling!
Can someone pass me some vanilla ice cream, stat?
For the past five days, each time my alarm has gone off, the first thought to immediately to pop into my head has been: “NO. I REFUSE.”
The second has been: “What the frick am I going to wear to work today?”
Followed by the third and last: “I better not have a zit to contend with, or I’m going to lose it!”
Yeesh. Forget Robin Williams, I’m slowly morphing into George Costanza.
(Number three on that list is a throw back from high school. I used to have pretty awful skin, and even though I’ve had a clear complexion for quite a while now, I can’t shake this compulsion. Especially since every once in a while I’ll get a major doozy of a zit. Case in point, yesterday as I left an after-work function completely destroyed from exhaustion, I could practically feel my heart beating in what can only be described as the monster pimple from hell. Amazingly, in the span of only two hours, this thing had sprouted from nothing, to wrecking havoc with the earth’s gravitational pull.)
I’ll live, I’m sure, but trauma was endured.
So this morning as I rode the metro to work I was feeling a little down.
I was late leaving my house, so I didn’t have the option of waiting for a train that had available seats, so I hopped on the first car that stopped at the station. Leaning back on the glass partition that separates a five-seat bench from the train doors, I nonchalantly skimmed through the free newspaper I had been handed at the station’s entrance, and watched the scenery zip by.
As I marveled at the beautiful cherry blossom trees that line the skytrain route, I also drank in the different coloured blues, pinks, and greens that made up the early morning sky.
Just the simple act of meditating on nature’s beauty made my heart feel a little lighter.
And then BAM!
I saw it.
Written right in front of me.
A little piece of graffiti, scribbled in pencil on the carriage’s door. An adolescent’s script:
Amor Vincit Omnia.
Love conquers all.
Just out there, for the world to see.
And as the train bopped along, and the cherry blossoms cherried, and the blue sky blued itself (there’s an arrested development joke somewhere in there), I thought to myself:
HELL YES LOVE CONQUERS ALL! LET’S GET THIS DAY STARTED!
Just reading those three words was like getting kicked in the butt by a big boot filled with awesome sauce.
In a split second I was ready to rock.
Because folks, at the base of it all, I am a love warrior. I will fight tooth and nail for the individuals in my life who live inside my heart.
I just need to remember once in a while that that I should be included in that list of people.
That I should fight for, and love, and revel in myself, Godzilla pimple and all.
And so I too encourage all of you to do the same for yourselves.
(I can even provide the boot, complete with sauce, if needed.)
Though I may be sleeping soundly when you place your order.
Because hot damn, warrioring can be hard work.
And I’m still pretty tired.