Frustrations! aka Ode to Frustration

You get people who walk around angry and frustrated with everyone and everything in the world…then you get the psychos who are angry and frustrated with themselves….pause….usually the two types are meshed into one very messy mess.  So why this title for this post?  Well, it’s not anything specific, there’s just a whole bunch of things am frustrated about of which many comes down to little ol’ me.

I’m frustrated that I have no money – my scholarship is stuck somewhere in the digital world of bank servers and routers.  I’m frustrated that I can’t seem to get this damn thesis done on time, that I keep missing deadlines too many times.  I’m frustrated when I see animals because I know there’s not a thing I can do for them – sick ones, dying ones, hungry ones, sad ones, broken ones.  I’m frustrated thinking about what’s going to happen to my two pets when I take them home – will they be treated well by those that are taking them in? will they adjust? will their lives be filled with happiness and contentment or not?  I’m frustrated thinking about what will happen to this neighbourhood dog who sleeps on our front verandah – will she think we’ve ‘abandoned’ her when we go home for Christmas holidays? will people stop feeding her because they think she’s ‘our’ dog now?  I’m frustrated with gossipy aunties especially the one who lives across!!!  I’m frustrated wondering about when will my money come so I can take ‘pinky’ the severe mange-infected-dog-who-is-lively-and-going-strong-but-whose-ears-might-fall-off to the vet!  I’m frustrated whenever I see a poor person, a beggar, a destitute, a broken man/woman/child – can’t I do anything for them? will I end up like them?  I’m frustrated at myself for getting frustrated about all these things! Phew…..inhale.

Basically this post is an ode to frustration…hmmm (note to self: change the title of the post).  It’s all part of life, I get it.  But the nervousness is sending what-not chemicals to my brain, heart and stomach (acid kills) and that can’t be good.

I’m frustrated I can’t talk to my dad anymore, at least not till it’s my time to reach the ‘pearly gates’.    I miss him and having him to talk to.  You know how sometimes after a death, memories of the one who has gone become a little romanticized and polished over?  I wonder if I’m doing that when I think or talk about my father.  I find myself talking about him a lot more than usual and always as if he’s still around.  My attempts at normalization.  Then I get a little mad…it’s selfish really, but I get mad at people who still have their dad’s.  I want to run at them, grab them by the shoulders and shake the living daylights out of them, shouting ‘You’re so lucky to still have your dad! Cherish him! Cherish him! Don’t be an ass!’ But if that person gives me the stink eye and tells me they have a messed up ‘relationship’ with their father because well, he was a jerk; then I will gingerly step away and say, ‘Sorry, wrong person.” Gulp.

I’m frustrated with people who behave as if they can control when and how they die which is why they act like jerks and idiots – like they have all the time in the world to stay hung up over things that are better left dead, buried and finished.  I’m frustrated to no ends with people who have only the victim mentality emblazoned on their foreheads – apparently that gives them the right to walk around criticizing others and feeling sorry for themselves.  Another phew.  My father could have sat around feeling sorry for himself for all his life and believe me, he had every good reason to do so and more.  But he CHOSE not to and decided that that’s not how he wants to live his life.  So he got up, got going and never looked back.  So what the hell am I doing complaining here?  Lol.

Anyway folks, guess a blog is a pretty good thing to have around.  Sometimes you get the answers you’re looking for unexpectedly.  Thanks Pa.