Sometimes You’re The Windshield…

…sometimes you’re the green stuff that’s splattered all over.

Country songs tend to do the best job at expressing the ups and downs of life.  Although the Goo Goo Dolls (one of my favorite bands) have some great melancholy songs about life (try “Better Days” or “Slide” – but go for the songs, not the videos), it’s hard to beat a good country song when it comes to telling it like it is.  Whether it’s newer country, classic country or somewhere in the middle country songs can be a great reflection on life.

Don’t get me wrong – sometimes they’re downright depressing (“Stupid Boy“).  And sometimes they’re the kind of song that just gets the blood pumping (“Who Wouldn’t Want To Be Me“, anyone?).

And this week I’m feeling a little Mary Chapin-Carpenter coming on:

Sometimes you’re the windshield
Sometimes you’re the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you’re just a fool in love
Sometimes you’re the Louisville Slugger
Sometimes you’re the ball
Sometimes it all comes together
Sometimes you’re gonna lose it all
(Mary Chapin-Carpenter, “The Bug“)

It could be the fact it’s the end of the month; maybe it’s my inability to seem to get a decent night’s sleep; maybe it’s just looking forward to a nice 3-day weekend.  Whatever the reason, this week has been awful rough, and it’s a good thing it’s Thursday because I’m not sure I’m going to be able to scrape and crawl my way to the mythical Friday at five (which is usually Friday at six-thirty; Friday’s tend to be great days to work late and get stuff done) before the windshield wipers drown me and scrape me away.

It hasn’t been a bad week, per se – just a rough one.  Things aren’t clicking like I’d like them to, and I’m not hearing the things I need to hear.  My inability to fully engage my brain at times is really hurting me; if you read this post on knowledge worker productivity from the Chief Happiness Officer right now I feel like I’m closer to the second set of days than I am the first.  I sat down to do some planning and ended up getting about half of what I really should have accomplished with it – I just couldn’t stay fully engaged, and kept looking at my e-mail, checking messages, stretching my legs.  I probably should have left well enough alone and taken an extended lunch or something to recharge, but the idiot in me decided it was a great time to test the theory of whether or not banging your head against the wall repeatedly actually makes the wall want to move.  [for the curious – it doesn’t]

And I’m not just referring to work, either – even at home I’m having difficulty corralling the gray matter.  While I don’t feel like a semi hit me as much (maybe just an HHR or a Mustang) it’s still not the optimal Pauly that I’m expecting to be – the honey do list gets forgotten (accidentally – seriously!), some of my personal projects end up falling apart, dinner consists of McD’s instead of the (awesome) bacon-cooked spicy chicken with chili ranch sauce the kids and I made up last weekend.  I hate that.

The only place it seems to click is at volleyball – it’s like a mini vacation for me four nights a week, and regardless of how we ended the night game-wise it’s still fun and relaxing.  When we drop a complete set (admittedly to the best six-person team out there) it’s still good times.  Even when my record for the night is losing it’s easy to just relax and, frankly, turn the “care meter” off for a few hours, enjoy a frosty adult beverage and the company of friends.

I know there are others around me in the same boat I am – hoping that the windshield of the 18-wheeler is somehow going to miss them on their daily trek across the highway.   For those of you in that situation, know I’ve got your back and will help out as best I can.  Nobody’s alone here, and there’s sure as heck no sense in a bunch of us being smears on the windshield of life.

For me: I’m just hoping before the week is out I can draft one of those semis instead of finding myself on the wrong side of the tempered glass.  The Kansas City Irish Fest is this weekend, and I’d love to be hitting on all cylinders while I’m kicking back and enjoying my Irish roots on Sunday.

Happy Labor Day everyone!

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