Fair

Life is not fair.

When you are brought into this world, there is no written guarantee stapled to your birth certificate that states the world will treat you justly. Live your life by helping people and doing good deeds and you are bound to step in dog crap every now and then. Conversely, subside your days doing wicked or evil things and you will become a politician. This is by no means a new revelation or sudden epiphany. It’s just how it is.

I guess my point is that just when you think the path that meanders through the woods of your life is well paved, relatively free of potholes and is going where you think it should go, that’s when the bridge gives way and you find yourself at the bottom of a deep, cold river. Did you end up in this most uncomfortable position because you were a bad person? Realistically, bad things happen to everyone regardless of age, gender, race, financial status or how your picture was rated on “Hot or Not”. You just have to roll with the punches that life dishes out because it’s not a question of whether or not something bad will happen, it’s just a matter of when, and I’m prepared to put that in writing. It won’t happen when you are emotionally stable and have the overflowing support of your family and friends either. Instead, it will happen after a long day of work as you slog your way through traffic and prepare to sit down to eat your frozen homemade burrito.

I’m sure the granola hippies and the “My Name is Earl” devotees will claim that it’s not chance that bad things happen because it is not, in fact, by chance. It’s karma; that you must have done something bad and this is just the way life gets back at you for your past sins. The rational person in me says this is a bunch of phooey, but recently this concept has me wondering if there isn’t some truth to the theory that you will “reap what you sow”. The good Lord knows I have plenty of past sins that have affected others very deeply, which could be the reason why I’ve come to this juncture in my life where I’m on the receiving end of the pain, not to mention on the verge of a catastrophic emotional breakdown. This lends credence to this idea that the pain you dish out will one day be returned to you twofold, or in my case, in the form of a 12 gauge slug through the blood pumper in the chest.

It does no good to complain about it because the last thing the world needs is another blog about loss or heartache. It helps not to curse the heavens or cry in your beer as the shouting to the sky does little more than disturb the wildlife and nobody likes a watered down beer. Instead, you just accept the hurt while trying to convince yourself that the pain will not last forever.

I happen to look at the calendar and noticed that I returned from Iraq a little over 6 months ago. I survived the mortars, rockets, explosions and boredom with a fresh outlook on life. Through a lot of soul searching (and near death experiences) I put to bed a lot of old demons over there and brought back some new ones along with a healthy dose of renewed hope in my big green duffle bag. I clung to the concept that life is too short and I developed this urgent need to live my remaining days pursuing my hopes and dreams. The kick in the nuts realization that those hopes and dreams will not come true leaves a hollow space inside, or maybe that’s just the hole from the shotgun blast.

Life is not fair.