Hindsight . . . you are such a bitch sometimes

This past week I have had several flashes of hindsight . . . and they are really starting to piss me off. Why can't my foresight be good enough to catch these things before they become past events and possibilities that piss me off? I was going to write about these various flashes of hindsight, but most of them are either personal in nature (too personal to reveal to just anyone who checks my AIM profile and blog) or concern individuals that I would rather confront in person about them (no, not you . . . or you . . . or you either damnit!)

So, having said that, things are pretty craptastic right now. I am back working at the drive-in again because the stupid companies I applied too are taking to long to respond and I need money now. My little brother is having complications from his leg surgery, and the doctors don't know what is wrong. My parents are wearing themselves out trying to take care of my little brother all the time and work. When you add all of that together, and then add flashes of hindsight (and confirmation of former flashes of insight in a couple cases) that make me want to slam my head into a wall and call myself an idiot (both for the hindsight and the slamming my head into the wall thing) . . . life is crap.

There are some good things that have happened recently though. I saw an old friend, and she and I had an hour long conversation catching up on old times . . . so that was fun. I had to run to campus on Friday to pick up my last Security paycheck, and that allowed me to see JP and Christine one last time before they both disappear. I found some old CD's that I burned from my old computer that had music I thought I lost on them.

Looking at those two lists, I realize that the good things are all paltry and minor when compared to the bad stuff.

Eh, life's rough, so I better get myself a damned helmet.

“Courage and cheerfulness will not only carry you over the rough places in life, but will enable you to bring comfort and help to the weak-hearted and will console you in the sad hours” - William Osler

I often wonder: suppose we could begin life over again, knowing what we were doing? Suppose we could use one life, already ended, as a sort of rough draft for another? I think that every one of us would try, more than anything else, not to repeat himself.