Mundane Doesn't Describe It

For the slackatudinally challenged.

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I have never taken any exercise except sleeping and resting. Mark Twain, Hard work doesn't harm anyone, but I do not want to take any chances. - Unknown, I am retired and have tried to do as little as possible - slowly. Me.

Saturday, April 22, 2006

Handicapped Parking Spots Rant.

I don’t usually use profanity, but this made me so mad that when I wrote it, this was what I was thinking.

I just went to the store. As usual I didn’t spend thirty minutes driving around the parking lot waiting for someone to pull out so I didn’t have to walk an extra five feet. I take the first closest spot no matter how far.

I get to the front of the store, where the handicap parking spots are and there is a small sports car in the handicapped parking spot. No sticker, no nothing. There’s a lady in a van waiting for the spot to open. I can see her handicapped sticker and that her van is equipped for a handicapped person.

All of a sudden I’m pissed off. I’m lazy, I embrace lazy, I’m the epitome of lazy, but not even I am that damn lazy. It pisses me off to see perfectly healthy people take handicapped spaces because they are too lazy to walk a few extra feet. Oh yea, I’m in a hurry and it’s an open space and no one ever uses them. There is no one in the world whose time and saving a few extra seconds, of said time, is that damn important.

I walked into the store scanning around wondering who the asshole was that is so important that they had to deprive someone of not only what is theirs, but also what is a necessity. I go and get my stuff and at the check out counter I see out the window the car is gone and the van is now in the spot.

I’m driving home and getting more and more pissed. I wish I had gone to the manager. I wish I had picked up the microphone and said “Attention shoppers. The asshole in the handicapped parking spot, move your damn car.” I didn’t and not only am I pissed, I feel bad for doing nothing.

I hardly ever rant, but this pisses me off!

This was written the other day. I hate anger and especially hate when I’m angry. It doesn’t happen very often, so this is probably one of the few rants I’ll ever do.

I remembered something I had written awhile ago over at Village Blue. It would have never been written without the kind encouragement of Diane and Shirl. I re-read it a couple of times, and I thought it would be a fitting end to my story.

Happiness is a Job.

I know most of this will be old hat to the seeker and searchers who have found what they’re looking for. I’ve probably read or heard this many times before. You know how nothing is new, just recycled. However, it’s something I have to remind myself of from time to time.

Happiness Is A Job. It’s not something that just comes to you. You have to work at it. No matter if it’s relationships, hobbies or searching for your special place, it takes work. Some people will sit in their chairs watching TV and expect happiness to be there. Doesn’t work and it won’t happen.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve always believed the lazy shall inherit the earth, and I’m glad to say I’ll be in that multitude. But keeping that happiness, peace and contentment - I work at everyday.

The Religion of Me.

I’ve never been a very spiritual person. I’ve looked through most of organized religion and found some good things. Deciding to be a taker, I took the good things and made my own religion.
I wish I could fly to the starts like Shirl or have the deep worldly thoughts of Diane, but alas, I can’t. I’m me and I work everyday to be the best me there is. The me that knows there is good person, a kind person, a person of special talents inside this cranium of mine. The me that knows I can make someone happy today. So I give.

We are all givers and takers. I’ve taken things; I’ve taken more than my share a lot of times.
Never material thing, but things like love from family and friends. In the same respect I’ve been a giver and more than a giver a lot of times. A giver of my time, my space – myself. These things make me happy. They also make me exhausted sometimes. Everyone that wants my attention, from my loving family members down to my loving, little ugly dog George (who by the way, won’t take no for an answer) I just have to say wait – I have something to do.

I go back to the Religion of Me. It’s a religion of “1” and no one else can join. I give to myself. I tell all takers – not now, maybe later. My religion has just kicked in and I have to go and do another job. That job is to myself happy.

It doesn’t work all the time, but I’ve heard it said before; you can’t give to others unless you give to yourself first. There is a balance there somewhere and that is what I work at.

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