Perspective

Monday is always a really long day for me. I work all day and I have class in the evening. As a result I leave the house at around 7:15 am and get home between 9:30 and 10:00 pm.

Luckily I have about 3 and a half hours on campus before class starts. Because I’m a mediocre student I usually use this time to finish reading for class and write my weekly reflection paper.

Today, the reading part went stupendously (glbtq organizing in China) but the reflection paper did not. Unfortunately all the computers in the computer lab are being used. Luckily I have until 11:59 pm to turn it in.

As this campus isn’t really set up for relaxing I decided to sit in my car and fell sorry for myself. As with any self-respecting pity party, I broadcast my woes on Twitter.

It was at that moment that I realized the absurdity of it all. I have a job, the means to be in college, a new car (2010 Yaris), and I am writing right now on my brand new HTC Trophy. So no, I can’t write mt paper. And yes, I am extremely worn out. But quite frankly, I have nothing to complain about.

So, gentle reader, I hope my perspective is useful to you. It’s certainly helped me out.

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4 thoughts on “Perspective”

  1. Rachel, your perspective is quite useful. I think it’s human for us to host a “pity party” for ourselves every now and then because lets face it, frustration is draining. I don’t think there’s anything wrong in complaining to ourselves from time to time because, like in your case, it helps us to see the bigger picture. Here’s hoping you were able to finish your tasks, friend! 🙂

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  2. I know what you mean. I sometimes wonder how concentration camp victims and POWs ever make it through their incarcerations, and I imagine how I might make it through — thinking of poetry, Bible verses, music, doing math equations in my head, etc. This week, I was like you, feeling sorry for myself, and I thought: “I can’t handle traffic and a bad day at work? How do I ever think I would make it through a stint as a POW? Stop feeling sorry for yourself.” So I turned up the radio in my comfortable, well-fueled car and sang at the top of my lungs. And I felt a lot better.

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