Life Is Shit

(I never compare myself to hotshots.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 6 a.m. and drank a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. A young police officer from the city of Suwon was having quite the life. This guy was banging hot women left to right. He was also video taping his exploits without the knowledge of his numerous partners. Anyway, his twisted secret was finally revealed, and now he’s facing several charges of abuse. Needless to say, he no longer has a job.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. Forty-five bags of human body parts were discovered in a suburb of Guadalajara. The victims of these outrageous murders were all young people who worked in a call center. I can’t imagine the fear they were feeling when they finally met their maker. Mexico is a true shithole, and this failed state has been exporting its violence north of the border for years.

I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.

I said, “Has Ken applied for nursing school yet?”

She sighed heavily. “No. He told me that he’s going to do it tomorrow.”

“Why the delay?”

She shrugged. “What can I tell you? He’s a stubborn son of a bitch.”

“That boy is driving me to drink.”

“No need to climb into the bottle. He’ll do it. But Ken always does things at his own pace. You just have to be patient.”

I drove to school and arrived in my classroom at 8 a.m. My colleague dropped by to shoot the shit for a while. His name is Richard Hurtz, and he’s an Ivy-League graduate. Funny enough, he doesn’t seem all that smart. But maybe he has friends in high places. Nevertheless, he’s a good guy. You should see the size of him. Richard is a giant.

I said, “My wife might divorce me this summer.”

He said, “How long have you been married?”

“Almost a quarter century.”

“Wow. That’s a long time. I guess you could call it a victory.”

“A victory?”

“Most marriages end up in failure. Twenty-five years is a long time. You could even call it a prison sentence.”

I nodded in agreement. “You’re right. Hard labor.”

He changed the subject. “Are you still watching the NBA playoffs?”

“Yes. I’m a huge sports fan.”

He grimaced. “Sitting on your ass for several hours a day doesn’t make you a sports fan. You need more exercise. You should get off the sofa and start playing the game yourself.”

I chuckled softly. “I’m too old for that shit. Everything hurts. My knees. My elbows. My teeth. Plus I can barely see without my glasses. I fear that the end is fast approaching.”

My day at work went well. I am currently reading A Christmas Memory by Truman Capote with my middle school students. Truman talks about his childhood in rural Alabama. He had a crazy cousin who used to be his best friend. The story is both touching and charming.

One of my students had a glum look etched upon his face.

I said, “What’s the matter?”

He said, “I study all the time, but I’m not as talented as my friends. They get better grades then me even though I work harder than they do.”

“You’re looking at it all wrong. If you are going to compare yourself to others, then choose somebody who is worse off than you. This will make you feel better.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, my life isn’t a bed of roses, so I don’t compare it to hotshots like Jeff Bezos or Elon Musk. Instead, I focus on the sad sacks in the Congo living in grass huts. This helps me get through the day with a smile.”

He nodded his head up and down. “I’ll give it a try.”

“Trust me. It works.”

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