"I went to sleep with gum un my mouth and now there's gum in my hair
and when I got out of bed this morning I tripped on the skateboard and
by mistake I dropped my sweater in the sink while the water was
running. I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no
good, very bad day.
At breakfast Anthony found a Corvette Sting Ray car kit in his breakfast cereal box and Nick found a Junior Undercover Agent code ring in his breakfast cereal box but in my breakfast cereal box all I found was breakfast cereal. I think I'll move to Australia...
At school Mrs. Dickens liked Paul's picture of the sailboat better than my picture of the invisible castle. At singing time she said I sang too loud. At counting time she said I left out sixteen. Who needs sixteen? I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
I could tell because Paul said I wasn't his best friend anymore. He said that Philip Paker was his best friend and that Albert Moyo was his next best friend and that I was only his third best friend. 'I hope you sit on a tack,' I said to Paul. 'I hope the next time you get a double-decker strawberry ice-cream cone the ice cream part falls off of the cone part and lands in Australia.'
There were two cupcakes in Philip Parker's lunch bag and Albert got a Hershey bar with almonds and Paul's mother gave him a piece of jelly roll that had coconut sprinkles on the top. Guess whose mother forgot to put in the dessert? It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
That's what it was, because after school my mom took us all to the dentist and Dr. Fields found a cavity in just me. 'Come back next week and I'll fix it,' said Dr. Fields. Next week, I said, 'I'm going to Australia.' On the way downstairs the elevator door closed on my foot and while we were waiting for my mom to go get the car Anthony made me fall where it was muddy and then I started crying because of the mud. Nick said I was a crybaby and while I was punching Nick for saying crybaby my mom came back with the car and scolded me for being muddy and fighting. 'I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day,' I told everybody. No one even answered.
So then we went to the shoe store to buy some sneakers. Anthony chose white ones with blue stripes. Nick chose red ones with white stripes. I chose blue ones with red stripes but then the shoe man said, 'We're all sold out.' They made me buy plain old white ones, but they can't make me wear them. When we picked up my dad at his office he said I couldn't play with his copying machine, but I forgot. He also said to watch out for the books on his desk, and I was careful as could be except for my elbow. He also said don't fool around with his phone, but I think I called Australia. My dad said, 'please don't pick him up anymore...' It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
There were lima beans for dinner and I hate limas. There was kissing on TV and I hate kissing. My bath was too hot, I got soap in my eyes, my marble went down the drain, and I had to wear my railroad-train pajamas. When I went to bed Nick took back the pillow he said I could keep and the Mickey Mouse night light burned out and I bit my tongue. The cat wants to sleep with Anthony, not with me. It has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
Mom says some days are like that. Even in Australia."
--Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
Hopefully you read all that (seriously). It's no Hemingway or Fitzgerald, but it speaks a number of truths. I don't know why the discouraging minutiae tend to overpower certain days, but they do. And it's...discouraging. Often, it's just me deterring what is inevitable and beyond my control.
But when discouragement and disappointment seem to plague a situation, overshadowed is the good that can surface if you look - and struggle - for it. It's my belief that good is always present and available, no matter how copious the debris or dark the path. In a heralded sermon by Bill Schwein, one of my church's most respected former pastors, he speaks about always getting the green Lifesaver (or the raw end of every deal). And what's his answer?
"One of the hardest lessons to learn is that of acceptance. Sometimes that's all we can do. And learn to love green Lifesavers! Equally, we need to learn to appreciate more of what we have, the times things do work out for us rather than concentrate on when they don't. One of the best ways out of a negative cycle is to concentrate upon what's right, to accentuate the positive."
So if there is good in every daunting situation, the challenge lies not in waiting for it, but in seeking it and fighting for it (additionally, I don't believe that translates into not caring about or simply ignoring the task). Like everybody else, I hate struggling with the most inane things, and I find it easy to create reasoning for which I have no proof. Loving the crappy times doesn't make sense until you consider the potential good in them. After realizing the good, the next duty is to seek it out and fight for it. It's like a big, lumbering poop - sometimes you just have to grip the handicap bars and let 'er rip. And you know it's gonna feel soooo good when it's over. You LOVE it! That example was kind of gross, but now you can feel what I'm talking about. The point is, if you stay the course and commit to battling for what is good, you'll find your treasure. And I hope it's nicer than poop. I suppose the lingering problem is knowing how long it will take and what it will look like (to avoid more bad imagery, try to move away from the poop example for now). I'm not sure there is an answer to this, except that the fight is as continuous as its reward.
I think this process has become a pertinent revelation for me and continues to be a common stumbling block for many. It requires patience, persistence, and optimism, but The Big Guy in the Sky never designed (or designs) any easy game-plans. Thus, sweeter is the victory in uncovering the good.
So to any of you sharing similar discouragements (which is everybody, at some point), I say, know there is good and fight for it. And some days are like that. Even in Indiana. Especially when I have to wear my railroad-train pajamas.
At breakfast Anthony found a Corvette Sting Ray car kit in his breakfast cereal box and Nick found a Junior Undercover Agent code ring in his breakfast cereal box but in my breakfast cereal box all I found was breakfast cereal. I think I'll move to Australia...
At school Mrs. Dickens liked Paul's picture of the sailboat better than my picture of the invisible castle. At singing time she said I sang too loud. At counting time she said I left out sixteen. Who needs sixteen? I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
I could tell because Paul said I wasn't his best friend anymore. He said that Philip Paker was his best friend and that Albert Moyo was his next best friend and that I was only his third best friend. 'I hope you sit on a tack,' I said to Paul. 'I hope the next time you get a double-decker strawberry ice-cream cone the ice cream part falls off of the cone part and lands in Australia.'
There were two cupcakes in Philip Parker's lunch bag and Albert got a Hershey bar with almonds and Paul's mother gave him a piece of jelly roll that had coconut sprinkles on the top. Guess whose mother forgot to put in the dessert? It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
That's what it was, because after school my mom took us all to the dentist and Dr. Fields found a cavity in just me. 'Come back next week and I'll fix it,' said Dr. Fields. Next week, I said, 'I'm going to Australia.' On the way downstairs the elevator door closed on my foot and while we were waiting for my mom to go get the car Anthony made me fall where it was muddy and then I started crying because of the mud. Nick said I was a crybaby and while I was punching Nick for saying crybaby my mom came back with the car and scolded me for being muddy and fighting. 'I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day,' I told everybody. No one even answered.
So then we went to the shoe store to buy some sneakers. Anthony chose white ones with blue stripes. Nick chose red ones with white stripes. I chose blue ones with red stripes but then the shoe man said, 'We're all sold out.' They made me buy plain old white ones, but they can't make me wear them. When we picked up my dad at his office he said I couldn't play with his copying machine, but I forgot. He also said to watch out for the books on his desk, and I was careful as could be except for my elbow. He also said don't fool around with his phone, but I think I called Australia. My dad said, 'please don't pick him up anymore...' It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
There were lima beans for dinner and I hate limas. There was kissing on TV and I hate kissing. My bath was too hot, I got soap in my eyes, my marble went down the drain, and I had to wear my railroad-train pajamas. When I went to bed Nick took back the pillow he said I could keep and the Mickey Mouse night light burned out and I bit my tongue. The cat wants to sleep with Anthony, not with me. It has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
Mom says some days are like that. Even in Australia."
--Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
Hopefully you read all that (seriously). It's no Hemingway or Fitzgerald, but it speaks a number of truths. I don't know why the discouraging minutiae tend to overpower certain days, but they do. And it's...discouraging. Often, it's just me deterring what is inevitable and beyond my control.
But when discouragement and disappointment seem to plague a situation, overshadowed is the good that can surface if you look - and struggle - for it. It's my belief that good is always present and available, no matter how copious the debris or dark the path. In a heralded sermon by Bill Schwein, one of my church's most respected former pastors, he speaks about always getting the green Lifesaver (or the raw end of every deal). And what's his answer?
"One of the hardest lessons to learn is that of acceptance. Sometimes that's all we can do. And learn to love green Lifesavers! Equally, we need to learn to appreciate more of what we have, the times things do work out for us rather than concentrate on when they don't. One of the best ways out of a negative cycle is to concentrate upon what's right, to accentuate the positive."
So if there is good in every daunting situation, the challenge lies not in waiting for it, but in seeking it and fighting for it (additionally, I don't believe that translates into not caring about or simply ignoring the task). Like everybody else, I hate struggling with the most inane things, and I find it easy to create reasoning for which I have no proof. Loving the crappy times doesn't make sense until you consider the potential good in them. After realizing the good, the next duty is to seek it out and fight for it. It's like a big, lumbering poop - sometimes you just have to grip the handicap bars and let 'er rip. And you know it's gonna feel soooo good when it's over. You LOVE it! That example was kind of gross, but now you can feel what I'm talking about. The point is, if you stay the course and commit to battling for what is good, you'll find your treasure. And I hope it's nicer than poop. I suppose the lingering problem is knowing how long it will take and what it will look like (to avoid more bad imagery, try to move away from the poop example for now). I'm not sure there is an answer to this, except that the fight is as continuous as its reward.
I think this process has become a pertinent revelation for me and continues to be a common stumbling block for many. It requires patience, persistence, and optimism, but The Big Guy in the Sky never designed (or designs) any easy game-plans. Thus, sweeter is the victory in uncovering the good.
So to any of you sharing similar discouragements (which is everybody, at some point), I say, know there is good and fight for it. And some days are like that. Even in Indiana. Especially when I have to wear my railroad-train pajamas.